#「 gale ❛ ◟ dancing in the moonlight‚ don’t we have it all. 」

[sserpente]

Magic Hands

Synopsis: Astarion teaches you how to use a dagger in battle. The sweaty training calls for a bath in the nearby river afterward and you can’t help but admire the vampire rogue in the pale moonlight, surrounded by the glistening water surface. He seems… tense. Perhaps you can repay him by giving him a gentle massage?

A/N: Why did this take me so long to write, oh my gods! :D

Words: 2038 Warnings: smut, mentions of sexual trauma

Your battle cry echoed across the entire campsite when you plunged your blade forward. Lae’zel’s makeshift mind flayer dummy was rendered with holes at this point, oozing hey from several rips in the old fabric she had used to craft it.

The impact had you sway to one side and you shifted your weight, your left arm flailing about clumsily.

“Good. Now try that again without losing your balance.”

You grunted, shooting him an angry glance. He had his sleeves rolled up, and his arms crossed before his chest. It was almost distracting. Almost.

You had been at it for hours. Granted, it had been your idea—if you were going to survive this involuntary adventure, you might as well learn how to defend yourself. You were surprised you’d even made it this far. And, since attacking from the shadows was much more your cup of tea than storming headfirst into battle like Wyll or Lae’zel, you’d kindly asked Astarion to help you out.

He was a tough and strict teacher, you had to give him that. But you were making quick progress too. Before today, you hadn’t even been able to hold a dagger properly.

You withdrew your weapon and returned to your original position.

“Ah-ah-ah. No, darling. What did we just learn?” His teasing voice went down like butter. That was even more distracting.

Astarion pointed at your left foot. You shifted in the dirt, creating a grovelling noise.

“There we go. Now try again.”

You did as you were told, lunging at the dummy once more. Astarion tutted at you when you lost your balance yet again.

“Hey, don’t tut me!”

“I see where the problem lies now. Go on. Get back in position.”

Grunting once more, you obeyed. What you were not prepared for, however, was that he would step right behind you and place his hands on your stomach and waist. You sucked in a deep breath, tensing up.

“Keep tension here. You’ll want to make sure that lovely core of yours keeps you on your feet.”

Memories from your night in the woods came flooding back, sending you down a spiral of pleasure and arousal. You cleared your throat.

“Okay. I got it. I think.”

The sensation of loss was nearly overwhelming when he let go again. You could have sworn you saw him smirk from the corner of your eye.

You got into position again, took a deep breath, and… struck.

“Good girl.” You would have dropped the dagger had it not been lodged deeply within the mindflayer dummy. “Again.”

Again. Again and again and again until Astarion was certain you got the hang of it. Your arms were burning by the time he clapped and finally let you off the hook for the day.

“Be honest, you’re enjoying this a little.”

The vampire smirked. “More than just a little, darling.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, forcing you to bite your lower lip. “Whatever. I should get washed.”

“Hmm, so should I.”

You offered him a smile. Making your way toward the lake, you walked past Lae’zel who was sharpening her sword, Karlach who was dancing to a song only audible to her, and Gale practicing little magic tricks. Wyll and Halsin were with Shadowheart, talking and drinking by the fireplace.

You sighed. It could have been peaceful if it wasn’t for the imminent threat of a tadpole turning you all into thralls.

Once you reached the shore, there was no hesitation in your movements. You stripped off your clothes, knowing the bushes would hide you from unwanted eyes. As for Astarion… well… there was nothing he hadn’t seen before.

The vampire followed suit though you did notice that he avoided your gaze as he undressed. You couldn’t help but watch him regardless as he waded into the water until he was submerged hip-deep.

“You look really fine in the moonlight, you know that?” you said, joining him swiftly.

“Of course I do, I’m a vampire, darling.” He swam closer to you, allowing you to wrap your entire body around him. Astarion’s hands found your behind, squeezing gently.

“That’s not what I meant,” you whispered. His lips were cold when you met them with yours, a playful kiss soon turning into a passionate display of affection.

By the time you finally broke apart panting, Astarion rolled his shoulders with a groan.

“Is everything alright? You seem even tenser than me.”

“Oh well, it can’t be helped. Must be the weight of being a hero on my shoulders,” he spat with dismay. Oh yeah… he’d made it clear his interest in saving the refugees was ridiculously small. You had your theories on that… yet there was no way in the hells Astarion was a terrible person but rather… a person terrible things had happened to. The scars on his back spoke for themselves.

“I could help with that if you want,” you said before you could stop yourself.

“Help? How?”

“This is gonna sound silly but I used to work as a massage therapist for a few years, back in Baldur’s Gate, I mean. I have magic hands. I know a lot of techniques to relieve back pain and back tension…” You trailed off, studying his reaction.

“Magic hands?”

Astarion narrowed his eyes at you and somehow, you knew exactly what was going on in his mind. Relieving a different kind of tension at your celebration with the Tieflings was one thing… having someone work his back and stroke every inch of exposed skin with skilled hands, right over the scars that had brought him so much torment… that was another.

“You want to… well… I…”

“If you want to?”

“Well… I suppose…”

You tilted your head. He wanted to accept, you could tell. But was that… concern glistening in his red eyes?

“You know, I’m, uh… I’m not offering this to have sex with you again. I mean… I really, really enjoyed myself, Astarion but… I honestly feel like that’s the reason you’re being wary, isn’t it? Along with me, um… touching your scars.”

His lips parted.

“I just want to help. And only if you’ll let me.”

“Alright… fine.”

You nodded, the tension you didn’t realise had been building up inside of you leaving your body.

“Then come find me in my tent later.”

You left him some privacy after your swim, returning to your makeshift home to find anything you could use as a massage oil. You settled for an ointment in the end, one that Halsin usually used to treat wounds. It would do. You could hardly use a bottle of grease after all.

You were rather certain Astarion waited until the others were asleep on purpose. When he parted the fabric of your makeshift door and crouched down a little to come inside, you patted your bedroll and smiled at him.

His coyness was adorable. While before his heart-breaking confession, every single word that had left his lips was a flirt, he was but a frightened young man now, intimidated by intimacy.

“Lie down, my love. And… Astarion?”

His red eyes met yours as he followed your request and removed his shirt, once again revealing those horrifying scars to you.

“You need to stop me if you’re feeling uncomfortable, alright?”

The vampire spawn smirked. “How could I possibly feel uncomfortable with your skilled hands dancing over my body, pet?”

“You know what I mean.” You grinned, relieved that his smarm was not lost on him.

“Of course.”

“Now lie down on your belly and close your eyes.”

Astarion sighed and did as he was told. You straddled him, trifling some of the oil on your hands and rubbing them together before eventually… placing your palms on his bare back.

Your fingers glided over the ridges of his scars, your thumbs digging into the muscles, looking for any tension. You found it all too quickly, working knot after knot out of his tormented back.

Soon enough, he relaxed. His sigh was so innocent you couldn’t help but lean forward and place a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades.

You pampered him for a while, making sure to massage each and every spot on his back. You did not fail to miss the faint moan when you asked him to turn over so you could work on the rest of his body. Gods, you were enjoying this even more than he was.

Astarion’s gaze was filled with repose and… hunger. And when your eyes travelled further down, your lips parted and you realised why.

He was hard.

“Do you… do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t… you… dare…” he muttered, eyes half-closed still.

You bit your lower lip, oily hands gliding over his chest. It wasn’t just him. You were as wet as the river you’d bathed in just a few hours back and now that you were aware just how much your sensual treatment affected him, the arousal was nearly unbearable.

Breathing heavily, you swallowed and paused.

“How about… I have an idea.”

He sat up a little, propping himself on his elbows. “Oh?”

His sly smirk caught you entirely off guard though you were unsure whether he was merely trying to hide his insecurity behind it. He’d told you he didn’t want you to think of him in terms of sex for now and you would respect that wish. There was no need for you to act on your own excitement even if it drove you insane. But if he let you… you wanted to make him feel good so badly that it almost caused you physical discomfort.

“I could… take care of… that,” you muttered, pointing at the growing bulge in his trousers.

Astarion raised his eyebrows, passion glistening in those red eyes.

“Let me pamper you. No sex. I might as well give you a… full body massage at this point. And if it gets too much, you stop me.”

“We… we could try.” He nodded, lying back down but keeping his eyes wide open as you opened his trousers with gentle movements and pulled his erection free.

Astarion flinched when your oily hand wrapped around his hardening length, fingertips teasing him tenderly.

“Okay?”

He nodded.

“I need you to tell me with words, my love.”

Astarion cleared his throat. “Okay. That feels… nice.”

One thing you realised very quickly was that he had never experienced anything like this before. Someone who wished for nothing more than to bring him pleasure, to make him feel good, without expecting anything in return. To give him back his sensuality where only he and his well-being mattered without his body being sexualised or objectified…

It must have been such a novel concept to him… biting your lower lip, you began to stroke him with firm yet tender touches, your thumb gliding over his slit and rubbing over his tip.

He squirmed, bucking his hips in response with a quiet moan. It was enough of a reaction to urge you on, your movements quickening and adapting to his rapid breathing.

You paused when he uttered your name with a start.

“No… no, don’t stop, my love… don’t you dare stop…”

So you kept going, driving him to the edge with hungry ferocity. Gods, he looked so delicious. So carefree and innocent all because of you…

“I… I… I will…”

Astarion thrust up into your hands, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Pleasure flushed his entire face, his lips parting. He tensed up, his thighs shaking and his fingers clutching at the soft material of your bedroll. He came all over your hands and knuckles, ropes of seed clear evidence of his release. You helped him ride it out, squeezing every last drop from his pretty cock until he was spent and panting, his body relaxing again bit by bit.

“You look so beautiful when you come undone…” you whispered, wiping your hands on some rags you kept nearby.

He chuckled. “And you do have magic hands. I might have to ask you to do that again soon.”

You smiled, cuddling up to him with a smile. Neither of you bothered to get undressed completely. You were perfectly fine with falling asleep like this.

“Anytime, Astarion. Always.”

#astarion #astarion imagine #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion ancunin #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin imagine #astarion ancunin x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 imagine #bg3 imagine #neil newbon

[swordgrace]

Okay I know you've already written "vampire eating out reader who's 'on the rag'" (to quote Paul) BUT... Can we have one with Astarion? 😩

𖣊 pairing — astarion x fem!human!reader.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 3.5K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), period sex, bloodplay, blood drinking, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, unspoken feelings, astarion gives mad head (I don’t make the rules)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are, back to my vampire obsession. I’m so addicted to Baldur’s Gate right now that it’s insane. I had so much fun writing this! This is also my first time writing for Astarion, so feedback is definitely appreciated! I’m hoping to write so much more of him! Thank you all for the support! ❤️

A distant, whistling breeze swept across the tall strands of sungrass, rustling against the threadbare canvas of your tent. It was shoddy lodging at best — certainly not a paradise. Gale and Astarion could afford such luxurious accommodations, but you were left to your own devices. You even envied Lae’zel’s tent, and it wasn’t much better than yours.

Crackling waves of dulled pain continued to ripple throughout the pit of your stomach, a familiar tightening and seizing of muscles that left you restless. Sometimes, humanity could be a horrible thing — you were a slave to your own basic bodily functions.

Shadowheart had bluntly broached the subject of menstruation with you earlier in the day — offered you rags to keep yourself clean. It was embarrassing, admittedly — you wanted to try and keep it all discreet.

Being underprepared for this scenario left you flustered and embarrassed, but you were thankful for her assistance, wariness aside.

Your newfound band of parasite-toting compatriots were becoming the closest thing to family that you had, but there were some you trusted more than others. You often regarded Shadowheart with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she’d been helpful enough.

Glittering rays of silvery moonlight struck through the worn spots on your tent, pooling across your form as you tossed yet again, hands folding together atop your stomach. The dying embers of the campfire dissipated out of existence — the world was dormant.

Sleep eluded you, replaced by the toils of your monthly blood moon that frustrated you to no end.

Halsin was generous enough to concoct an herbal poultice that was supposed to help, but one swig of the earthen liquid, and you were spitting it right back out into the dirt. Much to your dismay, you would be left to endure your cycle in its raw state, no remedies.

The gentle ambiance of swaying grass and the buzz of nature at dusk served as your atmosphere, accompanied by your deep breaths and occasional stifled groans. You rolled over, form awkwardly contorted on your side in an attempt to find some relief.

Your evening clothes were made of thistledown and spidersilk, far more comfortable than the linen-sewn rags you’d been trekking in for the last few weeks. It was all courtesy of a fashionable Drow you’d met in a village in the Underdark.

Your gaze fixated on the low, dimmed glow of a flickering lantern situated in your quarters, sitting soundly alongside your backpack. Orange light danced within the colorful glass, producing minuscule refractions that became a worthwhile distraction.

A fluttering of cloth tore your attention away from the luminous object, and you directed your gaze toward the agape flap of your tent.

Two glittering rubies peered down at you, sanguine hues dancing with a peculiar sheen amongst a canvas of smooth, marblesque flesh. The black ties of his silken nightshirt were left unkept, sleeves pulled toward the crooks of his pale elbows.

Astarion’s vampirism was something you’d become intimately acquainted with.

Perhaps it wasn’t your brightest move, letting him feed from you — but you had no qualms or regrets. Beneath the facade of allure and arrogance, Astarion wasn’t all bad. In the many moments you’d shared of allowing him to drink, you’d learned more, little by little.

“Astarion,” You exhaled, wondering why he’d come to you at this particular hour. He’d fed not long ago — from a nearby stag, and not you. He was ethereal beneath the moonlight, all lean and akin to a statue, living perfection as he lingered within the entryway of your tent. “Is everything alright?”

A sardonic huff escaped him, followed by a familiar tilt of his head, ivory curls swaying with his movements. “I could ask you the very same, darling.” He mused. “It seems that you cannot sleep.”

You swallowed the lump within your throat, sitting up enough within your bedroll to face him fully. “No,” You didn’t want to shower Astarion with the grisly details of your womanly cycle. It was of little importance. “Halsin’s awful concoction left a bad taste in my mouth.”

Astarion hummed, senses attuned to you — truthfully, he could smell you from across the camp.

That familiar siren’s song of blood echoed his name — your blood, above all. He wasn’t above lecherous thoughts, especially when it came to the likes of you. His solution to your little problem was unorthodox — Astarion wondered if you would be open to it.

“Was it that mess of an elixir that left you restless, or perhaps something else?” The pale Elf inquired, noticing the little flickers of realization settling into your features. “I have quite the keen sense of smell, you know. Your predicament is rather obvious.”

As your lips fell apart, Astarion chuckled — it was a rich sound, deep from within the confines of his chest. Embarrassment rippled through you, spreading like a wildfire throughout your body. Tendrils of heat crept along the back of your neck.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” You mumbled, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Is it bothering you?” You hadn’t considered that your blood might’ve had an adverse effect on the vampire spawn, but he dismissed your concerns with a simple wave.

Astarion stepped inside, dropping the burlap flap as it fluttered back into place. His flesh was a beautiful shade, encapsulated by the flickering glow of lantern light as he stood before you. “No,” He clicked his tongue. “I do have a solution to your predicament — with my own assistance, of course.”

Confusion settled into your countenance — Astarion wasn’t necessarily shocked by this, either. You were a delicate little human, a sweet, pious creature that he intended to ravish when opportunity presented itself — such as now.

He drank in your innocence, feeding from your piety as if it were your lifeblood. It was easy to charm you, let you slip into his intricately-spun web of seduction, but in reality, he found himself becoming soft on you.

What a horrid thing — soft on you.

Yet, Astarion couldn’t help himself. Your presence was soothing, providing a warmth that even enveloped his own icy heart. You never asked him for anything — you never used him. He wanted you all the more for it, desired to keep you for himself.

“How could you help me with this?” You questioned, assuming that he had some remedy for you that countered Halsin’s. Anything would do — you were becoming desperate for a solution.

Something shifted in Astarion’s eyes — his gaze became hooded, glazed with some indiscernible notion that caused your stomach to swirl with uncertainty. Your breath hitched within your throat when his cold digits swept across your cheek.

“In a way that I know best,” He crooned, thumb gingerly sweeping along the curve of your jawline. “You would lay back and let me taste you.” Astarion’s suggestion struck you as unorthodox and crude — and you nearly gasped at the insinuation of his words.

“You don’t mean it.” You countered, shivering beneath the icy bite of his embrace. Your flesh felt like scorched earth, blistering with a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — and your remedy, your cure — he stood before you like an ethereal god.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “I do, darling,” He uttered, voice dropping to a delicious octave that seemed to curl around you like a vice, spreading to parts of you that you never thought possible. “It would be mutually beneficial, I assure you.”

A guttural whimper of sheer want coalesced within the depths of your throat, goosebumps dancing across your spine as you contemplated. It felt so intimate — if you were to go through with it, the lines of your relationship with Astarion would be blurred completely.

The desire for relief and for him outweighed logic, and you exhaled, eyes silently pleading with him for his touch. Astarion was enticed — admittedly, he wanted to taste you, bloodied or not.

“If you are worried about the mess, you needn’t trouble yourself, my sweet.” Astarion mused, pearlescent fangs glinting in the low light. “I will take care of you.” Something about his tone made you shudder, wanting nothing more than to give yourself to him — every fiber, every piece.

His growing fondness for you was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. He hungered for your blood and he yearned for you — a naive human that he initially cared little for. Now, he was enthralled, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“I’ll let you,” You whispered, voice barely above a shrewd whisper as you watched his expression blossom into one of sheer desire. Those crimson hues raked over you, devouring you without action, leaving you a mess, surrendering to him willingly. “Please.”

“How kind of you,” Astarion hummed, sinking onto his knees as his palm spread across the swell of your hip. “I wonder if you taste just as sweet as you look.” His honeyed purr dripped with a warm reassurance, all wrought with want as he eased you down onto your back.

A fire burned within your belly, demanding to be extinguished as you settled down onto the many layers of a tough leather bedroll and feathered blanket. Astarion loomed like a hungering predator as he slipped between your legs, throat hoarse with the sting of thirst.

His cold hands pried at your silken nightshirt, gingerly lifting the fabric towards your chest as it bunched up just beneath your breasts. A wave of cool, brusque night air licked across your stomach, but the sudden presence of Astarion’s lips made you tense up.

He made sure to touch you — caress your supple frame wherever he could. Despite his one-track mind, Astarion wanted to make you feel good. Those practiced digits of his slipped across your ribcage, dragging down toward your abdomen.

“I’ve dreamed of this, coveted this,” He murmured into your flesh, kissing his way toward your weeping cunt. Nimble digits caressed their way to the waistband of your undergarments, tugging them down and away from your body. “Your sweet flesh, your body beneath mine, crying my name from your lips.”

None of this felt real — your head was spinning, mind deliriously dizzy with a newfound desire. You couldn’t discern if his confession was genuine or simply a ploy to subdue you. Truthfully, you didn’t care either way.

Astarion hummed again, nose brushing along the supple skin of your thigh. “Astarion,” You mewled, unable to keep from saying his name. “I—I …” You babbled, savoring the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

You felt his body quiver with a gentle chuckle as he inhaled a gust of your intoxicating scent. It was your distinct perfume intermingled with that of blood — the twang of coppery menses that he intended on consuming.

Even when prone between your thighs, Astarion exuded a rather domineering aura, icy lips peppering a string of kisses against your inner thigh. He wanted nothing more than to bite — indulge himself in your sanguine ichor. The scent between your legs invited him in, instead.

As crimson wept from your core, the vampiric Elf moved forward, skilled tongue languidly dragging across your aching cunt. He shivered when your cruor fell upon his mouth, a taste of your blood that he so desired.

His palms settled themselves atop your plush hips, hooking underneath your legs. He pressed into your flesh, gripping you tightly as he held you firmly in-place. Astarion could feel the visceral, unrestrained way in which your body reacted to him, twitching and shuddering, thighs flexing.

“How delicious,” Astarion purred, voice dropping to a sultry octave. It stroked every recess of your mind, setting your nerves ablaze, making your stomach churn with a wave of butterflies. “My sweetest pet.” He uttered, licking at any drop of scarlet.

Flushed and flustered, arousal pooled between your legs, intermingled with that of your menses. One of your hands haplessly fisted the feather blanket, the other roaming towards that crown of ivory curls. A low, bemused growl tore past his throat when you gripped his tresses.

If anything, it simply encouraged Astarion, whose greed knew no boundaries. He eagerly lapped at your cunt, tongue tracing across your slit. You felt the little twang of relief that he offered, and you were beyond grateful. You felt the desire to reciprocate — if he let you.

It became increasingly difficult to stifle your pleasured mewls and moans, back beginning to arch slightly off of your bedroll. His continued string of lascivious praise and salacious comments made your flesh turn hot, begging for a release of any kind.

The dull burn within his throat was quelled, soothed by your cruor. Astarion was eager, delighting in your pretty noises and the way your body gave into him. He greedily lapped at the sticky menses trickling from your core, lips twitching into a smirk.

His crown of ivory curls felt like Githyanki silk beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, you peered down — you needed to sate your curiosity.

The mere sight of Astarion, coiled and poised like a lithe predator, wedged between your thighs sent you reeling. He could detect your beseeching gaze, and without pause, those vermilion hues flickered to hold your stare.

Instinctively, your body shivered, goosebumps cascading down the length of your spine. You watched in silent reverence as the broad flat of Astarion’s tongue lapped at your cunt, showering your clit in newfound affection. A stray curl fell across his temples — he was beautiful.

A strangled gasp escaped you, and you fell flat once more, fingers seizing up within his tresses. Astarion’s form rumbled with subtle laughter as he keened forward, mouth suckling on that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your reaction was well worth it.

“Astarion,” You cried, thighs rattling like leaves upon a swaying tree. You wanted to thank him over and over again for this — the tight waves of aching pain had subsided. “Gods, I — Feels so good.” A pleasured moan tore past your lips once more.

A sliver of you feared waking the others, potentially alerting the camp to your nightly accolades. You didn’t want to allow your worry to fester, hips rocking forward when his tongue embraced your cunt once more.

One hand traveled from the curve of your hip to the apex of your thighs, two fingers stroking over your weeping entrance. You gasped, soothed by Astarion’s soft laughter as he lifted his head slightly. “So sensitive.” He purred, lips stained in a glistening layer of crimson. He kissed the inside of your knee.

Heat rolled through you in pleasant waves as pangs of ecstasy gripped you. Seeing Astarion’s bloodied mouth made you shiver, only wanting him to continue, bring you to climax. He sank two digits into your cunt, tongue dutifully returning to lap at your clit.

If you were to perish now, you’d die happy and within the throes of your own ecstasy — with a pale, Elvish deity between your thighs.

You’d wanted him for some time, and to finally drown yourself in his affections — it almost didn’t feel real. The practiced, needy lap of his tongue brought you back to reality, making your hips lurch forward once more. Those digits of his gently pistoned in and out of your cunt, ensuring a level of softness.

Rivulets of your menses coated his fingers, much to his delight. Astarion was relentless, driven in his quest to simultaneously feed and soothe your blood moon pains. His perfectly-timed movements of his fingers worked in-tandem with his mouth, tongue flicking from your clit to your weeping core.

A white-hot pleasure blistered through you, beginning to mount into your encroaching release. Your climax was close, stomach swirling with molten heat, body feeling as if it could simply float away.

“A—Astarion,” You whimpered, desperate to get rid of your nightshirt. The coolness of dusk could not alleviate the pure heat you felt now. A shrill cry left your lips when he withdrew his fingers, simply exchanging them for his tongue as he dragged you closer. “Astarion!”

His name felt like an incantation upon your tongue — it was a sultry, desperate plea for him. The Elf thoroughly reveled in your innocuous cries, wanting to hear you chant his name like a prayer. It felt so genuine, affection intermingled with desire.

Astarion’s gaze lingered on you, chest heaving, flesh glistening with a sheen of perspiration, countenance contorted into sheer ecstasy. There was something rapturous in his eyes — you couldn’t see it, but it was certainly present.

A low hum of approval escaped him when you absentmindedly tugged on his curls again, and he rewarded you with a barrage of his tongue. It was a greedy assault on your cunt as the vampire spawn drank from the source, inhaling a gust of your scent.

“Such a pretty voice, darling,” Astarion uttered, and you soared underneath his reverent praise. You were prepared to burst, body tensing, like a blossom unfurling within the sunlight. “You taste delightful.” He knew what it would do to you — he reveled in it.

You shivered, feeling his nose brush along your thigh as he kissed at the skin there, teeth teasing and grazing along your sensitive flesh. He returned to your core once more, lapping at your oozing cunt with glee — and that seemed to be enough for you.

Everything seemed to spin in circles, head fuzzy and body sinking into sheer bliss. Pleasure washed over you in hot, visceral waves as you were brought to your climax, hips tilting upward as you came.

The coil within your stomach snapped, muscles relaxed — the uncomfortable pain had subsided. Even if the relief would be fleeting, you were beyond grateful to Astarion for assisting you. You came to, flushed and flustered, sitting up enough to see Astarion finishing up.

He emerged from between your legs, tongue languidly lashing across his pearlescent fangs and lips. Speckles of crimson were splattered across his chin, but you nearly collapsed at the sight of him sucking on his fingers.

Whatever mess you made, Astarion had cleaned it all away — he never spilled a drop. “That, ah …” What did you say? “Thank you for doing this, Astarion. I don’t know what else to say.” You confessed.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “Speechless, are we? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve left someone in such a state.” He crooned, and before he could move to stand, you reached for his arm, coaxing him back.

“Don’t ever feel obligated to do this,” You mumbled, somewhat embarrassed at the sight of your cruor on his chin. Sheepishly, you swiped it away with your thumb — but he caught it. “I feel like I didn’t do anything in return.”

Instead, the pale Elf held your wrist, ruby hues drinking you in, picking you apart. Astarion remained hushed for a moment as he considered his words, lips quirking into an abnormally tender smirk. “You did return the favor, darling. Your blood is tribute enough.”

Your breath hitched within your throat, but you didn’t protest, gaze subtly absorbing his porcelain features. He was gorgeous — you often felt inferior in his presence, shadowed by his timeless beauty. You smiled at him, fingers reaching to squeeze at his hand. The gesture was unexpected for him, but he made no comment.

“Thank you. I do feel better,” You cleared your throat, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Did you mean what you said, about coveting me and dreaming about this?” For your own peace of mind, you wanted to know where you stood with Astarion.

He should’ve known that you’d ask.

Astarion hummed, neglecting to disclose the truth about how he felt towards you. Part of him was fearful of the implications, of what it could mean — he felt unworthy of you and your piety. “Of course,” He uttered, voice dropping into a more alluring octave. “I would not mind indulging in this again.”

Part of you deflated — intimacy wasn’t the only thing you wanted from Astarion. You wanted his heart. It gave you something to think on, but for now, you were simply content to enjoy his company, lewd or otherwise.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You murmured, visibly sheepish as you glanced back towards your bedroll. “I should try and sleep, I think.” You nearly asked if he wanted to stay with you, but fear and insecurity gripped you in that moment.

“I should hope that your rest is much more productive.” Astarion smirked, pressing a feather-light kiss against your knuckles before rising to his feet. Sharing your bed didn’t seem prudent — for him, it would only make his feelings for you worse.

A soft laugh bubbled forth from your lips before you pulled your clothes back into place, descending onto the feathered blanket. “Goodnight, Astarion.” You exhaled, watching him as he slipped towards the burlap flap of your shoddy tent.

“Rest well, my sweet.” Astarion hummed, and like a shadow, he disappeared into the star-speckled gloom of the night.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #baldur’s gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader

[otomates-a]

How do your harvest moon brood feel about the magical beings, ie kappa, jack frost, the sprites etc. Do some not believe?

not me answering this 5 years after it was sent like ANYWAYS.

GALE obviously believes in magical beings, seeing as he is one. not only does he believe, but he is familiar with them in all their forms : though he may not have met every supernatural being out there, he likely has some form of knowledge about their purpose and existence, him being as scholary as he is.

CHASE could not care less & mostly just sees stories about supernatural and magical beings as folklore to entertain children. the supposed harvest goddess has deserted his home for as long as he’s lived in the town, why should he believe in something that apparently abandoned them anyways? has a little bit of an “if you believe in this, grow up” attitude.

CLIFF wants to believe in them, but has shaky faith when it comes to stuff beyond human understanding. he doesn’t really know what he believes & his utlimate decision likely comes down to the experiences he has with people and what he learns of the world around him. he’s not sure what to believe, or what to believe in.

SKYE is another case of not particularly caring, though unlike chase, he isn’t so cynical or negative. he leans closer to believing in them, finding the stories both fun & fascinating. he’d be the kind of person to talk about these things with children and regale them with tales about magical beings, although he would put on a bigger fanfare than necessary just to ‘spice it up’

MUFFY is the kind of girl who dreams of being whisked away to a far land full of princes and dragons. that’s to say, she definitely believes in magical beings, although her daydreams are more extravagant than what she actively thinks is out there. she just wants to believe there’s something beautiful & interesting in this world beyond her understanding, because her own world is so miserable and sad.

#「 muffy ❛ ◟ instead of love and laughter‚ what you get is happy never after. 」 #「 gale ❛ ◟ dancing in the moonlight‚ don’t we have it all. 」 #「 chase ❛ ◟ this is how it starts‚ lightning strikes the heart. 」 #skye tbt. #cliff tbt. #「 headcanon. 」

[redwinterroses]

Could you do something with 3rd Life Joel?

Harley I saw your reply on my 2AM post last night and YES the weird Joel thing IS from your ask. XD I had no idea what to do with this originally because Joel has a lot of good moments but I really wasn't in the mood to do much angsty with him (Joel kind of... exudes anti-angst. He's just so factual about everything and the sarcasm is Off The Charts. I love it.)

But I was getting ready to sleep and randomly scrolled past a post about the myth of Black Shuck and the Wild Hunt and my brain was suddenly possessed by a wild spirit of fanfiction so.... Here. Have this Very Odd piece.

(It works best if you read it in a messy Irish accent, lol.)

(also this may be a lead-up to my Trickster God Scar and Archangel Grian thing someday. We'll see.)

~*~

The Wild Hunt

.

.

.

Listen here, child, and I’ll tell ya a tale: the tale of the Wolf King, and a Wild Hunt.

What? Ya know the story? Sit down and hush—you ain’t heard it the way I’ll tell it. And I should know: I seen him myself.

Would ya call yer old granny a liar? For shame. Sit down, you. Eat yer cookie. Listen.

(don’t pinch yer brother, ya nugget, or no more cookies for you.)

He were born out of flames and fire and smoke, y’see. Born when he died, t’be fair, but born in fire all the same. ‘Twas the Grave Maiden what set his roof aflame, she an’ her undead hoard, and of course the Trickster was there as well—fat lot o’ good that did the Wolf King. But he chose his bed, and he laid in it, and we all reap his dreams thereafter.

So there he were, all newly grey and smoulderin’ and his eyes a’burnt like coals and fire and his belly growlin’ for revenge. But he weren’t the Wolf King, not yet—he were then only a lowly red, with naught but one life—like you or me.

(how’d he start with more than one? Well he were a god, weren’t he? Or he were meant to be. No, I don’t know who choses them things—prob’ly the Archangel but don’t tell the cleric you heard that from me. He don’t like me puttin’ the Angel over the Trickster or the Red King. Clerics don’t have much imagination, y’see.)

So what did he do with his one life? With his one, bloody, beatin’ red heart? “Well,” he says, he says to himself, “I need me an army, if I’m gonna take down the Grave Maiden.”

(Shush, child, don’t spoil the story. Yer brother don’t know how it ends.)

“I need me an army,” says he. “But no one will ally with me, and if they did: I’d kill them anyway—” y’see, he had taste for blood, woke with it in his teeth, like any good wolf. “—I’d kill them anyway, the whole world is my enemy.”

So instead of allies, he went to the wolves. And he went to the great da wolf and the great mam wolf, and he says to them, he says: “Give me some of yer children, to fight in my wars.”

And of course the wolves said that was crazy, they weren’t gonna send their children off with some grey-faced red-lifer on a quest to fight the gods. But the Wolf King—

(No, he weren’t the Wolf King yet. No, I don’t know what he were called before. He didn’t matter before.)

The Wolf King—who wasn’t the Wolf King yet—bared his bloody teeth at them wolves and growled at them and said in the words of wolves that they could send their children with him, or he could take ‘em on his own.

Now, wolves is wise—remember that, nugget—wolves is wise, and wolves is knowing. And they looked at this red in front of them and they were knowing that he weren’t lying. And they looked at this red and they were wise and said “Fine, alright, you can take any of ourn that’ll go with ye.”

“Fair enough,” says he. And wolf pups ain’t so wise and so knowing as their parents—remember that, nugget, parents know more’n you give ‘em grief for—so he left with his army: a passel o’ young, foolish wolves.

(Well. Some might say they was foolish. Some might say they was grand and brave and the best wolves to be born on this earth. Some might say that they can be both. Don’t ya go askin’ the cleric though.)

So there he be, this Wolf King and his pack. His army: his teeth and his claws. And now, on moonless nights, ye can hear ‘em: forever huntin’ for the Grave Maiden and her Fallen One and her hordes—she’s his sworn enemy, ya know. But that don’t stop him fightin’ with the other gods too.

He loves to chase the Red King over the mountains—sometimes ya can hear them in the night, howlin’ back and forth at each other, the wolves runnin’ the King and his Hand over the peaks and into the desert dunes. And sometimes the Red King comes after him and the pack too, o’course, but that’s a story for another night and older ears. It’s a bit too sad for cookies by the fire.

(No, love—yer mum’d kill me if I sang the Fall of the Wolf King with yer brother here. He’s too young for that tale.)

He’ll never defeat the Grave Maiden, and he’ll never catch the Red King, and he’ll never burn down all the Flower Kingdom no matter how many times he tries: that’s the nature o’ the gods, y’see, and it’s what makes us happier creatures. ‘Cause they can never finish their stories—they’re trapped in a forever dance of give and take, alliance and war, love and hate. But it’s all real, an’ it’s all true.

And believe me or not but cross my one bleedin’ heart and hope to die (that’s another thing not to repeat in front o’ the cleric, ya hear me, child?): I seen him.

I seen the Wolf King. Just once, but that were enough.

I seen him under the moonlight, racin’ across the moors with his bayin’ army at his back an’ at his front an’ all around him: a sea of white fur, frothin’ about like foam on the surf. All their eyes were burnin’ in the moonlight—I swear it on the Dragon herself. Burnin’ red, they was, like the very flames the Grave Maiden lit. They looked right at me, and I knew—I knew I were his next kill.

(The Wolf King ain’t nice, child. Of course he ain’t nice. He’s mad is what he is. And madmen don’t make for good people to meet when you’re crossing the moors alone of a night, on yer way home from a dance in Crastleton.)

(What do ya mean ya don’t want a sad story? The sad part’s over, child—clearly I didn’t get gobbled up by the Wolf King’s pack, or else who’d be here tellin’ ya this story now, I ask ya? Sit back down with yer sister and listen.)

So I seen him over the crest of the hill, with the moon a silver ha’penny in the sky above and the stars all a-glimmer and a-shinin’ like the lights of the Widow’s crown. And they came down the hill and they swept over me—all them wolves, all glory and soft and fang and hot breath on me face and I closed me eyes—I did!—and just waited for them to gobble me up.

But ya know what happened instead? ‘Course you don’t, that’s why I’m tellin’ ya. Instead o’ teeth and claws and my one life bleedin’ out on the moor… I hears a voice.

No, he didn’t say nothin’, it weren’t words. The Wolf King don’t use human words no more.

But he were laughin’.

Imagine that! Imagine me, not so much older than you, love, alone out on the moor and ringed about by the Wolf King’s army all a’swirlin’ and boundin’ around me: and the Wolf King laughs.

I couldn't help meself, though I'll never know why: but I laughed too.

And then he grabbed me by me arm and we ran.

Oh, my children. If I live to be a thousand I’ll never forget that night.

(Don’t you repeat this to the cleric. Or yer mother. They both think I’m dotty as a bat as it is.)

The Wolf King and his pack run faster than birds can fly—faster than horses, faster than hounds. Faster than I could run, even then: but it didn’t matter. They carried me along, light as a feather and more nimble than a hare. Over the mountain, down the vale, through the ruins of the Flower Kingdom—yes, I’ve seen the Flower Kingdom, but only by moonlight and we didn’t stop, but I heard later that there was fires again so he must have gotten his bite at the Widow and the Soldier when I weren’t lookin’.

And all the while, the whole pack was howlin’. Howlin’ like the front gale of a nor’easter comin’ up the coast: the wolves was howlin’, and the King was howlin’, and Void take me if I weren’t howlin’ too, just like this—

(Oh hush, child, that weren’t even so loud. End’s all, if you ain’t a skittish little creature—get back here and eat another cookie.)

We ran all night, runnin’ and howlin’ and leavin’ fire and fang in our wake. But it couldn’t last forever, as the Wolf King only wanted me runnin’ with him as long as it was sportin’, and even with the wolves carryin’ me along I did get tired. More tired than I’ve ever been before or since, I don’t mind tellin’ ya.

So come mornin’, come dawnin’ of the next day’s sun, I find myself back on the road to Crastleton. My dress were in tatters and my feet were a bleedin’ mess of cuts and blisters that never did hurt, my hair tangled with wind knots and wolf hair, and my throat hoarse from howlin’.

And just before he left, him swirlin’ about with a millin’ mess of wolves around his feet, the Wolf King looked at me—looked at me, I tell ya—and gave me a grin that were full of as many teeth as there are leaves in a tree. He tossed me this, and then he were gone—sweeping up and away off the moor like nothing more than a ghost in a dream.

(Here, look at it. What do you think it is? I’ve always said it’s a claw, but what kinda creature has silver claws, I ask you? Give that back to me now, child—it hasn’t left me side in six times so long as you’ve been alive, and it’ll be buried with me if I can get someone other than the cleric to do the job.)

So of course the Wolf King is real! And so the Trickster and the Archangel and the Grave Maiden and the Widow and the Soldier and the Red King and the Hand and all the rest of them. If ye’re very, very good, and very, very lucky, mayhap you’ll even see them one day.

Because of course, they might be gods, child. But in one way, they’re just like you and me: they’ve got but one life—red and bloodied and barin’ their teeth.

And the Wolf King runs forever, chasing after the Grave Maiden and her Fallen One and even the Traitor when the mood strikes him. He’ll never catch her, but she’ll never outrun him either. The Wolf King hunts forever.

Now—you finish up that cookie and run outside. I hear your mama callin’ for you. And remember: we don’t tell Mama anything Granny says about the cleric, alrighty?

Alrighty.

Goodnight, children—sleep tight; don’t let the phantoms bite.

And just maybe—if you’re real, real quiet—you might hear the howling.

Howl back.

#i take the 'you could make a religion out of this' meme as a personal challenge #two fics in one day? more likely than you think #the funny part is how it took DAYS to write Impulse's Sweet Dreams fic and this weird thing took less than two hours #such is the writer brain #redwinterwrites #3rd life smp #3rd life fanfiction #smallishbeans #3rd life joel #folklore au

[bluecarelesswhisper]

TOP 100 FEMALE SOLO SINGERS OF THE '50S AND '60S

Patti Page - All My Love, The Tennessee Waltz, Mockin' Bird Hill, I Went to Your Wedding, The Doggie in the Window, Cross Over the Bridge, Allegheny Moon, Old Cape Cod; Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte

Connie Francis - Who's Sorry Now, My Happiness, Lipstick on Your Collar, Everybody's Somebody's Fool, My Heart Has a Mind of its Own, Where the Boys Are, Don't Break the Heart That Loves You

Brenda Lee - Sweet Nothin's, I'm Sorry, I Want to Be Wanted, Fool #1, Break it to Me Gently, All Alone Am I

Kay Starr - Wheel of Fortune, Side By Side, Changing Partners, If You Love Me (Really Love Me), Rock and Roll Waltz

Doris Day - A Guy is a Guy, Secret Love, If I Give My Heart to You; Whatever Will Be, Will Be (Que Sera, Sera); Everybody Loves a Lover

Dionne Warwick - Anyone Who Had a Heart, Walk on By, I Say a Little Prayer, (Theme from) Valley of the Dolls, I'll Never Fall in Love Again

Aretha Franklin - I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You), Respect, Baby I Love You, Chain of Fools, The House That Jack Built

Teresa Brewer - Music! Music! Music!, Till I Waltz Again With You, Ricochet, A Tear Fell, A Sweet Old Fashioned Girl

Jo Stafford - Shrimp Boats, You Belong to Me, Jambalaya, Keep it a Secret, Make Love to Me!

Rosemary Clooney - Come On-a My House, Half as Much, Botch-A-Me, Hey There, This Ole House

Joni James - Why Don't You Believe Me, Have You Heard, Your Cheatin' Heart; My Love, My Love; How Important Can it Be?

Petula Clark - Downtown, I Know a Place, My Love, This is My Song, Don't Sleep in the Subway

Dinah Washington - I Don't Hurt Anymore, What a Diff'rence a Day Makes, Unforgettable, This Bitter Earth

Mary Wells - The One Who Really Loves You, You Beat Me to the Punch, Two Lovers, My Guy

Georgia Gibbs - Kiss of Fire, Seven Lonely Days, Tweedle Dee, Dance With Me Henry (Wallflower)

Lesley Gore - It's My Party, Judy's Turn to Cry, She's a Fool, You Don't Own Me

Nancy Sinatra - These Boots Are Made For Walkin'; How Does That Grab You, Darlin'?; Sugar Town, Love Eyes

Sarah Vaughan - Make Yourself Comfortable, How Important Can it Be?, Whatever Lola Wants, Broken-Hearted Melody

Dusty Springfield - I Only Want to Be With You, Wishin' and Hopin', You Don't Have to Say You Love Me, Son-Of-A Preacher Man

Ruth Brown - Teardrops From My Eyes, 5-10-15 Hours, (Mama) He Treats Your Daughter Mean, Oh What a Dream

Kitty Wells - It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels, Makin' Believe, Searching (For Someone Like You), Heartbreak U.S.A.

Etta James - The Wallflower, All I Could Do Was Cry, At Last, Tell Mama

LaVern Baker - Tweedlee Dee, Play it Fair, Jim Dandy, I Cried a Tear

Gale Storm - I Hear You Knocking, Teen Age Prayer, Dark Moon

Dinah Shore - My Heart Cries For You, Sweet Violets, Chantz-Chantez

Jaye P. Morgan - That's All I Want From You, Danger! Heartbreak Ahead, The Longest Walk

Eydie Gorme - Mama, Teach Me to Dance; You Need Hands, Blame it on the Bossa Nova

Carla Thomas - Gee Whiz (Look at His Eyes), B-A-B-Y, I Like What You're Doing (To Me)

Patsy Cline - Walkin' After Midnight, I Fall to Pieces, Crazy

Peggy Lee - Lover, Fever, Is That All There Is

Dee Dee Sharp - Mashed Potato Time, Gravy (For My Mashed Potatoes), Ride!

Kitty Kallen - Little Things Mean a Lot, In the Chapel in the Moonlight, My Coloring Book

Annette - Tall Paul, O Dio Mio, Pineapple Princess

Cher - All I Really Want to Do, Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down), You Better Sit Down Kids

Barbra Streisand - People, He Touched Me, Second Hand Rose

Linda Scott - I've Told Every Little Star, Don't Bet Money Honey, I Don't Know Why

Connie Smith - Once a Day, Ain't Had No Lovin', The Hurtin's All Over

Barbara Lewis - Hello Stranger, Baby I'm Yours, Make Me Your Baby

Anita Bryant - Till There Was You, Paper Roses, In My Little Corner of the World

Skeeter Davis - My Last Date (With You), The End of the World, I Can't Stay Mad at You

Sue Thompson - Sad Movies (Make Me Cry), Norman, Paper Tiger

Della Reese - And That Reminds Me, Don't You Know, Not One Minute More

Loretta Lynn - Don't Come Home A-Drinkin' (With Lovin' on Your Mind), Fist City, Woman of the World (Leave My World Alone)

Betty Everett - You're No Good, The Shoop Shoop Song, There Comes a Time

Jackie DeShannon - What the World Needs Now is Love, Put a Little Love in Your Heart, Love Will Find a Way

Timi Yuro - Hurt, What's a Matter Baby, Make the World Go Away

Debbie Reynolds - Tammy, A Very Special Love, Am I That Easy to Forget

Gogi Grant - Suddenly There's a Valley, Who Are We, The Wayward Wind

Maxine Brown - All in My Mind, Funny, Oh No Not My Baby

Betty Johnson - I Dreamed, Little White Lies, The Little Blue Man

Jean Shepard - A Satisfied Mind, Beautiful Lies, Second Fiddle (To An Old Guitar)

Shirley Ellis - The Nitty Gitty, The Name Game, The Clapping Song

Little Eva - The Loco-Motion, Keep Your Hands Off My Baby, Let's Turkey Trot

Vera Lynn - Auf Wiederseh'n Sweetheart, Yours, If You Love Me (Really Love Me)

Eartha Kitt - C'est Si Bon, Santa Baby, Somebody Bad Stole De Wedding Bell

Lulu - To Sir With Love, Best of Both Worlds, Morning Dew

June Valli - Crying in the Chapel, I Understand, Apple Green

Connie Stevens - Sixteen Reasons, Why'd You Wanna Make Me Cry, Mr. Songwriter

Jane Morgan - Fascination, The Day the Rains Came, With Open Arms

Nancy Wilson - (You Don't Know) How Glad I Am, I Wanna Be With You; Face it Girl, it's Over

Esther Phillips - Release Me, And I Love Him, When a Woman Loves a Man

Vikki Carr - It Must Be Him, The Lesson, With Pen in Hand

Little Peggy March - I Will Follow Him, I Wish I Were a Princess; Hello Heartache, Goodbye Love

Mindy Carson - Candy and Cake, My Foolish Heart, Wake the Town and Tell the People

Sandy Posey - Born a Woman, Single Girl, I Take it Back

Bobbie Gentry - Ode to Billie Joe, Fancy

Brenda Holloway - Every Little Bit Hurts, When I'm Gone

Eileen Rodgers - Miracle of Love, Treasure of Your Love

Barbara Lynn - You'll Lose a Good Thing, Second Fiddle Girl

Dottie West - Here Comes My Baby, Would You Hold it Against Me

Baby Washington - That's How Heartaches Are Made, Only Those in Love

Kathy Linden - Billy; Goodbye Jimmy, Goodbye

Cathy Carr - Ivory Tower, First Anniversary

Fontella Bass - Rescue Me, Recovery

Barbara Mason - Yes, I'm Ready; Sad, Sad Girl

Marianne Faithfull - As Tears Go By, Summer Nights

Shelley Fabares - Johnny Angel, Johnny Loves Me

Wanda Jackson - Let's Have a Party, In the Middle of a Heartache

Tammy Wynette - D-I-V-O-R-C-E, Stand By Your Man

Mama Cass - Dream a Little Dream of Me, It's Getting Better

Faye Adams - Shake a Hand, Hurts Me to My Heart

Jill Corey - I Love My Baby, Love Me to Pieces

Dodie Stevens - Pink Shoe Laces, No

Bettye Swann - Make Me Yours, Don't Touch Me

Jan Howard - Evil on Your Mind, Bad Seed

Nina Simone - I Loves You, Porgy; Ain't Got No; I Got Life

Norma Jean - Go Cat Go, I Wouldn't Buy a Used Car From Him

Miss Toni Fisher - The Big Hurt, West of the Wall

Damita Jo - I'll Be There, If You Go Away

Patty Duke - Don't Just Stand There, Say Something Funny

Bonnie Guitar - Dark Moon, Mister Fire Eyes

Gloria Lynne - I Wish You Love, Watermelon Man

Jody Miller - Queen of the House, Home of the Brave

Gisele MacKenzie - Hard to Get, The Star You Wished Upon Last Night

Betty Madigan - Joey, Dance Everyone Dance

Ketty Lester - Love Letters, But Not For Me

Barbara George - I Know (You Don't Love Me No More), You Talk About Love

Joanie Sommers - One Boy, Johnny Get Angry

Irma Thomas - Don't Mess With My Man, Wish Someone Would Care

Diane Renay - Navy Blue, Kiss Me Sailor

#50s #60s #music

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64 Ch. 3

Everlark meets marching band meets enemies to friends to lovers.

Tumblr: X X X

Read on Ao3: X X X

May  

There wasn’t a single childhood memory Katniss could pull that didn’t involve Peeta Mellark. Try as she might to ever forget they were friends—and she tried her hardest to forget—it was next to impossible. Peeta and her were, once upon a time, inseparable. Glued at the hip. Her parents used to tease that only the moonlight could separate them and even then, in the summertime, Peeta spent many nights sleeping on the living room floor next to her, giggling as they watched movies and ate popcorn, Prim snoring beside them. 

And then with her dad being an avid photographer, there were boxes of family albums documenting Katniss and Prim growing up throughout the years. From first steps to bath times together to dance and music recitals—her dad documented it all. “For future biographers,” he used to joke whenever Katniss would complain why they always had to take a picture of  everything. She’d roll her eyes in response and just let him snap away. There was no stopping the man. Now she wished she could take back all her tweenage-angst and let him take as many photos as he wanted of her. But she didn’t know what she knew now. Thus was life. 

On the rare occasion when he relented with the camera and accepted that she was not going to cooperate with any poses he suggested, Peeta was more than happy to step in and take her place, joking how his many admirers at school would kill for a candid photo of him. “It’s not candid if you’re posing, stupid,” she used to tell him, but he’d kindly tell her to shut her piehole and offer up suggestions on where to take the picture next, her dad eating Peeta’s enjoyment up with each click of the shutter. 

Peeta was in a  lot  of her family photos. It was impossible to flip through any family album after Katniss had turned three and not find him. Due to his parents constantly working at their family bakery turned mini corporation, Peeta and his older brother Rye were often left to fend for themselves and from early morning until sundown, Rye would kick Peeta out of the house and lock the door. Rye’s dickish behavior was actually how the two met—Katniss hearing Peeta screaming across their yard, asking if he was dying because he was crying by his back door, fists slamming the glass. 

“No,” he sniffed, rubbing his puffy red eyes. “My brudder—l-l-locked—me—o-o- ooout!” Peeta hiccupped, his hysteria growing with each syllable until he was back to crying for Rye to let him in.

“My daddy’s makin’ pancakes,” Katniss offered from her deck. “He makes them with funny faces and makes them sing. Want some?” 

There probably should have been some type of introduction between them before Katniss invited this total stranger into her home, but when Peeta came in with her, her dad just smiled and told him to pull up a chair. Names were finally exchanged over gooey chocolate chip pancakes and they became instant friends. 

After that, instead of crying when Rye would inevitably lock him out of his own home, Peeta would cross over to the Everdeen’s yard and walk on in, shouting out his greetings to whoever was in the kitchen at the time and seeing what she or her dad were up to for the day. There were countless memories of Katniss coming downstairs after playing with Prim and finding Peeta and her dad casually working together on the morning crossword puzzle at the kitchen table, or out in her mother’s garden doing yard work and chatting about everything and anything. He was always there, ready to hang out and see what she had in mind for them to do that day, and their photo albums showed it. Birthday parties, family dinners, sleepovers, holidays—there Peeta was, all smiles and dimples.

Peeta Mellark was a huge fixture in the Everdeen household until one day he just wasn’t. One day he was there, making her laugh so hard, milk came out her nose, and the next, he was gone and those boxes of happy family photos were just sad reminders of what used to be. 

No dad.

No best friend. 

It was fine. She was fine. 

Except maybe she wasn’t? It annoyed her that Peeta could still dig under her skin like that, his words in the locker room playing on repeat in her mind. At least her nerves about tryouts had a chance to calm down between stressing about Abernathy’s mocking jabs about her playing and her annoyance at Peeta thinking her a heartless loner. So what if she preferred to do things alone? It meant she was independent, mature for her young age. Was that such a bad thing? 

And what was up with accusing her of not being there for people? Not caring for them? Did she have to remind him that he made his choice and ditched  her ? That the second her dad died, he split? Was he ever really her friend, or was he just using her to get to her dad because his dad wasn’t around? Katniss had been wondering that for years, but didn’t have the courage to ask because she just knew if she did, she’d start to cry and shout at him and maybe shove him a bit and he and his stupid friends would laugh and probably call her a psychopath bitch.

What a fucking hypocrite Peeta Mellark was, calling her heartless when he was guilty of so much worse. 

The final bell rang at last, freeing everyone for the day. Katniss was so caught up in her anger over Peeta and Mr. Abernathy and really, just everyone at this point, that she almost forgot about the call sheet posting. Almost. As soon as Madge reminded her, asking if she wanted to walk over there with her and Gale, all those nerves resurfaced as they headed over to the band room. She kept discreetly wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, preparing herself to be disappointed, to expect someone like Glimmer to get it, but please, whoever was listening up there, please let her have made captain. If this crappy hellish day could give her just one thing, let it be that.

“I can’t look,” Katniss panicked when she saw the neon pink sign taped to the window connecting to the band office, halting in her steps. “If I didn’t make captain, I don’t know what I’ll do. Punch something?” 

Madge rolled her eyes and offered to check for her. “If Trinket didn’t make you captain, she clearly tripped in those heels and is suffering from some head trauma. Let’s see.” Her manicured finger scrolled down the long list of names until stopping on the Es. “Hm. Katniss, I don’t see your name on here at all.”

Her heart jolted. “What? That can’t be.” She wasn’t positive on being captain, but she was positive she’d at least make the  team  . Were the theatre and dance kids really that much better? She shoved Gale and Madge aside, looking for her name. Abrams...Banks...Carroll...Daly...Edwards...Evans...  Everdeen! And there was an asterisk next to her name! She was captain of next season’s color guard!

“You asshole!” she laughed, shoving Madge in the shoulder. “I’m captain!” She couldn’t help the large smile stretching across her face. She was captain! 

“You are!” Madge cheered, giving her a big tight hug. “Congratulations, Katniss! I’m so proud of you!” 

“Totally not surprised,” Gale said, messing up her hair in a brotherly fashion. She shoved his hand away and gave a playful glare. “And what about my favorite guard member?” he asked, looking down at Madge. “Did you make it, too?” 

Madge gave him a sweet smile and looked further down the list before pumping her fists in excitement. “I did! I made it! Take that Shelly Shoemon from 4th grade for saying I had the coordination skills of a cow!” 

“Totally not surprised,” Gale said again, laughing as he pulled his girlfriend in for a kiss. They locked lips for a while before Katniss cleared her throat and suggested they get a room if they wanted to continue. The couple smiled, Madge’s freckled cheeks tinted pink, but broke apart, their hands remaining clasped together. 

“Should we head over to Sae’s for burgers and ice cream to celebrate?” Gale suggested. “Thom just paid me for fixing his car, so I have the cash to spend.” Both girls happily agreed to his suggestion, excited to share the news with Sae, the diner’s owner and local grandmother to anyone under the age of 40. Good news didn’t feel real until sharing it with Sae. 

“Katniss,” Miss Trinket shouted from somewhere in her office, “is that you?” Her head popped out the doorway, startling the three. “Excellent, dear! I’ve been waiting to speak with you about something. Come in! Come in!” Her hand motioned for her to follow.

“Oh.” Katniss looked over at Gale and Madge, unsure what to say. “Am I in trouble?” 

Miss Trinket laughed. “No, not at all! I just need to discuss some color guard things with my new  captain.” She sang the last word, putting great emphasis on the middle consonants, and glared behind her at, presumably, Mr. Abernathy who probably said something rude in a remark.

“Sure, yeah,” Katniss said, feeling a bit dumb. Of course Miss Trinket wanted to jump right into the thick of things. The woman was the Energizer Bunny on crack when it came to choreography and scheduling. Of course she’d want to talk to her captain about the game plan and how she expected they execute it. “I’m free to talk.” Miss Trinket smiled and stepped back in her office. 

Katniss turned to Madge and Gale, wearing an apologetic smile . “I’ll meet you at Sae’s?” They nodded, not minding the wait, and wished her luck, telling her to text when she was leaving school.

*********

The first thing Katniss noticed amiss when stepping into the adjoined office was Peeta Mellark casually sitting there in front of Mr. Abernathy’s desk, flipping through a pile of sheet music. It wasn’t unusual for band students to volunteer time helping the surly man try to keep the band program organized, but it seemed a little late for a volunteer to still be in here. Abernathy and Trinket were a lot to take and only bearable in small, manageable doses. Most booked it the second the bell rang. 

She paused in the doorway, unsure if she misunderstood Miss Trinket. She meant for them to talk now, right? So what was Peeta doing here?

“Ah, Katniss,” Miss Trinket said, sifting through a stack of notes, not noticing her hesitation. “Take a seat, please.” She motioned to the wooden chair in front of her desk. 

Still unsure what was going on, Katniss gingerly sat down in the offered chair, her bag in her lap, and waited to see what exactly Miss Trinket wanted to talk about with Peeta still here. Guard stuff wasn’t technically private, but it’s not like it was riveting information either. Something didn’t feel right here.

Miss Trinket cleared her throat, catching Katniss’ attention from not looking at Peeta, and folded her hands on top of her desk with a bright, fluorescent smile. “Katniss, I want to be the first to congratulate you on a job well done. Your audition was truly inspiring. Honestly, I wish I could have taped it to show future guard members what true dedication looks like.” Katniss’ cheeks darkened at her director’s lavish compliments. 

“Thank you, Miss Trinket,” she said quietly, feeling a tad uncomfortable being told this in front of Peeta and Mr. Abernathy. “I tried my hardest.” 

“And it shows, dear. It truly shows.” The assistant director looked down at her notes, reading from one of the piles she was sifting through earlier, her long fingernails idly tapping the top metal surface in thought. “In fact,” she said, “I was so impressed with your audition, I’ve decided to make you a very prominent figure in this season’s show. The show’s leading star, as it were.” 

“I’m—um. What?” And then Miss Trinket proceeded to happily explain her vision for how their band was going to tell the tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet, with the occasional grunts from Mr. Abernathy here and there. She explained how she envisioned the houses being represented by the color guard and drumline, feuding together on the field as the music from the band crescendos to the climatic finish.

“Next to you, Katniss,” Miss Trinket said, holding up what looked like a handwritten list of names, “I haven’t quite decided who will play who for color guard, but we have time to iron out these details, dear. What concerns me is how long it is taking Boggs to decide who made it for drumline.” Her eyes slitted at Abernathy. “It seems someone forgot to pass along the deadline I imposed so we could avoid this exact problem.” Mr. Abernathy just gave a noncommittal shrug and continued flipping through the scorebook he was looking at. Miss Trinket rubbed at the corner of her eyes and gave Katniss an exasperated look before continuing on. 

“It took some wheedling to get him to bend to my will, but I do believe many of our seasonal veterans are returning to drumline this year, Peeta being one of them.” She smiled warmly at the boy. For someone finding out good news, Peeta looked bored out of his mind sitting there, listening as Miss Trinket prattled on about visions and forbidden love and what this will mean for the band come competition season.

This all felt like a lot. Like a lot a lot.  

“So let me get this straight,” Katniss said slowly, trying to process it all and not throw up like her stomach wanted. “You want me to be Juliet? Like the Juliet who falls in love and dies at the end? That Juliet?”

If it was at all possible, Miss Trinket’s smile grew, making Katniss feel even sicker. “The very one, my dear! Oh, Katniss, I cannot tell you how  thrilled  I am to have you as our Juliet. I’ve had my guesses who you’d play for a while now, since I decided we should do  Romeo & Juliet a few months back, really.” Mr. Abernathy snorted at that but said nothing to contradict her. “But now, after seeing how much you’ve improved since last season? Truly inspiring! And with your tiny frame, I think we can finally bring air flips into the mix now!  Wouldn’t that look amazing under stadium lights?”

Katniss really felt like she was going to be sick now. “You want me to be a spotlight guard?” Her voice sounded a bit squeaky to her ears. “But that’s—I’ve never been a spotlight guard before! Especially not something to that kind of scale. They’re, like, really important. Like judges judging them important.” 

It was Peeta’s turn to laugh next to her, trying to cover it up with a cough when she turned to glare at him. Why was he here? 

Katniss took a deep breath in to try and quiet the loud ringing noise suddenly blaring in her ears. She was clearly not making a first good impression as captain, but this was so unexpected! Miss Trinket had never had her be a spotlight before. Ever. It was one thing being captain, but this, having her performance carry the entire story? Yeah, no thanks.  

“Are you sure you want it to be me?” she asked, her voice a lot calmer than she felt. “I was thinking you’d want someone like Madge—or Glimmer—for something this important. You’re always saying how swan-like Glimmer is on the field. Don’t you want Juliet to look like a swan?” 

“Told you she wouldn’t be for it,” Peeta muttered next to her, a knowing smile on his face as he shook his head in amusement. Oh, he just thought he knew everything about her, didn’t he? Like he was some Katniss Everdeen expert.

“Why are you even here?” she finally asked him. “This clearly has nothing to do with you. Can’t you file music somewhere else?” 

“Isn’t it a bit obvious why I’m here, Katniss?” he asked her incredulously, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “I thought you were more observant than this.”

Before she could reply, Miss Trinket held her hands up. “Enough! Peeta, I’ll kindly ask you to please sit there quietly, as we discussed.” Discussed? When did they have time to discuss this? Then she remembered earlier. Miss Trinket needing to speak with Peeta, breaking up their argument. They were discussing her? Why did Peeta have to know that Miss Trinket wanted her as Juliet. She was clearly missing something obvious, like Peeta said, but her mind was shot. Barely able to process anything anymore as her anxiety kicked into gear. 

“And, Katniss.” She looked up at the sound of her name. “Please keep an open mind about this. I understand to some, being a lead is scary, but trust me when I say, I have my absolute faith in you. 

“Madge and Glimmer are talented girls, yes,” Miss Trinket explained, “but I’m afraid they are too tall for what I have in mind for choreography. You know how important these things can be. We need someone petite like you, Katniss. Someone Peeta can easily pick up and twirl without fear of dropping.” She motioned a manicured hand at Peeta, his face staring at her expectantly. 

But Katniss’ brain was still running in circles. “Peeta’s not on guard. Why would he be picking me up?” 

Miss Trinket’s patient smile looked strained now. “As I already told you,” she said slowly, surely believing Katniss dense now, “Guard and drumline will be representing the two houses. Guard will be Capulet and drumline Montague. Peeta’s on drumline, so naturally he’d be our star Montague.” 

Her mind finally caught up to what everyone was suggesting. “Wait,” she said, sitting at the edge of her seat now. “If I’m Juliet and you’re saying he’s the star…” Her focus drifted to Peeta, who gave an amused, cocky wave, surely enjoying the multitude of emotions crossing her face in this moment. Her stomach dropped, this news hitting her harder than the spotlight one. “You’re Romeo?” 

Instead of just answering with a simple yes/no like a normal person, or even some Ding! Ding! Ding!  joke, Peeta lowered himself to the floor and responded in all his annoyingly obnoxious flair:  “‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.’” He closed his eyes on the last word and reached for her hand, giving it a gentle kiss, his lips soft and warm against her now clammy skin. She swatted her hand away, tucking it around her bag for protection. 

No. No, no, no. No! 

This had to be a mistake. Her and Peeta Mellark? As Romeo and Juliet? 

That was what Miss Trinket wanted to talk to him about, she realized. It wasn’t about her at all. She wanted to talk to him about being Romeo for the field show. 

“I don’t understand,” Katniss said at last, when her stomach had finally recovered itself. “How can  Peeta be Romeo when he’s going to be busy marching around with a snare drum? What about Finnick? He’s tall. Taller than Peeta, for sure. I’m sure he could just as easily lift me.” 

Was she seriously that desperate to prefer the preening peacock Finnick Odair? 

Yes, yes she was. 

“Finnick will most likely play our Tybalt,” Miss Trinket remarked. “And as he is on guard, he will play a Capulet role.” 

“What about gender bending the role?” Katniss suggested. “Who says Juliet has to be a girl? We are in the 21st century. And didn’t Shakespeare have men play the female roles, anyway? Let Finnick play Juliet to Peeta’s Romeo. He’d be perfect in the role.” 

“Should I feel insulted that you don’t want to be my partner, Katniss?” Peeta innocently asked, enjoying this way too much. Her fists gripped her bag hard, her eyes deadly slits. People often told her how intimidating she looked, but Peeta didn’t even bat an eye. He was all smiles and dimples. If only looks could kill...

“Katniss,” Miss Trinket said curtly, snapping her attention back on the director, “I chose you as my next in command because I trust in your talent and know you are a driven young woman who people look up to. Now we both want the pleasure of seeing this band win first place at PSU, don’t we?” 

“Yes, but—” 

“And we will do what is necessary to move this band toward that goal, correct?” 

“Of course, but—” 

“But nothing, Everdeen,” Mr. Abernathy interjected at last, kicking his feet off the tall pile of sheet music laying by his desk. “You want to win?” He shook his hand at her, not needing a response. “Stupid question. Of course you do. I can see it all over your face. You’re too competitive to hide it. Well, to win you have to please the judges. Plain and simple. Judges like this kind of flair nonsense. So play our star-crossed lovers—” 

“We’re not star-crossed lovers!” Katniss grit out, a bit harder than she intended, unable to look at Peeta as she said it. Not like it mattered. She could practically feel his amusement radiating off his person. “This won’t work, Mr. Abernathy. Don’t you want people who’ll get along? Peeta and I hate each other. We have for a really long time.” 

“Who cares?” Mr. Abernathy asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation, his longish black hair falling in his face from the motion. “Pretend. Act like your lovesick classmates. I don’t care. It’s all a big show, anyway, and if pairing you two up wins us enough brownie points to win and shuts Trinket up for a year, then that’s what we’re going to do. Mellark’s already agreed to it and he’s never danced a day in his life. So now it’s your turn to be a good girl and agree to the plan, Everdeen. Got it?” 

“Got it,” she muttered, slouching low in her chair. Of all the things she expected to hear today, pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark was not one of them. This was definitely going to blow up in everyone’s faces, she was sure of it. Putting on a performance smile for judges was one thing, but acting like she was in love with Peeta was another. And then hoping he wouldn’t drop her when doing those stupid flips Miss Trinket mentioned? She was going to be in a body cast by the end of the season.

Peeta seemed to have dropped the amusement act at last, mirroring her sour mood as the two directors discussed extra one-on-one rehearsal time with Miss Trinket to better prepare Peeta since he had zero dance experience. Katniss tried to pay attention, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from glancing over at Peeta, wondering what he could possibly be thinking during all this. His jaw was clenched, she could tell, but he wasn’t looking at her or Trinket or even Abernathy. He was focusing on picking at a hole in his jeans, his eyebrows scrunched together. She understood the conflict—was feeling it herself—but he didn’t look mad. Just...troubled. Like something was said that he was having a hard time with.

Where to begin? Katniss thought bitterly, still unable to believe they were actually being forced to play Romeo and Juliet, like they were in some teenage drama or something.

“I know we have lots to work on, but just seeing the two of you together like this,” Miss Trinket said, motioning between them, “tells me I made the right decision. Look how adorable you two look! Pearls on a necklace! Didn’t I say that’s what they reminded me of, Haymitch?” She turned to Abernathy, who was now busy digging dirt from under his nails with his baton. Miss Trinket frowned before catching herself. “I did, I did! I said that earlier when I found you talking in the back.” She winked and oh god. Could they just go already?

********

It took another fifteen minutes of talking and goodbyes that were very much not goodbyes before they were truly free from the office. Katniss bolted out the side door as quickly as she could, cursing under her breath at how long she’d been in there. That took almost an hour! Madge and Gale were probably wondering what was taking so long. Or maybe not. It was Trinket, after all. 

The parking lot was nearly empty now as she crossed it, digging around for her battered up phone to text. Hopefully they were still up for burgers because after that talk...yeah. She needed the greasiest burger available. Wait until she tells her friends she’s playing Juliet and that Peeta Mellark was her Romeo. They might not believe her, thinking it a practical joke and asking what Trinket really wanted. That’s how absurd this whole situation sounded. 

“Katniss!” she heard her name called out. “Hey, wait up!” She turned and saw Peeta waving her down, his long legs quickly catching up to her. Part of her wanted to pretend she didn’t hear him and keep moving, her car just across the street from where she stood. It’d be a safer bet, too, moving along, because nothing good was ever said when she was upset. This afternoon being a prime example. But for some reason, she was curious what Peeta had to say about all this. She stopped at the street corner and pretended to check for traffic despite the road being empty of any moving vehicle. 

“Damn,” he laughed, a bit breathless as he caught up next to her. “I forgot how fast your fight or flight response is.” 

“I’m not fleeing,” she frowned, checking the street for real this time before crossing. She dug around the front pocket of her book bag, pulling out both her keys and phone. “School’s done and I’m going to Sae’s with Gale and Madge. You know, my friends.”

“I know who Gale and Madge are.” 

“Just checking,” she stated cooly, flipping her braid over her shoulder, “since you practically accused me of having none earlier.” 

He winced. “Yeah, not the finest thing I’ve ever said. I’m sorry about that.” 

She shrugged. “It’s fine, Peeta.” It wasn’t, but if she kept telling herself that, maybe she’ll believe it. “We can’t all be Mr. Popular like you.” 

“Right.” He looked back at the student parking lot where he parked. Unlike her family, his could afford the $350 the school charged for a parking space. “Listen, about what you said in there. About us hating each other.” Katniss raised an eyebrow, curious where this would lead. “I don’t...hate you.” 

Well that was...unexpected. Was that why he looked so troubled in the meeting? Because she said they hated each other? She took a step back from him, realizing he was closer than she felt comfortable with, and waited for the rest of it. It didn’t sound like he was finished, like there was a big but hanging at the end of his sentence. What else did he want to say?  But I still don’t really like you?  But I think you’re annoying and working with you is going to suck? But I think you’re a bitch? Honestly, the list could go on about all the negative things Peeta could say about her, but he said nothing. He just looked down at his shoes and kicked at some loose pebbles in the street. 

“Oh,” she said, unsure what else there was to say. “I guess that will make rehearsal easier.” 

He nodded, a bit too jerky to look natural. “Yeah. I just—it’s important to me that you know that I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you. Mad beyond belief? Yeah. Lots of times, actually. But never hate. I could never hate you, Katniss.”

“Oh,” she said again, dumbfounded. “Well, thanks, Peeta. I guess. That’s... Good to know.” And just because her sour mood couldn’t help itself, “I’ll be able to sleep happy tonight knowing you don’t hate me.” She made a face, instantly regretting her words, and yanked open her car door, needing to just leave. “Listen, I gotta go. Gale and Madge are already waiting for me and Trinket took forever rambling about how we’re pearl necklaces. They’re waiting for me.” 

He didn’t say anything as she got in the car, the loud, embarrassing screech of her engine once on making any type of conversation near impossible to hold. He stepped away and gave a halfhearted wave, all bravado gone now, as she pulled away from the curb. By the time she thought to wave back, it was too late and her car was halfway down the street. 

God, she really was a heartless bitch.

*******

It was only hours later—after returning home from drowning her frustrations in the thickest chocolate shake Sae could make and celebrating her good news with her mom and sister over pizza—did she allow herself to think about Peeta Mellark. 

On a whim, she pulled the framed photo she kept of her and her dad off her nightstand and held it, her grip tightening as she studied the ridiculous faces they’re making at the camera. It was one of the last pictures they took together before his passing. She can’t remember what prompted them to make the faces, but she wished she could go back and make them again with him. To be with her dad for just one more day. One more hour, even. She’d do anything for that. 

Katniss closed her eyes and hugged the frame close to her chest for a moment, trying to stop any tears from slipping past her tight emotional control. She was safe to cry in her room, but wanted to wait until she was in bed with the lights turned off before crying over this emotionally draining day. 

When it felt like she had her emotions under control, Katniss used her longest fingernail to lift the tabs on the back of the frame and carefully took the picture out, unfolding the right-half of it to reveal a young curly-haired Peeta smiling up at her, her dad’s arm thrown over his shoulders. 

She stared at the full photo for the longest time, remembering how mad she was at him for taking this one simple thing from her. She never minded Peeta being in her family photos before. She sometimes pulled him in for ones when her dad or mom shouted, “Picture time! Show us your pearly whites!” But that was when she still thought they’d have more time. Why wouldn’t there be more time? Dads weren’t supposed to die until you were old and had kids of your own. That’s how it was  supposed to be. They weren’t supposed to die when you’re eleven and barely old enough to understand the cruelty of the world. The unfairness of it all. 

Katniss barely remembered a time when it was just her and her dad. Alone. No Peeta. No Prim. Just Dad and her. 

She didn’t even have a good photo of just the two of them.

Just boxes upon boxes of photos of him, her, and Peeta. 

The magical trio.

The full photo didn’t bring up any past resentment this time, though. Instead, it reminded her how much fun the three of them used to have, bumming around town while Aunt Lulu watched Prim at her shop, singing along to the radio and playing Punch Buggy. Her dad always made it a point to include Peeta on any outing they made, even if it involved going to the grocery store. How disappointed Dad would be seeing us now, she thought, tracing over his face with her thumb. Her and Peeta not friends anymore.

But Peeta Mellark doesn’t hate her. Katniss didn’t understand why hearing that felt like a weight had lifted off her, but she felt lighter now, the more she thought about it. Like it was easier to breathe again.

“Peeta Mellark doesn’t hate me,” she whispered to the photo, the words tasting sweet on her tongue. A small smile pulled at her lips and she said it again. “He doesn’t hate me, Dad.” 

Katniss didn’t understand why Peeta thought it was important she knew he didn’t hate her, but it was all her mind kept thinking of, and she was glad to hear it. 

He didn’t hate her. He never had.

#Everlark fanfiction #The Hunger Games Fanfiction #The Hunger Games #Everlark #Everlark fanfic #My writing #The Dance of the Color Guard Op. 64 #I realized in the sneak peek I put ch 4 instead of 3 #because I forget prologue is different #*face palm* #I hope you enjoy!! #Like and reblog! #Let me know what you think! #Finally getting the ball ROLLING

[sootcloak]

Regret’s for the Dead

~2000 words of loosely written dialogue & set dressing with even looser editing because this time around I’m trying to do one every day and just post it cause otherwise I’ll never get them all done. It ain’t for work, I’ve got to learn to live with the messiness of creation or I’ll never post anything.

January Prompt: Revenant - A person who has returned, particularly from the dead. (Often re-contextualized in fantasy media as an undead creature with a fixation on revenge or justice.)

@seaswolchallenge

   The winds and clouds over Terncliff are often clear - leaving the moon to shine brightly down on the cliffside township. Sleeplessly, Gaius steps from the old, shelled-out building the Resistance had afforded him near the occupied square. Vaguely, he hears someone tell him ‘goodnight’ before turning out a lamp in the foyer.

   “Rest well.” He half-says, as footsteps recede from behind him. Taking a deep breath of the salt-leaden, night air he shuts the door behind him and walks out to his usual spot near the fountain. The Ironworks hand should be in bed, and the guards are a quiet sort unlikely to approach him, of all people. It’ll be nice and private. At least as private as he could get. He turns the corner to the square.

   Moonlight falls in shafts down through the clouds. The horizon beyond is dappled with stars and darkness both. And there, in the square proper besides that lovely fountain is a monster.

   He had once thought her a woman, maybe even a heroine as with many of these other Eorzean adventurers. But she wasn’t an adventurer. She was a huntress, of men and other monsters alike. He had thought her small, weak, and fragile when he had met her all those years ago. A mind limited by a flawed body. He had not yet seen her dance as a vicious, cutting gale. Or watched her erase lives from fields away with the casual disinterest of a scribe scratching tasks off a list. And while he did not see the wound made, he has seen the scars. She is not fragile.

   The lalafellin woman’s hair hangs in loose, tangled curtains around her back, rather than the braid she wears in the day. It’s greying blonde like dusty sunlight falls over a dull brown, sleeveless tunic. It was rare to see her out of uniform, let alone in something which could be broadly considered sleepwear. She did not like to lay bare her failings to the world.

   Her left arm glints in the dim light of the lamps and stars. All metal and thick Garlean ballistic fibers. Cords in place of muscles, gears in place of joints. The scar where it joins her shoulder is jagged and stark, even against her deathly pale skin. Her left leg, too, is left mostly exposed to the night air below the knee. Much the same fashion, save for the thick exhaust ports along her small calves.

   It was, in truth, easier to look at the metal and wire, though. At least then, the horror of machinery making skin stretch and bulge in wrong places was avoided. That the ports along her right calf break through skin is a fresh horror.

   “If you’d prefer I move -” She calls without moving, “- you could always ask.” She reaches besides her, hand meeting the neck of a bottle.

   “A drink?” She asks.

   “Vavara. That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant. I’ll be on my way-” He begins, his boots hissing on the sand-dusted stone tiles of the road as he turns.  Emerald eyes, shining from the way they catch the light, meet his as she turns in her seat.

   “Don’t give me that, Legatus. I doubt you can sleep any more than me.” Her knowing, confident tone grinds against him. The low, soft way she speaks forces him to focus and listen to hear. Like being grabbed by the collar and held firm.

   “Your ‘Blessing’ pry into my past again?” He says. His frustration bleeds into his tone.

   “No. It’s the rings under your eyes. Your gait. You’re tired. Can’t sleep though, else you’d not be here. ‘Sides-” She pulls the bottle back to herself and throws her head back with a swig. “My hallowed ‘Blessing of Light’ has yet to grant me the honor of near-omnipotence. Just headaches, here.” She grins with bright, fake teeth. A sigh pushes out from his chest, and he closes the distance and sits alongside her on the fountain. She offers him the bottle, and he just shakes his head. A shrug. Another long draught.

   “Thought you didn’t drink.” He says. His eyes measure her reaction. She looks away from him, off towards the sea. Her metal hand reaches up and waves dismissively before batting a stray strand of hair from her cheek.

   “I don’t.” She declares. “Stomach’s half gone with the rest of what I’d need to get drunk. I like the way it burns my throat, even if I can’t taste it anymore. Reminds me of when I came back to Eorzea.” Her words are upbeat, if reserved. She shows him the bottle label without turning her body. An old Lominsan rum. Still dust on the bottle. Mostly full. He glances up to the cap, where the wax has been freshly broken.

   “That’s right, you mentioned you’d served.” He says. His speech almost feels automatic, as though he were running on muscle-memory alone.

   “Planning on filling the night with polite conversation? You’ve already looked at my file, Legatus. Not to mention we fought back in the Praetorium. Hells, I’m sure you were briefed on me in one way or another when I went rogue.” She takes another sip. He takes a long breath and nods, old memories coming unbidden.

   “It was shortly after the Meteor Project - I was assigned additional protection since other legions were having their leadership covertly culled. I remember.” He admits. His words get heavier as he speaks, as though weighed down by gunmetal. She just nods and waves the bottle at him.

   Neither say much else for some time. The night stretches, stars and the greater moon slowly tracing paths across the distant black. The sea wind drifts in and out. She drinks, slowly emptying the bottle bit by bit. He watches the buildings around him, tracing the scars of ammunition, shells which blew the road apart but was rebuilt. The barricades placed throughout the streets. The towers looming overhead. Fine white stone stitched apart by dark black metal.

   Were the Empire to return at this point, would they erect more of these structures? Make a prison of this port? The resources to hold this point simply do not exist - and yet to turn after seeing so plainly what these people would be made to endure again. Is that cowardice? Or would standing be a pyrrhic path to vengeance, bleeding them further with more shells and bullets scattering them and their homes.

   He shakes the ideas from his head. Steadying his breathing again. He can’t afford to get bogged down in emotions, especially now with the last of the Weapons on the horizon. He leans forward, hand reflexively moving to his forearm, where his old cannon would have been mounted.

   The sound of a  bottle tapping against stone jerks him out of his thoughts. Vavara’s eyes are closed, head tilted straight up towards the sky.

   “I joined the legion because of you.” Her words drag his heart into a pit in his chest. A sinking dread.

   “Do you regret that decision?” He asks, certain the answer will not be something he likes.

   “No, I don’t.”

   “Then, why-”

   “Would I have deserted? Why do I now hunt the Empire’s finest? I don’t regret joining. I learned much and more in the Empire’s service. I’d never have survived as long as I have were it not for what I learned there - probably would’ve starved in an alley or gotten shelled when the Resistance took the city back. Then again, Zenos’d’ve never chopped me up. Whether I went along or not, though, the folks I enlisted with would have died all the same.

   “I don’t regret the decision in the same way you can’t really regret getting gored by a bull. Just happens. Can murder the fucking bull so it doesn’t happen again, though.” She lets herself stew a moment, before throwing a long swig back and then shaking her head. Sends her hair scattering.

   “If I were to change anything though, I’d have left earlier. Got real on board with some of what we were doing, twisted it up in my head that eventually it’d pay off and the poisoned promises the Empire made would come to fruition. Bet that sounds familiar. Lest I remind you,” She gestures at the masks on his hip.

   “We are of a similar profession, ‘Shadowhunter’. We were then, and we are now.” Her right hand reaches over to cup her left forearm, squeezing the metal tight.

   “Paid dearly for our failings and ambitions, too. Best we can hope is to shoulder the cost ourselves, ‘stead of it falling on someone else.” He grumbles something akin to an agreement, but otherwise says nothing. His brow furrows, mind tracing their collective past’s outline. Matching them against each other. She interrupts him before he can stew in the silence too long.

   “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. The Emerald Weapon’s pilot. Wasn’t fast enough.”

   “I… It was not your hand which set this in motion.”

   “Again, you’ve read my file. You can say it was not mine alone, but I certainly had a part to play in this.”

   “It would be foolish to assume everything in your file is accurate. Plainly, news of your death was exaggerated as mine was. Much the same is at work in the other details of your service as well, I would assume.” He says. His hand slowly drops down to rest on the masks at his hip.

   “Legatus...” She looks at him with a strange, vexed look on her face. “What about me looks alive to you?”

   He takes a long moment, breath slowly filling his chest. The scent of ceruleum which lingers on her fills his lungs. The way her shining eyes gaze back at him feels like oncoming traffic. Headlamps and flashing lights. Her porcelain skin, segmented and rigid in places where it tries to mimic the real thing, shifts as she leans back. There is true flesh there, but it’s grey and without vigor. Poisoned, even. It meshes with the prosthetics and the replacements in uneven patches, rimmed by nasty, discolored scars.

   “What irony would that be -” She sighs, looking away from him. “- what poetic bullshit.” She looks down at the label of the booze, holding it away from her. “Maybe this is working on me.” 

   “Legatus, listen;” She swings the bottle as she speaks, back and forth with the cadence of her speech. “I don’t breathe, I don’t have a heart anymore, I can’t really eat or drink. Veins are filled with more oil and ceruleum than blood. My aether is stored in my core, so I technically have a ‘soul’, but it can’t be changed in the same ways as yours. I’ve also been pulled and cut apart, limb from limb, more than once. I’m about as alive as your gunblade. Or some autonomous, revenant thing going bump in the night.” Her prosthetic elbows into him, a steady, pressurized vibration felt in the metal. A too-lax grin flashes on her face, sharp teeth and ill-fitting humor meshing awkwardly.

   “I do rather like that image, I’ll admit. What I’m saying is this - everything my file says I did in the name of the Empire? It’s true.” She takes a long drink, looks out to sea, and speaks in a soft, somber tone.

   “Though at this rate, I doubt any of those who dwell above will see me judged for my sins. Trapped here as I am.

   “So if anyone has a right to judge me for my failings - it’s a fellow dead man walking. Namely, Legatus, you.”

   She holds the drink back towards him, half-empty as it is. The slosh of the bottle is audible as she pauses dramatically.

   “So. Changed your mind on that drink?”

   “If you insist.” He growls, taking the bottle from her hand. He tips it back quickly, a short, shallow draught. He hands the bottle back, a grimace on his face.

   “I prefer Garlean wines.” He says through a restrained cough.

   “Oh, that so? Sorry to offend your delicate tastes, my lord.”

   “Stow it.”

#ffxiv creative writing #aegis' writing archive #Vavara Ashenheart #vavara kir vara #seaswolchallenge

[sharinluna]

Chapter 21 Translation Part 3

Chapter 19

Chapter 19.5

Chapter 20

Chapter 21 Translation Part 1

Chapter 21 Translation Part 2

Please keep in mind that this is a very rushed translation and I skipped more parts than I wanted to.

**********************************

Even after I had escaped from Ares’s clutches, my heart was still beating wildly.

“Do you still think you’re ordinary? Like other Evolvers, you will be ostracized, discriminated, persecuted, and in the end, killed. Because you are all EVILs.”

The voice ringing inside my head was scouring away the peaceful illusion to candidly reveal the brutal truth.

Yōurán: What is exactly this EVIL they’re talking about…?

The buzzing from my phone brought me back to where I was. I was standing at a crossroad.

The weather was clear. Sunlight shown brightly among thick clouds, but it wasn’t enough to drive away the frost in my heart.

I started to doubt the world in front of my eyes. Was this world real? or another dream?

Yōurán: Can I go back to how the things used to be?

Back when everything was peaceful and beautiful. Would I never get that warmth back?

Yōurán: If I can’t go back, I have to go forward.

I checked my phone to see a text from Ling Xiao.

Ling Xiao: Because I feel so good today I’ll give you a little advice. Don’t go southeast today.

I looked up and saw the direction I was heading was southeast.

Yōurán: Is he watching me from nearby?

I surveyed the surroundings but couldn’t find him.

Yōurán: How did he know that I was heading southeast…?

Grumbling about why he would send me such cryptic texts, I replied back. When the light turned green, I continued where I was going without an ounce of hesitation.

***********************************************

In another part of Loveland city, many figures were confronting each other in a barren land covered with snow. A young man was surrounded by many but he seemed quite cool about it. He looked at the tense faces of his opponents with a mocking smile.

Just then, his phone rang out lightly, startling everyone except him. With no hurry, he fished out his phone from his pocket and checked the reply. There was only one word. “Thanks.”

It was a simple word but Ling Xiao realized right away that she didn’t believe him one bit.

Ling Xiao: Alas, everything I’ve sad were not lies.

He put his phone back and looked back to the others. Knuckle sounds came out when he flexed his wrists.

Ling Xiao: Time to play, fellows.

At that instant, purple lightening gathered into his palms and gales of wind blew around. The air current became volatile and you could hear the electricity sizzling in the air. Black clouds formed in the sky and everything turned dark like a night. The wrath of the Nature itself made everyone cower in fear.

Ling Xiao: I’ll make it short. I’m running out of time.

His entire form was encircled by lightening as he charged forward. Blood-curdling screams were heard at every second. Soon, he was the only one standing on the ground. With a leering smile he went to the only one who still conscious and bent down to him.

Ling Xiao: Tell me, who sent you? The Special Task Force or…Black Swan?

************************************************************

I noticed that I was being followed. I quickened my steps determined to go where it was crowded. I chanced a look behind as I turned a corner and saw my tail. It was an ordinary-looking man wearing a baseball cap. The only thing not ordinary was the clear malice in his eyes looking at me.

Yōurán: Oh, great…

Quick as a flash someone from behind covered my mouth with something and I couldn’t see anything at all. I tried not to lose consciousness but soon everything became dark.

*********************************************************

??: Are you sure we got the right person?

??: We’ve been following her, she is linked to them…

Their conversation woke me up. I opened my eyes to see that I was in a deserted building.

Mystery Man: You woke up quick.

He was wearing his hood low that I couldn’t see his face.

Yōurán: Who are you? Why did you kidnap me?

I tried to sit up with my wrists tied around my back.

Mystery Man: We already gave you a warning, Miss.

Yōurán: Warning?

Mystery Man: It seems that your memories are poor, EVIL.

I thought back to the crimson words on the computer screen yesterday. So it wasn’t just some prank. And these were the guys who manipulated the online opinions!

Yōurán: Who the hell are you?!

Mystery Man: We are those who are trying to save the world that you Evolvers are trying to destroy.

He bent down close to me.

Mystery Man: Don’t try lying to me. Are you the “Queen”?

I tried to answer back as nonchalantly as possible.

Yōurán: What Queen? I’m not a queen of anything. I think you got the wrong person.

Mystery Man: You’re nervous.

He slowly stood up again.

Mystery Man: But it doesn’t matter if you’re really Queen or not. If we say you are, then you are.

Yōurán: But… what is your reason for doing this?

Mystery Man: Be patient, Queen. Soon you’ll know everything.

He laughed cruelly.

Mystery Man: Then… all of you EVILS will die.

His words had a sense of déjà vu…. I looked down so he wouldn’t see my eyes widen in shock.

This was the guy from my vision from yesterday! And likely he is the one behind the explosion!

Why would he do this? What would he gain from causing an explosion and blaming it on Evolvers? I knew what the answer was but couldn’t face the horrendous truth.

I had to get out of here. I kept struggling with my wrists until my fingers landed on a cold metal. It was Helios’s knife. Thank god that I had remembered to keep it with me before I left the house. Trying not to slice my skin, I discreetly started to cut the ropes.

Just then, a pebble dropped next to me out of nowhere. I looked up and the sudden light made me squint to see who it was. His silver hair shown in the light. Stealthily he slid down a rope and landed on the ground with speed.

Helios…. I called out his name in my head. He glanced at me with a subtle smile.

Helios: Found you.

The lighthearted way he said those words, and the way he faintly smiled at me made me think that he was glad to see me. But soon he regained his cold exterior.

Mystery man: Who are you?! How did you get in here!?

They surrounded him and pointed their weapons at them.

Helios: Shut up.

Helios said as he kicked the man who had been charging towards him with annoyance.

Yōurán: Be careful!

I shouted. But he had already dodged the next attack. He was so fast that his moves were a blur. He dodged every attack and landed his own with grace and strength. It was like watching a silver moonlight dancing in flowing moves. I sat there dazed, unable to avert my eyes from him.

It took him only fifteen minutes to take down the last one. After the fight was done he slowly walked towards me.

Yōurán: He…

Even before I could finish calling his name he brushed past me and continued to walk away from me.

Yōurán: Wait…!

I felt baffled that he would ignore me completely like this. Helios looked behind me with disinterest in his eyes.

Helios: What is it?

Yōurán: Could you… perhaps… untie me lose…?

I tried to look pitifully at him as I gestured toward my wrists.

Helios: Hm? But they almost seem undone.

Yōurán: Yes, but…

Helios: You’ve been working on it. There doesn’t seem any need for me to step in.

Yōurán: But…

I kept wrestling with the rope, but couldn’t find the final stroke that would loosen the ties. And the bodies around me were making me nervous.

Yōurán: Could you please help me while you are at it?

I added emphasis on “while you are at it”. There was a slight grin in his face as he watched me with his arms crossed.

Helios: Why should help you “while I am at it”?

Yōurán: Well… I don’t know why you came here, but you seem to be against them, right? It might not sit well for your plan if they manage to capture me again…

I tried desperately to persuade him.

Yōurán: Please… I’ve only been dragged into this.

Helios: All right.

I don’t know what convinced him, but Helios agreed to help me. He came close to me and bent down. Suddenly I could gaze into his grey-blue eyes. Clear and transparent like ice.

Helios: Give me the knife.

The close proximity dazzled me and I found myself unable to move or say anything. With a low chuckle Helios took the knife from my hands and with a few swift moves the ropes binding my wrists were gone.

Yōurán: Thank you.

I replied as I massaged my wrists to make the blood flow again.

Helios gently stroked the knife with his fingers. His eyes seemed to have become a little gentler.

Helios: This is a good knife.

He gave the knife back into my hands. Taken aback, I took the knife and after a bit of hesitation, handed it back to him. I wanted to give it back to the owner.

Yōurán: Take it, it was yours anyway- I mean, you can have it if you want.

Helios: I don’t except bribes without reason.

With that curt reply, he turned around and started to walk away. Not wanting to part with him just yet, I gathered myself and quickly followed him.

Yōurán: Do you know what they were about to do back there? Are they Evolvers or not? Why are they looking for Queen?

Helios: You ask too many questions.

And it seemed like he wasn’t about to answer any of them.

Yōurán: I’m an Evolver too. So I need to know-

Helios: So what?

His callous words made me freeze midsentence.

Helios: Do you think Evols are a good thing?

There was taunting in his voice. I couldn’t understand the meaning behind his question so I asked back.

Yōurán: Then, do you think Evols are a bad thing? My father always said to me that they were just people who are a little bit different. That they were the same as everyone else. So I can’t understand why some Evolvers would want to get rid of non-Evolvers. And I can’t understand why non-Evolvers would hate Evolvers as well.

Helios stayed silent and continued to walk on.

Helios: Maybe you’re right. But human nature is complicated.

When he reached the end of the corridor he opened the exit door and walked outside. But I couldn’t follow him as I was weighed down with what he said.

Was my father wrong? Were my thoughts too naïve and idealistic?

Sunlight could be seen outside the door but I couldn’t feel any light. As I stood still, I suddenly saw a flash of light speeding towards me. I instinctively held out my arm to shield the attack.

Helios: What are you doing?!

Helios had already struck the strange man into unconsciousness. I looked at Helios who had crushed his attacker so quickly.

His icy gaze held inordinate amount of fury as he glared at me which was unusual for his overall apathetic behavior.

Helios: Did you think you could stop the knife with bare hands?!

Yōurán: Uh, no… not exactly…

I whispered feebly.

Helios: I warned you before to stop acting so reckless!

His anger seemed to have got the better of him and he grabbed my wrist and dragged me outside. I was suddenly struck at how his hands were similar to someone I used to know.

Yōurán: Are you really not K….

I couldn’t finish the question. Why did I suddenly feel the need to mention that name to him?

Helios: It stops now.

Helios finally let go of my wrist.

Yōurán: …..Helios.

He looked at me.

Yōurán: Will things get better? What are your reasons for coming here?

Helios: If I tell you, what can you do about it?

Yōurán: At least I’m…

Helios: It seems that you can’t accept yourself that you’re powerless.

I was trapped in a little cage he made with his body against the wall. The cruelty in his face crumbled the last of my shields.

Helios: The weak should learn to survive on their own. No one will help them.

I wanted to contradict him but the words wouldn’t come out. I bit my lower lips trying not cry.

Yōurán: I don’t want to remain helpless either.

I forced myself to look straight into his eyes.

Yōurán: I don’t want to be kept sheltered as the others protect me. I don’t want to be kept in the dark when the people I care about are hurt or gone. I’m trying to become better and stronger, but…

I couldn’t continue. My willpower seemed so insignificant and was about to be overwhelmed by massive waves of despair and misery.

Helios: Then become stronger.

He wasn’t taunting me anymore. Instead he was talking to me clearly and sincerely.

Helios: Do everything you can, by fair means or foul. Give up everything in your past… even yourself. If you can’t do that, then go back to the world you came from.

For the last time, he turned around and walked away from me, this time without looking back.

I sagged to the ground and let the tears fall.

Could I risk everything, abandon everything I have inside me to become strong enough to protect the loved ones?

I felt like I was in a bottomless pit without any light or a way out. I was completely alone in this world, forsaken and forgotten. The feelings of solitude were enough to suffocate me.

Yōurán: Should I really let it all go away?

If I give up on the beautiful memories of the past, would they disappear? Could I never get them back? I continued to sit there until my hands and feet were frozen when the phone rang.

Yōurán: …Hello?

Ling Xiao: It’s only been a day since we parted and you already sound terrible. I guess my hunches were right this time too.

I thought of his message to not go southeast.

Yōurán: Did you know what was going to happen?

Ling Xiao: I want to say yes but… frankly I’m not that omniscient.

Yōurán: I don’t know what I should do from here…

I hung my head low and my voice shook.

Yōurán: Is there nothing I can do to make everyone’s memories return? I don’t know what’s the right thing to do…

Ling Xiao didn’t respond right away.

Ling Xiao: I can’t give you an answer. Only you, the Queen, can change the world. You can do everything you put your mind to. It is in your powers to make the world you want. You can turn everything into chaos, or even end the world right now if you would choose to do so.

Yōurán: I would never want that in my life!

Ling Xiao: You don’t have to feel the need to deny it, I’m not interested anyway. But there’s no time for you to sit and wallow in despair. I’m looking forward to what kind of future you – the one and only Queen in the universe - will bring into this world.

***********************************************************

Next day I was browsing through my phone in my room when I saw this news.

“Rumors spread that the Riverside bridge explosion were done by people with superpowers. The show <Miracle Finder> has been receiving threats and hatred because it’s a show about superpowers. A lot of angry mobs are demoing outside of the producing company.”

Yōurán: How did it spread so quickly?

It took only 30 hours until whispers from a small internet website grew into massive protest demonstrations. Things were becoming worse faster than I anticipated.

I hurried to get to my company right away.

The protesters were banging their fists against the locked entrance. The people inside – my people – were trapped and at their mercy.

I called the police and looked for a way past the angry mob.

Yōurán: Please be safe… Anna, Kiki, Willow, Minor…

Mob A: I know that woman! She works in here!

A shrill shout sent waves of disrupt among the mob. I looked to where they were pointing and my heart sank.

Yōurán: Kiki!

Kiki was being confronted by swarms of protesters. She looked so small and helpless against them. I watched her fall hard onto the floor as someone pushed her. That seemed to be a switch that turned everyone violent. They all crowded around her to assault her.

Yōurán: Where is the police… what’s taking them so long…?!

I bit my lips hard.

Yōurán: There’s no other way around!

Taking a deep breath, I charged in. I pushed and struggled past the crowd blocking my way and managed to reach Kiki.

Kiki: You are…

Yōurán: Hurry!

I helped her stand up and lead her towards the entrance. That was the only safe place at the moment. I heard Kiki crying softly. It took a lot of effort, but I succeeded in pushing her inside the building.

Kiki: Be careful!

Her warning came too late. I already lost my balance and fell to the floor. The crowds gathered around me now. Their faces were full of animalistic contempt, but I couldn’t find the man who was behind all this. I’m sure he was lurking in the shadows after he made these people into his puppets to do his deeds. The thought sent waves of revulsion in my veins.

Mobs: You monsters…!!!

I covered my head and waited for the blow to come.

Then, everything stopped and went quiet. I looked up.

Victor was pushing his way through the crowds. I stared at him, wondering why he would come here.

Victor: Do you think you can walk?

Yōurán: Victor…

I whispered his name.

Victor: Are you in shock?

He bent down to examine my face.

Yōurán: No, I’m fine!

I hurriedly tried to stand up.

Yōurán: !!!

The sharp pain from my sprained ankle almost made me fall back down. Thankfully, Victor grabbed me from falling. He looked at my injured leg.

Victor: Did you sprain your ankle?

Yōurán: It’s nothing, just give me your arm and I can walk-

With a slight tsk he lifted me up and my feet were dangling in the air. It was like the first time we met 17 years ago when he saved me from getting hit by a car. Snows were suspended in midair in the halted time as he walked to his car carrying me in his arms.

Maybe he didn’t remember me, maybe I was nothing to him at all. But my heart still continued to flutter in the same way around him.

The car door was left open, showing how quickly he got off to reach me.

Victor: Get in.

I slowly sat in the passenger seat. Victor closed the car door for me.

Yōurán: Why did you come here?

Victor: I was in the neighborhood.

He replied curtly and asked me sternly.

Victor: Why were you there? To protest?

Yōurán: No, not to protest, I…

Victor: Did you want to become a hero and save people?

His matter-of-fact accuse stung and I hung my head down.

Radio: LFG is going to invest in buying the share of HBS. Is this groundwork for adventuring to American markets? Financial specialists say…

I banged my head into a window in my hurry to look at him. Victor was looking at me very strangely but I didn’t care. I was too busy dealing with what I heard on the radio.

Yōurán: HBS… why… did LFG really decide to invest in HBS?

Victor frowned and I realized that what I asked was rude.

Victor: You got a problem with that?

Yōurán: Why would you-

I stopped talking. Victor forgot everything about me. He didn’t remember the time when HBS set up an elaborate trap to attack me. He didn’t know that Black Swan was behind HBS. He probably didn’t even know what Black Swan was. After choosing my words carefully, I finally asked him.

Yōurán: Have you ever heard of an organization called Black Swan?

Victor: Just tell me directly what you want to say.

Yōurán: Black Swan is behind HBS. It is a dangerous and controversial organization. Could you think again about investing in there?

Victor: The decision’s already been made by the board members a month ago.

I opened my mouth to argue but was interrupted by the turmoil outside.

*******************************************************************

Yōurán: Maybe this is all my fault?

Victor: What fault?

Once it started, it was difficult not to fall into the trap of relentless self-reproach.

My fault for existing at all.

My fault for changing the future.

My fault for coming back alive.

My fault for failing to stop this.

My fault for being unable to do anything as destructions happened right in front of my eyes...!!!

Victor: Stop it!

His shout stopped me from spiraling down into the pit deeper. He grabbed my arms firmly and made me look at him.

His words made me calm and cool-headed. I couldn’t afford to forever continue feeling sorry for myself.

Yōurán: I’m sorry…

I took a deep breath and looked up at him.

Yōurán: My Evol is precognition. I can foresee the future. I saw many deaths and calamities. Some of them already happened, others not yet. But even though I know what’s going to happen, I am powerless to stop it.

Victor: …I don’t know what you went through. But if what you say is true, someone very powerful must be behind all the disasters and they have been preparing this for a long time.

Victor: They have nothing to do with you. And you are not obligated to put a stop to this.

Yōurán: But it has to be stopped, and I can’t just do nothing! If I were smarter, or stronger I…

I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Yōurán: If someone else had the same powers, they would have been able stop it!

Victor: There is no point in making assumptions like that.

Yōurán: I know. It is useless to think about might-have-beens. But I still think about it… I’m an idiot, right?

Victor: Yes, you are.

Victor: But it is still in your powers to stop it. There is no time for regretting the past.

There was no ridicule nor criticism in his words, just the plain truth.

Yōurán: If my choices can change the future, I can stop it from happening. But if I choose wrong, something far worse may happen. What is the right choice? Should I change the future or let it be and conform to it?

This time Victor didn’t answer right away.

Victor: Don’t you already have an answer to that?

Yōurán: Do you think I’ll succeed, then?

Victor: No one knows.

He smiled faintly and his voice turned soft.

Victor: But I hope you can.

I blinked. Finally, I felt like I could smile again.

Yōurán: Thank you, I will.

I vowed that I would not hesitate or think about failure. Whatever choice I made, I could deal with the outcome. I will do everything I can to find out the truth, stop the catastrophes, and solve everything.

Not just because this was my responsibility and duty as Queen, but because I want to with all my heart. I will give everything I have to save everyone in this world.

Until the sun shines again.

Until we meet again under the stars.

Until I can finally say to them: “Hello. My name is Yōurán. I came back.”

*****************************************************************

Snow seemed to be never-ending in this year’s winter. A man looked down at the white city with a faint smile.

Zhuo Yi: What a beautiful, cold, endless winter….

***************************************************************

Chapter 19: You thought you were dating the guys happily but that was a fake and you’re stuck freezing in eternal winter.

Chapter 20: All the boys don’t remember you and they are not the ones you used to know and love.

Chapter 21: You sacrificed your life to save the world and now you’re stuck in this world where Evolvers and Non-evolvers are fighting each other.

Zhuo Yi: What a beautiful winter world!

Me: SHUT UP!!

If Evolvers are a metaphor of the minority in this batch of chapters, then the feud between Evolvers and Non-evolvers are not totally unrelated to real-life conflicts between different various groups.

My father always said to me that Evolvers were just people who are a little bit different. That they were the same as everyone else.

This time, MC’s fighting for peace, for harmony, for inherent rights of the people and intrinsic values of life, and for equality.

I know that translation’s more wacky in this one, but please give me some encouraging words. I’m a complete wreck. Why did I even start this...

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc translation

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Pining

I can’t decide if this was the most or the least obvious route to take, but here we go: day 11 of @drawlight​‘s advent challenge.

Totally lighthearted fluff this time, since the chapter I posted to AO3 was pretty dark. But it was fun!

11 - Pine (1,642)

Pine: To yearn intensely and persistently for something unattainable.

The first thing Aziraphale ever remembered wanting was a twig of evergreen.

“It’s the smell I miss, really,” he explained over the campfire, out of sight of the humans in their camp. He and Crawley sometimes waited out the nighttime hours together, mulling over their thoughts of the world. “The other plants just don’t smell the same.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Crawley, who hadn’t actually paid attention to the smells in Eden. “Any particular kind?”

“Oh, I don’t know. White pine? Or black? I don’t think it matters.”

The next day, Crawley disappeared, as he sometimes did. Aziraphale kept a sharp eye on the humans, to make sure the serpent wasn’t causing trouble again, but no sign of him there.

After almost a week, the demon returned, bearing a branch of black pine, the sap still sticky and fresh. “Saw some of this when they sent me up north,” he said, handing it over.

It smelled even better than Aziraphale remembered.

--

The first thing that Aziraphale really missed – in a deep, intense way – was a song played on a reed flute, the words lost to time.

“I don’t know why I miss it so,” he sighed, a century after he’d last heard it. “It just popped into my head one day and I felt... sad.”

“Nostalgic, probably,” corrected Crawley, sampling a new ale. “How did it go?”

“You know the one. “Dee-dum-dee-dum-dee-da-dee-dum.”

“Devastatingly beautiful,” Crawley laughed. “That could be any song!”

“Fine. It was the one we heard that first time we went to Knossos.”

The demon nodded slowly this time. “Ah, that was a lovely song. Whoever wrote it really understood pain.”

“I don’t know about pain, but…” Aziraphale sighed, looking out the window, feeling the strange lethargy take him again. “Lately I’ve not been able to get it out of my head. Something to do with the long nights and cold weather, I’m sure.”

Four evenings later, Aziraphale suddenly heard a strange, high wailing sound outside the inn where he was staying. He rushed out to find Crawley with a reed flute he’d made himself, carousing drunkenly in the street, trying to play the lost tune.

The angel had very nearly laughed himself sick before taking the flute for himself. By the morning they’d managed to mostly reconstruct the song.

They invented new lyrics – in Aziraphale’s, a tiny bird flew home in the spring; in Crawley’s the bird ate some strange berries and got very ill all over town. The angel wanted to scold him, but he was too busy laughing.

--

The longest Aziraphale ever yearned for something, was during the years he spent in Rome, working alongside the imperial family, influencing the younger members towards good.

He would never admit how draining the job was, how isolated it made him feel. He longed for simple companionship, someone he could talk to, even just for a day. Someone he could be himself around, instead of playing a part.

Then he’d heard a familiar grumbling – turning to the counter of the thermopolium, he saw a figure in black toga (if you could call that a toga) and red hair. He jumped up, abandoning his table and his game, determined to seize this opportunity no matter what.

Though he probably should have taken a moment to come up with something to say first.

Still, several plates of oysters and copious amounts of wine later, they ambled back up the street, passing the last jug back and forth between them, Crowley quite nearly smiling.

“My dear fellow, what is that thing on your head?”

“Oh, I forgot.” He pulled off the laurel wreath, studying the silver leaves where they reflected the moonlight. “Won this, you know. Fair and square.”

“You had a sussez-suckstes- victorious military campaign?” Aziraphale took another sip of wine. “Awarded a triumph an’ all?”

“Nah. Just arm wrestled a general.” He chuckled, tossing the wreath in the air, and trying to catch it – missing it, so that it clattered and rolled away up the street. “Caligula said it was the greatest military victory he’d ever seen.”

“I’m starting to think that child does not have much of a background in warfare,” Aziraphale opined as Crowley snatched the wine away.

“You get executed for saying things like that,” Crowley scolded.

The angel gave his best look of utter shock, rubbing at his throat, until he and Crowley both burst into gales of laughter, stumbling against each other in the street.

--

The thing Aziraphale wanted the most was for Crowley to be safe. This, perhaps, went on longer than any other desire, but it rose and fell, moved from the front of his mind to the back, pushed aside but never fulfilled.

He felt it in the fifteenth century, and the sixteenth, and the seventeenth. Meeting in taverns and tea houses and theaters, trading jobs, planning miracles and temptations together.

Again and again a worry rose within him, this could go wrong, they could find out, they could hurt him, destroy him.

But he didn’t allow the desperate fear of it to overtake him until the day he thought Crowley might destroy himself. “Just insurance,” he said.

Aziraphale put his foot down. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – give Crowley the means to end his own life, to take that smile and that laugh and those beautiful eyes out of the world, even if it was to end his suffering.

There was only one other way to keep him safe.

And so for over 80 years he didn’t want anything. Even if the demon hated him, even if they never saw each other again, Crowley was safe, and what else could possibly matter?

Until the day Crowley danced up the aisle of a church and back into his life, saving him, saving his books, and giving him a smug grin and a lift home.

And Aziraphale realized that wanting things could get very complicated indeed.

--

One August night when the world hadn’t ended, Aziraphale stepped onto a bus back from Oxford, his mind racing with wishes and fears and regrets and things longed for but never named.

When Crowley sat down, the angel sat beside him, shaking hand grasping the edge of his seat, so close the knuckles were just shy of where Crowley’s fingers lay limply at his side.

“You must have wanted this,” Aziraphale suddenly spoke, breaking the silence of at least ten minutes. “For a very long time.”

“Hmm?” Crowley, exhausted, emotionally wrung out, had nearly fallen asleep where he sat. “Wanted what?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, but found that he didn’t have any words. Not for the first time that night, the tears filled his eyes.

“Hey,” Crowley turned toward him, their knees just touching. “Don’t…don’t be afraid. We’re going to think of something.” How could his voice be so gentle? So calm?

“I…I don’t think I am afraid.”

“You’d be mad not to be. Isn’t this what you’ve been worried about all along? That they’d find out about…about us?”

“Oh, I’m terrified of that.” Aziraphale almost laughed, still trying to blink his eyes clear. “But… us. I don’t think I’m afraid of that anymore.”

Slowly, carefully, with utmost certainty, his hand drifted across the last few inches of space and clasped Crowley’s.

Behind black lenses, the demon’s unreadable eyes stared at their hands. “Are you… are you sure? Is this what you want?”

Aziraphale wiped his eyes with his free hand. “I don’t have the first idea what I want. I just know…” with a watery smile, he lifted their hands to rest together where their knees met. “Any time I’ve ever wanted anything, it’s been you there to bring it to me. Even when I didn’t really know what I wanted, you were always there.”

Crowley turned his hand, threading the fingers through Aziraphale’s, letting the warmth of it fill them both.

“And I think…” the angel continued. “I think that’s what I want. Whether we have another six thousand years or only tonight, I want you to be there. With me.”

“Ok.” It wasn’t even a whisper, just a movement of the mouth, a nod. Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, brought it to rest against his cheek. “Ok.”

He couldn’t help shivering just a little from the thrill of it. Aziraphale had to almost fight to keep from doing something that would ruin the moment. “So, ah, so that’s why I said. You must have wanted this for a long time. I’ve…I’ll admit I’ve not thought about it nearly as much as I should, but I suppose I at least missed out on any pining. You, though…”

“Pining?” Suddenly the gentleness was gone from Crowley’s voice. “You think I’ve been pining?” He threw back his head and laughed, hands falling again to rest in his lap.

Embarrassed, realizing he’d ruined the moment anyway, Aziraphale tried to pull his hand back, but Crowley only clasped it harder.

“Angel, all I’ve wanted for six thousand years is to see you happy. And you were, most of the time, so I was, too.” He finally let go of Aziraphale’s hand, but only so he could clasp both shoulders. “People who pine are idiots who don’t appreciate what they already have. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but that is one I have never, ever made.”

Without thinking, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley, pulling him close, resting his head against his demon’s heart, feeling those thin arms surround him, the long fingers bury themselves in his hair.

“Oh, my dear Crowley. I think it would take another six thousand years for me to learn to appreciate you.”

Aziraphale could feel the nod as Crowley’s chin brushed against him, felt the shaky breath pass his ear. “Well. We better make sure we’re around to enjoy that, huh?”

#good omens fanfiction #31 days of ineffables #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #crowley #fluff #romance #hand holding #they're a pair of adorable babies really #advent calendar #writing challenge #my writing

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 15: Hindsight

Tonight was the night Isaac died and my journey would truly begin. There was nothing I could do about it. 

The violence of the moment haunted my dreams: the screams, the blood, the uncontrollable urge to viciously attack those people until they stopped moving. My pulse raced with the memories. My head ached, wrestling with the idea that even with my father’s powers there was nothing I could do to change anything.

Confined to my floor, dancing was my only outlet. The hardwood of the hallway and the full length windows served as a nice place to stretch and do exercises. Counting out the rhythm forced my mind away from the coming carnage and instead on the point of my toes.

Snow swirled from the clouds, sending a blinding blanket over the city. From the highrise, visibility was near zero and the windows rattled against the blustery gales.

Previous Chapter

Go Back to the Beginning

My servitor guard drifted behind the glass like an aimless cloud , watching me, following my movements with its intense stare.  It lifted one tendril like limb against the glass, drawing it downward across my body.

“Ielia?”

She swirled out of my necklace, floating in mid-air, hair adrift on some intangible wind.

 “I want to know what happened to this person. Is there any way to talk to it?”

She nodded, smiling, and drifted past me into my bedroom. She instructed me to take a pen and follow her finger to draw on the wall of the room. With her help, I traced around a circle, added triangular shapes and swirling tick marks. In a few moments, I’d drawn some sort of pentagram style shape. My father's scale grew warm against my skin as I gazed at it. 

Like Isaac's medallion in the Cassell library, it reacted to the drawing on the wall.

Echoing voices and ghostly figures surrounded me. I saw a woman. I recognized her as the matriarch, years younger, walking in the hall, passing by the door. She was walking next to two other men. I followed her out and hear their voices.

“This research is my life’s work,” Said one of the men. He wore a fancy suit spangled with what looked like military medals. “With it, we’ll be able to make powerful hybrids capable of not only defeating the Dark King, but also becoming what we need to finally unite the world.”

“Ambitious.” said the other man, who looked a bit like Isaac but much older. “I’m honored you’ve decided to use our alchemical facility and invest in our company…”

The matriarch was equally enthused. “With this investment we’ll finally be able to meet our growth targets and beyond. But … I still would like to ask why you picked us?”

Before I could think about it further, I heard more voices behind me.  “An accident?”

I whirled, startled. It was her again, the matriarch. Her voice was on the verge of tears on the phone. “But how? I’ll be there right away.”

Her image dissipated into thin air. More voices reached my ears, this time coming from the bedroom.

Walking back in, I saw a vision of the older man who had been so honored to work with the guy with the medals. He was lying in the bed that I slept in, receiving IV treatments. “Are you sure this is going to work? He doesn’t seem to be getting any better,” said the Matriarch who was standing at his side.

I was plunged into darkness. A little girl’s voice was close to my ear. “Daddy?”

A tiny body lay on the floor, missing her head.  I heard the matriarch screaming, “Charlotte!  Charlotte!” Her voice rising and breaking in pain and terror.

Standing over her was my servitor guardian. The bed was covered in blood, the IV drip tipped over.

The gong of the grandfather clock broke the visions, setting my heart racing. The lights never came back on. I reached over to flip a switch but nothing happened. The power had gone out in truth.

As I stared out into the blizzard, a winged shadow grew larger and larger until the glass shattered and the shards mixed with the sparkling snow on the carpet.  A hulking beast with glowing red eyes and clawed hands at the end of long muscular arms let out a low threatening snarl. 

Before I could scream, my servitor guardian wrapped it in its own wraith-like body. Red blood flowed from the intruder’s neck down its shoulders and onto the carpet. The monster fell forward, its head missing from its body.

Breathless with terror, I ran from the room to get to the elevator. I skidded to a halt. The elevator door was open and a tall figure of a man dressed in a kimono stood in it. It was then that I found my voice.

As the screams tore from my throat, he ran toward me, his body distorted, stretching as he grew nearer, the flying folds of his large sleeves flaring out like wings. He was almost on me by the time I turned to run. The hall in front of me twisted into a spiral and I staggered into the wall as if drunk.

An arm grabbed me around my waist and jerked me toward the windows.  My paralyzed limbs didn’t respond to my efforts to fight. My voice had gone silent despite my efforts to continue calling for help.

He raised a sword and smashed it against the glass. He climbed atop the pane. My head was dangling in the cold and the wind, spinning twenty stories up. The snow was falling past me, down into the streets below.

The next moment, I was back inside. I hit the floor, my head bouncing off the hardwood so hard I saw stars. I dug the heels of my hands in, scrambling away, breathless. Behind me, the attacker and the servitor were locked in a furious wrestling. The faint moonlight illuminated his platinum blond hair and the half mask over his eyes.

He ran his sword through the heart of my guardian and it went limp, its smoky appearance starting to drift upward and lift like fog.

I whimpered when he turned his attention back to me, his eyes red and bright in the dark, his expression blank. He strode forward. 

I threw out my hands and felt his dragon’s blood, deep and powerful like an ocean tide. Far stronger than what was in the child I’d healed. Despite its strength, I called out my father’s words, “Release!”

That fire that burned at the young Tobias set the dragon in him ablaze and brought him to his knees, groaning in pain. I got to my feet and kicked his sword away, grabbing it myself. As I backed away, I was startled by a pair of golden eyes in the window.  I dropped the sword. The metal blade clattered to the floor.  “Johann?!”

It wasn’t Johann. The face in the window was my face. The gold eyes were my eyes. I was the one holding the sword.

A strong pulse went through my head. I turned to my attacker. The mask had fallen off and I could see his face was pale because it was covered in white makeup. He looked up at me, reaching out in a pleading gesture. “What… what have you done to me…?”

I dropped to my knees, beset by visions of two little boys dancing and playing together, one saying to the other. “Wait for me, Chisei!”

“Chisei? Chisei Gen?” Behind that vision was an intense loneliness. I felt the crushing weight of it.  "Where am I?" 

“In my dream, my memory…” I heard the man in the kimono’s voice but I couldn’t see him, only two boys, playing together in a grassy field.

“Chisei and I were together, as brothers. But while he became the heir to the Clan Chief, I was a Devil and cast out by my family.”

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” My eyes searched for where he was, but he wasn’t visible.

“I am Ruri Kazama. I … I don’t know how I got here. I think I was supposed to take you with me. That’s all I know.” He sounded confused.

The scenery of children morphed until I was in a dimly lit stone room. The only furniture was an old table, a chair, a bed, a few scattered toys. I can see him now walking over to one of the toys, a stuffed bear, looking down at it.

“This is the place where I grew up, alone. He never visited me in the secret mountain village.”

“Where the Devil children are locked away?” I retreat until my back was against the wall, searching for a way out.

“Yes…” He looked at me in surprise. “...how do you know this? Are you hearing my thoughts?” He flinched, arms wrapping about his abdomen, doubling over. “My powers… I’ve lost control of them. What did you do?”

I started to feel worried that I’d actually hurt him but I was afraid to approach in case he tried to attack me again.

Ruri Kazama's gaze unfocused, and he turned away, staggering to lean against the wall. “I’m seeing your memories… Chisei… he’s killing members of the Devil Clan? I don’t remember this…”

“It hasn’t happened yet… It happens soon… I want to save the children from him…”

We both awoke at the same time. Ruri Kazama was on the floor, one hand clutching his head, teething grinding together. He had broken out into a cold sweat. I slowly got to my feet and backed away. 

A pair of hands seized my shoulders from behind. I jerked to get away but they held fast.

“Ah, so this is why I was asked to come along on this mission… because you’re too fragile to capture a little girl.”

As soon as I wrestled myself free, I caught a blow to my jaw. My ears rang and my whole face went numb. Dizzy, I staggered to the floor.

“Honestly… no wonder I have a higher body count.”

I raised my eyes to a face that sent such a chill through me I cried out. It was the man from the park. The one who strangled me. My whole body started to tremble. This time, Chisei wasn’t here to save me. I would have gone back in time only to die in the past.

The sight of my wide-eyed terror made him smile. Gleeful, he tittered like a child.  “Ah… she looks like fun. Too bad this one is so valuable to Osho’s Blade that he would probably kill me if I left a mark on her.”

Two servitors were behind him, one was holding an unconscious Tobias, the other was dragging Lukas along by his arm.

The way he was leering at me was the same as before when he dragged me into the woods by my foot. “Come along, little one…” He bent over to take hold of me.

I pushed myself against the wall, cowering away from him.

He would have succeeded were it not for Ruri Kazama. He was back on his feet. His Speaking Spirit poured out of him again, and we were all plunged into a nightmare scenario. 

We were in an institution with dozens of other children. They screamed, struggled, and cried as they were injected with needles. A hand, larger than life, reached for me. I struggled to keep away from it, but I was powerless.

I stared up towards a window into a night sky filled with stars and the colorful lights of the Aurora Borealis. I’d seen those stars so many times, I knew them by heart because I focused on them while I was injected again… and again… and again...

These weren’t my memories, they were his. My attacker’s. 

“Kazamaaaaa!” He shrieked. “You Bastard! STOP! STOP IT!” Roaring with despair, he fled from me and down the hall. Kazama, faster than my eye could follow, retrieved his sword and cut down the two servitor beasts holding my friends captive.

“You need to get out of here.” He told me, “If you don’t leave now, you’ll never have another chance. Once Osho’s Blade gets you, you won’t be able to escape.” He stood in the dark, blood running in rivulets down his blade to form a puddle on the floor.

“I can’t go back to Cassell!” I cried with despair. 

“Then is there somewhere else?”

I looked into his crimson eyes. “Those memories you showed me. Is the place still there? Still like that?”

He gave me a puzzled look. “Yes…”

“Are there children there?” 

“Yes, the mountain village is… but you shouldn’t go there.” He shook his head. “It’s dangerous.”

I stood up. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.” I felt I was acting blindly, flailing into the dark, jumping off a bridge into surging waters, unsure if I could swim.

I ran to Lukas and Tobias and took their hands. There was nothing I could say to warn them that we were going to get them and the children trapped by the Devil Clan out of harm’s way. I didn’t have time to explain. Like a canary, faced with an open cage and an open window, I darted into the unknown.

I closed my eyes and focussed on Japan, on that room with the table and chairs.

Silence and cold descended in a black curtain. I counted out the seconds. One… two… three…

We reemerged, staggering into the room Ruri had shown me in vision. I panted like I'd just climbed flights of stairs. I looked at Lukas and Tobias. Tobias was awake and trembling with terror. Lukas looked disoriented. "There are more children here. But first I need to heal you, Lukas. If you use your dragon strength you might turn like Isaac did."

Lukas leaned his hand against the ground, staring at me with wide eyes, searching for answers. "I don't understand any of this."

"Your grandmother was planning on selling my eggs to some doctor but I guess kidnapping me was a cheaper option.” I paused, reaching up and placing my hands on his face. "This will hurt for a moment…." I opened my mouth to that draconic language.

Lukas flinched away as though hit by an electric shock.  He staggered back, staring at me, then he groaned and sank to the floor.

I looked at him with sympathy but I didn’t apologize. "The Cassell College will work with their Japan division tomorrow night to wipe out the Devil Clan.  We need to get the children trapped here healed and gone before they get here." 

“What did you do?”  He was visibly shaking and unable to stand. “This hurts…” 

“Your dragon’s blood is high purity like mine. You’re unstable like Isaac was. I used my Speaking Spirit on you, like I did on Tobias.” I moved to a window and peer outside. “This is where Japanese unstable children are held. If I don't free them, they’re going to die with the rest of the Devil Clan. Can you help me?”

“We’re in Japan? But how?! Why did you bring us here!” He stared at me in wide-eyed shock.

“You were getting kidnapped by bad people!” I can feel my breath rising with all of the unexpected questions that I couldn’t answer. “And these kids need my help! I don’t have time to explain!”

He got up, coming towards me, hands balled into fists. “Explain now!”

I take a step back away from him, my back was against the wall. “I can move through space. Through gates. I think the Nibelungen ones.” I stammered for an explanation but the truth was I didn’t know how and I wasn’t about to explain where I got my powers from.

“How!” He loomed over me and I found myself cowering again.

“I just can okay! Please, are you going to help me or…” I stood up straighter. “...or should I just leave you here!” At that moment, I knew I threatened him. I felt guilty, but I didn’t know what else to do.

He swallowed hard. We stood in silence for a few seconds before he finally gave in. “Alright.”

Shaking with nervous emotion, I sent Ielia to scout outside. The village was dark and looked empty but she returned looking panicked and gestured frantically. “Servitors?”

She nodded. 

"Are we gonna die?" Tobias whimpered, clinging to his brother.

"Stay in here." Lukas gave him a comforting hug.

"Can you hold those servitors off until I rescue them?" I asked.

“I can, I’ve been trained to be able to fight.” Admirably, Lukas went outside and blew a loud whistle through his fingers. The hulking reptilian giants turned and immediately pursued him.

He spoke in clear draconic, “Speaking Spirit: Blessing of Ice!”  and a large whirlwind bearing shards of ice blew into them, knocking them back, cutting and impaling them. It was an impressive sight.

I dashed as fast as I could into dark and dingy housing. My twin used the bright spear to knock down locked doors. I hurried to the rose of cages. There was no time to really explain to the youngsters what was going on, why this strange person was breaking them free, so they screamed and kicked and bit at me until I returned them into the room with Tobias.

The raging dragon blood in my body was changing me. My skin was itching. My eyesight was blurring.  I forced myself not to think about it. My nerves, my heart strained every time I used Release to halt the progression of the children’s instability. I detached myself from their pain and fear. I didn't want them to turn into monsters on the jump to another place. If I didn’t do this, they were going to die, sooner or later. That’s what I told myself. After about thirty minutes, I'd managed to collect about a dozen. 

Tobias was brave, trying to calm the growing crowd of terrified and crying youngsters. "Don't cry." He said. "Charlotte saved me. She'll save you too."

“Charlotte?” I asked, confused.

“Yes, that’s the name my Grandmother started calling you. Charlotte Ouroboros Comemnus…”

I wrinkled my nose. “What an ugly name. Charlotte’s… okay I guess.” I filed it away as yet another placeholder.

Lukas returned to me. "There's more servitors coming! We have got to go." 

Out of time, I turned to my dirty disheveled rescues. They were huddled together, staring at me, wide eyed with fear.

For a brief moment, I wanted to return with them to Cassell. But I was still there at that time, on a plane flight to Japan. They would wonder how I could be two places at once. I didn’t know how they would react if they found out I was the daughter of a dragon, of the enemy. I didn’t know how my father would react if I told them.

I knelt in front of the group. I was so tired. They cowered away from me clinging to one another.

"Alright everyone, we're going to be free. I'm taking you so you don't have to live in cages any more." I looked at them all in turn. "I know you're scared, so everyone hold hands. Lukas, make sure they're all holding tight to each other."

A few of them began to cry, a roar came terribly close.

I took a deep breath and focussed, closing my eyes, lowering my head. One by one, the stars I saw in the vision of the lab pinpointed their way into an inky black sky in my imagination. Things were suddenly clear in my head. I could see where I was going. Only it was far, so very far. 

The world turned dark and cold.

One… two… three…

A heaviness overcame me. I felt like I was sinking. This felt wrong. I grew more and more frightened as I lingered in that cold and frigid darkness.

I was losing grip on my thoughts. My focus on my destination was fading. I pulled hard with all the strength I had left, my mind reaching through the dark, to the pinpoint of light, the goal.

The sound of rushing wind filled my ears. Warm sea air hit my senses. I was laying in the grass. 

"Charlotte!" I heard Lukas say, fear in his voice.

He was scared, scared for me. My hands, they were claws! My skin had turned scaly. I was still turning into a servitor? No, I couldn’t! Not now!

"Release!" I focussed the words on myself now. The fury of my dragon's body burst inside collapsing me. The head-on impact of the words against the full momentum of my blood rage sent me spinning with pain . It hurt so much I couldn't breathe or scream, or think.

I choked, letting out strangled gasps from air. I wanted to pass out. I wanted to die.

My vision dimmed. With my strength leaving, I squeezed a voice out of my dry throat. "Did we make it?"

His answer sounded far away as I sank under waves of pain. "We made it."

Next Chapter

#ruri kazama

[otomates-a]

MUSE V. MUN

tagged by : @derivepath a nerd ... owo

tagging : i’m dead inside steal this from me.

↪ meeee , homare , asmodeus     ukyo   ,   sweet tofu   ,   sofia     kanato     ,    gale    ,     citron

#i tried to do a couple muses i never do but hi ! i have a lot of biases ! #KJNMHKJNHMKJNHM #picrew -- #「 gale ❛ ◟ dancing in the moonlight‚ don’t we have it all. 」 #「 asmodeus ❛ ◟ if we’re talking body‚ why not just put yours on me. 」 #「 ukyo ❛ ◟ and in the afterlife‚ tell me we’ll be fine. 」 #「 sweet tofu ❛ ◟ you take me by the heart when you take my hand. 」 #「 sofia ❛ ◟ a lack of love and empathy leaves me lonely. 」 #「 homare ❛ ◟ the starlight will steal your heart tonight. 」 #「 kanato ❛ ◟ two can keep a secret if one of us is dead. 」 #「 citron ❛ ◟ sweet desert rose‚ each veil a secret promise. 」 #「 visage. 」

[flutistbyday2020]

All Too Well

All Too Well   

I do not own The Hunger Games, characters, etc. I do not own “All Too Well” by Taylor Swift; I was just inspired by her song. Set after Mockingjay, but AU. Katniss and Peeta work through the loss of a baby. This is an old piece of mine; I wrote it in 2016. Sorry for the jumping POV's-- I'm too lazy to go back and fix it.

            TW: Miscarriage 

    Word Count: almost 1500

 Peeta

I climbed the stairs, fully aware of what I was doing. I was going to my drawer and pull out her scarf. I didn’t feel like I was in control. I felt like some other entity was moving me like a toy. Almost like a puppet. I was going to find her scared. And I was going to smell it; smell her. I opened the drawer, dug to the bottom, and pulled out her scarf. It was folded neatly.  I pulled it to my face and breathed in her scent. This was torture. 

    I fell to my knees. 

    Yes, I miss Katniss.

How did I get here? Desperately craving her, but knowing I could never have her? I let her in, always. Even when it killed me. 

I pulled the scarf up to my face, fondly remembering that day. I dared to let a smile crawl on my face.

    Kaniss

    I miss Peeta.

    With every fiber of my being, I missed him. Almost more than my father, Prim, Gale. 

    I remember when I first let him back into my life. Three months after he came back, it was official-- he and I were together. It was getting chilly out, so I had a scarf around my neck. My white scarf that Prim had knitted for me one winter. I blew into his house, our house. He stared at me, like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. We sang together that day, lost in the other’s company. The autumn leaves were falling, the pieces of our lives falling into place. That day was magical. That day is long gone, along with the magic.

    My mind flashes to the next day. We were walking around town. Peeta tripped over a rock in the road because he’d been too busy staring at me. The wind did as it pleased to my hair, my face. He told me I was glowing. I smiled at him. 

    A few months later, and I still hurt. Sometimes I forget about him just long enough to forget why I needed to.

Peeta

    Katniss was in such a good mood that night. We were both hungry around two in the morning, so we crawled downstairs. We danced in the moonlight until it was time for breakfast. I remember seeing the grey light of dawn reflect in her grey eyes. 

    At breakfast, Haymitch showed up with something. A photo album of Peeta. She scrambled over to it, and they giggled at it. It had somehow been saved from the wreckage of the bombing. There’s a picture of me and Rye wrestling. A picture of me with icing all over my face, from a birthday. A blush crept over my face. Katniss and Haymitch cooed over my baby self. She looked back at me, and whispered something to Haymitch. He laughed, and said, “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

    When he left, I asked her what she said. 

    “I told him that I hope our kids look like you,” she beamed.

    Kids? Katniss has the world children in her vocabulary?

Katniss

    My stomach still hurts from it sometimes. I remember the day I woke up with blood covering me. I screamed, which woke Peeta up. I pulled back the covers, and we both started crying. We called mother. She said we needed a doctor. Fortunately, after the war, hospitals became common. No matter how many towels I had, blood soaked them.

    We ran to the hospital. Well, Peeta ran, while I was in his arms. 

    I passed out in the hospital. I woke to find Peeta crying, holding my hand. 

    “Oh, Katniss!” he cried.

    Panic filled me, and I ripped the blanket off of me. My belly was still swollen, but the baby in it was no longer alive. I looked up at him, wanting this to be just a dream.

    He nodded his head yes, and I screamed again. I started cussing, moving, hitting anything in my way. The nurses had to sedate me.

    Tears flood down my face as I think of this. 

Peeta

    My mind drifts to the day of the miscarriage. No, not even the Capitol could have imagined hurting me like this. Nobody had any idea the pain Katniss and I had. Katniss, more so than myself. It had been an accident, conceiving. We got hung up in the moment, forgot protection. She cried for a month after she found out she was pregnant. Nothing could console her. 

    After the--we lost the baby, it took  her a few weeks to be able to walk. As soon as she could, she tore through the house, straight to my paintings. She ripped up the one of us in the cave. Then, the one of her and I one the train. One of her and Prim. One of her father and her hunting. Finally, the one of me kissing her belly. She knocked over my easels, flung my paints around the room. I just watched her. 

    I wasn’t upset that she was tearing up paintings. I hurt because she hurt, because there was nothing I could do. 

    Maybe she and I got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much. Maybe, just maybe, this thing was a masterpiece and I tore it all up.

Katniss

    It’s been a year since the miscarriage. I don’t talk to Peeta. It hurts to be reminded of the baby. One day, he calls me. I know it’s him. He’s the only one who calls. Haymitch stumbles in, knowing my pain. He gives me liquor. He makes sure I shower and eat. 

    Today, I decide to answer.

    “Hi,” I barely whisper.

    “Katniss,” his voice is pleading. “Katniss, honey, come home.”

    “No!” I scream.

    “You know what, Katniss? You need to stop being so selfish! You aren’t the only one who’s hurt, you know!” His tone was no longer pleading. 

    My heart drops. Peeta has never been this harsh.

    “No, Katniss. I didn’t mean it,” he pleads again.

    My response is to hang up the phone, and I crumple on the floor like a piece of discarded paper. Like the papers I crumple when I can’t get the right words on them. 

    I remember this all too well.

Peeta

    This year has been slow, so slow. It’s like I’m paralyzed by time. 

    I almost give up on Katniss. I leave her things on her porch one day, when I know she’s out hunting.I remember when she wore my shirts, and the nights I made her my own. I see her walk home alone, and I want to be there. But I keep her old scarf, from that very first week. It reminds me of my innocence, and it smells just like her. I can’t get rid of it, because I remember it all too well. 

    I sigh, stand up, and tuck the scarf back into place. 

    I go downstairs, and sit at the kitchen table. 

    I can’t cry. 

Two years after we lose the baby, my will cracks. I hadn’t been sleeping at night anymore. I baked. The whole town had free bread almost twice a day. 

It was three in the morning, and I couldn’t help myself anymore. I hear Katniss scream in her nightmares. Her screams will wake the town if I don’t wake her. This is the last straw. I put on a shirt, and I go to her house. Her door isn’t locked. I march upstairs, into her bedroom. I must have woken her up, because she stares at me, alarmed. 

“Peeta!” she whispers.

“I can’t handle this, Katniss! I spent eleven fucking years to make you mine. I lost myself for you. I did everything I could to make you happy! Now I can’t even do that.” I had started out angry, but my resolve had crumbled under her knowing stare. 

When she didn’t say anything, I flipped. 

I picked her up out of her bed, marched down the stairs, out of her house, into mine, and into my bedroom. She protested, but I was stronger. I could tell she hadn’t been eating much.

I put her on my bed, and pinned her down. Fear had been replaced with anger.

“Let me go!” she hissed.

“I can’t do that, Katniss.”

I kissed her. I kissed her until she stopped resisting, until she kissed me back. I pulled back, but she pulled me back in. 

“Katniss,” I mumble between kisses. She doesn’t stop. I push her down, gently this time. “Katniss, we can’t heal without the other. We’ve proved that already. Why do you push me away?” 

She shakes her head, then looks up. “I’m so sorry, Peeta. I’ve missed you so badly. But I was afraid you’d never forgive me.” Tears threatened to pour, but I kissed her sweetly this time. She wraps her arms around me tightly. 

I wasn’t going to let her go again.

The memory of her being gone is one I remember all too well.

#The Hunger Games #the hunger games fanfiction #mockingjay #katniss #katniss everdeen #peeta #Peeta Mellark #katniss x peeta #peeta x katniss #AU hunger games #Hunger Games AU #all too well

[takingcourage]

Moving Forward (Part 2/2)

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 2,700

Summary: After the festivities wind down, Arden finally has a chance to tell Jaime how she feels...and to get that kiss she’s been waiting for all night long. 

Note: This is so cheesy and ridiculous. I’d probably apologize for it if I had any sense of decency. My only excuse is that writing these two dorks is just enormous fun. 

Part 1 can be accessed through my Masterlist.  

The glitzy bathroom was occupied by a pair of middle-aged women who’d reached some dubious point of the drinking scale between tipsy and flat-out drunk. As they adjusted their hair in front of the mirror, Arden slipped unnoticed into one of the many empty stalls.

Resting her burning forehead on the wall, she finally allowed her facade of composure to slip. Arden swallowed a succession of deep breaths, hoping that the increase of oxygen would help to make sense of whatever misfire was happening in her brain. Her temple only throbbed against the cool tile.

Did Jaime know how she felt? She’d only just determined it for herself, but he’d been so serious. There had been no glimmer of amusement in his eyes to remind her that this was all just for fun. Had he been able to sense the change?

To be fair, Arden wasn’t entirely certain what the change was. It hadn’t exactly been a conscious decision, anyway. But over the course of the evening, all of her fears of having a relationship had disappeared. Dating Jaime no longer felt like a threat to her independence. 

Besides, she tittered sardonically, he’s already an essential part of your life. If he was going to jump in and start controlling you, he’d have done it already. 

Arden gnawed her inner cheek, dragging the soft flesh between her teeth with slow precision. It wasn’t as if being more than friends with Jaime would prove difficult. Come to think of it, the harder task would be removing him from her life at this stage. Such an extraction was incomprehensible, really. 

There was a reason her mother had always tried to set them up on dates during high school. Actually starting something with her best friend was going to mean eating a lot of words from previous years. She stifled a groan on realizing that she’d have to admit that June’s suspicions had been correct. That woman would be insufferable for the next month. 

But it would be worth it. Jaime was worth it. She’d be damned if her stupid, stubborn pride kept her from a future with him. 

Standing upright once more, she crossed her arms and held onto the bare skin as some outward sign of fortitude. She had to tell him. It had taken her this long to catch up -- leaving him wondering for even a day longer just wouldn’t be fair. Besides, she’d never been one for patience. 

As if on cue, giggling erupted outside the stall before growing distant. Arden knew that the laughter wasn’t directed toward her, but it still felt like a mockery. How had she been blind to the reality for so long? 

Judging that she was now truly alone, Arden finally stepped out from behind the stall door. She brushed an errant fleck of mascara from her lower eyelid after consulting the mirror. Aside from that small misfortune, everything else appeared to be in its proper place. How can I still look so normal? Is this what everyone looks like when they’ve just realized they’re in love with their best friend?

In the quiet moments that she’d contemplated what this revelation could be like, she’d envisioned it happening on a moonlit stroll or in the middle of one of their adventures -- sometime when the two of them were completely alone. She certainly hadn’t imagined being surrounded by loads of partygoing strangers and a handful of coworkers. 

The next two hours were going to be torture.

As the party progressed, check-ins with the attendees and entertainers took place with increasing frequency, leaving Arden with very little time to seek her own amusement. The interviews didn’t fully distance her mind from what had happened, but they did make the night pass more quickly. 

She made her way to the center of the room just minutes before midnight, apprehension weighing down her every step. Soon the party would come to an end and, for better or for worse, she would finally have the opportunity to talk to Jaime.

Aside from a few outliers, all of the guests had gathered around the dance floor to anticipate the countdown together. Behind her million-watt smile, Arden struggled to keep her own thoughts straight amidst the turmoil of the encroaching crowd. Strange voices passed through, flitting by like the stations of a radio scan.

I really am going to lose the weight this year.

What was Frank thinking having so much to drink tonight? If he throws up in my car, I’m leaving him on the side of the road.

Just one more hour, then I’ll be home playing Fortnite.

And then a voice she recognized: Maybe next year.  

From her periphery, Arden watched Jaime slip in through an opening a few yards away. Their eyes locked as she looked over the sea of faces, but she knew better than to linger. Still, his voice was the one that echoed in her mind. 

Maybe next year.

Her cheeks flamed and she hoped with every fiber of her being that the viewers at home would interpret her flush as a consequence of the crowd rather than anything more incriminating. She could feel that Jaime’s gaze was still on her, intense for a long moment before he followed her example and raised his own eyes to the net above.

10, 9, 8, 7

She forced her attention to remain fixed on the ceiling. The last thing she needed was to provide gossip fodder to the entire city of Northbridge with a mysterious side-eye to the crowd.

6, 5, 4

Even those who didn’t chant aloud were counting down in their heads, thoughts quickly mingling with Arden’s own so that she was aware of nothing aside from the numbers descending in unison.

3, 2, 1

Next year, she promised, taking hold of her thoughts in the milliseconds of anticipatory silence. I’m kissing him next year. 

“Happy New Year!” Her own voice rang out with all of the others as the balloons began their creeping descent. In spite of her preoccupation, Arden couldn’t help laughing at the expressive faces around her, with even the most reserved guests getting caught up in the delighted swell. It was the most colorful variety of chaos she had ever seen. 

When the madness had died down sufficiently, she flashed a smile toward the camera and caught a balloon in her free hand. “Happy New Year, Northbridge.” 

“The crew and I can take it from here,” Tony offered shortly after midnight. “You’ve got another early morning tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Sure do.” Not for the first time, she mentally cursed Alec for assigning her the interview with the fitness guru that was slated for 8:00 a.m. “I really appreciate it, Tony. See you Monday!” 

“Goodnight, Gale!” He gave her a short wave before turning back to the equipment.

Should all the Quakers be forgot

And never brought to mime?

Arden couldn’t help giggling as Tony’s voice warbled on. At least I sing on key, even when the words are wrong, she reasoned, remembering Jaime’s earlier accusation. 

That man was navigating between tables, discreetly swiping the toe of his loafer over scuffs on the shiny floor. Arden shook her head when she realized what he was doing, but her chest clenched with a tightness that she was just growing accustomed to. No matter if he were just a friend or something more, one thing was certain: she was incredibly lucky to know him. 

“Does the do-gooder inside you ever get a break?”

His face tilted toward her at the question, mouth slanted in a crooked smile. “Not if I can help it.” 

“You’re too pure for this world, Jaime.” And probably much too good for me. 

He straightened and took a step toward her, casting a quick glance over the area he’d just cleaned. “Nah, I’m just doing my part. You ready to get out of here?” 

The suggestion sent nerves rushing through her in an almost debilitating jolt of anticipation. Why am I nervous? It’s Jaime. Not trusting herself to speak, she could only nod in response. 

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to your car.”

Their journey through the parking lot was quiet, although Arden’s mouth opened several times in unsuccessful attempts to broach the subject that had been foremost in her mind for the past two hours. But her tongue was heavy in her mouth and it grew easier and easier to let the opportune moments pass. Upon reaching her car, panic set in. She had to tell him. Now. 

“Jaime?” she began with a hand on his forearm. He turned to face her, impossibly handsome under the stars and the sliver of moonlight. The attentiveness in his warm eyes gave her incentive to keep going. “About tonight, I’m really glad you were here. But I have to admit that I’m disappointed about one thing.” 

“Oh?”

A pang of guilt chilled her skin at the hurt in his expressive face. “I mean, I had a wonderful time with you, but I was really hoping we would get the chance to do this...” Eager as she was to tell him everything, she was losing patience for words. Without a second thought, Arden rose to the balls of her feet and leaned toward him. 

Am I dreaming?

Her kiss was all the answer he needed.

Arden’s lips met his, tentative at first from the newness of it all. A heartbeat later, Jaime kissed her back. Losing herself in his touch, a low moan rose in the back of her throat as he threaded long fingers through her disheveled hair. Even through the layers of coat and jacket, the heat rising between them was palpable. 

His tongue pushed insistently against her lips, and she opened them without hesitation. Pressed between the unyielding side of the car and the supple muscles of his chest, all conscious thought abandoned her. By instinct, her arms crossed behind his neck to pull her body taut against him. 

When she finally leaned back to catch a breath her pulse thundered in her ears. Wow. She was no stranger to being kissed, but suddenly those experiences all paled in comparison. I can’t believe he’s been holding out on me for all these years. 

“Arden --”

She cut him short with a determined squeeze of the hand. “Please don’t say anything -- don’t even think anything.” His forehead raised incredulously at the unusual request.

Arden, I couldn’t think right now if I tried.

She huffed with exasperation. The La, la, la, la, la! technique was good in theory, but fell very short in application. “Before you respond, I just need you to know that I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night -- longer than that, actually.” Her cheeks burned yet again. “And as good as the kissing was, I want more than that. I don’t want another year to start with me ignoring what’s right in front of my face.”

“Arden, I --”

She pressed on in spite of his interruption. “I need you to know that this has nothing to do with me reading minds. This is just me: plain old Arden.” Having finally run out of breath, she paused. “I’m falling in love with you, Jaime. I have been for a long time.”

Okay, I’m definitely dreaming.

Hand still resting on his arm, she pinched his bicep gently. “I’m completely serious. I don’t want to still be playing these games next New Year’s when we could be--” her words halted as his thumb stroked her cheek. Though her lips parted, she remained silent. 

“Arden, please let me say something.” She melted into his hand, the affection in his touch driving away all impulse to speak. 

“The thing is, I want all of those things too. I think you already know that -- with or without reading my mind. And you probably also know that I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.” A lump rose to her throat as he traced the line of her face with the pad of his fingertip. “I’d keep waiting if I needed to, but dating you is the best thing I can imagine.” Well, short of marrying you. 

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“Sorry! That thought just ran away with me,” he rubbed his hairline instinctively, his own cheeks visibly reddening. 

As much as Arden valued the ability to communicate through words, experience had taught her that some things could be articulated much more effectively with actions. This truth in mind, she tightened her grip on his torso and went in for another kiss. 

I could get used to....mmmph....

Though the tone of voice suggested that he was more relaxed, Arden wasn’t taking any chances. She dipped one hand beneath his suit jacket and sucked his bottom lip as her fingers stroked the warm skin at his spine. By the time they separated, her mouth was swollen. “I’m not waiting,” she stated breathlessly. “But I don’t want you to think I’m saying that just because I know it’s what you’ve wanted.”

“I know you better than that,” he promised, his voice scarcely louder than a whisper. “You’re too stubborn to do anything of the kind. It’s probably taken all night for you to work yourself up to admitting how you feel. If you say you’re ready, I believe you.” 

“I’m going to be mocked into the next millennium.”

Jaime laughed heartily. “If anyone mocks you, just call me over to give them a talking to.” He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her with a sigh of utter contentment. This feels so right. 

His reaction formed a perfect complement to her own. 

Eventually, even the bliss of shared warmth wasn’t enough to keep out the chill December night. Much as Arden worked to disguise her shivering, it didn’t take long for Jaime to catch on. 

“I hate to say it, but we should probably go our separate ways. It’s already morning and we can’t have you falling asleep while you’re on air tomorrow.”

“It’s only a short shift,” she attempted, but she could read his resolve plainly. “Sometimes you’re just too responsible.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Can you imagine all of the trouble you’d get yourself in if I weren’t?” He shook his head in mock amusement. “Let me know when you’re home safely?”

“Of course.” Grabbing him by the lapels, she pulled him through the open car door for one final, very thorough kiss. 

True to her word, she sent the message almost as soon as she was through the door of her apartment: I’m home! Jinx shredded the entire roll of toilet paper again. 

His response was almost immediate. Tell her to stop being such a drama queen. I’m glad you’re home safe. 

Her thumbs lingered on the glass as she considered where to begin filling him in on everything that had occupied her mind during the drive back to her apartment.  

Should she tell him about bursting into ecstatic laughter at a stoplight? That she had spent most of the drive reliving kisses when she should have been paying attention to the road? How could she begin to explain how freeing it was to open herself up to this kind of intimacy after years of insisting she was better off on her own? No matter what she wrote, words would never capture it correctly. 

After much typing and deleting, she finally opted for simplicity: I still haven’t stopped smiling.

Neither have I. And I still feel your kisses on my lips, he replied. 

You’d better meet up with me tomorrow so we can do it again. 

Just tell me when and where. 

The giddiness that spread through her was unreal. For a single moment, Arden questioned whether she should feel disappointed for the years that they had wasted, but she had no such inclination. Instead, she was quite focused on the present and their future. I’m talking lots of kisses. Maybe some light cuddling... 

I can’t wait. For now, get some sleep, Arden. You’ve got a big year ahead. 

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #wishful thinking jaime #jaime lewis #jaime lewis x mc #wt jaime #jaime x mc

[tarralin]

3. Why Not?

This is the continuation of Diabolicus. You can find my other works on the Master List linked in my blog's description.

Thank you @ikemenfics for beta reading!

Enjoying my work? Buy me a coffe at http://ko-fi.com/tarralin

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

~*~

...

The indulgence of diversion was simply at an end.

...

At least, that was what Kennyo tried to tell himself each night he stood at the forest’s edge until the last candle had been snuffed out. He hadn’t entered her dreams in three nights. It was for the best. His place was in Hell where he needed to return and await his next summoning… and still he found himself watching over her daily actions.

Still he found himself peering through her dreamsphere each night, giving into curiosity.

This night, she sauntered along a stone balcony he knew only existed on castles of old lands and nowhere near these colonies of a young world. The golden gown that clothed her was the fashion of an ended age with the square neckline of a constraining bodice and full skirt swaying across the polished marble floor. A looping filigree traced the long, draping sleeves until the crimson trimming ended its pathway. Her silver locks were kept in their place by pearl encrusted combs pinned to the base of her head and then the luminous curls were allowed to dance freely in the moonlight.

Just as before, her gaze snapped to his without warning as a smile bloomed. “Now Puzzle Maker, I remember giving you permission to enter without invitation.”

“That you did,” Kennyo grinned as he joined her at the balcony. “As unnecessary as it was.”

Her smile faltered slightly at that. “Don't most immortals need permission to enter a realm or residence?”

“They do but, in the case of the Dreamscape—" Kennyo raised his left hand for her inspection, “—only a hair is needed to unlock the portal.”

A bark of laughter slipped from her throat once her eyes found the single silver strand wrapped around his fingers. “So, you've obviously had a plan from the beginning. You sought me out for possible connections to My Brother Once Was… but why do I still feel your presence like a second shadow? Why did you stay?”

Why indeed? Kennyo wasn't sure, even now, only knew that he felt a tug back to the mortal realm each time he stood at the precipice of Hell’s entrance. A pull that only ended in her presence like a fisherman's tether that had caught its prize. Not that he could tell her that, settling instead for indifference. “Why not?”

Her lavender eyes narrowed at the blasé response as if she could see through to the truth but kept her thoughts to herself. A sudden swell of music echoed through the stone walls of the palace to his ears, bringing back her usual radiant smile as she pushed from the balcony. A quick flourish of her hand had a pair of doors forming in the wall before her where previously only solid stone stood. Another flick of the wrist commanded them to swing, opening to a massive ballroom that hosted a moderate crowd of lavishly dressed dancers.

“What is this?” Kennyo questioned skeptically.

With a grin, she spun full circle as if to encompass the entire room until she met his gaze again. “My own means.”

He grinned at the repeated phrase from All Hallows Eve as he circled her in the same form of the dance portrayed by the dreamfolk before offering his hand to her in invitation. “So you often dream of parties that occurred before your time?”

She accepted his hand happily. “My time? Ha! You don’t know much of my kind, do you?”

“Of nephilim? Apologies, but no, I don't. The last Half-Born I know of was the giant Goliath.”

“Goliath? Truly? I didn’t realize we were so…”

“Rare?” He provided when her words trailed off.

“Yes… No wonder Heaven is so insistent on my conversion!” She shook her head, clearing her eyes of the evident disbelief before continuing with her original thought. “My twin and I were born in the spring of fourteen seventy-two but it wasn't until our fortieth winter approached that we realized we hadn't aged like those around us.”

Extended longevity, one more bit to file away on the knowledge of nephilim. “So these fashions and parties were of your time.”

“Yes,” her steps slowed a moment while she glanced around the ballroom, as if seeing memories of old play across her vision. “My brother’s scholarly pursuits lead us to London and in the presence of Henry VIII for a brief time. I was allowed to attend a party similar to this once.”

“Enjoyed it so much you now repeat it in sleep?”

The music ended and they parted per etiquette. “You catch on quick, Puzzle Maker.”

“I’d like to think so,” he raised his hand to her again as a new, lively tune arose.

Just as before, Kennyo picked up the rhythm of the new dance easily and was soon leading her through the steps as designed. She seemed to truly float in his arms with the absence of physical touch, the rustling of her dress along the floor as the only indicator she was there at all.

“Tell me, Lady Nephilim,” he started as he spun her in time with the music, pulling her back flush against his chest. “Why do you call me ‘Puzzle Maker'?”

“You've not offered another title for me to address you by, nor have you told me what you are. Our names have power, even on the Dreamscape, which is why I haven't asked you of yours or corrected that which you call me. Actually, I've grown quite fond of your gifted moniker.” She glanced over her shoulder to ensure he saw her grin. “Are you not a puzzle maker? Have to say, you had me fooled by all those games you sent me.”

“ ‘Games’?!” He scoffed at her flippant attitude, pivoting himself to face her again. “Did any of those ‘games’ challenge you? Frighten you?”

Her smile turned thoughtful for a moment. “The maze.”

“The maze? How so?”

“Come, I'll show you.” She turned on her heel and pulled him by the hand through the crowd. A curtain hung along the ballroom wall that she threw aside to reveal another set of double doors. They flew open without so much as a tap of her fingers, leading immediately outside where an expansive garden laid before them. A hedge work maze stretched as far as the eye could see, the wall of green standing twice Kennyo’s height and eliminating all visual capabilities aside from staring straight up into the sky.

“Now, let me think…”

His gaze settled back to her. The new, predatorial drawl to her words unsettled his resolve as the doors clamped shut behind them with a boom. A wolfish smirk blossomed upon her features when she released his hand and disappeared through a split in the trees. He sprinted through the same split, instincts screaming that he not lose sight of her. Truly, dear Lady, a chase?

“Something's missing...” her voice pranced across his ears as he turned the first corner. She was nowhere to be seen despite the closeness of her teasing statement. “Oh, now I remember!”

An ear shattering howl sounded from the entrance. If he possessed his physical senses, Kennyo was sure his lungs would have frozen. There was only one beast that could relinquish such a soul searing wail. He dove to the left wing and pounded down the gravel path, cursing himself for being so clever as to include Hell’s Hound in the crafted nightmares.

“And let’s not forget…”

A gale of wind whistled through the pathway with enough force to tumble him to his knees, leaves biting across his nose with the realization he could feel the sting. This was far beyond the common lucidity that even some mortals could master. Just what kind of sorcery did the Lady Nephilim practice to accomplish this feat?

The fiendish snarls of Hell’s cruelest creature grew close to his heels. If he could feel the leaves and wind, what damage could the hound’s fangs inflict?

The path brought him to another three way choice. He took the right wing this time, hoping to throw off the hound but still growls of the hunt followed his steps until another choice lay before him. Straight ahead it is.

Again? Right.

This is ridiculous! Left.

Kennyo happened upon another break in the tree line with the same choice trio. “What ‘game’ are you playing here?!” He shouted to the sky, knowing she’d hear him.

Her words were like warm honey over his conscious regardless of her role as the tormentor. “The very same you played at my expense. This one's not so fun, is it?” The chilled blast of wind carried the roar of the pursuing predator.

A sigh from the Nephilim. “Neither left, right, nor forward have proven successful, and you certainly can't go whence you came. Come now, think on it!”

The gale’s howling was rivaled only by that of the hound encroaching upon him. He had to choose again and he had to choose now but no matter which path he chose, it would continuously loop back to this same trident. How did she solve it when she was closed in on all sides—

No. Not all sides.

At the same moment the snarling beast would have captured him, Kennyo lunged onto a nearby branch of the hedge work and climbed. He focused solely on his footwork as he swung from one bough to the next, lest he fall to the jaws of his own handiwork. Once he scaled to the top, the ferocity of both wind and monstrosity ceased and he could see a clear passage to the epicenter.

She lounged across a stone bench waiting for him. She had changed from the golden gown of a queen to a shimmering cloth that matched her eyes, similar to that he often saw draped upon the women of Heaven when they came to dissuade contract seeking mortals. The robe flattered her greatly instead of appearing as if it had been wrapped around in haste and without care. She could have stepped into a painted rendition of the ancient isles and taken their wardrobe for herself.

Kennyo shook his head to clear away the distraction, focusing on her gaze. “You climbed the wall.”

“I climbed the wall,” she agreed, grinning again. “Though it took me nearly all night to figure it out, so I applaud your speed. Ironic that it took you seven turns.”

“Six,” he corrected only to witness her shaking her head.

“The climb counts as a turn, but enough of that.” She stood and crossed the distance to properly meet his gaze. “Why did you stay?”

“Pardon?” Why that question, of all things?

“My hair gives free reign to enter this realm and whatever plans you initially had for Nari dissolved once you learned I would be of no use to you. Yet, you continued to watch over me. Even now, here in the maze, you could have left at anytime. Yet, you worked through it. So I ask again… Why. Do. You. Stay?”

Persistent little thing aren't you? “I… wish I could tell you, dear Lady, but the truth is I don't know the answer.”

There was a glimmer in her eyes at the honesty. “I have a thought on that myself, but I think it best if you realize on your own.”

Suddenly, he wished he had told her of the frustrations of the last weeks, the sensation of being drawn back to her side, everything. In the centuries he walked as a demon, he possessed neither emotions nor indecisiveness. Only a hollowness that was continuously questioned by the mortals as he could never empathize with the tearful pleas or their need for the attentions of another. Even before selling his soul as a human, he’d been free of earthly entanglements and desires.

Now, he understood. Need. Desire. Longing. Did a term even exist to describe to the endless flurry of emotions swirling within him? As he willingly stood here at her mercy, he knew he would beg without qualms for an end to the storm just as much as he wished it to continue for eternity. How could he be affected so greatly? How was this possible?

There was only one impossible answer.

“You really do catch on quick,” she whispered as she lightly trailed a hand up his arm. “It appears you figured it out already.”

Kennyo framed her face in his palms, suddenly lamenting the lack of a physical presence. “Why?”

This time, the brilliance of her smile as she mimicked his motions of cupping his face nearly blinded him. “Why not?”

~*~

If you're curious, see the dress that I was inspired by and envisioned here:

~*~

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen kennyo #kennyo #ikesennw #ikesennw reblog #colonial america au #1700s #diabolicus #dem!kennyo #db #nephilim angels and demons. oh my! #my writing #fanfic #ikesen fanfic

[otome-addicts-notsoanonymous]

This is the entry by @tarralin for the fanfic giveaway! Remember, you must COMMENT on this post to vote! Voting rules and the master post are under #fanficgiveawaymaster or here. Submissions can also be found under #fanficsubmissions.

Diabolicus

Ch 3. Why not?

Author: @tarralin

~*~

Below is my entry for the Fan Writer Contest. This is actually the third installment of Diabolicus, a currently on going fic featuring IkeSen’s Kennyo and an OC that is the twin sister of IkeSen’s Mitsunari.

Thank you for your time! Enjoy!

~*~

At least, that was what Kennyo tried to tell himself each night he stood at the forest’s edge until the last candle had been snuffed out. He hadn’t entered her dreams in three nights. It was for the best. His place was in Hell where he needed to return and await his next summoning… and still he found himself watching over her daily actions.

Still he found himself peering through her dreamsphere each night, giving into curiosity.

This night, she sauntered along a stone balcony he knew only existed on castles of old lands and nowhere near these colonies of a young world. The golden gown that clothed her was the fashion of an ended age with the square neckline of a constraining bodice and full skirt swaying across the polished marble floor. A looping filigree traced the long, draping sleeves until the crimson trimming ended its pathway. Her silver locks were kept in their place by pearl encrusted combs pinned to the base of her head and then the luminous curls were allowed to dance freely in the moonlight.

Just as before, her gaze snapped to his without warning as a smile bloomed. “Now Puzzle Maker, I remember giving you permission to enter without invitation.”

“That you did,” Kennyo grinned as he joined her at the balcony. “As unnecessary as it was.”

Her smile faltered slightly at that. “Don’t most immortals need permission to enter a realm or residence?”

“They do but, in the case of the Dreamscape–” Kennyo raised his left hand for her inspection, “–only a hair is needed to unlock the portal.”

A bark of laughter slipped from her throat once her eyes found the single silver strand wrapped around his fingers. “So, you’ve obviously had a plan from the beginning. You sought me out for possible connections to the angel once my brother… and yet I still feel your presence like a second shadow. Why do you stay?”

Why indeed? Kennyo wasn’t sure, even now, only knew that he felt a tug back to the mortal realm each time he stood at the precipice of Hell’s entrance. A pull that only ended in her presence like a fisherman’s tether that had caught its prize. Not that he could tell her that, settling instead for indifference. “Why not?”

Her lavender eyes narrowed at the blasé response as if she could see through to the truth but kept her thoughts to herself. A sudden swell of music echoed through the stone walls of the palace to his ears, bringing back her usual radiant smile as she pushed from the balcony. A quick flourish of her hand had a pair of doors forming in the wall before her where previously only solid stone stood. Another flick of the wrist commanded them to swing, opening to a massive ballroom that hosted a moderate crowd of lavishly dressed dancers.

“What is this?” Kennyo questioned skeptically.

With a grin, she spun full circle as if to encompass the entire room until she met his gaze again. “My own means.”

He grinned at the repeated phrase from All Hallows Eve as he circled her in the same form of the dance portrayed by the dreamfolk before offering his hand to her in invitation. “So you often dream of parties that occurred before your time?”

She accepted his hand happily. “My time? Ha! You don’t know much of my kind, do you?”

“Of Nephilim? Apologies, but no, I don’t. The last Angel-Born I know of was the giant Goliath.”

“Goliath? Truly? I didn’t realize we were so…”

“Rare?” He provided when her words trailed off.

“Yes… No wonder Heaven is so insistent on my conversion!” She shook her head, clearing her eyes of the evident disbelief before continuing with her original thread of thought. “My twin and I were born in the spring of fourteen seventy-two but it wasn’t until our fortieth winter approached that we realized we hadn’t aged like those around us.”

Extended longevity, one more bit to file away on the knowledge of Nephilim. “So these fashions and parties were of your time.”

“Yes,” her steps slowed a moment while she glanced around the ballroom, as if seeing memories of old play across her vision. “My brother’s scholarly pursuits lead us to London and in the presence of Henry VIII for a brief time. I was allowed to attend a party similar to this once.”

“Enjoyed it so much you now repeat it in sleep?”

The music ended and they parted per etiquette. “You catch on quick, Puzzle Maker.”

“I’d like to think so,” he raised his hand to her again as a new, lively tune arose.

Just as before, Kennyo picked up the rhythm of the new dance easily and was soon leading her through the steps as designed. She seemed to truly float in his arms with the absence of physical touch, the rustling of her dress along the floor as the only indicator she was there at all.

“Tell me, Lady Nephilim,” he started as he spun her in time with the music, pulling her back flush against his chest. “Why do you call me ‘Puzzle Maker’?”

“You’ve not offered another title for me to address you by, nor have you told me what you are. Our names carry power, even on the Dreamscape, which is why I haven’t asked you of yours or corrected that which you call me. I’m actually quite fond of your gifted moniker.” She glanced over her shoulder to ensure he saw her teasing grin. “Are you not a puzzle maker then? Have to say, you had me fooled by all those games you sent me.”

“ ‘Games’?!” He scoffed at her flippant attitude, pivoting himself to face her again. “Did those so called ‘games’ offer any challenge to you? Frighten you?”

Her smile turned thoughtful for a moment. “The maze.”

“The maze? How so?”

“Come, I’ll show you.” She turned on her heel and pulled him by the hand through the crowd. A curtain hung along the ballroom wall that she threw aside to reveal another set of double doors that flew open without so much as a tap of her fingers, leading immediately outside where an expansive garden laid before them. A hedge work maze stretched as far as the eye could see, the wall of green standing twice Kennyo’s height and eliminating all visual capabilities aside from staring straight up into the sky.

“Now, let me think…”

His gaze snapped back to her. The new, predatorial drawl to her words unsettled his resolve as the doors clamped shut behind them with a boom. A wolfish smirk blossomed upon her features when she released his hand and disappeared through a split in the trees. He sprinted through the same opening, instincts screaming that he not lose sight of her. Truly, dear Lady, a chase?

“Something’s missing…” her voice pranced across his ears as he turned the first corner. She was nowhere to be seen despite the closeness of her teasing statement. “Oh, now I remember!”

An ear shattering howl sounded from the entrance. If he possessed his physical senses, Kennyo was sure his lungs would have frozen. There was only one beast that could relinquish such a soul searing wail. He dove to the left wing and pounded down the gravel path, cursing himself for being so clever as to include Hell’s Hound in the crafted nightmares.

“And let’s not forget…”

A gale of wind whistled through the pathway with enough force to tumble him to his knees, leaves biting across his nose with the realization he could feel the sting. This was far beyond the common lucidity that even some mortals could master. Just what kind of sorcery did the Lady Nephilim practice to accomplish this feat?

The fiendish snarls of Hell’s cruelest creature grew close to his heels. If he could feel the leaves and wind, what damage could the hound’s fangs inflict?

The path brought him to another three way choice. He took the right wing this time, hoping to throw off the hound but still growls of the hunt followed his steps until another choice lay before him. Straight ahead it is…

Again? Right.

This is ridiculous! Left.

Kennyo happened upon another break in the tree line with the same choice trio. “What ‘game’ are you playing here?!” He shouted to the sky, knowing she’d hear him.

Her words were like warm honey over his conscious regardless of her current role as the tormentor. “The very same you played at my expense. This one’s not so fun, is it?” The chilled blast of wind carried the roar of the pursuing predator.

A sigh from the Nephilim. “Neither left, right, nor forward have proven successful, and you certainly can’t go whence you came. Come now, think on it!”

The gale’s howling was rivaled only by that of the hound encroaching upon him. He had to choose again and he had to choose now but no matter which path he chose, it would continuously loop back to this same trident. How did she solve it when she was closed in on all sides–

No. Not all sides.

At the same moment the snarling beast leaped to capture him, Kennyo lunged onto a nearby branch of the hedge work and climbed. He focused solely on his footwork as he swung from one bough to the next, lest he fall to the jaws of his own handiwork. Once he scaled to the top, the ferocity of both wind and monster ceased and he could see a clear passage to the epicenter.

She lounged across a stone bench. She had changed from the golden gown of a queen to a shimmering cloth that matched her lavender eyes. The robe was similar to what the women of Heaven draped upon themselves when they came to dissuade contract seeking mortals and flattered her greatly instead of appearing as if it had been wrapped around without care. She could have stepped into a painted rendition of the ancient isles and taken their wardrobe for herself.

Kennyo shook his head to clear away the distraction, focusing on her gaze. “You climbed the wall.”

“I climbed the wall,” she agreed, grinning again. “Though it took me nearly all night to figure it out, so I applaud your speed. Ironic that it took you seven turns.”

“Six,” he corrected only to witness her shaking her head.

“The climb counts as a turn, but enough of that.” She stood and crossed the distance to properly meet his gaze. “Why do you stay?”

“Pardon?” Why that question, of all things?

“My hair gives free reign to enter this realm and whatever plans you initially had for Nari dissolved once you learned I would be of no use to you. Yet… you continued to watch over me. Even now, here in the maze, you could have left at anytime. Yet, you worked through it. So I ask again… Why. Do. You. Stay?”

Persistent little thing aren’t you? “I… wish I could tell you, dear Lady, but the truth is I don’t know the answer.”

There was a glimmer in her eyes at the honesty as she smiled up at him. “I have a thought on that myself, but I think it best if you realize on your own.”

Suddenly, he wished he had told her of the frustrations of the last weeks, the sensation of being drawn back to her side, everything.

In the centuries he walked as a demon, he possessed neither emotions nor indecisiveness. Only a hollowness that was continuously questioned by the mortals as he could never empathize with their tearful pleas or the need for the attentions of another. Even before selling his soul as a human, he’d been free of earthly entanglements and desires.

Now, he understood. Need. Desire. Longing. Did a term even exist to describe to the endless flurry of emotions swirling within him? As he willingly stood here at her mercy, he knew he would beg without qualms for an end to the storm just as much as he wished it to continue for eternity. How could he be affected so greatly? How was this possible?

There was only one impossible answer.

“You really do catch on quick,” she whispered as she lightly trailed a hand up his arm. “It appears you figured it out already.”

Kennyo framed her face in his palms, suddenly lamenting the lack of a physical presence. “Why?”

This time, the brilliance of her smile as she mimicked his motions of cupping his face nearly blinded him. “Why not?”

#fanficgiveaway #fanficsubmissions #fanfic #ikesen #submission

[amitds]

Sasusaku Month

Day 21

Prompt: Cloaks

Summary: Sasuke is a vampire from a noble clan while Sakura is a powerful witch. The two cloaked creatures of the night are in a taboo romance and they soon realise that their love comes with consequences. 

Notes: Idk... the prompt ‘cloaks’ just made me think of Halloween. I also prefer writing an AU as opposed to inserting my own filler in Kishi’s story. Btw ‘kohl’ is an Indian eye liner like thing that we use to ward off the evil eye and it also is supposed to improve sight. I thought it would be cool for a witch to have it.  I also added some of my ‘Indian culture’ by using a bindi as opposed to the yin seal and my Caribbean culture by using plants/plant names we use here in Trinidad. I think people might think this is more Sakura than SS but my vision demands this. Oh btw ITALICS ALONE are thoughts and “ITALICS WITH QUOTATION MARKS” are statements. 

THIS IS SUPER LATE. SORRY

 :’( 

I know you’ll forgive me because... because I’m beautiful.

 ; )

“I wonder why Sasuke wanted to see me so suddenly,” Sakura whispered to herself as she sailed across the moonlit sky. Sakura, perched elegantly on her besom broom, couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding chilling her bones as she flew over Konoha City. Her only company on this cold night was her tiny slug familiar, Katsuyu, seated at the tip of the broom. “I hope nothing is wrong, Katsuyu,” Sakura continued as she anxiously awaited the meeting with her lover. 

Sasuke and Sakura have only been dating for three months but needless to say they were in love. Sakura could feel it. She didn’t care if he was a vampire, the sworn enemy of her race and neither did he. To Sakura, he was just Sasuke and she was just Sakura. Of course they fought when they discovered each other’s identity but after occasionally meeting and fighting at a stalemate for months, the two students at Senju University decided to call a truce. From their enmity was born friendship and from this friendship love had blossomed. Sakura was always attracted to the young Uchiha, even before knowing that he was a creature of the night and she had always caught his attention. Now, three months into their love, Sakura could feel a murky cloud looming over her happiness. 

Mokuton Park was deadened by loneliness at this hour. The only signs of life, the croaking of frogs and the stridulating of crickets. Seated on the fine teak park bench among the freshly manicured grass and shrubbery was Sakura, now sheltered by drapes of African tulip, myrtle and pink and red poui trees which dotted the park.  Draped in her ivory satin cloak dotted with fuchsia satin stitched sakura blossoms, her protection; the symbol of her covenant with nature, life and her mastery of the pure arts, the young ‘white witch’ seemed out of place in this dreary setting. As usual for her journeys in the night, Sakura was in full witch garb: her characteristic hooded cloak was married with her rose gold chain waist belt, bone white thigh highs guarded her legs and rose quartz crystals, for success in love, dangled gracefully from each ear. Kohl lined her eyes, enhancing her vision while warding off whatever evil could come her way, and an amethyst rhombus, her bindi, adorned her forehead, for strength in concentration and retention of her magical energies. 

Sasuke kun, please come quickly! 

“Sasuke kun you’re here!” she joyously exclaimed, as the vampire arrived moments later, bringing with him an icy night wind which danced through the surrounding, formerly silent, trees. “Hmm.”

 Sakura could see it as the young man emerged from the refuge of the shadows. Something was awry; Sasuke was not himself. As he strode towards the witch, the ice and uncertainty deepened, nearly devouring Sakura herself.  Sasuke Uchiha, one of the sons of the famed noble vampire clan, The Uchiha Clan, was extraordinarily handsome. No human could compare and no man could radiate the level of power, class, and allure as an Uchiha, as Sasuke Uchiha. His spiky black hair looked at home in the darkness of the night, tinted slightly by shades of blue formed by the moon’s light. As customary for men of the Uchiha Clan, he traveled the night wrapped in an onyx brocade cloak, decorated with hand stitched ‘uchiwa’ fans of an even darker hue. Covered by his majestic charcoal cloak were deep crimson rubies, an heirloom of the Uchiha and his protection from the sun, draped around his neck, resting on his pearly Japanese silk shirt. The cloak, as with the witches, was a symbol of his supernatural origins and power. It was an article of protection and as an Uchiha, a symbol of his kingship. Now, standing before her, Sasuke’s expression stiffened even further. Gloom covered his handsome features and arresting allure.

“Sakura... it’s over.” 

Three words... three words were all it took that night. The white witch of the illustrious Shikkotsu Coven was silenced by these three simple words. Sakura now felt as if the night wind entered her body and chilled her from the inside out. She didn’t know what to think. For the first time the fiery, passionate witch was mute. Sasuke had enough power over her as the man she loved, as the man she loves to do this much. How could Sasuke do this? Were these past three months nothing? Was she wrong in believing that this man loved her as she loved him? No, she felt it. She felt their connection. What did she do?  All these dark thoughts jammed her mind and for moments she couldn’t speak. 

After what seemed like an eternity Sakura, tears flowing down her face,managed to force out a response past the lump in her throat, a response to the straight faced Uchiha who impassively stood before her. Sasuke’s face was rigid and radiated nothing.. almost. 

“Sasuke, what are you saying?” she finally spoke. “You can’t mean... what’s with this all of a sudden?” She went on, “ Why won’t you tell me anything? I know that you love me. I felt it. I still feel it.” Desperation laced her voice. 

“I’m not like you.” The stone face vampire retorted. “I walk a different path. I am a vampire of the noblest clan and you’re a witch. We cannot be together. I realise that now.” Sakura’s heart sank. She couldn’t believe the words leaving those lips. Those lips that once kissed her with such fire and passion. Those same lips that promised to love her forever, for their entire immortal lives. Sasuke was breaking his promise now... and for what? Since when did he care about what others thought? Since when did that clan politics and the feud between their people interest him? 

“ I am not like you. I walk a different path...” 

“Sasuke...” Sakura interrupted, her voice spiked with her usual passion and surety. “I know the deal with your clan, with our clans. Stop it.” 

Sakura could see. Behind his stoic facade Sakura could see the chinks in his armor, the deception in his deep onyx eyes. “You’re lying. What’s the real reason for all of this?” On this utterance Sakura could have sworn that Sasuke mildly shuddered. 

“Sasuke if I still hold a place in your heart... if you really love me...” she continued now boldly advancing to Sasuke, her resonant green eyes staring into the charcoal of his own. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t love me. Tell me that you lied and that we shared nothing. Sasuke tell me it’s really over...”

“I don’t love you. I never have. It is over.” Sasuke solemnly and calmly announced as he trekked towards the shadows once more.

“Sasuke...” was all Sakura could manage.

“You’re annoying...”

With that the Uchiha briskly turned, his eyes, now vibrant scarlet eyes, set ablaze with compulsion, the power of the vampire. That was all it took as Sakura was spelled into a lull of sleep. Such a hypnotic suggestion would normally fail on a witch of Sakura’s strength but the shock of this night and her heartbreak weakened her.  Her last memory, at least she thought it was, was of someone gently holding her from behind, whispering ‘thank you’.

It was now over. After months of building a relationship with Sasuke, after months of nurturing this love, and them sharing their lives this was the end. Sakura, rose quartz adorning her ears, lay vulnerable, her fragile arm delicately resting across her heart, now without her love.

“Sasuke!!” Sakura exclaimed as she roused from her slumber on the park bench. Sasuke vanished. According to her watch she’d been asleep for about fifteen minutes. “He’s gone...” she sighed to Katsuyu. The familiar was her only company. “Sasuke wasn’t telling the truth, I know it. I know something is amiss. But what can I do? I can’t force him back to me.” 

Defeated and mentally and emotionally drained, Sakura held her face in her palms, now catching tears and she cried on her bench with Katsuyu snuggling her from her lap while a new gale of ice and cold whipped the night. Something untoward approached Sakura felt, her face still buried within her palms. Even stricken with grief, her senses ached. Moments later her doubts were cleared. 

What’s that?! 

Moments later Sakura’s thoughts were now concentrated on the mysterious power she felt emanating from beyond her. A flood of dark power was drowning her spirit now. The frosty night wind howled unnaturally through the trees, tearing off leaves of myrtle and poui flowers and raining them down upon her. Something evil was here, of this she was sure. 

“Who’s there?!” the witch demanded, her kohl lined eyes focusing at her anterior. 

“Ha, poor little white witch, all alone...” a strange voice snickered moments later, sending ice down Sakura’s spine. “Want us to keep you company?” the voice continued, each word dripping with malice. 

On this Sakura stood up, her hand gripping her broom with Katsuyu on her shoulder hissing at the unseen enemy. The witch was ready. No sooner than she arose, figures shimmered into the silvery moonlight that lit the park. 

Vampires. 

“What the?...” Sakura blurted seconds later while the undead predators took form before her. Six stood before her, each donning gloomy black cloaks stippled with blood red clouds. “The Akatsuki...” she realised. The ironically named personal mercenaries of the esteemed Uchiha Clan, elite warriors serving vampire royalty. They stood before her, each radiating torrents of miasma, of darkness and of hate. Such imposing figures. No one had ever seen them and escaped their hunt and now the majority of their ten man squad was here for Sakura. 

Had they known about her meeting with Sasuke? No way. Uchiha Clan vampires avoided this less populated area in their feedings. Sasuke ensured it and despite his words, Sasuke would never hurt her. Of this she was certain. Had they been tracking Sasuke? And if so, on whose orders? Alas, Sakura’s busy mind hadn’t the time to continue dwelling on the reason behind this attack as the predators, at home in the darkness of night, stood before her, aching to feed. Maybe a binding spe...

“Arrgh!”

Before Sakura would complete her thought process, one of the vampires, the red haired Sasori as she heard another call him, pounced in a blur of crimson fury and sent her hurling towards the teak bench. 

“Ugh!” she winced as all of the vampire’s weight and force crashed into her slim frame.The Akatsuki were surely not your run of the mill vampires, the witch discovered. He’s almost as strong as Sasuke! Had she not in the last minute imbued some of her magic into her now steel-like cloak she would have no doubt been dead already. Still, Sakura was in danger. Sasori snapped his jaws at her, intimidating her as he readied himself for his prey. Now her only protection was her broom, cracking, guarding her from the creature’s maw. 

Sakura was stuck and she was overpowered with Sasori’s acute curved fangs reaching for her frail neck. Sakura had no time to invoke any enchantment potent enough to save herself and Katsuyu couldn’t do anything. Is this the end?Fear and desperation lined her spirit while Sasori’s fangs were tasting her milky white skin. The others, she glanced, didn’t join Sasori and seemed to prefer to look on in sick amusement. Vampires of such power and in such numbers obviously didn’t think much of her, even if she was a witch of the Shikkotsu, Sakura concluded. Even in such a predicament the proud witch could feel a glimmer vexation on witnessing this. How dare they?

 “Get off!” she threatened as Sasori’s saliva warmed her neck and two points pecked her skin, almost breaching.  “Hmm, you’re blood is mine now, witch!” Sasori mumbled, mouth now occupied, and with that... Sakura gave in. 

No! 

The attack had been a success. and for a moment silence once more conquered the park as Sasori fed on Sakura. Moments later, it changed.

“Aaaaaarrrgh!!!!” a voice wailed into the night. There lying on top of Sakura was the now truly dead Sasori, slowly deteriorating into ash. It worked! Shannaro! Sakura was barely able to get away from that attack but thanks to her quick thinking she pulled it off. Sakura intentionally relaxed to draw Sasori in and at the very moment that Sasori’s teeth brushed her neck, Sakura pierced his heart with a wooden stake, half of her broken broom she managed to imbue with magic to arrow completely through him. 

“Now, who’s next?” Sakura grinned, her once pristine cloak covered in vampire cinders. She rose, breathless as beads of sweat cascaded down her, ready for a fight. 

“Get her!” Pein, the cinnamon haired vampire bellowed, enraged, as a shorter blond and another grey haired vampire both shot towards the white witch. Pein was their leader, Sakura realized, but decided that he wasn’t the most immediate threat yet. In order to survive she needed to act quickly. Now was time for Sakura to act and rid herself firstly of her most immediate attackers.

Hastily, Sakura wove her seal, her left thumb on top and her hands clasped together vertically, commanding the fragments of teak, remnants of the last attack, to scatter. In the wake of her exertion of power, her bindi radiated a powerful violet light as her shoulder length hair and, most notably,her cloak billowed in the night wind. “Shannaro!” the white witch cried, fragments of teak now dancing in the wind and meeting her attackers. 

  “Deidara! Hidan! You fools!” Pein screamed heatedly as Sakura’s most immediate assailants fell, their corpses punctuated with teak wood and white magical power. They were too close to escape Sakura’s adeptly timed firing. Now, with the Akatsuki three members short, a flicker of hope sparked in Sakura’s chest. “I can do this,” Sakura assured herself but she knew the real fight was yet to meet her. Pein and his remaining soldiers still composed her main threat. Sakura could feel it. The real fight was just commencing.

 Sakura knew from the way Pein, the lanky masked man beside him and the woman with precise navy strands gracefully evaded every single stake with no real effort that these three were the most powerful members of the Akatsuki. The miasma they each propagated dwarfed the fallen soldiers before her and they emitted an air of power, experience and skill that even Sakura could feel herself buckling before.  

  “This is where the real fight starts.” Sakura whispered, hands clasped, the witch still immersed in her enchantment. “Now we fight!” Sakura concluded. Without catching her breath Sakura, her bindi glowing as a lone star in the night, continued her assault. “Shannaro!”

They steeled their stances as the three hunters of the night prepared to pounce. “We’ll drain you dry, witch!” the masked man yelled in rage as the three of them sped off swiftly to their prey. Minutes sailed by while Sakura, deep in enchantment radiated a beam of radiant white magic, her mind willing the fragments of teak into a forceful dance. 

However, it mattered not the extent of her focus and power since these three vampires were of another class altogether. Splinters of teak littered the kept lawn of the park as the blue haired woman, with only the blur of her whirling cloak, disintegrated pieces as they flew past her. Pein stealthily evaded every attack and together with the masked vampire simply grabbed them up as teak pieces brushed past them, demolishing them into wooden ash with bare arms. “Enough!” Pein finally bellowed as if heralding the end of the confrontation. 

Sakura’s heart sank in anguish. Instantly her teak stakes were disposed of despite all of her focus and power being expended. “What are they?” she whimpered to herself, slowly receding into the comfort of a poui tree behind her, her luxurious alabaster cloak enveloping her. “Each one of them could fight on par with Sasuke!” 

Sasuke... Sasuke would never have let this happen. Even now she couldn't help but think about her love. Her love who abandoned her. She knew that together his dark power and her white magic would have ensured their victory.  As the young witch contemplated her next move she was alarmed by the hazard of Pein’s booming proclamation. His voice was like violent bursts of thunder echoing into the night and when he shrieked Sakura was bombarded by a blast of dark power, a force of psionic energy, Pein’s compulsion.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, her head bashing into the trunk of the poui tree with flowers raining upon her. Not only was Pein chipping away at her mind and spirit but the force of his outburst generated enough negative psychic energy to physically hurl her along with it. “I can’t believe it!” she screeched, hands clasped at her temples. 

“What a delicate little witch,” the cerulean haired vampire snickered while accompanied by the masked man, she approached the girl twitching at the trunk of the tree. “Her blood must be sweet!” the masked vampire added, glee and excitement lacing his high pitched voice. Sakura was now helpless. Pein’s power was devouring her mind, blocking her ability to cast any spells while he and his compatriots, now enclosed her, there blackness blotting out the light of the moon before her. 

“She’s pretty.” the woman noted. “We’re going to have to do something about that aren’t we?” she went on, her bony fingers leaving the safety of her cloak, revealing titian claw like nails, perfect for gauging. 

“I think I’m going to start with your e.....”

“Aaah!” 

Before completing her announcement the woman lay on the ground several feet away. The attack came out of nowhere and soon after both Pein and the masked man joined her several meters away from the young witch. The force of the thrust was enough, Sakura witnessed, to send them all flying. Alas it wasn’t enough to finish them and now Sakura and her savior, the one before her had to finish the job. 

Sakura looked on in awe and appreciation as standing before her was her savior, her dear Katsuyu. “Katsuyu you gathered enough nature power I see?” Sakura noted as she gently patted the slug, now grown to the size of an SUV. “Let’s finish them off shall we?” Once more, a hiss was all the slug could respond. 

“Get them Katsuyu!” the white witch called.  “Tongue Tooth Sticky Acid!” What happened next was beyond what any of those vampires could have anticipated. From its mouth, the great slug spewed a thick prasine acidic paste in the form of a thawing rain, onto the three vampires who were notably caught off guard. Alas the Akatsuki members still managed to avoid certain death, all three of them, barely evading and escaping the complete fading of the acid. However the woman and the masked man couldn’t completely escape untouched with acidic burns, signs of the paste dissolving through their undead flesh and bone, stippling portions of their legs, arms and chests. 

Before the writhing duo could complete their cursing, Sakura’s enchantment took effect. While acid was rained upon her enemy Sakura, once more invoked her magical power: she wove her seal, her left thumb on top and her hands clasped together vertically. The witch’s violet bindi radiated a light more luminous, more powerful than before as her pearly cloak spread like wings of a great eagle. She was now calling forth her most treasured and powerful nature spell. “Sakura Petal Storm!” she commanded as shimmering sakura petals shone about the embroidery of her cloak, as if coming alive at her willing. A white and clean wind twisted around her frame as pink and rose stars of energy, in the form of sakura blossoms, burst forth from her cape, blooming into existence and piercing the darkness of the night. Then instantly they exploded in all directions, homing in on the three vampires before her. 

Despite the blinding speed of the three, petals of magic and heat instantaneously caught them, encircling and exploding mana and driving white magic into their undead flesh. Wails from the woman and her masked partner livened the silent night as chunks of flesh were completely blown off from their limbs. Pein was silent though, he grit his teeth and endured the onslaught of sakura blossoms, eyes fixed on Sakura, eyes fixed on his prey.

“Impressive, witch!” Pein, forced, eyes alight with power in Sakura’s direction. “ But not enough to defeat the strongest of the Akatsuki.” Cloak raised, he countered. 

Almost there. Just a bit longer. I can defeat them with this. 

Blooming in Sakura was now a feeling of triumph and of pride. The young witch, with Katsuyu’s help, was able to deflect and injure the vampires before her. Just as she thought, her white magic was potent enough to penetrate their steel like flesh and even with the moon’s regenerative effect on the undead, Sakura knew she could at least render them helpless long enough to make her escape. She pressed on.

Something is wrong. 

Moments passed and thoughts of doubt and fear crept up on her. She could see that, despite his partners’ suffering, Pein was enduring her power enough to inject her with fright. Moments have flown by since she started her attack and gradually Pein’s resistance has been rising. His eyes... they gleamed with rage and power the likes of which Sakura had never seen. Could he be using his psionic power as a cloak to resist my enchantment? Such control of his power! Before completing her thoughts, Sakura received the answer to her doubts. Pein was freed.

“How dare you!” Pein boomed, now exerting the extreme force and pressure of his psychic power. His cloak of vampiric energy thrived in the darkness of the night at this point, completely whipping away all traces of white magic from his vicinity. Sakura’s bright rose coloured petals dispersed and their lights was snuffed out completely, engulfed in the darkness of Pein’s power, now enhanced with his partner’s psychic power. 

“Aaah!” Sakura screamed in the presence of the vampires’ might. They were now completely cloaked in dark power. Sakura’s spell was nullified and he was once more hurled metres away by the sheer force of their psionic convergence. Even Katsuyu was affected and transformed back into its original form. 

While they were suffering, she concluded, those two were able to marry their power with Pein’s and create enough vampiric power to eradicate even her most powerful spell and clear away all forms of magic in the surrounding area. What skill!

Defeated, Sakura wretched on the ground, gripping her ribs.”Are they broken?!” she screamed, the lancing pain too much to bear. As the three drew closer Sakura could see that their regeneration, a common vampire ability, was already taking effect, heightened by the light full moon shimmering over them. 

“No!” 

Sakura’s shrieks peppered the night and she wretched, clasping her hands at her temples in the wake of Pein’s psychic bursts. Pein’s lavender eyes shone a pale light while the team of vampires all stared at Sakura, each no doubt bombarding her with psionic force.  

“We’ll drive you mad before we torture and drain you dry, witch!” boasted the woman.

 “Yeah but before we drain you dry I might want to play with you a bit.” the masked man echoed. “I wonder how much fun we can have once these blasts loosen you up a bit. Ha!”

With that the woman lunged forward, her talon like claws once more branching out and pointed at the lone witch suffering on the ground. 

“You’re mine, witch!” 

“Gaah!” 

The confrontation was now over. Here on this night, Sakura was defeated. Despite her best efforts Sakura failed to stop the vampire woman’s attack.

Or was it?  As Sakura gradually opened her eyes, expecting to see the environs of the afterlife the young witch couldn’t process what lay before her. “Sasuke!” she yelled, shock and awe decorating her bruised face. Sakura couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t fathom what she was seeing. There, standing between her and her attackers was Sasuke. 

He came for her. Sasuke came to save her. She knew it. Sasuke did care about her and whatever force was ripping them apart, whatever conspiracy impacting on him, nothing could change the fact that Sasuke, her Sasuke would never let anyone harm her. Warmth and light filled Sakura as she looked on in her safety, protected by the love of her life. Together Sakura knew they could weather any storm and fell any enemy. “Sasuke...” the words stuck at her lips, what Sakura saw beyond Sasuke, shook her completely.

Sasuke stood silent, his back facing hers, and exerted a torrent of shadowy compulsion, the likes of which Sakura had never seen from him or from any vampire. His power was so awesome that Sakura realized that she was actually seeing it clearly surrounding him, a cloak of swirling ice-like energy and darkness.

 “Sakura, you’re not hurt are you?” were the only words he uttered, back facing the witch, looking over at her from his left. 

“No Sasuke. Not badly, I’m alright.”

“Hmm.”

That was his only response but Sakura could see the fire in his eyes, the rage he felt for those who hurt her. Before she could continue Sakura was alerted to the masked vampire’s screams. She hadn’t noticed before but Sasuke’s psychic power was especially focused on her attacker, the female vampire. Instead of Sakura, her claws were now buried into the chest of the mask man. 

“Konan you bitch!” the man coughed. “Snap out of it!”

Alas, his words were powerless. In this place and at this time, Sasuke’s compulsion was absolute. He imbued enough dark power into the woman’s mind that she saw, heard and felt the masked man as her enemy, as Sakura.

“Die witch!” Konan screeched while stabbing her partner. At this point they were skirmishing on the lawn, kicking up blades of grass, dirt and mulch as they brawled. As Sakura looked on she saw Pein, kneeling, trying to rise up from the ground, no doubt battling Sasuke’s power aimed at his. “How dare you lay a hand on Sakura!” Sasuke blared, “Who sent you, Pein?!” Silence followed. Since Pein refused to answer, Sasuke continued his assault.

Indeed, she could sense power, no, at this point Sakura could feel it and see it herself! Meeting Sasuke’s darkness was Pein’s own aura of compulsion and psionic energy, emanating from the lavender stars that were now his eyes and cloaking him as well in a cloak of vampiric power, a cloak of a pale, violet aurora.

Moments flew by and Sakura, helpless, looked on as she saw Sasuke take on Pein. Despite hailing from the noble Uchiha clan and being more powerful than Pein, Sakura could see how the Akatsuki member’s centuries of experience shone through and allowed him to match Sasuke’s own power. The force thrust upon Pein, the compulsion of the Uchiha cloaking his own aura was ineffective; Pein was able to counter every psionic blast of power from Sasuke and, unlike his partners, he was in full control of his senses. Pein matched Sasuke’s attacks perfectly as both auras clashed for dominion over the park.  

Sasuke... Sakura could feel it. If nothing was done soon, even with Sasuke here, they’d both be finished. Sasuke couldn’t keep up the spell on Konan while he bombarded Pein with hypnotic force and she herself hadn’t much power left. With whips like black lacquer from Sasuke’s aura beating against Pein’s cocoon-like whirls of lavender power, sparks of energy glittered the park. This went on for minutes with both Pein and Sasuke’s auras of psychic power gradually dimming as Konan and the masked man remained on the ground, Sakura noticed, now still. Their fight had ended leaving only Sasuke versus Pein.

No this isn’t right! Did he release her? Oh no they’re...

Too late. By the time Sakura and even Sasuke realized what had occurred Pein exuded a plume of psionic power so large and so magnificent that it dwarfed Sasuke’s power and produced enough energy to launch him into Sakura’s direction, hurling them both into the base of the trees behind. All Sakura could do was attempt to catch Sasuke before they both met the bark, Sakura for the second time tonight.

“Sakura...” Sasuke breathed, now locked in her arms, his head gently supported by her chest, petals of rich pink poui flowers drizzling them both as they lay defeated at the trunk. “Sasuke, shh. You’re alright.” Her her embrace tightened as she spoke and Sasuke could feel her through her grasp and her words wrapping him in warmth. “Sakura.. ugh... about before...”  That was all he could get out before the couple were alerted to what lay in their wake. The massive plume of energy was dimming in size, stabilizing and now it was clear.

Sakura could see Pein, his power, originally characterised by whirls of lavender whirls now mingled with wisps of cerulean and black magenta. Konan and the masked man at this point rose and it was apparent what had happened. As was the case before, the two of them performed a convergence of psionic power with Pein and forced his power to bloom into the beacon of compulsion that overtook the entire park. Sakura couldn’t breathe. What she saw was beyond comprehension. That same power was now concentrating itself into a cloak of force and darkness around the vampires, centering most of its intensity on Pein.

“This isn’t like the last time...” she muttered, her arms still holding Sasuke. “Those two...”

“Ugh. Indeed...” Sasuke breathed, completing her thought, now quietly arising from her embrace. “They used the moonlight as a conduit to extract and funnel their psionic power... They gave him all of their power.”

“Indeed they did, Sasuke.” A robust raspy voice echoed in response. Pein and his squad were drawing nearer to the couple, still cloaked in curtains of psychic power, power now crackling with each step drawn. Pein continued, “As sanctioned by Lord Madara, head of the Uchiha clan, we hereby execute this witch and Sasuke Uchiha, even as a son of the Uchiha, get in our way again and we will kill even you as our Lord has ordered. Now move aside.”

“How dare you! How dare that geezer and that Uchiha council attack Sakura!” Sasuke’s rage boomed through in his voice alarming even Sakura as he rose to face her attackers. “I’ve abandoned this witch. That is more than enough. Let her go! Leave Sa... aaargh!”

“Sasuke!” Sakura wailed holding Sasuke, now writhing on the floor before her, his hands clasped into hers. “Sasuke please!”  Before them Pein, now a few meters away, looked on, his eyes, eyes twinkling an aurora of lavender, black magenta and azure, fixed on the groaning vampire on the ground like a hawk. He was like a starved wolf fixating on his prey. “Stop it!” Sakura begged, her pride withering when faced with Sasuke’s probable death. “He’s an Uchiha! You can’t! Please!”

“Silence witch!” Now the masked vampire joined in. “Even a son of the Uchiha cannot override the orders of Lord Madara and his council. He interfered and sealed his fate.”  

“If you hadn’t seduced our Lord Sasuke this wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place, you filthy witch!” boomed Konan, the cerulean haired woman, her claws once again growing.

“Sakura...” Sasuke now hissed. “Sakura, please... run.” Sasuke’s condition was worsening as he was stabbed by Pein’s psychic power. Sakura could hardly breathe seeing him like this, drenched in cold sweat, his body convulsing inside her embrace. “Get away from here. I cannot lose someone precious to me like this. Sakura live.”

“Sasuke no! Sasuke I love you. I can’t.” Sakura responded, smiling, her words dripping with misery uncharacteristically delivered in a smile. She knew. Living at the expense of Sasuke’s life was worse than death and dying with her love would be a death she could at least find solace in. This type of death is one she could welcome if it meant being with Sasuke. Sakura’s only yearning was that they both be sent to the same plane in the afterlife. Resigned, cradling her lover, the white witch grabbed Katsuyu near and looked her executioners dead in the eye, awaiting her fate. Good bye Sasuke.

“How sweet.” Konan teased. “It’s the end for you both. Poor Lord Sasuke...” She was ranting on now, drunk on the prospect of their success and her revenge on the witch.

“Even if he drained ten humans and came at us, Master Pein with our power as Akatsuki, and the blessing of the moon, would not fall. Ha, not even to Sasuke Uchiha!”

“I, Pein of The Akatsuki, servant of Lord Madara and The Uchiha Clan...” Pein sternly proclaimed, readying the delivery of his judgement, spinning the ribbons of his power into an orb of aurora-like fire into his palm. “Now execute Lord Sasuke Uchiha and this witch as Lord Madara has ordered!” the vampire boomed, arms outstretched as he launched forth an eruption of flame-like psychic power which would moments later obliterate them.

That’s it!

Swiftly Sakura dug into her cloak and brought forth a smooth, obsidian palm sized crystal of black tourmaline and before the white hot blaze met her she forcefully smashed it into the ground.

“Power of nature

Purity of the Shikkotsu

I beseech thee

Protect!”

Pein and his compatriots stared in disbelief as alabaster wisps and whirls of pure mist weaved around the couple, robustly blooming from the park lawn and cocooning them in a cloak of protection. In the face of the bone-white dome Pein’s psychic power though bolstered by the power of his Akatsuki, silently died away.  

“Sakura...” Sasuke whispered. “It stopped right? You’re alright?” she breathed in response, beads of sweat stippling her face.

“But how?” Sasuke inquired, his tone strengthening in the wake of his pain leaving him.

“I used the black tourmaline crystal, Mistress Tsunade gave to me.” Sakura informed him, her breathing now steady after her display of witchery. I can’t believe I pulled it off! She thought to herself. Sakura, in the last minute, through combining the remnants of her white magic with the power her black tourmaline crystal, drew from the earth was able to create a barrier of light power for protection; an energy field to repel all negative forces. “It protects from evil.. but Sasuke, it’s not going to last more than a few minutes. Please... Take some of my blood!”

“Sakura...I can’t do that.” Sasuke responded, shocked that she would even mention such a thing. “You’re not a human feeder, you’re a witch! Your blood is too much.  I haven’t drunk blood in a while.. all the power I used... I might...”

“Lose control? Kill me?!” Sakura interrupted, strangely giggling. “Sasuke. I love you with all my heart and I know you can do it. I trust you. Please.”

“Sakura...”

“Sasuke please. It’s the only way,” Sakura pleaded. My witch’s blood might be powerful enough to boost your power beyond Pein’s right now. Konan said even ten humans. M blood should be way more!”

“Boom!” blasts of thunderous psionic force bombarded against the solid white of the barrier. Sakura grimaced, arms tightening around Sasuke. “It’s Pein. Sasuke, he’s breaking it. The barrier is fading. Sasuke... I’m not strong...”

Sakura was halted. Her lips now brushing against Sasuke’s. “Sakura.. you’re so strong, stronger than anyone..” Sasuke breathed into her ear after his kiss. “I know...”

Gently Sasuke held her in his arms, his charcoal cloak engulfing her frame, as the young witch swung her salmon hair back, leaving her porcelain neck bare and its rich blue veins exposed. It was time. As the assault on the barrier raged on Sasuke gently rested his lips upon her neck. Sakura almost jumped feeling Sasuke’s hot breath warming her neck, readying her for what was to come. Then it happened.

It wasn’t like what Sasori tried. No, what Sakura was experiencing now was totally different. While sheltered in Sasuke’s strong arms Sakura felt a slight pain, the pang of two acute fang penetrating her bare, white neck. “Sasukeeeh...” she moaned as Sasuke’s fangs entered her vein, his lips covering her and his body pressing against her own. Soon the slight stinging of the fangs gave way to something different, something more. As Sasuke drank from her, Sakura was overwhelmed, her knees weakened and her eyes blinded by a torrent of euphoria; pure unbridled bliss. Sasuke, her Sasuke, was drawing strength from her. Such a feeling of happiness in giving, in sharing, in nourishing her love with her body. It totally enamored her. Sakura wanted to give Sasuke everything. As blood passed between them Sakura felt warmth, vibrations and emotions she never knew. “Sasuke.. oh Sasuke... Sasuke I love you..” she repeated, her eyes closed as one of her arms reached under his cloak and caressed his strong, sinewy frame. The other ran through his spiky ebony strands, bringing each to life in the glittering of the moonlight as she gripped and ran her delicate fingers through, over and over again.” 

“Sakuraa...” Sasuke briefly whispered, before continuing. Sakura could feel his mouth tighten on her neck as she whispered into his ear and their bodies drew closer. Her broken ribs were insignificant now. In this space and in this time nothing existed except her and Sasuke. 

“Sakura..” Sasuke was entranced. Without magic Sakura had mystified, had enslaved him in her love. Such power, such hearth. Sakura... I love you too. He thought to himself. Sasuke was totally overwhelmed by this experience. The crimson elixir springing from Sakura’s veins sweetened on his lips, warming them and electrified him as he breathed in her scent. Sasuke reached new heights of pleasure never before felt and could feel Sakura’s love, a cloak of safety, a cloak of ecstasy, a cloak of love wrapping around him as she drew him closer and closer into her embrace. Whatever he was feeling, Sasuke concluded, Sakura was feeling something similar. He sensed it. Sasuke was chained in her love, chained in the blood passing into him and he relished it. 

However, in the far reaches of his mind a darkness was stirring. Sasuke could feel his hunger and blood lust lurking, vying for control. Such rich blood! Then it finally happened.

“Sakura!”

“Sasuke!”

As Sasuke’s hunger overcame him a spark of intense emotion burned and shone brightly in his mind, chasing away the darkness. It was felt in his mind, in Sakura’s mind. In both their minds. Sasuke. Sakura. In that moment their bliss reached its zenith and both the witch and the vampire formed a bond stronger than any power they’ve ever witnessed. 

Sakura could feel it. She could feel everything. Their minds became one, forming unity, marrying in a fashion that bodies never allowed. Sakura never felt so close to someone and could feel, see, hear Sasuke. She now completely knew him and this was the same for Sasuke with her. 

She saw it all, felt it all: Sasuke’s brother threatening him,  demanding that he leave her before the clan dealt with Sakura for him; the pure terror and despair that tore through his soul as he forced himself to sever ties with her; Sasuke hating himself and hurting himself and anything around him after leaving her on the bench and finally, Sasuke’s fear, love and anger swirled into one when he sensed her fighting and met her once more with the Akatsuki. Sasuke... She couldn’t help but shed tears. 

It’s gone. Sasuke was calm.... well calm as in not ripping out Sakura’s throat but still high on her blood calm as he described it to himself. Whatever bond they formed, whatever feeling they shared negated the adverse effects of feeding, of feeding on a witch, another creature of the night. Her magic, he concluded, the magic of an all powerful Shikkotsu witch, spiced her blood with power. No that wasn’t all. Their love birthed this. He was sure of it. The magic only carried the love. Now Sakura’s mind, heart and soul lay bare to him and Sasuke couldn’t help but smirk in his mind at the love, passion and yearning he felt emerging from her consciousness. He now knew what he had to do to end this. Slowly he forced himself away and readied himself to protect his love. 

“Sakura... I’m fine” he breathed into her neck, setting it ablaze with goose flesh as he did. He could feel her quiver and hear the squeak of a small whimper as his fangs retracted. “Sasuke... yes....” she meekly whispered as Sasuke, lithe and strong, lifted her into his arms and nestled her delicately against the trunk of a tree, placing Katsuyu in her arms.

“I’ll be back shortly.” was his only utterance. Then, he faced his anterior and steeled his nerves as the snowy boundary erected by Sakura, finally dissipated, smoke and vapor at last dancing into the night. “Pein! Konan! Obito!” the young vampire thundered as his enemies’ forms materialized before him. “How dare you?!”

“Sasuke Uchiha!” Pein bellowed into the night, with Konan and Obito sheltered behind him. Before him stood Sasuke, now more akin to a pure mass of compulsion, of psionic force. Sasuke stood rigid and radiated a star, a sun of vampiric energy and as he stood, the power seeping from his pores, from his eyes, from his very existence devoured the park. Sasuke’s usual black and ice blue aura which manifested when his powers were at their peak was now infinitely more brilliant, more dominating and more wild, sweeping his pure black cloak about in the night around him. Cyclone-like flares of psychic energy shot forth, forming revolutions of onyx, cool blue and outlines of dust rose, Sakura’s power, that wrapped Sasuke and everything else within them. The power formed streams that sewed through what seemed to be the night itself. With Konan and Obito at his back, prostrating before Sasuke’s aura, Pein, still independent, retaliated. “Die!”

While within the cloak that was Sasuke’s near divine aura, Pein clasping his hands, shot his star-like eyes through the aura and directly at Sasuke’s, now alight with power and radiating flames of crimson and charcoal. The lone Akatsuki member began his assault. Bending the power to his will, Pein compressed the now visible flare of power cloaking him into a sphere, aurora like in color as all his enchantments were after taking from his brethren. In one fell motion Pein, now naked in psychic strength lasered his power, their power, into the core of Sasuke’s nest of aura. 

Moments later it was as if a ferocious storm had settled in the park, ripping apart sound, light, space and existence in its rage as Pein’s laser of psychic power burst into Sasuke. When the booming, and luminous explosion of energy died reality was finally coming into view. 

Sasuke stood, untainted and without scar nor wound, following Pein’s last attack. Streams of his aura, which bloomed in the light of Sakura’s blood, remained, the core of which tinged Sasuke’s frame with outlines of pinkish-white. Pein on the other hand was defeated. There laying before Sasuke, his cloak of crimson and black gently lifted, billowing in the now settled, light, night breeze, was Pein. Vanquished, he was barely able to raise his head to face his foe. Sasuke rushed to hold Sakura and lifted her bridal style, her arms clasped at his neck with her face buried into his chest, beneath his cloak before approaching Pein. As the young vampire strode towards his adversaries, remnants of his now dimming aura burned the grass before Pein. A metre before Pein, he spoke. 

“Give a message to Madara, to Itachi and to the entire clan.” Sasuke ordered, his face devoid of emotion barring his eyes which were still scarlet and black. “No one shall harm Sakura. No one shall follow us. Ever.” After ensuring that Pein received his message, Sasuke hurled one last needle of compulsion into his mind, searing into him his warning once more and drowning him in a cloak of slumber.  With that he set off, Sakura, and Katsuyu in arm.

“Master Itachi!” a gaunt vampire shrieked, blasting apart the doors of the conference room. “Master Itachi! Lord Madara! The elders! We must tell them at once!” 

“What is it?!” the lone vampire clansman demanded, briskly turning to the intruder, his onyx eyes burning with fury between his centre-parted bangs. “What are you going on about?”

“Master Sasuke!”

”Hmm?”

”He’s escaped with the witch! Pein and the Akatsuki are defeated, only Pein, Konan and Obito came back!”

”Leave me and gather the council at once, I’ll reach Lord Madara.” Itachi commanded, his face hardening as he spoke.

“Yes master!” he blurted out slamming the doors as he ran off.

“So the little kid did it?” Itachi mused to himself, his stiff expression now melting away, giving way to a faint smile. “Good, Sasuke. ”

“Sasuke”

“Sasuke?” Sakura repeated, staring up at his strong chin as she searched his inky black eyes with her own faint green glare.

“Hmm?” Sasuke lazily responded, arms still wrapped around the witch as he covered her bare body with his cloak extended.

“Well my cloak can fly us out of here for hours still” she informed him, eyes looking downward at her improvised magic carpet, her now enchanted cloak. “But... Where should we go anyway?”

“Hmm... We haven’t planned.”

“....”

“How about Suna?” Sakura cheerfully suggested, breaking the silence once more.

“Anything you want.” was his final response before he smiled and lovingly tapped her forehead, directly on her bindi.

“Sasuke?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” 

With that Sasuke bent, brushing his hungry lips against hers, delicate lips like pink rose petals, initiating a spark that would soon intensify and blaze further.

I love you too, Sakura. A thought blossomed, warming her mind and body mid kiss.

Moments later another thought pinged. 

See? I told you those rose quartz crystals grants success in love! .

Not now Katsuyu! Sakura mentally shot back, managing to work a smile mid kiss as the flew off, Sasuke and Sakura wrapped up in each other’s hearth and embrace, their cloaks quivering in the milky twilight.

#sasusaku #sasusaku month #sakura uchiha #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #ssm18d21 #sasusaku month 2018 #THIS IS REALLY REALLY REALLY LATE #myfic