#If I get around to writing that part of the story lol

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part six)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes.

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: y'all this part absolutely drained me. Idk what it was but I felt so stuck when writing this. I got it to a point where I can start part seven fresh, so fingers crossed whatever happened here doesn't happen again. I hope you all still enjoy it lol <33

part six: because I love you

Waking up in Hugh’s arms was heaven. He was still asleep when you first opened your eyes, his soft snores tickling your ear. You were grateful that he didn’t have those loud old man snores like some of your past lovers had, though you were sure you wouldn’t mind if he did. Gently lifting the arm that was wrapped around your waist, you carefully rolled over to face him. As you studied his resting face, you felt overcome with a deep sentiment of gratitude. He was just as handsome asleep as he was awake. The face that almost always carried a smile was at peace, lips slightly ajar. You adored his face, the deep lines showing a life of joy and laughter. Each nook and cranny aging him beautifully over the years. It made you sad in a way. You wished you could have experienced life with him, wanting nothing more than to have the ‘right’ life with him. A life where your relationship with Hugh made sense and was accepted- but you would gladly take whatever time you could get with him. 

You placed your hand on his cheek, sliding your fingers delicately over the course hairs that covered his jaw. Your chest felt warm. The feelings you had for the man who slept so deeply before you had grown stronger than you’d anticipated, but Hugh made it so easy to fall for him. And you had fallen for him, you knew that now. If one thing for certain came out of this time you’d spent with Hugh, it was that you were unbelievably in love with him. You had always found yourself falling too fast for the wrong people but you had good faith that for once it would be right. For once, you wouldn’t get hurt. You trusted him to protect your heart and to do right by you. You knew he would. 

As much as you wanted to stay and count every wrinkle that laid upon his face, you had to pee really bad. You gave him a soft kiss on the tip of his nose and wiggled slowly out of his grip. You gave him one last look over before heading down the hall to the bathroom. As you sat there, memories of the night before danced around your mind. The way he kissed you, touched you. He made you feel like you were worth something. It was a feeling you weren’t used to, always feeling used by other men and deep down you know that all you were to them was just some young girl to fuck. You never actually meant anything to them. Hugh was different. Being with him felt right. You couldn’t find any other words to describe the feeling. He hadn’t brought you here to have sex,  for once it was you who had made that decision. He bought you flowers and a cake to congratulate you on an achievement that no one else cared to celebrate with you. He cared for you in some capacity and it made you feel horrible, because even with all this confirmation, you still had doubts.

You’ve been fighting a secret battle since the moment he kissed you, the moment everything between you changed. Putting what you were feeling into words felt impossible. What you did know though, is that you were terrified that you wouldn’t be enough for him. Scared that he would snap out of whatever daze he was in and miss the life he had with his wife and kids, the life that didn’t involve you. The life that made sense. 

When you walk back to the bedroom you find Hugh sitting up with his back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. His glasses were perched on the lower bridge of his nose, threatening to fall off any moment. His eyes peaked over the frames as he turned to look at you. “Morning baby. I was just about to text you, thought you left.” He sets his phone down on the bedside table as he speaks. “Mhm, just had to pee.” You walk over to the bed and climb up, straddling Hugh’s lap. “Why didn’t you use this one?” He jerks his head to the bathroom that’s attached to the room and you shrug. “I don’t know. The vibes of the thirst trap bathroom just feel different.” You joke. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?” He asks, smirking slightly. You shake your head. “Absolutely not.” You affirm and it makes Hugh chuckle. “I was wondering if you had any plans for your last day in the big apple?” His hands rest on your exposed thighs and you become all too aware that you’re still butt ass naked under his t-shirt. “Uhh, not really. I was actually gonna ask if I could hang out with you today…” Your voice is shy. “I was really hoping you’d say that. I might have planned a few things for us.” Hugh smiles and you could feel excitement flood your body. “May I have insight on said plans kind sir?” You put on a posh voice that Hugh mimics. “I’m afraid not my lady, for each destination today is to be undisclosed until further notice.” You drop the bit but not without letting out a deep belly laugh at Hugh’s impressively good accent change. “Can I at least have a little hint so I know what to wear?” He thinks for a moment. “I’m giving you the proper New York tourist day, so wear something comfy.” He pauses. “Maybe wear something incognito. It might be harder to hide than it was the other day.” You hum in acknowledgment. “Do you think I could borrow some underwear or something? I’m feeling a little exposed.” Hugh laughs. 

Your fingers picked at the basketball shorts he let you borrow, tying the strings over and over again as Hugh made breakfast. Small conversation filled the large space and the domesticality of the situation made you flustered. “I’m kinda nervy about the tour. Are you gonna come support me on opening night?” He’s whisking the eggs in a small bowl with a fork and it was oddly attractive. “As long as my schedule allows it, I'll be there. I'd be at every show if I could be.” He looks up and sets the bowl down. “I’d do a lot of things for you, probably anything.” He adds before he turns around to start one of the gas stove burners. It ticks a few times before it catches. “That’s a lot of power to hold and you definitely messed up by telling me that.” You hold your hands up, each finger touching, as you wiggle them in an evil manner. Hugh looks back at you from where he’s moving the eggs around in the pan and smiles. “Don’t get too excited. I said probably anything.” You drop your hands and shrug. “That’s a lot more than I'm used to.” He turns back to the eggs. “Has anyone ever treated you the way you deserve?” The question takes you aback. “I’m not trying to be mean…After hearing some of the things you say and seeing how Pedr-..how he treated you, I’m not seeing anything good. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm confused on how a girl like you has never had anyone treat you right.” He plates the eggs and oils the pan to drop the turkey bacon as if he didn’t drop such a big observation onto you. 

“I uh-...I’m not really sure what to say…I mean I guess I haven’t really had a guy care about me all too much.” He turns to you, staying close to the stove. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You shrug. “I mean you’re not wrong. Everyone always seems to give up on me before anything serious happens…but hey that’s the price of being famous and having my taste in men I guess.” He flips the bacon. “I don’t know how I feel being your taste in men then. They aren’t really setting a good reputation.” He jokes but it stings a little. “Eh. I think you’re doing a lot better than any of them ever did. You’re sweet and kind…and unbelievably sexy.” You tried to steer the conversation away from its original content. It works, Hugh laughs. “You should go take a picture in the mirror again and post it. Your fans would love it.” He takes the bacon off of the pan and sets the pieces on a paper towel lined plate. “I didn’t post that for the fans babe. I posted that for you.” Your jaw drops and you draw a dramatic gasp. “I knew it was a thirst trap. Y’know next time you can just send it to me instead of posting it on instagram. I’d love a few more to add to my collection.” 

“Your collection?” He cocks an eyebrow up and you ignore his question. “Do you need my help with anything? I feel kinda useless just sitting here.” You ask as Hugh pulls out a container of strawberries. “It’s okay baby, I got it.” You hum, fingers going back to the strings on your shorts. Hugh washes a handful of berries and dries them one by one. “You’re good at changing the conversation.” He mumbles and lets out a small huff of a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You look at him with an innocent face. He’s silent for a moment, the only sound being the soft knocks of the knife hitting the cutting board. You watched as each slice of the strawberry fell over as Hugh worked. His hands stop for a moment and you look up at him, catching his eyes. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you and that I truly care for you.” His eyes focus back onto the cutting board. “I know that.” You mumble. “Then let that be a reminder. I want to hear the things you’ve been through. I want to know everything about you so I can be the best version of myself for you.” You didn’t know what to say, so instead you hopped out of the chair and hugged him.

–

After breakfast and after you followed Hugh around like a lost puppy while he got ready for the day, he drove you back to your hotel so you could do the same. You were frantically walking back and forth as you got ready, packing your suitcase as you went along. Hugh was sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone. You picked out a pair of baggy black denim cargo pants to wear but you couldn’t decide between the classic ‘i love new york’ t-shirt you bought your first day here or a maroon turtleneck. “Which one should I wear? I’m leaning towards the new york one but I feel like that’s too touristy you know?” You start speaking as you walk out of the bathroom and hold up both shirts. “If I wear the turtleneck then I can probably get away with not wearing a jacket and I can also wear the converse I have that are in the same color.” You stand at a mirror that is in the hallway, putting each shirt over your chest, comparing them. When Hugh doesn’t answer, you turn to see him staring at you. “Hugh did you hear anything I just said?” He’s sat up on the bed now, no longer in the starfish position he was once in. “Wear the new york one baby. You won’t be a tourist forever. There’s only a matter of time before the city becomes familiar.” He explains. “Mm. Good point. Thank you babe.” You throw the turtleneck on your open suitcase and just as you're about to throw the simple graphic tee over your head, Hugh speaks. “Wait..don’t put that on yet. C’mere.” The last part is mumbled as he holds his hands out for you. 

You set your shirt down as you walk over to him. Both his arms snake around your waist as soon as you step between his thick thighs. “You look delicious right now.” His arms loosen as he pulls you back, taking in your appearance. “Is me not wearing a shirt, turning you on Hugh?” You tease. You almost forgot that you were only walking around in a simple black t-shirt bra. It lifted your boobs surprisingly well for the style and you could tell it was getting to Hugh. “What if I said it was?” He asks, eyes moving from your chest to your face. “If this gets you going too easily, you’re gonna struggle when you see the outfits I perform in.” You laugh. “Mhm. I’m excited.” He growls with a smirk before plunging his head towards your cleavage, kissing up and down the exposed skin. “You’re such a hornball.” You let out in your fit of laughter. He rests his face in the crook of your boobs. You can hear him mumbling something but you can’t make out the words. “Babe, I have no idea what you’re saying right now.” He reluctantly pulls his face back. “I said that we could always stay in today instead…Wanna get another taste of you.” His hands grip your waist and you feel a pulse between your legs from his words. 

“As tempting as that is…and it’s really really tempting. I wanna go out with you today, have some normality before life goes back to normal tomorrow. Maybe we’ll have time before my flight…for what you said.” He smiles and pats your butt. “Okay baby. Finish getting ready so we can go.” You lean down with puckered lips, meeting Hugh’s in a sweet kiss. “I’ll be ready in like fifteen minutes.” You promise as you pick your shirt up and run back into the bathroom. 

Somehow in the short time it took you to get ready, Hugh convinced you to let him take you to the airport. You tried to refuse since you already had accommodations made for the early 3:30am flight but he fought back. He said that it would be easier and we could spend more time together before I left. You agreed, wanting to spend every single last second with the man you loved. He threw your suitcase in the trunk of his car and the two of you were off on whatever adventure Hugh had planned. 

The first stop was at Battery park to see the Statue of Liberty. Hugh surprised you with a ferry ride that took you from the park to Liberty island, then Ellis island. You thanked Hugh non-stop as you boarded the ferry. You were a big history nerd and being able to be around objects and buildings that have existed for many generations of people before you, excited you to your core. Hugh was watching your thrill with a smile, sneaking pictures of you when he could- you never noticed. You did ask him to take a few pictures of you as the ferry moved right in front of lady liberty herself. Your smile was wide, eyes crinkled behind your sunglasses. Hugh held you close the entire time, kissing the top of your head every now and then. He would take you all over the world if it meant he got to see you this happy all the time. 

The whole exploration took about four hours. You were very thorough in your wanding, not wanting to miss a single detail. You apologized to Hugh every time you felt like you were taking too long but he never seemed annoyed or upset, just happy to be with you. Once you were back on the mainland, the two of you were starving and started to discuss places to eat. “I think that Stardust place would be fun but I heard it’s almost impossible to get in.” You don’t mean for it to sound like it was something you really wanted to do. You were just thinking out loud. “I can get us in there baby.” Hugh says, shrugging his shoulders. “Hugh Jackman…are you telling me you’d name drop yourself for me?” You smile. “I told you, anything for you sweetheart.” He raises your intertwined hands to his face, leaving a kiss on yours. “As sweet as that is, I could probably name drop myself and get in.” You smile. “It’s probably not smart for you to go into a place full of theater nerds anyway since you’ve been on Broadway multiple times or whatever.” You joke. “You’re probably right. I am quite the Broadway star.” He jokes back. “Fuck it. Let’s just get pizza again. I've only a tourist for so long, remember?” “Fuck it.” He agrees. 

You find a different pizza shop this time, waiting in the car while Hugh goes in to order. You spent the time looking through your phone. You saw a few texts from Ashley and it made your heart ache. She was a terrible friend but you still grieved the good times you did have. Once you got back home, you knew it was probably for the best to talk to her, settle everything, and get some closure. You thought a lot about loose ends you needed to tie as you entered this new chapter of your life, Pedro being one of them as well. You wanted as clean of a slate you could get as you moved forward with Hugh. 

“God I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I walked in there.” Hugh says as he opens the driver door, sitting two styrofoam cups in the center console drink holders. “Do you mind holding this for a moment sweetheart?” He asks, holding up a small box that had a large brown paper bag sitting on top. You grab it and Hugh climbs into the car. “Would it be too cliche if we ate this at the great lawn?” You ask with a lazy grin. “Maybe a little bit but it sounds like a great idea darling.” He smiles back. 

The drive to Central Park was a short one. Finding a parking spot however, took awhile. Hugh drove through one of the nearby parking garages, going up and down until he finally caught someone pulling out. When the two of you finally reached the lawn, you were a little nervous at the amount of people there but you put it aside, hoping that your sunglasses would be enough to hide you from any possible fans. You found a spot, farther away from the larger crowds. It was peaceful for the most part, both Hugh and yourself to engaged in conversation and eating to care about anything else. When you were both done eating, you scooted closer to Hugh, who then offered you to sit between his legs as he leaned back. Your back was against his chest, lifting with every breath he took. “This is nice.” You say, looking up at Hugh. “It is.” He agrees, kissing your forehead. When you look forward again, a girl catches your eye. She’s sitting not too far off and she’s staring. It makes your heart stop, afraid that she might have recognized you or Hugh. Your suspicion is proved right, her eyes go wide and she lifts her phone, pointing it directly in your direction. “Babe, I think that girl is recording us.” You nudge Hugh slightly to get his attention. He looks in the girl's direction and sighs. “Let’s get out of here.” The two of you walk back to the car, hand in hand. 

“Do you wanna go home or are you still up for one more adventure?” Hugh asks once you’re both settled in the car. The way he says ‘home’ makes your heart flutter. You know it’s probably out of habit but it makes you wonder what sharing a home with him would be like, how being with him officially would be. “I’m down for more touristing.” You smile, trying to let go of the bitter mood that girl had put you in. You didn’t mind fans recognizing you but it always sucked when a good moment was taken away because of it- a moment that would have been normal if you and Hugh were ‘normal’ people. 

The sun was starting to set as Hugh drove and it was beautiful. Seeing the city lights take over was a sight to see. “I thought we were going somewhere else?” You ask in confusion as Hugh pulls into the parking garage of his apartment building. “We are but I thought we could walk, if that’s okay with you love. It’s not too far.” He parks the car in his designated spot. “Yea that’s fine.” His hand squeezes your thigh, a place it often sits as he drives. “Let’s go then.” 

You were convinced there wasn’t anything more beautiful than walking through New York at night. You were never fond of big cities, only living in Los Angeles because you had to for work, but something about nyc brings a sense of home you’ve never felt before. Almost like a sense of nostalgia, a longing for a place that felt right. 

The last stop happened to be Times Square. The second you found a good spot, you passed your phone over to Hugh to take pictures of you. It was a little over stimulating the longer you stood there, admiring all of the giant screens and billboards. You tried to tough it out as long as possible but your last straw was when some guy in a janky super hero suit tried to come up to you. Hugh was quick to grab you and lead you away. “I can’t make up my mind on what’s worse, the con artist in Hollywood or the ones here.” You joke, Hugh laughs agreeing. The streets started to empty the further away you got from the square and you were thankful for that. As you walked hand in hand with Hugh, you started to hum the melody of ‘New York, New York’ by Frank Sinatra. Hugh smiles down at you and releases your hand to pull you closer, his arm resting over your shoulder. “Ooo. Can we go in there real quick?” You ask, pointing at the small grocery market across the street. “Sure baby.” You can tell he’s confused so you answer his question before he can ask. “I wanna make dinner for you.” You look both ways down the street before crossing. “You don’t have to do that sweet girl.” The sliding doors open and you’re hit with the cool air. “I want to.” He doesn’t say anything else as he follows you around the store. When you hit the produce section, you lift the sunglasses that had been sitting on your face for most of the day, creating a makeshift headband. You gather a mix of yukon gold and baby red potatoes, as well as a few carrots and a stock of broccoli. “What are you making?” Hugh asks as you walk towards the meat shelves, grabbing a pack of two chicken breasts. “A spicy, maple chicken sheet pan dinner.” You explain, walking towards the next aisle. “A sheet pan dinner?” He questions. “You throw everything onto the same pan, shove it in the oven, and boom, you have dinner.” He laughs. “I guess that makes sense.” 

Hugh insisted on paying for everything but you refused. He had paid for almost everything else since you’ve been in New York and you had to remind him that you too had too much money than you knew what to do with. He complained about it the whole way back to his apartment, it was kinda cute. When you finally got back, you asked Hugh to gather everything you’d need: a cutting board, a large bowl, a peeler, a colander, etc. You wanted to make sure you had everything so he could sit and watch, just as you had with him this morning. “I could get used to this.” You look up from where you're mixing the veggies and seasoning in a bowl. “What, me cooking for you?” You ask, sarcasm present in your voice. “No, you being here with me.” Hugh smiles. “Oh..” You whisper as you dump the prepped veggies onto the parchment lined sheet pan. “Was that too forward?” You’re patting the chicken with a paper towel and placing them in the same bowl as he asks. “No. I like when you say stuff like that, it just makes me all nervous.” You drizzle the chicken in olive oil and add your choice of seasonings. “Why does it make you nervous?” His elbows are on the counter, hands resting in his hands. “Because someone like you likes someone like me, it’s crazy.” You place the chicken on the sheet pan before placing it into the already heated oven. 

Hugh stands up and walks behind you. His arms wrap around you as you wash your hands. “Is it really that hard to believe that I like you?” He asks, giving light kisses to your neck. “Sometimes.” You wiggle out of his arms to dry your hands on a towel that rests on the oven handle. “I must not be doing a very good job at showing it then.” You walk back over to him, where he’s leaning back on the counter. “It’s not you babe, it’s the voices.” You point to your head. “What are they saying?” You think for a moment. “Do you want the default answer or the real answer?” “The real one.” He responds without a second thought. “I think I’m just scared that all of this is temporary.” You say motioned your arms around. “I’m scared that one day you’ll snap out of whatever it is you feel for me and just…just leave and not want me anymore.” He pulls you into his chest. “I don’t know what I can say or do to break you free from that but I can promise that I won't just leave you. If there ever comes a time where I don't want to be with you, which is very unlikely, I’ll tell you.” You don’t say anything as he holds you. The two of you stay like that until the twenty five minute timer you set is going off. 

—

“Do you really have to leave today?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your back softly. After dinner, Hugh went down to fetch your suitcase out of his car. Both of you took showers, separately this time. Now you were straddling his lap, laying forward with your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Unfortunately..” You sigh out. “You can’t stay just a few more days?” He practically pouts and you can hear the sincerity in his voice.  “I really wish I could but duty calls. I jump right into work once I’m back.” This time he sighs. “I’m gonna miss you.” “I’m gonna miss you too.” You give his neck a few small kisses before speaking again. “When are you coming back to LA?” You lift your upper body and rest your hands on his bare chest. “I’m not sure. Got some stuff to deal with here, might take a while.” He lifts himself up, sitting up straight against the headboard, putting you both in the same position as this morning. “Hm. What stuff?” You ask, hands trailing down from his chest to his abs. “Divorce stuff. Ex-wife stuff.” He shrugs slightly and leans forward, his lips meeting your neck as he leaves his own kisses. “Oh..” It comes out more as a moan, Hugh’s teeth nipping at the skin right below your ear. “That must be hard, divorcing after so long together.” His lips falter for a moment. “Doesn’t matter.” He leans back against the headboard. His response made you feel weird. Hugh’s voice was distant. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You apologize, letting your hands fall to his shoulders. “It’s okay, it would’ve come up eventually.” 

“We don’t have to talk about it Hugh, it’s okay.” 

“It’s something we should talk about though. It’s not fair to you. You’ve opened up so much to me, I should do the same for you.” You’re silent, not sure what to say. “Does it bother you?”  Hugh asks.

“Does what bother me?” You know what he’s asking but you weren’t sure how to answer. 

“That I was married?” He’s looking at you, but you're looking down at his hands. 

“No.” It wasn’t a lie. Him being married isn’t what bothered you. “Look at me baby.” His voice is stern, a tone that you haven’t heard before. When you look at him his eyes are quick to line with yours. “Does it bother you? Don’t lie to me.” You sigh, hands sliding from his stomach. You rest them on top of his own where they are placed on your thigh. “I wasn't lying. It doesn’t bother me that you were married.” 

“Then what’s up sweet girl? I can tell there's something going on in that pretty head of yours..” The way he’s looking at you makes your heart race. He’s looking at you like you're the most important person in the world, like you mean everything to him. 

“I don’t care that you were married…it’s just..this is gonna sound stupid but..I’m scared of how long you two were together and how recent your divorce was.” 

“What do you mean baby?” 

“Like I said earlier, I’m scared of this being temporary. That I’m just some…god I don’t know…that I’m a rebound or something. That the two of you will realize that being separated wasn’t the right decision.” Your posture breaks as you slump forward slightly. “I knew that she would always be in your life and I’ve been trying to make peace with that…but the thought of you leaving is too much.” You confess. 

“Y/n…What Deb and I had has been over for a long time. It was over years before we finalized anything. Everything now is purely about our kids. I’ll always hold love for her in my heart but it isn’t a romantic love anymore. That love is reserved for you sweet girl, all for you.” His fingers delicately lift your chin. “I’m a devoted man y/n. Once you have me, I’m yours. I promise.” His thumb rubs along your jaw. You lift your pinky and he chuckles slightly. He lifts his own and links it with yours. “Does that mean you’re finally gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?” His eyes widened slightly. “Are you ready to be my girlfriend?” Hugh asks, seriousness fills his voice. “I really want to be.” His eyes soften. “What’s stopping you from being all mine baby?” 

The question is loaded. The answer was full of worries you shoved deep down, hoping they wouldn’t come up as soon as they did. From the moment you walked into his home, you tried your best to ignore the family photos that littered his walls. Photos of him and his wife with wide smiles, their kids standing between them, smiles just as wide. You pushed down every feeling you had as he showed you the rooms he kept for his kids for when they would visit. His daughter's room hurt the most. You saw glimpses of your own teenage years that you’d excited only a few years earlier. His son’s room reminds you that that was the room of a man whose age was more appropriate for you. You’d been reminded non-stop that what you had with Hugh was wrong in the eyes of others, so wrong that you were starting to feel it too.

“Does it ever worry you that our relationship isn’t practical? That it doesn’t make sense?” He makes a face and he looks almost offended.“How doesn’t it make sense? I like you, you like me. You’re happy, I’m happy. What more is there to it?” 

“That’s the thing Hugh. When it comes to you, it will never just be you.” His eyebrows scrunch up. “I'm confused baby.” You sigh. “Hugh, you were married for decades, with kids. What is your ex-wife going to think about you dating a girl that’s thirty three years younger than you? Hell, better yet, what will your kids think Hugh? What are they going to think about you dating a girl that sits right in between their ages?” You rant. “What Deb thinks about us doesn’t matter. She’ll get over it.” His hands give your thighs a small squeeze. “And your kids?” He sighs. “I’m not sure what they’ll think but I’m sure that if I explain it to them they’ll understand. They’re old enough to where you won’t need to be a big part of their lives.”

“I know that babe but I don’t know how I’m supposed to fit into your life as it is. I can’t just show up to the family Christmas parties as your girlfriend. Do you know how fucking weird that will be for me, for them?” His face falls and you know he doesn’t take your words the way you intended. “It would be weird to be my girlfriend?” 

“Hugh, that’s not what I meant.” He goes to move you off his lap but you tighten your thighs to stand your ground. “Babe, you have to understand what I mean. I don’t wanna hide from your kids and Deborra. I want to be a part of your life completely and that includes knowing them.” He stops moving and sighs. 

“This isn’t going to be easy y/n. I know I have baggage and I’m sorry that this wasn’t something we talked about sooner. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave and have nothing to do with me.” Hugh lowers his head slightly. “Hugh, I don’t wanna leave you. I’m used to older men, just not ones with ex-wives and kids.” You try to make it lighten the mood, hoping to make him laugh. It doesn’t. 

“Everyone’s gonna hate us if we do this. The fans, your family, probably even my family if I’m being honest. The crazy thing is that I don’t care if everyone hates me but I don’t want to be the reason everyone hates you.” 

Those last words felt like a weight coming off of your shoulders. The words were so simple but had been so hard to say all this time. They were true. You didn’t care if fans turned on you, you didn’t care if your family disapproved, though you couldn’t imagine them disliking Hugh. Selfishly, you also didn’t care that much if Hugh’s family hated you. These were all miniscule issues when it came to you loving Hugh. As long as he was happy, you were happy. But the thought of Hugh experiencing any of that made your skin crawl. You didn’t want him to lose fans he’s had over the long course of his career, you didn’t want to put him through the burden of his family not approving of you and him having to feel the awkwardness every time you were around them. You couldn’t imagine him jeopardizing the life he had built all because of you. You were still building a career. Everyone around you has already experienced you dating men that have no business dating someone your age. You didn’t want to hurt him with the implications that came along with your name and age. 

“That’s not fair to say.” Hugh squeezes your hand. “You can’t put the weight of everything on yourself. If you decide that you want to be with me, then that’s how it’s going to be. You and me. We’ll figure everything out together.” You look off to the side because you know if you look at him the ache you’d been feeling in your throat will betray you. “Look at me.” The hand that isn’t holding yours reaches for your cheek as he attempts to move your face to look towards him. You refuse, already feeling a tear slip down involuntarily. “Baby please.” He tries again and you let him turn your face. A sob escapes, the pain in your neck finally relieved. “What’s wrong y/n? You gotta talk to me.” His voice is sweet and patient. All this man does is care for you in a way that you’ve never experienced before. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you and your family Hugh. I don’t want them to suffer, all because I love you.” You sob. “You what?” His hands drop down to your knees. “I love you, Hugh.” You try your best to get the words out through the steady stream of tears. “Do you mean that baby?” He asks softly as one hand comes back to your cheek, wiping a few tears away. “Of course I mean it, that’s why I can’t leave you. I feel so selfish because the smart thing would be to walk away so no one gets hurt but I can’t. I love you too much to let you go.” 

“I love you y/n, so much.” He pulls you in for a kiss. “Really?” You ask with sad eyes. “I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the moment I met you baby. You looked so pretty that day and your voice was like a siren's call. I tried to fight the attraction but when you invited me to your album party, I didn't care anymore. I wanted you.” You grabbed his face at the confession, pulling his lips to yours. You both let every emotion spill into the kiss. “Does this make you my girlfriend now or are we still friends that hook up and love each other?” He asks jokingly with a dopey smile. “As much as I want to say yes, talk to your kids first. Please. I think it would make me feel a little better about everything.” He kisses you. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow.” 

—

Leaving Hugh felt impossible. Not knowing when you’d see him next and him being around his ex-wife without you here to distract him made you nervous. You trusted him but when it came to you or the woman he was married to for twenty seven years, it was hard to say he'd choose you. Even after his reassurance, you had a feeling she would always come first. 

“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” You ask as you hug him, the two of you in the same hidden room from when he picked you up. “I really wish I could baby. I’ll try to get back out there as soon as I can.” He kisses the top of your head and the two of you stay there for as long as you can. “I should probably go.” You say reluctantly. “Yea, you should.” You give him a few quick kisses. “Don’t leave me waiting too long. I’ll be waiting for you.” You smile at him before giving him one last kiss. “I won’t, sweet girl. Text me as soon as you board and when you land okay?” You grab the handle of your suitcase. “I will.” You start to walk towards the door that leads out to the public but before you go out, you turn towards him one more time. “Bye Hugh.” You give him a small wave. “Bye baby. I love you.” The words make you smile. “I love you Hugh.” You give him one more wave before you walk through the door.

thank you for reading!

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

*taglist closed*

[daydreamerwoah]

Family Tree

Alright so this was the first chapter I posted on my AO3. I hadn't started on a new chapter (cause I really abandoned this idea lol). But I think this is the second story I want to work on... It'll be a slow burn, so I think I'll be taking my time writing this. But I want to see how you all like the first chapter... send me all the feedback (if it's a stupid idea please tell me lol!)

Simon x you story <3

Moving. It was something you were so unpleasantly familiar with. You had moved more times than you could count in your lifetime. But moving to Hereford, UK.... what creator above the skies decided on that? You could have said no; you had a choice..... yet you chose to move halfway across the world to that small town all because of the phone call you received a couple of months ago. 

"H-hello?" you groggily asked when you set your phone on your ear. 

"Hi may I speak with Y/n Greene?" the voice on the other end of the line was chipper; awake. And a thick British accent.

One of your eyes opened to look at the clock on your nightstand. It read 1:48am. Who the hell was calling you, awake, at this hour?

"Yeah? Who is this?" 

"My name is Colonel Henry Williams... I'm calling you about your father-"

"-My father?" Your other eye opened as you sat up in bed, confused. 

"Yes ma'am... Major Charles Campbell." 

You had no idea who the guy was talking about, "I'm sorry. Who?" 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. You almost wondered if the man hung up the phone until he spoke again. "Y're Y/n Greene no?"

"Yes. Look I don't know who-"

"- is your mother's name Mary Greene?" You froze. How did he know that? You answered 'yes' as you turned the lamp on your nightstand, "Alright. You're the right contact then. Miss, I'm sorry to have to tell you this," he paused for a moment, "Y're father - Charles Campbell - recently passed away."

While any other child would be devastated to hear the news that their parent has just died, you were more confused than anything. Your mom and dad were still in Chicago. And while you hadn't spoken to them in a long time, you knew for a fact that if either of them passed your aunt would have called you; not some British guy claiming he was a Colonel......right?

When you hung up from him, you almost went back to sleep. Except your mind was racing. None of it made sense, yet something in your gut was telling you to call the one woman you had been avoiding since you graduated from college. Your eyes glanced back at the clock; 2:30am. You guessed you could wait until at least the sun was up before dialing her number. So you did. Painfully slow as you couldn't go back to sleep. You found yourself pacing around your apartment for those four hours until you knew - or assumed - your mother would be up getting ready for work. When the time neared 7am, your shaky hands scrolled your phone to the contact 'Mary'. If it had been any other situation, you would have scoffed at the name. Most people have 'Mom' in their phone for the parent who gave them birth. But you.... you hadn't called her that in a long time. 

"Y/n?" she answered. Not even a proper hello. 

"Hey uh.. sorry to be calling so early-" you stumbled over your words. You were nervous.

"-Oh it's okay.." 

There was a long, awkward pause. You nervously bit your lip. A part of you wanted to ask how was she doing, but you knew better. The answer would always be the same. 

"Listen.... I got a call from someone last night. Well early this morning. Something about my dad? Charles Campbell?" You rushed out before you chickened and hung up the phone in her ear. 

The sharp breath you heard on her end of the line made you shut your eyes. 

"C-Charles?"

You sighed, "Yes..." 

She stuttered, "I-I.... oh Y/n. I mean-"

"-You told me Rick was my dad." You declared a harsher than you wanted to be." 

"He is your dad sweetie."

Frustration swam through your veins, "Don't lie to me Mary."

Another long and awkward pause between your conversation almost caused you to hang up the phone, but then you heard her sniffle. A long story full of emotions came babbling out of her mouth as she explained the full truth about Charles Campbell. He was your real dad. 

A lot of cursing and yelling came from your mouth as she continued to tell you why she never told you; why she thought it was for the best to keep this secret. Even your - well now stepdad - knew everything, yet no one said a goddamn thing. You were so sick of her bullshit. Your whole life was nothing but chaos and it all came from her choices. The constant moving, her in and out of mental institutions and rehab, Rick's constant distaste for you in your own house. You were so lucky to have left all of it behind when you turned 18, but it wouldn't be easy. It's never easy letting go of someone you're supposed to love. College years were spent struggling to keep up your grades and cleaning up the mess from those two adults. 

You thought back to the conversation with the Colonel and his offer; to move to England since the house was left to you from your dad's will. An opportunity you thought about for two days before calling the man and stating you would be there. A part of you just wanted to see the other part of the world. The other part was ready to get away from it all forever. Your aunt cried when you told her. Your job was a bit sad, but like any job, they would find a replacement. Your mom... well you hadn't spoken to her since that day when she told you everything. 

It was the beginning of a new life.

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

You dashed into the cafe from the rain. It was one thing you had quickly gotten used to, but still sometimes hated. The rain was comforting, but not when you were trying to get to work. You had yet to buy a damn umbrella although you kept telling yourself you would. There was a line that formed in front of the register and you internally sighed as you pulled the hood off of your head. You glanced down at your watch; you had some time before you needed to be at work so it eased your mind a little bit. At least the cafe was warm inside with its aroma of coffee, tea, and soft jazz music.

When it was your turn to order, you asked for the same drink you always got; a latte and made it to go. The barista gave you the same curious look as she did each time she saw you. You quickly paid for your drink and took a few steps back to turn around to stand off to the side to wait for your order when you backed up into something hard. 

"Shit sorry," you quietly said as you turned and looked at what you bumped into. 

"S'alright" the gentleman said. 

He was tall; massive; arms bigger than the side of your thigh, with a balaclava on. He had his hood up that was drenched from the rain outside. His dark clothing made his presence feel colder. You blushed in embarrassment from bumping into him; being clumsy in public seemed to be something you did at times. The man's eyes raked over you as you looked back at him. A beat went by until you realized that you standing in his way from ordering; the barista clearing her throat loudly. You quickly moved out of the way and waited for your drink, hoping they'd call out the order before the man finished placing his at the register. Luck - not on your side today - slipped away as he made his way in your direction to wait on his drink as well. He stood next to you, crumbling the receipt in his hand and placing both in his pockets. 

God he was huge; 6'3" compared to your height, he towered over you even with the space between. 

When the barista called out your order, you quickly walked up to the counter, grabbed the to-go cup, and thanked the girl. The man's eyes followed you... curiosity lingering behind the mask as he took in your presence - slightly flustered and in a hurry. You took one last look at him, offering a quick smile before dashing out of the cafe to work, thankful to be out of the awkward situation. 

Being a nurse, you're saving lives each day, but still, there was a big difference from being a nurse in a different country. You were buddied up with another nurse, Ella to help with your onboarding and training. She was a few years younger than you and was eager to help you find your way around the hospital and systems. The thing that stood out to you the most was the dog tags she wore around her neck. In the beginning, you asked her if she was ex-military, but she only smiled and told you that it was her boyfriend's tags. He was in the military and often gone so she wore them as a form of good luck that he'd return to her safe. 

"The base is 'bout 15 minutes from here," she explained. 

You only nodded and smiled; you were aware of where the base was. The first day you arrived, you met Colonel Williams at the airport who escorted you to his office. There was paperwork you had to sign regarding your father, including his house, assets, and more that they had information on and they were able to help sort it all out with you. The Colonel even offered assistance with you finding a job - which he helped you get at the hospital. You couldn't have been more grateful honestly. 

It was also something you hadn't really talked to Ella about. She only knew that you moved to the area because of family, and she easily picked up on how uncomfortable you were to even say that. You stayed to yourself mostly, and that's how you wanted it to be. Although she was determined to break down those walls you had. Deep down she and you both knew that you needed a friend, someone to lean on. You didn't know anyone in the entire country, and if anything were to happen to you, at least she would be there to call the police. But you were stubborn; that was for sure. 

Ella glanced at you, "You want to go for drinks after our shift?" she asked. 

Every muscle in your body tensed as you wrote down your shift notes. You briefly looked up as you responded to her, "Uh sorry. I need to take care of a few things after work." 

You didn't lie... you didn't tell the full truth either. But Ella didn't need to know that. While you didn't have to take care of anything per se, you did need to go somewhere after you got off. 

"Maybe next time then," she smiled. 

One thing about Ella... she wouldn't let your rejections to hang out deter her from asking any chance she got. 

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

The sun was setting as you walked past the many gravestones looking for the one you needed to find. The air was chilly from the rain earlier, making you shiver a bit as you continued on the path. 

Even though you had been in that town for almost a month, you had yet to visit your dad. It felt.... strange; paying respects to someone you never knew. But as you strolled up to the tombstone that read his name, a part of you felt like this was all a dream. Maybe even a nightmare that you couldn't wake up from. You laid the flowers in front of the grave as you continued to look at his name - Major Charles Campbell. 

"Uh.. I know..." you put your hands in your pocket, nervous about what the hell to even say out loud, "I-I'm Y/n... your daughter...... To be honest, I'm a bit lost for words right now. I had no idea you were my dad," a soft and bitter chuckle escaped your lips, "If Mary was anything back then like she is now, then I'm sorry you had to deal with her-" a long sigh drew from you, "but I'm here now.... I'm sorry I never got to meet you.... a Colonel is helping me sort everything out so I'll get the keys to the house soon." You look up at the sky, cursing to yourself at how stupid you thought you sounded, "Charles - dad - even though I didn't know you, I hope I'll get to see you in heaven one day. Maybe you can tell me all about you."

You hadn't realized that a lone tear trickled down your cheek until you felt the cold breeze. You quickly wiped it away before sticking your hand back in your pocket and turning to leave the cemetery. 

If you all do like this and want me to continue, let me know. If you want to be tagged I will add you :)

[cezqstar]

haven’t been active in the rykter fandom in awhile, but i’ve seen quite a lot of opinions floating around on here & twt that i had quite a lot of thoughts about!

someone said the show is queerbaiting… and i genuinely cannot believe how anyone can see a character figuring out his queer identity and only see the matherik ship & dumb it down to queerbaiting.

edit: i want to clarify this part i said on queerbaiting because i didn’t articulate my thoughts in depth. at the end of season 2, mathias initiated a kiss with erik ultimately implying his queer identity. and his season 3 storyline has confirmed him as a queer character, who is crushing on erik & struggling with acceptance whilst getting bullied by his ex-best friend. however, erik’s pov is open to interpretation, which leaves a lot of space for fan theories (that i eat tf up) but at the moment, that’s all they are. fan theories. erik’s actions can be interpreted as both platonic & non-platonic, and i don’t see the show dangling matherik in the audiences faces. since they’re very focused on mathias’ story and his perspective rather than erik’s. whose own story seems to focus on him hanging around the wrong crowd and his questionable behaviour. it leaves the storyline open to go down two very different routes: erik could have his own queer realisation and the two of them eventually end up together. or mathias’ has unrequited feelings for his straight (or aro 👀) friend but those feelings helped him with his own queer journey to acceptance. and i think with how they’ve set erik up, it could genuinely go either way and make sense.

^^ that’s why i believe the queerbaiting claims are a stretch.

it’s become very clear why people began watching rykter: matherik. but people NEED to remember that the show is not solely about them. it never has been. this show is about the chaotic lives of ‘sheltered’ (i can’t think of the word i’m after) teenagers who all have the capability to be stupid, immature and selfish. which yes, includes felix as one of those characters and yes, includes erik as a teenager capable of being a bad person at times.

these teenagers are also all (well almost all) capable of redemption. mathias has proved his own ability to be redeemed after his s1 antics, erik will surely have his own redemption path regarding his current s3 antics and thea is currently having her redemption this season. just because erik has been generally good in the first two seasons, doesn’t mean he isn’t prone to poor decision making & shitty actions. remember: they’re all 15-16 years old.

i’ve seen a few people suggest that the rykter writers are ‘getting off’ on or ‘enjoying’ the homophobic abuse that mathias has been subjected to, but i think that’s a massive stretch. and an extremely poor outlook on the shows writing in my opinion. many people forget that even though norway is a progressive country that homophobic shitheads still exist. and the way mathias is being treated by someone as horrible as felix & no one saying anything due to being ‘sheltered’ followers is quite real.

and when someone as jealous, hateful & spiteful as felix who clearly puts up with his own share of prejudice gets to put someone else down (someone who he also feels ‘betrayed’ by), he’ll jump at that opportunity in an attempt to make himself better and stronger. from victim -> perpetrator. i understand the frustration around this season focusing on felix quite a lot but people need to stop seeing his storyline as ways to ‘excuse’ his actions and moreso to explain them & simply SHOW his life. they seem pretty hellbent on showing you that he’s a shitty person regardless of his home life & personal issues.

anyways rant over! time to disappear again lol. feel free to disagree with anything i said. always happy to have a discussion!

[snowdice]

Big Bang Editing Story [Day 124]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55

I have been sick as a dog since I last worked on this story. I'm not even doing any work today lol. I just want to get this chapter finished. Will probably do a couple rounds and then cook myself dinner, so there may be a gap at some point. Mostly I'll just be, like, reading when not posting. Wish me luck.

“Good day for a picnic,” Helen commented as she handed over the basket Thomas had requested from her a few days before. He was taking Logan, Patton, and Virgil to the cliffs today and it was perfect weather for it. Spring was truly here, which meant that those of Thomas’s duties that had laid dormant over the harsh winter were about to start up again.

The world had been on pause for a bit considering no armies or agents from any kingdom could get through the snow the last few months, but the concerns of last fall were showing their heads once again.

Thomas had just gotten word a day ago that the queen of Lamir had routed out a second assassin hiding in her ranks over the winter. The assassin had been sent shortly after it was made clear that the queen wouldn’t bow down after the assassination of her mother. Luckily, the assassin sent for Queen Cecil had not managed to complete her mission during the winter months.

While there had been no similar attempt on Prijaznia soil, Thomas couldn’t help but feel it was only a matter of time now that the snow had melted. They were already working on increasing security in the coming weeks and, though it was doubtful an assassin had managed to hide in the castle all winter without revealing themselves, they’d be closely scrutinizing all of the newer staff members.

It would be a stressful time in the coming months, which is why, despite everything Thomas needed to do, he was still going to take his son and his son’s friends on a picnic today. Logan had already started taking on royal duties as of late, but he still hadn’t taken them all on quite yet. Considering this was last summer before Logan was of age, they should at least try to take advantage of it where they could. Patton was a year younger, but the sentiment held for him as well.

Then there was Virgil. Despite their best efforts, they still didn’t know enough about Virgil, but Thomas was fairly sure he’d never had a summer to enjoy until now.

“Thanks for prepping lunch for us,” Thomas said to Helen with a smile.

“No problem,” she said waving them off. “I put in some of Virgil’s favorites.”

“Great,” Thomas said. “Do you know where the kids are?”

“Patton said they were going to go pet the cats, so I’d guess they’re in the gardens.”

Thomas thanked her again and told her to have a good day before exiting the kitchen. There was a nearby door that led straight towards the part of the gardens Patton and Logan had always favored. He figured they’d either still be around there, or they would have wandered towards the stables by now knowing that they’d be taking horses to the cliffs. So, he decided to simply walk the normal path from the door to the stable, hoping to find them.

His prediction ended up being hilariously correct. They were indeed on the path Thomas had chosen. It was clear they (or at least Logan) were attempting to make it to the stable. However, as was typical, a portion of the party had been waylaid by whimsy.

Logan was standing further down the path, arms crossed and frowning as he watched his friends. Patton and Virgil were surrounded by cats. Patton was sitting down, holding two of them in his lap and watching Virgil’s legs being swarmed by the rest of them, maybe two dozen in total.

Virgil looked confused, but not unhappy about the presence of so many cats. He was leaning down to try to pet them all.

Logan met Thomas’s eyes as he approached and waved a frustrated hand at the two of them. Logan couldn’t help but smile.

“Virgil fed one of them,” Logan complained as though he wanted Thomas to somehow go into the past and prevent this crime.

Patton and Virgil looked over at Thomas, noticing him when Logan addressed him.

“You’re going to make Princess Marisol jealous,” Thomas said. Logan frowned at Thomas as he used the ‘Princess’ label for the cat.

“Princess Marisol decided not to come,” Virgil said with a shrug. He continued to pet one of the cats.

“She’s probably sleeping on my pillow,” Logan said, sounding grumpy.

Thomas just chuckled. Princess Marisol was technically Logan’s cat, at least that’s what the kids said, and she did spend much of her time in the royal rooms. However, she was very clearly actually Virgil’s cat. Virgil just spent a lot of time in the royal wing as well.

In fact, Thomas still didn’t know where Virgil was supposed to be sleeping. He and Mr. Deknis had gone so far as to tail him a couple of times, but he always ended up sleeping in Logan’s room those nights.

Knowing Virgil, he might just sleep in the walls. Though that still did not answer the question of where his parents or guardians were. They still had not figured it out. Thomas would assume he was an orphan who’d snuck onto castle grounds for safety, but Virgil had told Mr. Deknis during their first meeting that he was supposed to be in the castle, and it had not been a lie.

Then again, it had slowly become apparent that Virgil was good at dodging the multrum’s powers. It was starting to seem more likely that he’d somehow inserted a second meaning into his answer to Mr. Deknis that night than he somehow had some ghost guardian no one was able to locate working in the castle.

“She deserves the pillow more than you,” Virgil said, bringing Thomas’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. The look of audacity on Logan’s face made Thomas chuckle.

Thomas cut in before it could become a fight. “I could get Princess Marisol a pillow, so she doesn’t sleep on yours. Or we can get you a new pillow if you’d prefer, Logan.”

“It’s not about the pillow for her,” Logan argued. “It’s about her inflated sense of superiority.”

“She deserves it,” Virgil declared. Thomas could tell he was just trying to rile Logan up, and Thomas was sure Logan knew it too, but still his son reacted exactly in the way Virgil wanted him to.

“You have enabled and encouraged this behavior from the start!” Logan seethed.

“She’s a princess.”

“She is not a princess!”

Patton shook his head while squeezing the cats in his arms, completely used to this behavior. He ran a chin idly over one of the cat’s heads while watching the argument.

“We’re never going to make it to the picnic at this rate,” Thomas said to him, “and after your mother made all of this wonderful food.”

“You’re the dad,” Patton said. “Make them stop.”

And, of course, Patton did just mean that he was Logan’s dad with that statement. However, when he glanced back up at the silly argument still going on between his son and the cat covered boy, it did almost look like a fight between siblings.

Especially with the dark hair and stubborn but mischievous look in Virgil’s eyes, Thomas could almost imagine the boy being his own child.

He shook away the thoughts and glanced at the picnic basket in his hand.

“We do have a lot of food in this basket,” Thomas said, pitching his voice up so that Logan (and more importantly) Virgil would hear them clearly.

Virgil immediately turned to look at him, abandoning all interest in antagonizing Logan to look at the basket curiously.

Thomas was never sure if he should be amused or worried about how food motivated Virgil often was.

“What’s in the basket?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure,” Thomas said. “Patton’s mom made it. We’ll just have to see once we get to the picnic area.”

Virgil nodded in understanding and began to gently extract himself from the droves of cats. Logan rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem inclined to continue the argument he’d been dragged into. Virgil and Patton got to their feet, and they continued on their way towards the stables.

The horses Thomas had requested be prepared for their trip were already in saddles, though the stable hand who had been handling Mr. Apples seemed a bit dirtier and more exhausted than the rest.

The stable hand seemed as happy to hand Mr. Apples over to Virgil as Virgil was to have Mr. Apples handed over to him. Thomas received Bella with a smile and Logan and Patton got their own horses as well.

The cliffs were about half an hour's ride from the main castle. There was a mostly well-maintained path to them, though it was easy to get lost if one didn’t know the way. Mr. Apples knew the way perhaps better than Thomas himself and seemed annoyed by the fact that Thomas was trying to lead the way. Virgil and Thomas ended up side-by-side whenever the path allowed it to placate him.

Thomas still marveled at how willing Mr. Apples was to let Virgil ride him, especially when he tossed his head in Thomas’s direction, a horse’s equivalent of giving Thomas a stink-eye.

“Are you excited for the picnic?” Thomas asked the boy beside him.

Virgil glanced over at him and nodded.

“I am too,” Thomas said. “It’s always beautiful this time of year. I’m glad I could find the time to take you all there this year.”

“Are you very busy?” Virgil asked curiously.

“I am king,” Thomas reminded, “and now that the world isn’t snowed in anymore things will be busy.”

“With the war?” Virgil asked.

Thomas paused for a few seconds. “Yes,” he confirmed. “With the war, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil asked.

“You’re just a kid,” Thomas said.

“I’m 14,” Virgil said.

Thomas glanced at him. “Exactly,” he said, “a kid, and luckily, you’re in a place that can afford you the luxury of being one.”

“What do you mean?”

“The war has been mainly fought on Mocnejsi soil in recent years. Our boarders have held strong against invasions. Unless something goes horribly wrong suddenly, it would take a long time for the main conflict to get here. The only real threat in the castle would be assassins sent after me personally.”

“Right,” Virgil said. There was an awkward pause in conversation before he spoke again. “You’re winning the war then?” he asked.

“Something could always happen,” Thomas said, “but for the most part, yes, we have quite the advantage right now.”

“Oh,” Virgil said.

Thomas shook his head as they were coming up to a narrowing of the path. “Anyway, today is a day to not think about war. Today we’re going to have a lovely picnic and do some bird watching.”

“Right,” Virgil agreed from behind Thomas as Bella took the lead (to Mr. Apples discontent.)

When the path widened again, Thomas did his best to direct the topic to lighter subjects and soon they made it to the cliffs.

Chapter 57 (Virgil)

Virgil had never been to a picnic. At least, that’s what Patton had informed him when Virgil had described his past experiences of eating outdoors. Logan had agreed even though he’d admitted that the definition of “picnic” was only eating a pre-packaged meal outdoors which Virgil had done plenty of times.

From what Virgil could tell, the main difference was just how much stuff one brought to a picnic.

In addition to the basket full of food (that Virgil still hadn’t gotten to look in yet), the king had brought a large soft quilt that he had Logan and Virgil spread out on the ground for them all to sit on.

Patton and Logan had also packed some things themselves to bring along. Logan had brought along a book to read, and Patton had brought along a board game (thankfully not checkers but something Virgil did not recognize). Virgil hadn’t brought anything (except for the fire knife he was definitely not supposed to have and was definitely not letting the king see) because he hadn’t known he was supposed to bring things. He wouldn’t have known what to bring anyway.

The blanket was soft and a much better alternative to sitting on the ground, especially because, while there was grass at the top of The Cliffs, there were also a good number of rocks.

The king set the picnic basket in the middle of the blanket once it was spread out and then lowered himself down to sit on one side. Patton quickly followed him, already fiddling with some of his board game pieces, though he wasn’t setting it up yet. Virgil highly doubted that Logan was going to be allowed to read his book unless Patton eventually got bored of the game.

However, they would, hopefully, be allowed to make use of the basket the king had brought along.

Virgil followed the king and Patton’s lead and got to his knees on the blanket across the picnic basket from the king. He peered at the basket curiously.

He didn’t quite know what picnic food was, but Patton had told them they’d be getting ‘picnic food’ and he was very curious about what that meant.

King Thomas smiled at him. “Let’s see what Patton’s mom packed us, huh?” He reached for the basket and flipped it open as Logan sat next to Virgil. “There is a lot more food than usual in here,” the king said, sounding amused. “Let’s see.”

He began to pull out packaged food and glanced in each package to identify it before setting it out.

“We have a few types of mini sandwiches,” he said, putting them down, “and some pasta salad.” He set down the bowl.

“We also have… er something else.” He showed it to Logan.

“They’re hot cauliflower bites,” Logan said instantly upon seeing them. Virgil perked up in excitement. That was one of his favorite foods.

“Ah,” King Thomas said, but shrugged and set it down. “We also have two desserts apparently: cookies and mini apple pies. That last one’s a bit extra for a picnic.”

“They’re very good,” Virgil said happily.

“And we also have.” King Thomas paused, looking confused. “Chicken alfredo?”

“Yes!” Virgil said.

“Why do we have chicken alfredo for a picnic?”

“It’s a Virgil picnic,” Logan groaned. “She packed us a Virgil picnic.”

“Hey, at least momma sent us something too,” Patton said.

“I think I’ll stick to sandwiches for today,” King Thomas said. He looked at Patton and Logan. “Do either of you want…?”

“No,” Logan said. Patton shook his head.

The king nodded and offered the entire covered bowl of chicken alfredo to Virgil. “Here, this one’s yours,” he said.

“Really?” Virgil asked tentatively. It wasn’t exactly strange for people here to offer him food, and he’d expected and anticipated getting to eat on this venture, but the king of the country offering him an entire bowl of his favorite food was something else.

“It’s not really my idea of a picnic food and you seem excited for it,” King Thomas said with a warm smile, still holding it out.

Virgil took it reverently. Despite the time it had taken to get to the cliffs, the bottom of the container was still warm. Virgil assumed it was one of the heating spells the kitchen sometimes used.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, setting it in his lap.

“Of course, Virgil,” the king said.

The bowl was enough for four people to have a little bit, but for one person it was a lot. Still, Virgil was offered a little of every other food in the picnic basket (and he ate a good number of the hot cauliflower bites).

“Where do you put all of that?” the king asked when Virgil finished polishing off the chicken alfredo bowl.

Everyone else seemed to have finished eating long before Virgil, though Patton still had a small plate of grapes, and he occasionally popped one in his mouth. King Thomas was currently setting up the board game they’d brought on the blanket between all of them.

Virgil shrugged in answer to his question. “It’s good,” he said, “and I don’t want to waste any of it.”

“You know we can just take the leftovers back to the castle and eat them later,” King Thomas said. “You don’t have to eat it all now.”

Virgil just shrugged again, watching as the king set out a group of 8 figures on the board.

“Here, which character do you want to be?” the king asked Virgil, gesturing at the group of figures. Virgil had not noticed the figures were different at first glance. They were all copper colored and about the size of his thumb, but they had slightly different shapes. He squinted at them each carefully, finding they all looked like people, but with different clothing. Some worse pants and some skirts, a few had hats, and one was even carrying a book.

After a few moments, he pointed at one that looked like it had vines wrapped around its arms and was wearing a floppy hat that almost covered its eyes.

“That’s the druid,” King Thomas told him with a grin. “Good choice, and luckily not one that anyone usually fights over.” He glanced at Logan who didn’t react to his father’s gaze. He just plucked the figure clutching the book off the board for himself.

Patton and the king picked pieces for themselves. Patton picked one with an apron that kind of reminded Virgil of his mom and the king picked one that was in a suit of armor before putting the other 4 figures away.

Unlike checkers, this game wasn’t just for two people, and so no one had to sit watching people play while bored out of their mind.

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They played a practice round so Virgil could figure out how the game worked, though honestly it wasn’t that complicated, so it wasn’t really necessary.

The theme of the game was all about stealing. They were supposed to steal special tokens from other players as well as characters in the game and the first person with 20 tokens won.

The other three players argued that stealing was not the point and not the main mechanism of the game, but considering Virgil was consistently winning the entire time, he would argue they were just playing it wrong. He managed to collect 20 tokens before anyone else. In second place at this time was Logan with 9 tokens.

Logan insisted on continuing to play the game to determine 2nd and 3rd place, so Virgil ended up watching them play for a bit. Virgil didn’t mind sitting and watching other people play this game, mostly because he still had the joy of victory running in his veins.

Thomas was definitely going to lose, he noted. He kept wasting his money feeding the nonplayer characters who lived on his lands. Virgil didn’t mention this faulty strategy to him in case Virgil ever played him again.

When Logan took too long thinking about his next move, Virgil took in their surroundings.

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He’d been a bit too distracted by the prospect of food and then trying to understand (and then win) the game to truly take in The Cliffs. They were settled a good distance away from the cliffside but Virgil could still see how quickly the edge dropped off. He couldn’t see the large river he was told was at its base from where he was sitting, but he did see a few of the promised wild birds (including doves) flying around. The king had promised they’d bird watch for a bit, and Virgil figured that would happen after the game was over.

A cool spring breeze brushed across Virgil’s face, and he put his hand in his hoodie pockets to warm them. Instead, his fingers hit something icy cold.

For a moment, he didn’t remember what it was. The crescent shape of it was familiar when he put his hand over it, but he had never felt it cold before.

It was the protection charm: the first charm Virgil had ever made with Logan so many months ago. It was meant to ward off small threats as well as warn you about larger threats by changing temperature…

It had always been warm.

“What?” Patton asked, having noticed Virgil suddenly tense. Virgil, despite how he drilled into his friend’s heads to stay alert had gone soft. He’d let himself be distracted by a full belly and warm blankets and fun games.

He didn’t answer Patton. He filtered the other boy’s worried face out as well as Logan’s face as he glanced at him and the king’s still focused on the game for now. He filtered out the picnic blanket and smell of food still lingering in the air and the vine covered figure set in the middle of the board on the winner’s space. He filtered out the sound of the breeze and the breath of his companions and the distant chirping of birds.

And he heard a whoosh.

Chapter 58 (Patton)

If Patton hadn’t already been looking, he probably wouldn’t have had any idea what happened.

Everything had been fine. Virgil had been sitting cross legged, idly watching the conclusion of the game they’d been playing when his posture had suddenly changed. Patton had looked over at him only to see an expression on his face he didn’t recognize, but it didn’t seem good.

“What?” Patton had asked, but the question didn’t seem to register to Virgil.

Logan had glanced up confused and also noticed Virgil’s face. He’d just opened his mouth to also ask what was going on when chaos descended.

Virgil was suddenly moving, crashing into King Thomas who hadn’t even looked up to see something was wrong at that point. Patton realized after the fact that Virgil had swiped up the board of the game they’d been playing as he jumped over it, the pieces previously stacked on it scattering all over the blanket. There were three thumps as some things hit the thick board, imbedding themselves into the surface.

When Virgil discarded the board in favor of the picnic basket, Patton saw there were small darts in it oozing a dark black liquid. The parts of the board they touched were dissolving, the grass under the new holes beginning to wilt rapidly.

Logan seemed to notice the oozing liquid the same moment Patton did and was quicker to realize what it was. He grabbed Patton’s arm and yanked him away from the board so hard he almost dislocated Patton’s shoulder, not that Patton was too worried about that. He scrambled away from it when he realized what it must be himself.

He could hear the sound of glassware smashing above them. Logan and Patton had rolled off the blanket in their quest to get away from the smoldering, melting board and apparently Virgil had pulled the picnic blanket fully over the king at some point.

Virgil himself was now gone from where he’d been the last time Patton had looked and it took him a moment to figure out where the boy had gone. The person who had been shooting poisoned darts at them had been drawn out of the wooded area they’d been hiding in by Virgil’s attacks.

They were cloaked in dark green from head to toe, explaining why they’d been difficult to spot when they were in the woods. Whoever they were, they were significantly larger than Virgil, possibly an actual adult or almost adult assassin, but they were also clearly a long distant fighter. They had not been expecting resistance let alone resistance in the form of a so quick he was almost a blur fellow assassin.

They had a bow strapped to their back, but they hadn’t had a chance to get it. Instead, they were trying to fight Virgil off with an arrow they’d managed to draw from their quiver. Virgil, meanwhile was lunging at them with a broken piece of plate in one hand and the picnic basket in the other.

Virgil dodged out of the way of the arrow striking towards his arm, though Patton didn’t think it was because he was afraid of getting scratched by an arrow, but because it may also be poisoned tipped.

Virgil was distracted by dodging for long enough that the older assassin managed to hit him in the face with the arm not holding the arrow.

He went down, but he took the older assassin with him, sweeping their legs out from under them. Patton hadn’t noticed (his mind working too slow for how fast they were moving) but they were on a slight incline. They went rolling in a tangle of arms and legs towards the edge of the cliff and skidded to a stop only a few feet away.

Virgil ended up on top, his piece of broken plate in his hands. He moved to slash it across the other assassin’s throat and managed to draw blood, but the assassin’s fist came out to shove at Virgil’s chest at just the right moment, causing the strike to veer off course and slice across the assassin’s cheek instead.

Virgil jerked to the side to avoid a second strike to the chest and went back for another slash. The other assassin rolled to the side as he did and the plate only managed to nick their ear. The point of the motion hadn’t been to dodge, however. They were lunging for the arrow they’d dropped a few feet away while they’d rolled. They grabbed it with their right hand and in the same motion stabbed back behind them towards Virgil.

Virgil rolled to avoid the hit, already slashing up with his plate as the assassin turned back towards him.

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He didn’t hit them this time but his swipe managed to stop them from stabbing him when they tried again. They shoved themselves back to avoid Virgil’s swing, putting a bit of distance between them. Both of them managed to make it to their feet during the momentary reprieve, but both also stayed crouched, eyeing each other.

They both lunged towards each other at the same time. The assassin went for a stab to Virgil’s neck with the arrow, but Virgil was already ducking down. This time, he wasn’t going for a kill shot. He grabbed the assassin’s wrist and at the same time drove his piece of plate into the assassin’s arm, slicing down from the elbow to wrist. The assassin spoke for the first time, cursing in a language Patton didn’t recognize as they were forced to drop their arrow.

Virgil took a moment to kick the arrow away from the assassin and it ended up falling off the cliff.

However, this pause gave the assassin enough time to regroup. Despite their arm bleeding profusely, they still decided to use it to backhand Virgil across the face viciously, leaving a long line of their own blood across his face.

Virgil lunged back forward, but the assassin was able to get a leg between them, kicking Virgil squarely in the chest and sending him flying back a few feet parallel to the cliff’s edge.

The assassin went to grab their bow and another arrow from the quiver still strapped to their shoulder.

Virgil, however, apparently went for another weapon too and he was much faster with a knife than any archer. A knife appeared in his hand, having been strapped to his ankle and was embedded into the assassin’s chest before they could even full remove an arrow from their quiver.

The assassin promptly burst into flames, fire catching their clothes (and from the smell of it their skin) ablaze. Panicked and dying, they stumbled two steps to the side. They stepped directly off the cliff.

There was a second of silence. They heard the sound of the body hitting the ground far below and then the flap of wings and screeching as birds below fled from the startling sound (and possible soon to be forest fire).

…

“Uh, Virgil?” King Thomas said. He had managed to get the blanket off his head at some point. When, Patton didn’t know, but seeing any of it was probably enough.

Oopsie.

Chapter 59 (Logan)

Logan and Patton had been useless during the fight, but that may have been for the best. Considering the skill differential when it came to fighting (and that differential had never been as clear as it was in this moment), that was probably for the best. They likely would have just gotten in the way.

The moment Logan’s father spoke, however, they both jumped into action.

They both knew their jobs in a situation like this. Patton pushed himself up to his feet ungracefully and all but sprinted over towards Virgil. Logan, on the other hand stood to face his father, putting himself very purposefully between the man who had no idea what was going on yet and the boy who was two seconds away from remembering what was going on.

“I can explain,” Logan said.

His father was still sitting on the ground. “You can explain,” he said slowly, “how Virgil just threw an assassin off a cliff.”

Logan thought pointing out that Virgil hadn’t thrown anyone off a cliff and instead had set them on fire with a magical knife causing them to walk off a cliff, would not be useful in this moment. He glanced back briefly towards where Virgil and Patton were standing and then turned back to his father. “Yes.”

“And what would that explanation be?”

Before even starting to speak, Logan found himself making large dramatic ‘explaining hand gestures’ that he’d thought he’d long since trained himself out of. When he was younger and in trouble, he always used to give himself away as guilty by being overly expressive with his hands (and arms).

“So,” Logan said. He was still not able to stop the hand motions. “Virgil was an assassin. He came here to kill you last fall, but he accidently went to the wrong room in the royal wing. Patton and I were having a slumber party and caught him in the act. Then we reformed him and now he doesn’t kill people anymore.” He paused and glanced back, remembering the body that had just toppled off the cliff. “Er, uh, he doesn’t kill people who haven’t shot poisoned darts at people recently anymore?”

“What?”

“Look,” Logan said. “You’re going to have to tell him you’re not going to execute him soon. Patton can only keep him from bolting for so long.”

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Quicksilver Princess Chapter 6

Series summary: A fantasy AU in which Dean is part of a long line of warriors who protect the kingdom. What happens when his rescue of the little princess with the quicksilver eyes gets him a possible future bride?

Series Warnings: Nothing major. Show typical violence. Fantasy violence. Smut. Angst. Fluff. Each chapter will have its own specific warnings. So, watch for those.

Chapter Warnings: None really. A bit of magical violence. A kiss. Some angst.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x OFC (Melissande)

Word Count: 7,907

A/N: First of all - I'm so sorry for the length of this chapter. There was a lot to get through. 😁🫣 Secondly, I'm so unbelievably happy that I FINALLY got to give this story an ending! I've loved writing it, but fantasy is tough! Lol! But I'm happy and proud of the story as a whole, so I sure hope you enjoy this final chapter. And to those of you who've read the story and encouraged me to continue, thank you so much for your patience.

I know OFC's aren't most people's favourites, but I encourage you to give the story a shot, and I hope you enjoy it. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Melissande strained against the chains that held her immobile on the cold, stone table, even though she knew her struggles were pointless. She wasn’t nearly strong enough to break the iron binding her.

Layo’ita began to gather things from around the room, filling the pockets of the long black cloak she wore over her royal finery. She wore no elaborate headdress or hairstyle now, instead the wide hood of the cloak kept her face slightly in shadow. 

She gathered plants and herbs, potions, many colorful crystals, and a small silver dagger, preparing everything, and going about her evil plan while she spoke.

“You have no idea how patient I’ve had to be, how meticulous with every detail.” She looked back to where Yasa stood slumped weakly against the wall. Melissande was terrified by his increased pallor. He raised his head slightly to watch Layo’ita as she continued.

“It would have been much easier if you weren’t such a nosy, troublesome thing.” She said to Yasa, her tone annoyed. “I hadn’t planned on duplicating you until this one turned eighteen.” 

She waved dismissively towards Melissande. “But you just had to galavant off to your beloved Winchesters and try to outsmart me.”

Her smile was shadowed. “I took care of them without much trouble. But their meddling forced me to enact my plan much earlier than I’d wanted. It takes a lot of power and strength to hold on to a Duplicate, to make them seem natural and believable. I certainly wasn’t planning on having to keep it up for a dozen years!” 

She huffed out a breath, clearly feeling put upon. “The difficulty with a Duplicate is that they give a sense, after a while at least, that something isn’t quite right. The smell begins to cause doubt and there can be no contact because of their cold skin. So, on top of everything else I had to take care of, I had to work at changing your reputation, sending out whispers that your brush with assassination had made you afraid and nervous to be around people.” 

Sha laughed lightly. “No one seemed to miss the real you very much, or push to see you. Fooling people got easier as your reputation as kind of a recluse spread.”

She shook her head. “I’ve tried so often to fix the issues with the Duplicates, but I simply couldn’t manage it. It is very frustrating.” She claimed in an annoyed tone. “But it’s why I knew early on that I needed to make you to say goodbye to your visits with this brat and whore wife number four. If you’d kept visiting, they’d have known you too well and recognized the differences very quickly.”

Layo’ita pushed back her hood to reveal another ghoulish grin. “So, I convinced you that my heart was broken, made you believe I actually cared where you spent your nights or how many bastards you fathered.” 

She snickered and looked at Melissande. “It was surprisingly easy to convince him to walk away from you and Hera. Hardly more than a few tears.”

Yasa shook his head. “That’s not true.” He said weakly, looking at Melissande. “It’s not true, poppet. I was just trying to do the right thing.” His body sagged further down the wall. “I’m sorry.”

Melissande shook her head. “I know, Papa, I know. It’s alright, we’re together now; that’s all that matters.”

Layo’ita cackled. “Oh, yes, yes! Together again - but not for long.”

Yasa’s breathing was short and slightly labored, as though standing for so long had sapped him of what little strength he had. His voice was thin, but it held a note of steel as he spoke again.

“Layo, I don’t understand. Where does this hate for me come from? We were friends once, weren’t we? I always tried to afford you the respect and care you deserved. Is this simply because I couldn’t love you? The heart pays little attention to anything but its own tune, you must know that. I did everything I could to honor my duty to you and our son.”

Layo’ita scoffed as she began to chop up some of the plants, along with what looked to Melissande to be a human tongue, tossing them all into a large, gold bowl.

“I couldn’t have cared less whether you loved me or didn’t.” 

Melissande heard a flicker of something in the First Queen’s voice that told her that she did care, much more than she admitted.

“I don’t hate you." She continued. "In fact, I don’t care about you at all, except that you’re in my way. I’ve always known I was born for something great, that the old gods fashioned me for power. But instead, my whole life was simply about learning to be your wife, a mother to future kings who would rule. But never me.”

She stopped chopping and set down the knife, walking closer to Yasa. “I didn’t want you to honor me as the ‘First Queen’ and I never wanted to be your ‘True Wife’.”

Layo’ita shook her head. “My whole life I was taught to stand beside power.” Her voice dipped low. “But I knew I was born to wield it.”

She looked over to Melissande. “But it wasn’t until this bouncing baby brat came into the world that I finally realized just how to make that power mine.”

She went to the small fireplace set into the southern wall and tossed some more of the plants onto the flames. They gave off an acrid scent that made Melissande’s eyes water a little. The Queen stirred them into the low burning flames, watching the plants burn up.

“I didn’t know what she was right away, but I knew she’d be special. I’d heard the legends of course of other Coll family members and ancestors who’d had the quicksilver eyes, but she was the first one in a very long time. And I just knew something like that had to come from magic. So, I began digging into the history of the family.” She paused to look back at Yasa with a smile. “Your aunt would have been proud at how well I learned my lessons from her.”

She shrugged. “It didn’t take long for me to realize you were descended from fairies, and that’s when I knew how to rid myself of you, and take on the power of the crown all for myself.”

Yasa attempted a laugh that came out as a cough. “Come on Layo, you don’t actually believe that nonsense, do you? Do we look like fairies? It’s just an old, silly legend, made up by one of my ancestors, no doubt, to try and make the Coll family seem even more suited and destined for the throne.”

Layo’ita just shook her head with a mysterious smile. “You’re wrong, Yasa. You’ve always underestimated magic. You shouldn’t.”

Melissande heard her father’s words and the strangest feeling came over her; it was like something deep in her soul was shouting out a denial of what he was saying. It wasn’t a legend; it was real. She knew it like she knew how to breathe; it was instinctual, automatic. It was an odd feeling when just the day before she’d had almost the exact same reaction as her father when Rowena told her she was part fey. 

But there was something about being in this place, so completely submerged in magic, that made the reality of her lineage very apparent to her. Something inside was screaming at her to believe, to soak up the magic surrounding her and allow it to flow through her.

Layo’ita stabbed at the fire with a poker until the logs and plants burned together into embers, and then into ash which she scooped up into a smaller silver bowl. She brought it over to the table where Melissande lay, and from inside her pocket she withdrew the silver dagger. She chanted something and then sliced a small, but fairly deep cut in Melissande’s left arm, making her gasp at the sting.

The First Queen rested the silver bowl beneath her arm, collecting her blood as it leaked from her veins. She took the bowl away, allowing the blood to trail down Melissande’s arm and onto the table. Then using the dagger, she mixed the ash and blood together, continuing to chant as she spread the sticky paste that it made, over Melissande’s feet and across her forehead.

The chants turned into a slow, soft song, as Layo’ita began to arrange the plethora of crystals she carried, around the outline of Melissande’s body. When she was done, Melissande felt the crystals warming her up in the cold chamber, each brightly colored stone giving off ripples of heat.

Layo’ita picked up the silver dagger again and approached Yasa. “Duplicating you, keeping the kingdom from knowing the truth, has been exhausting for these last twelve years. Every day, I’ve worried that this would be the day someone figured it out. I simply can’t go on like this forever.”

She shrugged. “So, my answer is to soak up your essence to put into my Duplicate, so he looks real and right. No more traces of sulfur, no more cold skin. But still very much under my control." She smiled. "I've found my solution at last."

She sighed. “Unfortunately, the only way to collect your essence,” she raised the dagger, “is to cut it out of you.”

“No!” Melissande shouted.

Yasa’s pallid face looked defiant and proud as he stood to his full height, in spite of the way his legs shook with exhaustion. Layo’ita looked slightly amused at his pride and defiance.

“You forget yourself, Layo. Do you not recall that you gave me a son, an heir. You can strike me down, but one day he will come  to claim his crown and avenge me in the process.”

The Queen cackled again. “Oh my dear, I would be surprised if he even remembers you. I’ve been assured that he’s quite happy governing in The Lands Beyond and holding on to his own little piece of the world.”

She shrugged again. “But, if the babe I birthed tries to come and claim what I have taken, well, then he’ll meet your same fate.”

The First Queen lifted the dagger, aiming it at Yasa’s heart and Melissande saw it flash in the light of the dying fire as she screamed out her horror.

***

Four more Winchesters had joined Dean’s ranks before they set off from King’s Town, and as it turned out, sixteen experienced and well-trained Winchesters were more than capable of taking down the Guardsmen. 

At the witching hour, under the cover of night, the Winchesters blended into the darkness and silently approached the castle. They split into four groups of four, and each team was charged with securing one of the North, East, South, and West facing entrances. 

They’d agreed at the outset to do everything they could to not kill the guardsmen. Despite their extreme dislike of the order, and the grudge they held against the usurping guardsmen, they all begrudgingly agreed that the soldiers were just doing their duty in protecting the castle. So, they would do all they could to spare them.

But in the end, some of the guards fought bravely and gave the Winchesters a real challenge, but a great many of the guardsmen surrendered as soon as they saw the Winchesters fighting like the Warriors they were. 

Dean, Robert, Jody, and Ketch made up one team, going through the North-facing entrance. There were approximately thirty soldiers at that entrance, and only six of them put up a fight, battling hard. But the Warriors still won handily, with only a broken nose for Ketch and two broken fingers for Jody. 

After they’d been subdued, Dean grabbed one of the more cowardly looking guardsmen and demanded that he take him to Mellie.

“Now!” Dean shouted and the man trembled as he rushed to obey. Dean had to shake his head a little. How on earth had the kingdom stayed safe with these guardsmen as its protectors?

Jody and Ketch stayed to watch over the guards left behind, and to coordinate with the other Warriors to make sure everything was going smoothly in the other battles. Dean and Robert followed the guard down endless flights of stone steps until they came upon the dungeon in the bowels of the castle. 

They left the guard tied up at the entrance to the row of dungeon cells, and proceeded down to the last cell where the guard said Mellie was being held.

They slowed as they approached it, taking extra care with their surroundings, looking for booby traps, or something that would keep them from reaching her at the last minute. 

But nothing appeared to attack them, and they approached the cell. Dean wanted to let out a whoop of relief as he saw Mellie behind the bars, lying on the hard ground.

She’s alive. He thought with cascading relief. 

She was dirty and she shivered slightly in her sleep, but she was alive. Her brow puckered as though she was having bad dreams, but she was alive. Dean approached the bars as he sent Robert back to the guard. 

“Get the key.” He told the older man, who raced off to find it. Dean called softly through the bars.

“Mellie, sweetheart, wake up. Wake up, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Mellie’s eyes flickered open, and confusion filled her expression for a moment as she sat up. But then she saw Dean and she gave a cry of surprise and happiness.

“Dean!” She jumped to her feet. “Oh Dean, you came! I knew you would.”

She approached the bars slowly, hesitatingly and Dean smiled at her warmly to let her know she was safe. As she drew nearer a slightly foul odor hit his nose, something like rotten eggs, and it made him want to take a step back. But he gave himself a mental shake.

Gods, man, he thought to himself, she’s been snatched up and thrown in a dungeon. What were you expecting her to smell like, roses?

He smiled at her again. “Robert’s gone to get the key, then we’ll get you out of here, somewhere safe, with a couple of Warriors to protect you and Robert and I will stay and demand to speak with your father, and try to find out what’s going on here.”

Mellie nodded. “Please be careful.”

Before he could respond, Robert was back with the key. Dean took it from him and pushed it into the rusted lock, unlocking the cell and pulling open the squeaking door. He rushed inside and ran up to Mellie, taking her upper arms in his hands, intending to pull her close. But when he touched her he was surprised.

“Mellie, you’re like ice.” He said with a frown, chafing her arms. “Robert, see if you can find a blanket somewhere.”

Robert nodded and set off. Dean took Mellie’s icy hand in his, intending to lead her out of the cell. But as her hand slipped into his, a sense of something dark slithered down his spine and suddenly his instincts were screaming at him, warning him. 

He turned to look down at the woman walking beside him, and he was somehow sure something was off. For one thing, Mellie was never this quiet. She should be asking him a thousand questions about how they got in and who was with him. She should be saying “I told you so.” because the Winchesters had listened to him as she’d said they would.

He dropped her hand and stepped back from her. She looked slightly confused and a little hurt. “Dean, what is it?”

Dean shook his head, more sure than ever. He jerked his chin towards her. “I have no idea what you are, sweetheart, but you sure as hell aren’t Mellie.”

Remembering suddenly, Dean reached into the pouch on his hip and pulled out one of Rowena’s magic-revealing bags, and it glowed bright purple. Grabbing a matchbox from the same pouch, he quickly lit a match and then set the bundle ablaze. 

In slight horror, Dean watched as “Mellie” went stone silent and unmoving before she went up in a literal puff of smoke. The air around him radiated the purple color as it thinned to a trail that led towards the back wall.

“Robert!” He called and the elder Warrior ran in, clearly confused by the still settling smoke and the purple air around them.

“It wasn’t her.” Dean said succinctly. “I don’t know what kind of illusion that was, but it was obviously meant to keep us from finding the real Mellie, and to keep us distracted until it’s too late.”

He pointed to the purple path in front of them and how it disappeared into the wall. “This is a protection bag from Rowena.”

Robert rolled his eyes. “You went to one witch to save you from another? What are the chances that she isn’t helping her?”

Dean shook his head. “No, trust me, we can trust her. On this at least. The bag glows purple in the presence of magic, and when it’s burned it reveals the magic that’s been used. This magic seems to be in the very air around us, and it seems to be leading us there.” He said, pointing.

“Into a wall.” Robert said, deadpan. 

Dean nodded. “I wonder what’s on the other side.”

Robert nodded. “Alright, how do we break through?”

It took them far longer than Dean wanted to find equipment to try to chip away at the stone. His stomach was once again in his throat as he realized the eclipse was approaching fast. 

But once they had pickaxes, they began pounding away at the stone and put a hole in the wall mercifully quickly. Once there was a small opening, the men tore at it with their bare hands, loosening rock and shoving it aside until there was a hole big enough for them to squeeze through. 

When they were on the other side they saw they were standing on a landing at the top of a very long staircase. The stairs went on for so long, and went so deep beneath the castle, that they couldn’t make out the bottom of the steps; it ended in sheer darkness. 

Though it was starting to fade, they still had the purple light in the air to follow, and it led them straight down the stairs. 

It seemed to take forever to reach the bottom, and eventually the purple light disappeared completely, forcing Dean to strike match after match in an attempt to keep them from pitching headfirst down the increasingly damp stairs. 

Finally, they reached the bottom, and followed a very pale light that was burning in the one and only cell. There was no one inside, and Dean wondered why the light still burned inside the cell.

Finally, he decided to burn the other bag, and see where the purple air would take them next. It had them continue down a very long corridor, until they finally reached a small, oval, wooden door. They were in the process of trying to find a way through, when Dean heard Mellie scream in terror and without hesitation, he smashed his body through the door.

***

It all happened so quickly; one moment the Queen was a breath away from murdering her father right in front of her, and the next moment there was a massive crash as the door splintered and Dean came charging through it. 

Instantly Melissande’s eyes were filled with tears. “Dean.” She whispered. 

Before she could do more than blink away the tears however, Dean and another man ran at Layo’ita, swords raised. With a blast of blue light from the center of her palms she threw the men back, spinning them through the air to land in a heap on the floor. 

Dean got to his hands and knees and took cover behind a shelf full of tiny vials of potion. The older man sought cover as well, but didn’t find it quick enough and Layo’ita blasted him again, sending him crashing into the wall this time and knocking him out cold.

The Queen slowly walked towards the shelf Dean was hiding behind, shaking her head. “Now, now, hunter, you failed spectacularly at the mission I sent you on. But if you’re very good, I’ll let you stay alive for the show. As the sun rises, the moon will usurp its place in the sky, and the world will go dark. Then I will make my mark upon this land, and then the next kingdom, and the next and next, until all the world is held in the palm of my hand.”

Dean’s voice was deeply sardonic as he spoke. “Wow, it seems to me, like maybe you need a new pastime. You know, something else to focus on besides the whole, world conquering insanity. Cause, I mean, let’s be honest. Who the hell are you to claim ownership of the entire living world?”

Melissande could hear the rage in the Queen’s voice as she shouted at him. “I am born of the old gods, crafted by them, my destiny set down by them, written into the turning pages of time, before the world began. I am chosen among all the-”

“Got it!” Dean interrupted her. “You’re the very bestest and the gods really, really like you. That’s great, but I suppose that means I’m gonna make those old guys pretty angry when I put my sword through your black heart.”

Melissande could see the way Layo’ita’s face contorted in fury. “How dare you? You know you don’t stand a chance against me, boy! You mock the old gods, but they’re at my back, they guide me and give me power.”

She walked to one side of the shelf, creeping slowly, hiding her approach, but as she swept around to the back, Dean charged out from the other side, swinging his sword in a downward arc, coming within a hair’s breadth of taking off the queen’s head. But she jumped back just in time, and fired a bolt of magical power at him, tossing him aside, into the wall beside her father.

He rose again quickly, but not fast enough. Chains snaked out of the wall to wrap around Dean’s chest and thighs, pinning him in place. When he was completely immobilized, the Queen waved her hand and another set of chains wrapped themselves around Robert where he lay, still unconscious.

She approached Dean, wearing a smug smile. She reached out towards him, and used magic to pry his hand open and let his sword clatter to the ground. 

Dean gave a frustrated growl through clenched teeth as the Queen reached him. She raised her hand up to run it down his cheek, and Dean turned his head, trying to jerk it away from her. But there was nowhere to move to.

Melissande watched his jaw flex tightly as Layo’ita ran her fingers from his cheek, down over his neck, and then across his broad chest.

The Queen sighed slightly. “You know, you certainly are a beautiful man. I might have to keep you. When the world is mine, I might need a pet, someone to keep me…entertained.” She moved her fingertips to his mouth and traced his bottom lip.

Dean turned cold eyes her way. “Yeah, good luck with that, sweetheart. Cause trust me, I bite.” He snapped his teeth at her fingers, and she just barely got them out of the way in time. She laughed, clearly exhilarated. 

She practically purred at him. “Yes, I must find a place for you in my bedroom.”

“Get away from him!” Melissande shouted at her. She felt sick seeing Dean chained up and at the mercy of this fiendish madwoman. She’d brought this on him.

Layo’ita turned laughing eyes her way. “Oh, little princess, does it bother you to see him with someone else? Did you imagine he was in love with you just because he married you.” 

When Melissande’s eyes grew wide, Layo’ita smirked. “Did you think I wasn’t aware of that pathetic attempt at trickery? But you won’t have to worry about that much longer. In fact,” she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, “soon you won’t have to worry about much of anything."

She looked up at the ceiling. “The sun is rising.”

There were no windows in the chamber, but somehow Melissande knew she was right; it was as if she could feel it on her skin. 

The Queen returned to Melissande’s side, pressing her hand to her forehead as though she was checking Melissande for a fever. But she chanted softly, effectively ignoring the woman beneath her hand as she continued the ritual she’d been planning for nineteen years.

When her chant ended, she seemed to be almost in a trance, and she wandered back towards Dean and Yasa. The King seemed so faint now he could barely hold his head up. Layo’ita bent to pick up the dagger she’d dropped when Dean smashed through the door, and tilted her head to look at Yasa, studying him.

But then she raised the dagger in her hand again, and again Melissande screamed out in terror. “Papa!” As her scream crescendoed, something happened that hadn’t happened the first time. 

One of the crystals on the stone table, the orange one beside her shoulder, cracked into shards and the pieces sailed across the room towards the Queen. The sharp splinters of rock sliced into her cheek and she screamed in pain and surprise. 

She whipped around to see Melissande’s shocked expression as she felt something churning inside her. Something that felt as though it rose up from the bottom of her soul and the very tips of her toes. Without conscious thought, two more crystals splintered and hurled themselves at Layo’ita, making the woman scream at Melissande in frustration.

“What do you think you’re doing you little brat? Who do you think you are?”

Words swam up into Melissande’s mind, Rowena’s words, and she spoke them outloud.

“I am the direct descendant of Queen Caryn'se, Ruler of the Fae and these ancient lands from the time the world began.” She shook her head. “You think the old gods created you to be a force of power and tyranny, but I think you’re wrong.”

With almost no effort, Melissande snapped the iron links that bound her, sitting up and grasping two more crystals in her hands. The Queen shot a bolt of power at her, but it sparked out and died like a fizzled candle before it could touch the Princess.

Melissande felt her body begin to buzz with an inexplicable energy, powerful and potent. But it didn’t scare her, it excited her, and it cradled her, protected her as she stepped down from the table and faced Layo’ita as she continued.

“I believe that when the old gods crafted me, they fashioned my veins and filled them with the blood of the fey, the blood of Caryn’se.” She held up the crystals in her palms. “They gave me the protection of the earth, the protection of Sanso’ye itself. The land of the silver-eyed people belongs to my ancestors, and we will not allow you to make our people suffer any longer!” 

Melissande’s voice was vibrating with power, and she could see the white light that surrounded her, emanating from her entire body. As the Queen tried to bombard her with more and more flashes of dark magic, Melissande looked to where her father and Dean stood chained. Their eyes were wide with disbelief, but then Dean smiled as she caught his eye. It was a warm smile, and it even looked a little proud. 

Melissande sent another crystal flying towards Dean. The gem barely touched his chains, but they quickly fell away. As soon as he was free, he immediately leapt for his sword. 

Layo'ita spun to face him, hand raised to throw more magic at him, and the chains had started reaching out for him again.

But Melissande shook her head. “No.” She said softly and four crystals broke apart and shot through the air to stab into the Queen’s skin, causing her to screech in pain.

Her scream was short-lived, however as Dean got ahold of his sword and swung it true, following through on his promise, and plunging it through her heart. 

The Queen’s face, skull-like and imobile, nevertheless wore a look of unbelievable shock as she fell backwards off of Dean’s sword and landed in a heap on the ground. Blood plumed across her chest, and as her last breath rattled out of her lungs, the Queen reached towards Melissande, as though, even in her last moments of life, she was desperately trying to grasp onto power.

After the Queen's death rattle, silence reigned for a moment, and Melissande could feel the power that had surged through her, begin to ebb, slowly melting away until she was just herself again, just a girl standing on very shaky legs.

Dean dropped his sword and ran to her, grasping her cheeks; his eyes flicked over her face quickly, taking inventory. Then without a word he claimed her lips in a stunning kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and stamping her with it. He swallowed down her surprised cry, turning his head so he could slot his mouth over hers again and again.

They might have stayed like that forever if not for the King softly clearing his throat.

They nearly leapt away from each other as they were interrupted. They looked over to where Yasa stood, still weak and leaning against the wall, but also free from the chains. Melissande’s eyes widened.

“How did you get out of the chains?” 

The king pointed to where Robert was stirring slightly, his chains were also broken and laying on the floor. Yasa shrugged. “The magic died with her, I suppose.”

He smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I hate to pull you apart, but I do believe we should get out of this vile place.”

Dean sprang into action. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty.” He looked at the man’s spindly limbs and bit his lip. “I mean no disrespect, Your Grace, but there are many, many stairs to climb in order to get out of here. Will you allow me to carry you out?”

Yasa nodded. “Thank you Winchester.” As Dean moved to pick him up though, the King put a hand on his arm. “I owe you my life, and my kingdom and I want you to know, it wasn’t truly me who…who ordered your father’s death and your brother’s imprisonment. John and Sam were incredibly decent and loyal men, and I will make immediate moves to see to it your brother is released and your father is pardoned of all false crimes. I’m so sorry that I ever called on them for help.”

Dean’s jaw ticked and he swallowed sharply, but he shook his head. “No, Sir. You have nothing to apologize for. My father died trying to protect his King, as he’d vowed. And now that people will know that, he can rest peacefully and honorably.”

Dean swallowed tightly again. “But I’m very grateful to have my little brother back as soon as possible.”

The King nodded. “It shall be done.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Dean said before he easily picked up the stick thin man.

Melissande felt her heart constrict as she imagined the joy waiting for Dean when Sam was finally freed at last. But she shook her head at her father. “Yes, we’ll do it all, but first, I believe I promised you warm soup and warm blankets.”

***

Two months later:

In the time that followed there was much rejoicing and reuniting; the kingdom learned slowly about all that had happened at the castle, both twelve years ago and at the equinox. Astonishment was high, but as time moved forward, the astonishment turned into great joy. A huge celebration was planned and many, many people were invited. 

All the King’s children had been called back home for a time, the invitation extended to their families as well. Yasa was determined to reconnect with his children, explain what had happened, and meet his grandchildren. He was slowly gaining weight, and color had returned to his skin, so he was more than ready to receive the rest of his family.

Melissande was slightly nervous about seeing her siblings again, or in the case of her eldest brother, seeing him for the very first time. But mostly she was excited, and she was happy that her father had survived to see his children all gathered under one roof.

Queen Hera had been given a place of honor for her eternal resting place. She'd been buried within the King’s Castle graveyard where Yasa could go put flowers on her grave easily while he recuperated. Melissande had caught him talking to her a few times when she came to pay her respects. Her father had been embarrassed at first, but she shook her head.

“No, Papa, don’t be ashamed. I talk to her all the time.” Tears filled her eyes. “I miss her very much, but I think she listens to us and it makes her happy to hear from us.”

Yasa nodded and kissed the crown of his daughter’s head. “You have your mother’s gentle spirit, and kind, loving heart.” He chucked her chin and winked at her. “But I’m gonna take credit for providing you with the fierce, unimaginable power you wield like a sword on behalf of your people.”

Melissande laughed. “I think that part comes along with these.” She said, pointing to her silver eyes and giving a shrug. “So, it probably does come from your side.”

When it came to her powers, she was still a little daunted by them, but with Rowena’s help she was beginning to learn about them, and how to manage them. 

There was some pushback from the church as the Kingdom made moves towards embracing the old gods and magic once again. But the King told them simply that this had always been a realm of magic, and when you repressed it, or left only a few to practice it, you ended up with power-hungry rivals for the throne and no one to check them.

There was a lot of grumbling at first, but those on different sides of the issue were starting to come together and at least work towards peace and harmony.

One of the happiest moments for Melissande in the months after escaping from the Queen’s wrath, had been when the prisoners were freed from the mines. It wasn’t only Sam that had been wrongly imprisoned. There were many that Layo’ita had sent to the mines simply for questioning her or for stating their opinion.

When they’d returned, seeing families reunited had brought on many happy tears. Watching Dean and Sam crush each other as they embraced for the first time in over a decade, had made her sob noisily into her handkerchief.

While the kingdom was being set to rights and the Warriors were returned to their former place of honor within the kingdom (some of the guardsmen who’d defended the castle so stoutly were taking the vow as Winchesters), it was easy to stay busy and distracted.

But as the celebration approached, and preparations fell into the capable hands of their craftsmen and artisans, Melissande found herself with a lot of time on her hands, and she began to contemplate what the future was going to look like for her and Dean.

She knew he’d only married her to keep her safe. So, now that she was, what would he do? He’d been reinstated as a First Line Warrior and had returned to his duties at the Winchester Keep. He was at the castle fairly frequently, helping the King set his defenses in order and shore up security around the kingdom since it had been allowed to become incredibly lax under a Queen who didn’t care about the people.

So, Melissande saw him fairly regularly, but they never spoke about their situation. It was always just polite conversation in which he addressed her formally as “Your Highness” or “Princess Melissande”. He never called her Mellie anymore and she missed the sound of it on his lips.

She also missed his lips, and his hands, and so many other parts of him. She missed the way she always felt so safe with him nearby, missed the way he teased her, or purposely tried to bait her. She just missed him, and she was starting to think that now that his duty was done, he was no longer interested in anything to do with her. 

But she thought about him all the time. She thought a lot about the wedding night that they never really had; she dreamed about it too.

Then one day a messenger arrived with a package for her. She saw that it came from Dean and she ripped it open excitedly. But when she saw what was inside her heart stopped beating and then plummeted to her stomach.

Inside were papers that had already been drawn up by the church and signed by Dean, papers that officially annulled their marriage, and set them free of one another. Dean had included a note at the bottom that said simply:

Have your father sign these as well, and it will be official, and you’ll be rid of me at last.

Melissande heard the teasing in the written words, could easily imagine the way his green eyes would sparkle, and the way they would crinkle at the corners as he smiled.

Her heart was broken and she ran to talk to the one person she knew would listen and not judge her for loving a man who didn’t want her. She knelt at her mother’s grave, rearranging the old flowers around her new ones.

“I don’t know what to do, Mama. I just love him. He’s so brave and strong and true. I know that sounds like the words of a lovesick fool, and I suppose I am. But they’re also the truth. He’s so honorable and chivalrous and…oh, Mama he’s so handsome. I think about him all the time, about…well about him kissing me or…well I just think about him. His voice and his laugh and…”

Her tears streaked her cheeks. “But he’s dissolving the contract between us, making it as though it never was.”

She wiped her cheeks and sniffled. “I suppose it’s fair. He only married me to keep me safe and to do the noble thing. Now that I’m safe, the kind thing to do would be to let him out of his obligation.”

She took a shuddery breath. “Yes, it’s the honorable thing to do.”

***

Dean walked into the King’s private antechamber, expecting to be discussing training for the new Warriors, and how the Keeps would be updated to accommodate the new men and women. But as he entered, the King waved at a seat beside him, bidding him to sit down. 

It was highly unusual. Generally he met with the King and a few members of his new Council. So being here alone was already strange, but also, Warriors stood during meetings, and they were certainly never invited by the King to sit beside him.

But not wishing to disobey his King, he perched on the edge of the seat and nodded at the sovereign awkwardly. “So, would you like me to list the supplies we’ll need to improve and expand the Keeps?”

But Yasa was shaking his head. “No, no. This isn’t a formal visit. I had some questions to ask you.”

Dean felt his heart beat a little faster. “Alright, Your Majesty. I’d be happy to try and answer them.”

The King was quiet for a moment before he turned inquisitive eyes on Dean. “Why did you marry my daughter?” 

Dean felt his stomach twist into a knot. Why the hell was the King talking to him about this? He and Mellie had already explained how and why the wedding had taken place, and Yasa had seemed fine with it at the time, maybe even a little grateful for Dean’s help.

So, what had changed; why did he want to discuss this now? Was this because of the annulment papers? Were there things he needed clarified?

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, as we told you, Your Grace, at the time, not knowing the full plans of the First Queen, it seemed like…”

Dean trailed off as the King waved at him. “No, no. I know the official reason, I know you meant to keep her safe, and I’m very grateful for that. But I suppose I meant to ask, was that the only reason? Or…is there a way you could see yourself staying married to her now that she’s safe?”

“I’m afraid…” Dean cleared his throat again. “Sire, I’m afraid I don’t…I mean, I’m not sure what you’re asking. I…of course I never dreamed of keeping her shackled to a mere Warrior. She no longer requires the protection of my name or my sword, so as any good subject would do, I’m removing the obligation of our vows.”

Yasa nodded. “I see…so…you don’t love her?”

Dean’s heart began to beat triple time. “I’m…Your Grace…I don’t…my feelings don’t matter one way or another. I’m a Warrior, Melissande is a Princess, I have no right to feel any way towards her. I’m all too aware that I am not worthy of her hand.”

“Hmm…” The King stroked his chin and then reached over to pull some papers off the table beside him. Dean recognized the annulment papers, but on top of them was a letter in neat, slanting handwriting. The King held it up. 

“This is a letter from Hera that she sent to me on Melissande’s eighteenth birthday. Of course, having been trapped in a dungeon, I only just got around to reading it. The letter talks about what an amazing woman Melissande has become, but then she goes on to talk about you.”

Dean frowned. “Me?”

Yasa smiled. “Yes, lad, you. She explains how you saved Melissande when she was just a little girl.” A shadow passed over his features. “Somehow that information never made it to me either, and I wasn’t in a dungeon then.” He sighed. “I have a lot to make amends for.”

He shook his head and continued. “In the letter, Hera says that when you saved her, she offered you Melissande’s hand when she came of age, but you said then too, that you were not worthy. But,” he lifted the letter, “she thought you were. In fact, she knew you were. And I would have to agree.”

Dean shook his head. “Your Majesty -”

Yasa cut him off. “You’ve now saved my daughter’s life twice. You saved me, and the kingdom.”

Dean scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand and stared at the floor. “With an awful lot of help from your daughter.”

The King smiled. “Yes, she was remarkable. But you fought to get to us and you stabbed that wicked witch through the heart so she could never again threaten our kingdom.” His voice became more impassioned. “Your father gave his life, and your brother gave his freedom in defense of our kingdom. Now, if that doesn’t label you as worthy, I don’t know what would.”

At a complete loss for words, Dean could only fidget on the chair and look anywhere but at his King.

Yasa’s voice was soft as he continued. “But worthy or not, I won’t let you be with her if you don't love her. She deserves all the tenderness that was denied to her and her mother because of Layo’ita…and me.”

Dean felt his mind cloud with visions of Mellie, the visions he fought against day and night - her laughter and its musicality, but also the way her eyes sparked when she was mad; her bravery and her vulnerability; the way she clung to him sometimes, and the way she bossed him around. He thought about the very real possibility the King was presenting to him - a life with Mellie at his side, maybe children in the future and a life lived with purpose and meaning.

He hardly believed it could be real. But he took a chance and spoke quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. “Yes, I love her. I love her very much.”

Dean actually jumped in his seat as the door burst open and Mellie thundered in. Her cheeks were flushed, and tears sparkled in her beautiful quicksilver eyes; her skin glowed slightly as the magic of her soul lit up her body.

“Really Winchester?” She said, swallowing harshly and trying to hide her beaming smile. “You told my father before you told me?”

Dean felt the King stand and walk towards the door, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Mellie to look. The King paused at her side and kissed the top of her head.

“Go easy on him, poppet. He really loves you.” He gave a soft smile and left, thrilled with this development and off to tell Hera all about it.

As he left the room, Mellie walked up to where Dean still sat in the chair. “So?” She said, tapping her foot against the wooden floors.

Dean felt his chest expand as it began to dawn on him that he really was married to this spitfire princess with her shifting silver eyes, and miracle of miracles, she seemed to love him back, which meant he got to stay married to her.

He smiled widely and his eyes were teasing as he reached up to grab her hand and yank her down onto his lap. She let out a small squeal as he spoke.

“And if I did speak to your father before you, wife? What of it? I am your husband after all, so you have to obey me.”

She elbowed him in the ribs and he exhaled sharply. “Oof.” 

Mellie’s eyes glowed bright silver and Dean let his heart fill with awe as she spoke. 

“Not likely, my Winchester Warrior. I am the Princess Melissande, pride of my mother Queen Hera, descendant of the fairy Queen Caryn’se, daughter of the Fae, and the honored child of King Yasa of Sanso’ye.” She flicked her hair back over her shoulder. “I obey no one.”

Dean’s smile was soft as he brushed his lips softly against hers and cupped her cheek in his palm before conceding happily and running his thumb along her cheekbone. “Alright, my Mellie, I suppose the obedience part is negotiable.”

He kissed her as she laughed, and reveled in the sound, and in the way her body felt, pressed close to him.

He caught her chin with his thumb and forefinger and stared into her eyes. “Marry me, princess?”

She chuckled. “That part’s already done.” She gave him an impish grin. “But I’ll wed you all over again, happily, if you promise that this time, we get a wedding night.”

Dean’s eyes flared with heat and he kissed her long and deep, living for the sighs and whimpers that bubbled up from inside her. He pulled back when he was dizzy for air, and he was panting as he spoke.

“You know, sweetheart, technically we are already married, and I bet Rowena would let us stay a night in that big, beautiful bedroom of hers. If I offer her a big enough trade she might even take herself and Bernard away for the night.”

Mellie’s smile was blinding. “Send a messenger.”

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[rowanisawriter]

writer q&a

thanks for the tag @luvwich i love talking about myself lmao

tagging… @mashamorevvna @yourworsttotebag @swordbisexual no pressure

When did you start writing?

10 or 11 handwriting a three part series in notebooks lol i still remember the plot of my first book which was basically xmen AU. fic writing also started around that time

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

not really, my writing and my taste in reading usually align. even poetry which i read a lot of but don’t write, somehow still sneaks into my writing because i like making things read pretty

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

idk about fic but for published authors i like sally rooney and her character work, and i also love t. s. eliot’s rhythmic style in poetry, im always trying to emulate them

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

i have a toddler to the answer so this for now is my phone on the couch or in my bed in the middle of the night lmao. i’ve learned how to write under weird circumstances, but hopefully once she gives back some of the mental capacity she takes from me daily then i’ll sit at a table or something

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

can’t do it easily lol it comes to me in visions, usually after i read something or see a piece of art but if it’s not there it’s not there

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

i write a lot about religion… no that’s not surprising…. i also write a lot about love… that’s not surprising either lol

What is your reason for writing?

i like stories a lot, and i like being praised, so writing stories and having people read them checks two boxes for me lol

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

all comments are precious, but comments where people find something that i didn’t consciously put into a fic those are my favorite comments. i put a lot of myself into everything i write, sometimes i write things i don’t think about, when someone points it out it feels very personal (good)

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

hope i don’t come across as insane, i want to be aloof and interesting but then people find me on tumblr and learn the truth

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

hopefully emotion, i focus a lot on that instead of setting or plot most of the time so if i get emotion right then that’s good, as long as i can make someone feel something then they’re compelled to continue reading (conversely when i am reading something and don’t feel any emotional connection to the thing then i put it down)

How do you feel about your own writing?

i like it very much, it’s the exact thing i want to read, and it was a very long road getting here to my true voice and style. i reread my own work constantly i really like it

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

i can only write for myself, the motivation to write is only there if it’s something i want to write, even challenges and prompts i struggle with because there is some aspect of “this isn’t truly my idea” that i struggle with. i’ve written things that just aren’t popular (weird ship, quiet fandom, etc) but i wrote it anyway because i wanted to. obvs i want to be read otherwise i wouldn’t post online but i have a good audience now so usually no matter what i write it does get read anyway, so may as well just write what i want lol

[yeetus-feetus]

Another for WIP Wednesday

Update on the Rapunzel AU that I'm working on for @dragonpyre

Prepare yourself for 10 pages of this below the cut

(I'm starting to loose motivation and need praise to feed my energy so I can write more lol)

Warning: I use google translate for the non-english words (please correct me if I get something wrong)

Jason, second heir to the throne of Gotham, was a happy little boy with a very loud personality. A former street kid, he was adopted into royalty at the age of 2 following his mother’s death, much like his older brother Richard, by the current King of Darkness.

Make no mistake by the title he holds, Bruce Wayne is a very Just king, though he cloaks himself in the fine fabrics of midnight and gold emblems that glitter like the stars.

But the young prince Jason was a ball of energy with a smart mouth and a baby as he were, often got on the wrong people's nerves. There was one man in particular, the Jester of the court– who was perhaps something more than a simple Jester to the King, maybe even a friend– had joined the Royal staff after a terrible accident that disfigured him many moons before Jason himself was even born.

On this day, Jason was only five when he trod on the odd man’s toes. He can’t remember what he’d said to the man, but it was something with loud youthful ignorance behind it, maybe something about his permanent smile and moon-pale skin. It wasn’t anything nice, to say the least, but who can blame a child of such brutal, unthinking honesty without the better knowledge on how such things were hurtful.

Maybe a man with a soft heart, and the belief he could give everyone in his Kingdom a better life and a second chance, should be blamed on keeping criminals and the insane in his company. Maybe a toddler in bright mocking colours shouldn’t have been left unattended to in the palace halls after a silly disagreement regarding his biological mother.

The Jester never returned to the King’s court after that night.

The boy, Jason, had been found in a puddle of his own bastard blood in a storeroom downstairs by the cellar, in teeny tiny shackles with his small bones shattered, tear streaks still wet on his cheeks as he lay limp on the freezing cold cement floor.

The King had wept, cradling the young Prince’s broken body close to him, wailed and begged for the boy to come back to him, pleading for forgiveness from a child who was no more. The King of Darkness caressed the soft face of a lifeless shell, and that was when the shadows spoke.

A deep eerie voice had filled his ears from all directions, reminding him of a tale he had believed to be only myth. The story of the moon when she wept for her own son once very long ago …

A single tear of moonlight had fallen from the heavens, and from this small drop of sorrow bloomed a magic, glowing flower. It had the ability to heal the sick and injured– and in extremely rare cases, even raise the dead if the moon wished it so.

“However, the Flower of Lazarus is protected by a Demon whom hoards it for its youth restoring power”, the low voice warned. “And you have only until the fourth day, beginning when the sun breaks over your Kingdom at dawn, to retrieve it. For when the sun sets on that day, the boy will remain in a tomb forever.”

Bruce, because he is no King down here with a dead son in his arms, remains speechless and confused. Before he could gather his thoughts and interrogate the validity of this supernatural voice, a flock of bats screeched and swarmed and then the voice was gone.

And a man was left in a cold empty room with his beaten bloody five year old, fear and determination filling his heavy heart. A hope that in four days time, his son will be returned to the earth and fill the Palace with his laughter once more.

⧫

The quest carried out by the King’s Guard had proved successful, and the magic of the Lazarus Flower, brewed into a glowing green liquid potion heals the dead Prince’s body on the morning of the fourth day.

A new tale of rebirth bringing the kingdom together as the King launched a floating lantern into the darkness of the night sky. A symbol of prevailing hope and new life, to celebrate the return of his beloved young son.

Even though Jason remained asleep, recovering his strength after lying limp and dead for days, he was alive, and his father was grateful as he watched his peaceful sleep, watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath and cried. He held his tiny hand in his, warm and living, a steady pulse beneath Bruce’s thumb.

For that one moment, everything was perfect.

And then that moment ended.

A cloaked woman had entered young Jason’s room that very night by way of the balcony, silently creeping towards the boy’s bed where he slept soundly, unknowing to the threat of her presence. The woman pulled back her hood and stroked a deadly gentle hand up over his face until she reached his soft baby curls as she sang in hushed tones.

“Flower gleam and glow”

And glow the child’s hair did, a bright green hue filling the room. She pulled a long lock of the glowing hair taught between calloused fingers, reaching into the deep green of her garments for the jewelled hilt of a small, sharp knife as she continued.

“Let your powers shine”

The blade glinted in the unnatural light as the woman’s tan hand brought the sharpened knife up…

“Make the clock re–”

But as the knife sliced through the strands of hair it turned lifeless and lost its colour, turning moon-white and powerless.

The shock and confusion was clear on the woman’s face, a frown carving its way into her beautiful features as she realised what she must do in order to fulfil her father’s wishes.

Just like that, Jason was stolen, gone.

The Kingdom searched and searched by order of their devastated, grieving King, but all their attempts at recovering the small boy proved futile. They could not find the Prince of Gotham.

For deep within the forest, in a tall hidden tower, the woman– Talia Al Ghul– raised the child as her own.

⧫

When Jason had finally awoken, his memories were muddled and hazy and not all there. His head ached like it was splitting and the lamp light in the room was much too bright.

The comfort of a woman who claimed to be his mother held him close in her warmth and sang to him with her gentle voice, easing his worry as he hid his face in the soft silk of her robes.

“Flower gleam and glow,

Let your power shine

Make the clock reverse,”

A strong masculine hand combed through Jason’s precious curls, soothing the painful pressure in his skull with rough, wrinkled fingers that softened and grew young with the green glow above his head.

“Bring back what once was mine,

What once was mine”

And that was that. Jason knew he belonged here.

⧫

The Al Ghul’s– Ra’s in particular– had found their new magic flower, and this time they were determined to keep it hidden. To keep it safe and unharmed, and away from the rest of the world.

It’s one day, whilst his Grandfather is combing through Jason’s wavy hair as he finished singing, that the then 8 year old boy asks:

“Why can’t I go outside?”

His mother had looked up from where she’d been concentrating hard on some scrolls in front of her that he wasn’t allowed to read. “The outside world is a dangerous place, filled with horrible, selfish people. You must stay here, where you are safe. Do you understand, Rayean*?”

*(Arabic: flower, bloom, flowering)

Jason nodded his head obediently. “Yes, Mama”.

But the walls of that high tower could not hide everything.

Each year on the day of his rebirth and disappearance, April 27th– a day that should have been filled with sunshine but fell sorely short of anything more than gloomy– the King of Gotham and his trusted royal butler would release thousands of lanterns into the sky, in the hope that one day, their lost Prince would be returned to them.

And every year, on his birthday, Jason watched them from the tower window in awe and curiosity.

⧫

[many years later]

A small robin hides behind a terracotta flower pot by the open window, seemingly holding its breath, and doing its best to blend in amongst the floral pattern etched into it.

Inside the tower, a young man, with long, wavy ebony hair, shoves aside rich purple tapestries draped over the wall above the home’s hearth.

“HAH!.. hmm, well… I guess Pascal’s not hiding here”.

The small bird twitters in amusement, only to be snatched up by a thick lock of hair as it shrieks in surprise. Jason laughs loudly at the robin’s expense, letting it perch on the back of his hand as he grins. “Gotcha!!! That’s twenty two for me. How ‘bout twenty three out of forty five?”

The robin, Pascal, shakes his head in disagreement, chirping unhappily.

“Okay, well. What d’you wanna do?” Jason asks.

The bird turns and gestures his bright yellow beak at the window, eagerly indicating that he wants to go outside. The young man lets out a puff of air in response.

“Yeah no, I don't think so. I like it in here and so do you.” but all the bird does is turn all the way around, facing away from Jason altogether. “Oh c’mon Pascal, it’s not so bad in there”.

The robin doesn’t turn around, choosing to ignore the boy, who pouts in response.

“Pascaaalll”, Jason drags the name of the small familiar out, making pleading eyes at him. The robin puffs out and finally turns around, making the young man smile. “Sing with me?” he asks, and the bird weighs his head from side to side before chirping his agreement.

And so they sing as Jason goes about his daily routine of mopping and sweeping the tower’s gorgeous tiled floors. Then he’s doing the laundry for his mother and going for a shower to freshen himself up, going through the tremendous effort of cleaning and brushing out his wavy hair.

But it’s still early morning by the time he’s finished, and he’s desperately bored with Mother and Grandfather away doing whatever it was that is so damn important.

So Jason is flopped out on his bed, still working on a small braid that he had started maybe half an hour ago.

He’d taken a few pieces of hair tucked behind his ear and decided that there was nothing better to do. It was difficult enough, with just how long his hair was, to make the small braid on his own. The strands of hair had gotten tangled further down as he focused on twisting it together, and almost made him give up several times in frustration. But Jason was stubborn, and now he was finally, finally tying off the end of it.

And… he’s bored again.

“Urghh”, he groans, rolling over and burying his face into his silk red pillowcase. His words are muffled as he complains, “when will my life begin, Pascal? I’m so sick of being stuck in this stupid tower!”

Pascal chirps from where he’s sitting on the bookcase, one filled with all sorts of books, mostly poetry and theatre, in both English and Arabic. And the bird chirps again, even louder, as he tries to get the young man's attention.

“What?” Jason groans once more, pulling his head up out of the pillow and glaring at the robin. Pascal tilts his head before he starts pecking at the cover of one of the many books. “Read?” he asks, and the bird nods.

“I’ve already read every book in this tower thrice over! There’s nothing to do heeere”, the boy whines loudly, rolling himself off the bed and onto the soft Persian rug below with a heavy, dramatic thud.

On the floor, he catches a glimpse of his shell-based paints tucked away under his bed, an idea popping into his head. He grins, reaching forward to scoop them all up and place them on top the geometric pattern of his sheets. “What should we paint today, Pascal?” Jason asks with enthusiasm, and the little robin twitters happily in response.

Hours later and Jason is practising guitar, waiting for certain areas of paint to dry before he can continue adding to the art on the walls. He paints some more, then he’s knitting and playing Chess with Pascal, and soon enough his stomach is growling.

“You hungry Pascal?” Jason asks.

The bird chirps in response and flies into the kitchen, making the young man smile as he huffs out a soft laugh.

“Good, ‘cause I am too”.

Jason makes himself some toast, humming a made up tune while Pascal whistles along with him. “Breadcrumbs my good sir?” Jason asks in a dramatic flourish as he sets out a plate of broken up bread on the small but lavish dining table. The robin twitters happily and digs his little beak in.

After lunch Jason fills his time with puzzles, throwing darts and weightlifting. Then decides to bake some cookies as a treat for when his mother and grandfather return, and while he waits for the timer on the oven there’s another game of hide and seek played between him and Pascal.

By nightfall, Jason has finally exhausted his boredom, yawning as he sits on the windowsill and sketches pictures of Pascal in a near-ful sketch-book by the candlelight.

“Hmm, maybe I could make some more candles tomorrow while I'm waiting for them to come home?” He wonders aloud, he hasn’t made candles in a long while now, and it’s a good activity to fill his time with.

Pascal chirps quietly, as if in agreement with the idea, nestling into Jason’s side. He lets out a breath of amusement at the action and yawns again. “I guess we should be heading to bed then…” he says as he tucks the book under his arm and cups the little robin in his palms, making his way to his bedroom.

There he sets the little bird down on a cushion on his bedside table and flops back in his bed.“G’night Pascal”, he sighs. Staring up at the night sky he painted above his bed, wishing he could be laying on the grass outside instead.

He closes his eyes and has the same odd dream he does every night. The one with the smiling man, and the cold rough concrete scraping against his skin, cold metal against his ribs, and the laughter– but not happy laughter… It’s just a dream, though, and it passes. And he sleeps through the rest of the night dreamless.

So early the next day Jason made candles, then made candle holders with clay and painted those too. And he re-read a book or three, sewed together some holes he found in the sleeve of his shirt and put himself together in something nice to greet his folks with when they got home later that afternoon. Then went through the most tedious chore of brushing and brushing and brushing his hair.

“Arggh! I wish I could just cut all this stupid hair off!” he complained several times, Pascal twittering mockingly at him.

By the time he was done there was still time to spare, and he layed out face-down on the cool tiled floor quite dramatically as he groaned. “When will my life begin, Pascal?” he asks the bird again, as he would ask him everyday.

“Will I ever get to leave the tower? Go away on long trips like mother? Or away for important business matters like Grandfather?” he huffs and presses his forehead into the mosaic of the tile. “What do they even do out there!?”

Jason's throat closes up and his eyes water and burn with unshed tears. “What are they doing out there… when they leave me here, alone and all by myself, for days on end– Mother for months at a time even!” A tear carves a path down his cheek as his hands clench in fists against the cold floor. “If it’s so dangerous out there why don’t they just stay?”

The small robin chirps at him from his perch on the windowsill and Jason rolls onto his back to glare up at him, but the blue morning sky outside catches his eye instead and he sighs, feeling defeated and lost.

Like he’s missing something he can’t quite place, and somehow it’s somewhere out there.

“Tomorrow night those lights will appear”, he says more to himself than the bird watching him carefully. “Just like they do every year on my birthday…”

He sits up and wipes the wet away from his face, turning to look up at one of his paintings, hidden by the tapestries hung above the hearth, but peaking out just enough to remind him it’s there. The bird tilts his head as Jason stands and moves towards it, pulling the rich fabrics aside to gaze up at his art.

Then he pulls himself up onto the hearth to sit on the sturdy ledge, running a hand over the bright spots of light he’s painted against the dark blue night sky he’s made of the wall, tracing his fingers down the length of his painted raven hair that spills down the sandstone canvas.

The full painting altogether depicts Jason himself, outside the tower somewhere, reaching up towards the blots of light as if he could touch them with his fingertips if he just stretched his arm up high enough.

“What is it like out there, where they glow? …now that I'm older, mother might finally let me go”. Jason frowns and turns his head away. “Just maybe”, he whispers to himself.

⧫

Back in the Kingdom of Gotham, two shady figures are scaling the rough brick of the Palace walls, expertly leaping across the roof and making sure to keep hidden from the guards patrolling below.

The man, with fire-bright orange hair tied in a messy bun, bow and arrows strapped to his back, stops and looks out over the Kingdom and the dark rolling hills beyond, a stupid smile on his face. “Wow, I could get used to a view like this!”

The woman behind him, in a form-fitting green and gold one piece suit– resembling one much like a ninja’s, glares at the back of his head. “Arsenal, come on.”

Arsenal just grins and waves her off. “Yeah, hold on, Cheshire.” Sitting his hands on his hips he stares out at the view for a little longer, taking it all in for a few moments as the woman scowls. “Yep, I'm used to it. Man, I want a castle”.

Cheshire rolls her eyes, huffing out an irritated breath. “We do this job, you can buy your own damn castle”, she groans, yanking him by the collar and over towards their entrance between the whether-worn roof tiles of the Palace.

Arsenal is slowly and carefully lowered down into the Royal throne room by a strong, thick rope tied sturdily around his waist. As the woman above lowers him further down, until he’s just hovering over the glass case holding the lost Prince’s crown, one of the Guards sneeze and the redhead lets a stupid smile curl his lips.

“Oh, hay fever?” he asks with an amused, cocky grin on his face.

“Yeah”, the guard replies before quickly spinning around in surprise, catching the smug man leaning against the case with the Prince’s crown in his hand. “Wait, what?” he buffers in confusion.

And Arsenal is quickly lifted, well more like harshly yanked, up towards the high ceilings, escaping through the roof as the guard shouts up at him.

“Hey! Wait! Thief!”The other guards posted in various other places of the room rush over, as this happens, before one of them shouts, “After him!” and they all rush out to ready a chase on horseback.

The duo make their escape, over the bridge joining the island of Gotham to where those dark rolling hills lay, Arsenal running his mouth as they rush to get outside the borders of the dark and gloomy Kingdom. “Can’t you picture me in a castle of my own? I mean, I certainly can. Oh, the things we’ve seen and it’s only 9 in the mornin’! This is a very big day for us!”

⧫

Back at the tower, Jason has taken on an air of determination, re-tidying up a few things as the clock ticks closer to the time his mother promised their arrival.

“Alright, this is it. This is a very big day, Pascal”, he says with confidence– more of a facade to cover his shaky nerves. “I’m actually gonna do it, I’m finally gonna ask them!” he lets out a wavering breath and hypes himself up for it.

And that’s when he hears his mother’s familiar voice calling up to him from outside. “Jason! Let down your hair!”

Jason turns to the mirror and quickly fixes his outfit, wanting to look presentable and like he hadn’t been lying on the floor earlier. “Okay, it’s time, it’s time. Deep breaths Jay.” Then he turns to the robin watching him. “Go Pascal, hide! Don’t let them see you”.

“JASON! I’m not getting any younger down here!” his grandfather shouts for him from below, and the boy in question hurries over to the large window.

“Coming Grandfather!”, he calls back, throwing his hair over the large hook overhead and casting down his 70 feet of hair.

His mother is the first to be pulled up though, and once she’s through the window, kisses Jason’s forehead and wraps her arms around him in greeting, before sweeping down the hall to put her bags down in her room.

He pulls his grandfather up second and, once inside, Ra’s pats Jason’s shoulder as the boy tries to catch his breath. “Oh how you manage to do that almost everyday without fail, Hafid*, it looks absolutely exhausting”, he says as he slides the heavy, emerald-green cloak off his broad shoulders.

*(Arabic: Grandson)

“It’s nothing. Really”, Jason replies reassuringly, taking the older man’s coak and hanging it on the wall behind him.

His Grandfather sighs as he walks further into the large room. “Well then, I don’t know what takes you so long”, he laughs. And Jason tenses uncomfortably and lowers his head, promising himself he’ll do better next time, when his mother catches the look in his eye from the arch of the hallway’s entrance.

“Oh, aleaziz*”, her voice is gentle as she sweeps across the room and tilts his head back up with a sharp finger under his chin. “He’s just teasing.” she smiles up at him, warm brown eyes soft with affection as she pets through his hair.

*(Arabic: darling, dear, poppet, lamb)

“All right… so, um”, Jason starts, his mother moving to start up the fire in the large fireplace. “Tomorrow-”

His mother cuts him off before he even starts. “Close the window would you, Jay, it’s cold outside still.” Because the first day of spring was only yesterday, and Jason knows that somewhere out there, there’s still patches of ice and snow defrosting.

“Yes Mama”, he replies, and obediently moves to pull the window closed and latch it shut. “So, as you know, tomorrow is a very big day-”

“Jason, look in that mirror”, his grandfather cuts him off as he stands behind him in view of the delicately crafted object. “You know what I see?” he asks, but doesn’t seem to be looking for an answer from Jason himself.

“I see a strong, confident, handsome young man”, Ra's tells him, grinning at their reflection, and Jason smiles too, until- ”oh, look you’re here too”, he chuckles, clapping a hand over Jason’s shoulder, then moving away to take a seat on one of the lavishly furnished chairs.

Jason frowns, admittedly hurt by the egocentric remark, and turns his blue-grey eyes on his mother, who just sighs. “Don’t take it to heart habibi*, you know he only teases.”

*(Arabic: my dear)

The boy sighs back. “Yes Mama.” Talia goes back to fussing over the fire, and Jason tries to continue, “anyways, as I was trying to say before, tomorrow is-” only to be cut off again.

“Jason, please, I’m sure your Grandfather’s feeling a little run down after our trip,” Talia begins with a tired sigh, not looking up from where she keeps herself busy feeding and stoking the growing flame. “Why don’t you sing for him, Rayean? Then we can talk?” she asks almost apologetically.

And the boy knows that his mother must be exhausted from her long trip over the seas, but it still stings that Jason can’t even talk to her after she’s been gone for so long. Especially when he’s trying to talk to her regarding his birthday– which she missed last year because his Grandfather sent her away to do something that was apparently more important than him.

“Yes, Mama”, Jason replies obediently, plucking up one of his brushes from the low coffee table and sitting on the plush footstool in front of his Grandfather, handing the brush to the older man over his shoulder.

Ra’s hums in approval and Jason begins begrudgingly singing for him, watching in the mirror across the room as his Grandfather’s greying hair changes and becomes a thick, deep shade of brunette.

He watches as the wrinkles in his face smooth out into a youthful, soft skin; as his complexion grows brighter and his dull greyish-brown skin blooms with colour, becoming an even shade of golden tan. He watches as the fingers holding the large brush stop shaking, as they become firm and steady and more gentle in his glowing hair.

His mother finishes up with the fire and sighs as she sits back in the opposite chair, resting her feet up on Jason’s lap and smiling at him as he instinctively begins massaging her feet. They’re tense and Talia groans in pain when Jason presses his thumbs into the arches of her feet, causing him to wince and give her an apologetic look.

Talia’s eyes fall closed as Jason continues and he’s glad to see her relaxing, even in this short moment; she’s always so stressed about something or other, and Jason thinks she should just stay with him in the Tower and get some proper rest for once, let him look after her, instead of going away all the time.

When his Grandfather sets the brush down, Jason lets himself up, picking his mother’s feet up and gently placing them back down on the velvety footstool. He tucks the hair that’s fallen in front of her face behind her ear as he slips past her and into the kitchen.

He makes his Grandfather tea, knowing he’ll ask for it soon, and puts some of the cookies he’s made on a plate for his Mother. “So, Mama”, he starts as he re-enters the room and sets the tea and cookies down on the low table.

Talia, eyes still closed, hums in reply to let him know she’s listening.

“Earlier I was saying tomorrow’s a pretty big day… you see it’s going to be my birthday, y’know, and I-”

“No, no, no can’t be”, Ra’s cuts in with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I distinctly remember, your birthday was last year.”

Jason clenches his fists, biting down his frustration at being cut off again. “That’s the funny thing about birthdays. They’re kind of an annual thing.” he states, undertones of sarcasm sneaking into his words, and his grandfather raises a chastising eyebrow at him, challenging him to try taking that tone with him again.

Jason doesn’t take the bait and instead turns back to Talia. “Mother, I’m turning eighteen tomorrow, and I wanted to ask, what I really want for my birthday…” he starts

And that's all I have so far! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my terrible writing lmao. Let me know if you guys want more :)

[darlingpoppet]

ＬｉｍｉｎａｌＳｐａｃｅｓ— Chapter 3

Hades (Video Game) | Modern AU (College/University) | PZA | Explicit | Chapters: 3/7 | Words: 21,238 (Chapter 3: 6,763)

Summary: Inspired by The Dreamers, except make it 2010s and ｖａｐｏｒｗａｖｅ. Zagreus is a university student who feels aimless in life. His girlfriend dumped him, things between him & his best friend are weird, and he lacks ambition in his studies, all while the optimistic visions of his generation’s future are becoming lost. Until one day, he falls into the orbit of Achilles & Patroclus―a charming, yet eccentric pair who completely alter Zagreus’ outlook on life & death, love & loss, past & future, and the transitions in between. (Chapter 3 summary: Zagreus reaches a stalemate in his relationship with Thanatos. Achilles & Patroclus invite Zagreus back to their place again for what ends up being a highly-charged evening of music, games, drinking, and sex.)

Excerpt:

“Ugh, Pat. Why don’t you go get a glass?”

Achilles scowls as he watches Patroclus take a particularly clumsy swig directly from the wine bottle, accidentally allowing some to escape from the corners of his mouth and run in blood-like rivulets down his chin and neck. Achilles, to his discredit, hasn’t been behaving much better. His own glass has gone untouched for a while now, and he opts instead to pass the bottle back and forth between himself and Patroclus.

“I will get one whenever I next have an excuse to end up in the kitchen,” Patroclus says as he hands the bottle back to Achilles. “Consider every sip of wine a kiss from me.”

“Why consider it, when I can just do this?”

Achilles pours some wine into his mouth, holding it there while he leans over to Patroclus and feeds it to him. Wine dribbles out between their mouths as the transfer devolves into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. They struggle to stifle their giggles over the mess they’re making, while reveling in the delectations of the kiss.

If they were anyone else, Zagreus might have felt irritated to be made a captive audience to their impudent displays of affection. But as it is, he has difficulty ever seeing their behavior as anything but endearing. And to be fair, he thinks to himself, as he tips back his wine glass for small sip: they are probably really, really drunk.

“We should let Zagreus have a turn at the game,” Patroclus says as soon as he regains his composure.

Zagreus, whose mouth is still full, tries not to splutter as he swallows down his drink all at once. He titters incredulously.

“What, me? I don’t even know anything about the kind of music you like.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Patroclus says kindly. “I’ll help you with it.”

“Patroclus, no, don’t you dare—” Achilles starts, his voice sharp with warning.

“It’s all right, Achilles! Don’t you want to make our guest to feel clever? And who knows, maybe you’ll know the answer.” Patroclus grins impishly as he bounds over to Zagreus’ side, taking the wine bottle with him.

“And what if he doesn’t?” Zagreus asks Patroclus.

“And if he doesn’t—” Patroclus repeats; he leans in slowly, his mouth now so close to his ear that Zagreus can hear the gentle intake of breath in his preparation to speak. Zagreus feels the coarseness of his beard, the nearness of his warmth, making his skin prickle; he can catch a whiff of the alcohol, along with the earthy, yet floral sweet smell of his dark brown skin. “—He’ll have to do whatever you say.”

READ THE REST ON AO3 HERE!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57964459/chapters/148565071

Chapter Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3

[devilsskettle]

there’s also just Something About female characters who are jealous of the men around them for getting to behave in certain ways that they just can’t. like you can just act like that? you don’t have to maintain a carefully curated and constructed image of yourself to present to the world so people don’t treat you like shit? i’m not gonna universalize but i do believe most women feel this way at least at some point in their lives, i feel it all of the time and it drives me fucking insane

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally finished all of one character's entire quests/optional dialogue/questions/etc.... 100,000 words... .... aughhh

[plumbus-central]

I don't think you understand how devastated I am that, after looking at every single Minnie pic or image in the tag, I remembered she is not a real show character. SO SAD. WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE ISNT CANON SHE SHOULD BE

LITERALLY

She's in the show to me 😭

[akkivee]

KR!!!!!!!!!!!!! NELKE!!!!!!!!!!! WHOMST TF EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LET ME IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET ME IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[raiiny-bay]

the degenerates: out of context

[kennys-parka-jacket]

...

[brokenhardies]

The Mavity of the Situation

Summary: Set during Wild Blue Yonder. Separated from the Doctor and Donna, Jane is cornered by her not-counterpart. Unfortunately for her, she finds herself staring down all her bottled up emotions and issues that she hasn’t had time to deal with.

TW: Body Horror, Frightening Imagery, Caps halfway through

Word Count: 1959

Taglist

@darth-caillic​ @sterling-writes​ @wonderguards​ @reirvival​ @arrthurpendragon​ @foxesandmagic @eddysocs @superspookyjanelle (want to be added or removed? send an ask or a dm!)

The second that the Not-Doctor bent over backwards like the little girl in that movie that Jane had watched once - and only once, her previous incarnation, the gentle soul that he was, was too terrified by the movie to watch it again - Jane was racing out of the room before the Not-Donna and Not-Doctor could even blink. 

The Doctor had also raced off - hopefully the real Doctor and not their not-counterpart - but they were in a different location on the ship to Jane. Jane had found herself in the engineering room, all green and black with obnoxious lights and an almost toxic appearance. She took a minute to breathe, trying to collect herself under the pressure of the location and the terrifying creatures that they had encountered. However… That didn’t last long. Mostly as she heard a familiar voice.

“What are you doing down here?”

Her eyes widened, and she noticed her reflection was walking towards her. The engineering room was a dangerous place to be - Jane thought - as she was separated from the Doctor and Donna as the version of her with its arms a few inches too long and one eye slightly bigger than the other began to approach her. Jane took a few steps back.

“Strange,” The not-Jane said, “I would’ve thought your father would’ve come here. Always interested in machines. A lot easier to deal with than people…”

Jane blinked, noticing how her other self had spat out the word ‘father’, like it left a bad taste in her mouth. Her stomach dropped, remembering that the not-creatures had picked up on their brainwaves. It’s difficult not to think… But this one seemed more personal than the others. At least, she hadn’t seen what Not-Donna and Not-Doctor told their other selves. And it seemed hers was aiming for the stomach.

“...What?” The not-Jane asked, “Aren’t you gonna say ‘I would never think that’? Frightening, isn’t it? Hearing yourself say such things that you’d never truly believe…”

“Stop that.” Jane responded, causing her other self to laugh, maniacally and uncontrollably.

“Stop what?” She asked, “Telling the truth? God, you’re such a pathetic excuse for a child. I’m in your head, dear. And I know exactly what you think…”

Jane continued to walk backwards, trying to get away from the rubbery clone. She was able to hold her form, even if there were some minor alterations that not many would notice – an eye that was slightly bigger than the other, a strand of hair that was a little off-coloured, one wrist that appeared to be a few centimetres thicker than the other – but that didn’t particularly mattered. What did matter was the being seemed to be stalking Jane, not shutting her mouth as she spoke.

“You have a lot in that pretty little head of yours…” She continued, eyes wide as she stalked Jane, who was trying to find an exit. “All these delicious thoughts and emotions… Anger, resentment, grief… Are you still angry at them for going back to that damn old face?”

“You’re running around and acting like ‘everythings’ fine’, but in reality, every time they speak you shiver.” The clone continued, as Jane raced around a corner, but she felt a plasticky hand - her own - grab her shoulder. “You remember that day, don’t you? Waterlogged and desperate, fighting against the feeling of drowning as he shouted how ‘the laws of time are mine and they will obey me’. What an awful day for you, isn’t it?”

Jane gulped. She did remember that day on Mars. The day her second incarnation drowned and her father - wanting desperately to rewrite history - went mad with power and rescued crew members from Bowie Base One whether they wanted to or not. After Adelaide killed herself, and Ood Sigma reminded the Doctor that he wasn’t going to live much longer after that, Jane’s third incarnation locked herself in her second’s old library to recover from the regeneration burnout. That day was the day whatever hope had been left in number 2 died… With her as well. It was worse as her clone said what her father said that day in his voice. 

She pulled away. “I don’t have to listen to you.”

However, her clone continued, ignoring Jane’s pleas.

“Oh, they always liked that face, so much so they didn’t want to go, and think of all the adventures you had after he left!” She chuckled. “...And then you found out they were lying to you. About everything. You were not really their child, but a clone of them… They didn’t know, but that wasn’t the point. You were nothing more than the spare. And you were even sent to Earth to die there.”

“Stop it!” Jane exclaimed, “I, I don’t, I…”

“And it gets worse,” The other-Jane said, almost gleeful in her statement. “You know why it gets worse? Most of the universe has been destroyed. That’s why we exist. Because of you, and your parent, and the fact you couldn’t stop it! And that eats you alive, every, single, day. You look in the mirror and you see a naive individual who was responsible for the destruction of half the universe!”

Jane raced off, as her counterpart chuckled, clearly enjoying the emotional torment that she was being put through. She found a spot to hide, but the hiding didn’t last that long, mostly as - well, the clone had access to her thoughts - and she’d managed to find her hiding behind a collection of buttons, wires, switches and other technological implements. The clone scoffed, as Jane panted, looking away.

“Oh, but you really miss her, don’t you?” She asked, “In fact, the only way you’d listen to what I’m saying is if I was her!”

“D-Don’t drag Rose into this!” Jane cried, covering her eyes, panicked at the idea of her clone taking the form of her crush. 

However, that was not the case. That would have been too easy for the clone to pick apart Jane’s inability to confess her feelings due to Donna’s memories getting wiped - and the fear of both Donna and Rose dying, especially as Jane wasn’t sure if ‘letting go’ of the metacrisis was a plan that worked - in fact, it was a little juvenile. Not what that creature had been planning. 

Suddenly, the not-Jane’s head began to compress, her body shifting and altering in size and appearance. It was a strange and frightening experience, Jane was reminded of the feeling during regeneration, but in this case… It was not covered by flashing lights and glowing gold energy. Limbs stretching, hands changing, face altering, before suddenly…

Instead of appearing like an exact clone of Jane… It appeared as a copy of her mother. And yes. Her mother. Blonde bob cut, wearing the same baggy jumpsuit, striped shirt, eyes wide and brown and full of joy. Jane swallowed. She knew that it wasn’t really her mother. But the creature smirked, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Her voice sounded off, shifting between accents and tones as she tried to sound sweet. “Afraid of your own mummy?” 

“Y-You’re…” Jane stumbled backwards, collecting herself against a wall. “You’re not my mum…”

“Oh, I’m even better than your mum.” The not-Doctor said. “I won’t die or leave you behind. I won’t forget you in the TARDIS for so long that you end up becoming part of it. I won’t abandon you for my girlfriend who I was in denial about…” 

All the thoughts were coming to the surface and Jane felt like she was about to cry. But she didn’t, trying to keep a straight face as she crawled onto her knees, hiding beneath a table with her legs up to her chest. Suddenly, she felt a pounding, hearing the sound of skin stretching like plastic. The creature was changing once more, its voice distorted as it cried.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” 

The voice sounded gruffer, deeper, with a hint of a Scottish accent. She recognised the voice as one of her father’s - the twelfth, the first of the new cycle - but the voice was screeched, almost sounding mad as the being continued to stalk Jane, who was crawling under the table, trying to find a way out.

“Come on, dear, I’m not going to hurt you!” The being claimed, “I’m just going to rip you to pieces! Wouldn’t that be fun? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

More stretching, more twisting, as Jane raced out of where she was hiding, noticing a familiar shaker of salt sitting behind her. She grabbed it, holding it behind her back, as she rolled out to see… Her father’s eleventh incarnation, a transformation that would’ve looked uncanny if he already didn’t appear that way. Her stomach dropped, as the creature licked its lips. It was starving, this time walking gently towards her, giraffe-like limbs elegantly moving as Jane held the salt shaker behind her back tightly.

“...After all, you know you’re going to die.” It said, “So why not speed it up a little bit?”

Threateningly, Jane pulled out the shaker of salt, causing the creature to scoff, eyes narrowed.

“You really believe I’m going to fall for that superstition, dear?” It said, “I can read your thoughts, and I know you’re bluff–”

Jane tossed the salt into the beings eyes, causing the illusion of her father’s eleventh face to break. Shedding skin like a snake, it mutated, suddenly looking like a goopy fusion of the eleventh, the twelfth, the thirteenth and her, still underneath that being as a branching off point. She could see pieces of her skin and teeth popping out of the side of the beings face, beneath what appeared to be her mother’s eye and a strand of her hair. Limbs appeared to be duplicated, and the torso appeared split between different clothing, body parts and segments. She could even see the Eleventh’s shoe-like face popping out of the Twelfth’s stomach, but missing any discernible features. 

It hissed. “THAT’S CHEATING!” 

It’s voice mutated between hers and the other three disguises it had put on. Gone was the illusion of friendliness, instead replaced with a monstrous creature… And that probably wasn’t even its true form. Jane continued to race out of the maze-like tunnels of the maintenance room, as the gigantic mutant that she had helped create followed her, destroying the room in the process. Considering the ship was going to blow up at any point, it made sense for it to damage what could become its prison. 

“DON’T YOU DARE RUN AWAY FROM ME YOU LITTLE SHIT,” The creature growled, as Jane continued to race off to an exit, looking behind her to see if it was still following her. “I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE – A COWARD! A NAIVE COWARD IN DENIAL ABOUT YOUR OWN FAULTS!” 

“I know…” Jane muttered, “And I’ve made peace with that!”

As the creature continued to stalk her, she found an exit and raced out, but the creature was still following her. She could hear the pitter patter of feet and wasn’t sure if it was her father, the clone of them, Donna or the clone of her. But she pressed on, continuing to race off as she felt heat surge through her face and body. There was an explosion forming, and she noticed the TARDIS, with the Doctor’s foot dangling over the edge. It still appeared to be them, as she ran and grabbed the foot. The Doctor noticed her, and pulled her up, as she took a deep breath.

“Arms still the right length?” She asked, as the Doctor nodded.

“One eye bigger than the other?”

The Doctor shook his head. Now, to find Donna and save her before that damn monster from inside her brain found them first.