#My skin has been crawling still though... I had a pretty bad nightmare I guess so that makes sense...

[meenah-chan]

Solace

A Belphegor x GN! MC fanfic

3.14k words

Genre: Angst

Trigger warning: mention of death. Read at your own discretion.

Requested by: @belphiesimpalways thank you for patiently waiting for this. Supposedly, this is for your birthday but still, belated Happy Birthday to you!! This became a little bit too long, and I actually changed the whole thing twice 😅😅 I changed the title too to prevent confusion, hope you don't mind.

He lost it the day he lost his beloved sister. A place to call his home. Yet he met them. The one who brings light to his dark days. But what shall he do, when this solace was never been his?

“How I wished I didn’t met you at all.”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He can hear the harrowing sound of the clock, ringing inside the closed space. As if it were imitating his increasing pulse. Belphegor couldn’t open his eyes. He won’t though, even if he can. He fears he’ll see it again. The agonizing sight of that cursed attic, where he is trapped, cold and lonely. Each click, each clack drives him on a brink of madness.

Somebody please make it stop..! Curled up in his bed, writhing in anguish, Belphegor tried to block the sound with his trembling hands.

Let me out… I hate this place...

“It is for your own good.” Lucifer’s voice reverberates throughout the whole room. His guide light and the hero of his stories… once upon a time, that is.

For my own good? This place was a nightmare! He was imprisoned! He was trapped inside his head, with nothing but bleak thoughts!

He felt cold, with no one to hold onto. With no Beelzebub or Lilith, ready to embrace him when he’s afraid…

Ahhh…

Right…

Even if he managed to escape that place, there’ll be no more Lilith to hold him. To comfort him. To make him laugh of joy and happiness. No more… Lilith is no more…

“...Belphegor?” he snapped his eyes open and suck in a deep breath, as if the voice pulled him out of the deepest pit of the abyss. His heart was beating fast, bathed in his own sweat.

It was just another dream. He was not trapped in the attic any more. He was freed, by the person with him right now, sitting beside his bed, a few weeks ago. “Are you alright? You’re sweating buckets and squirming in your sleep.”

“I’m fine. It was just pretty hot in here.”

They stared at him for a moment before replying. “...If you say so… Wait, let me get you some water and a change of clothes.” unconsciously he raised his hand, fingers tugging on the hen of their shirt which stopped them from their tracks.

“Don’t need one… Just stay here and be my pillow.” Still, feeling a bit anxious of being alone, he didn't let go.

“That won’t do. You’re so drenched. If you don't change clothes and rehydrate, you might get sick. I'll be back in a jiffy.” Yet as they swiftly pried his hand off their clothes, he couldn't do anything but to watch them stride out of the room.

He sighed, recollecting the series of events from the time he met them. “...What a weird person...” He muttered under his breath.

A few weeks ago… Just a few weeks ago, they succeeded in freeing him... Just a few weeks ago, they died by his hands... Yet, they kept on approaching him like nothing had happened.

But oddly enough, he also couldn't get them off his mind; to want them by his side. The only time he could find his peace of mind is when he's with them.

I guess I'm weird too...

Silently, he observed them. The way they speak and walk. The way they would scold him when he chose to nap over catching up his missed lessons. The way they tap and hum unconsciously, while studying with him to encourage him to do so. Those awkward laughs they made as they tried to mend the rift between him and his brothers. The sighs left their lips as his brothers fought over who would have them. The slow and silent steps they make to slip away. The way they wink and place a finger over their lips and pull him with them.

Especially the way their eyes disappear when they're smiling. He can never describe how soothing it was, that smile.

...until he suddenly felt it wasn't.

The way they make the very same smile to Lucifer, Belphegor couldn't help but feel a little bit too irritated. Yes, it was Lucifer. He’s naturally annoyed by him, after what he's done. But this is a little bit different from his usual displeasure.

The youngest just wanted to pry the human off him and drag them away. He knew he couldn't suppress the burning sensation rising from the pit of his stomach. He also knew he'll regret what he wanted to do. He'd look possessive. Delusional. He may even hurt them in the process. So, he chose to escape the scene instead, into the attic which was once his prison.

“Belphegor! I got... and you're asleep.” the demon dares not open his eyes as he hears them make their way to him. “You didn't even remove your uniform...or your shoes. I'm really amazed how you can fall asleep in a matter of seconds.” They carefully remove the shoes and socks from his soles.

Oh no... That's not a good thing. For every touch of their skin sends tingles throughout his entire body. Each cell screaming in a way he never felt before. The bed shook as they crawled in, reaching for the buttons of his vest. He was at his wit's end, completely conscious of the human's presence.

Before they could ever reach for the last row of buttons, his hand stopped them before he lose it.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Y-You're awake?!” Before they could ever pull back, he tugged them in his chest, flustering the human even more.

“H-Hey, let go. Your uniform will get wrinkled.” They tried squirming out to no avail. The demon is just too strong to make him budge.

“Don't want to.” To hide his warm and probably beet red face, he clasped their nape and keep their face over his shoulder.

“I still haven't changed out of mine.”

“Hmm, goodnight...”

“Hey...” after a few more stirring in vain, they just sighed and let the youngest have it his way.

This is bad. Thought Belphegor. The annoyance he felt a while ago dissipates as fast as it builds up inside of him. Still, his heartbeats and head were in utter chaos, the time he held them so close. He said he’s returning to slumber, yet his heart showed no signs of ever slowing down. He bet they could hear it, but he have no more energy to even mind it. After all, amidst the chaos in him, could also feel he won’t be getting any nightmares right now.

“Say Belphegor. Do you have a fever? You’re hot and your heart’s beating a bit too fast.”

“Just tired from the extra work a while ago. I just need some rest.”

“If you say so...”

He could no longer deny this feeling inside him.

He… fell in love with a human. He found it, the peace to his raging storm. The salve to his wounds. But they can never be his solace.

He lost it the day he lost his beloved sister. He lost his home. His freedom. He doesn’t have anything but his disgusting self, who could only obsess over keenly observing each and every move they make. Like a stalker. Like a creep. Like a predator eyeing its prey.

But they were never been his. And the day they learnt of his habit is the day they will be disgusted by him.

“Lucifer!” and the fact that they were attached to his eldest brother— the one who robbed him of his freedom once— didn’t help.

They would link arms around his. Heck, even snuggled to it as they do so, with that widest smile upon their face. The small giggles they give off as the abomination in the form of his brother praised them while petting them. Oh, how he wanted to just cut off that hand straying onto them! How dare he touch–

…them that might have already belonged to him, long before he could enter the picture…?

No. There's just no way that heartless brother of his to fall for a mere human. That brother who bowed down to a demon the day his sister died. And the human who taught him how to love again, to fall for Lucifer. That’s just… impossible… It’s just too cruel…

But I love them too! I can love them more than that fiend who chose a demon over his family!

“No, you’re much crueler…” He could hear the whispers at the back of his mind. “Have you forgotten what you did? You killed them. Do you think you have any rights to even lay a finger on them? You spiteful, wretched, monster…”

…Right… He has no rights to have them… He lost it before he could realize the weight of his actions… It was the painful truth. A punishment for a sinner like him. He could regret it until his last breath but he could never be forgiven.

He doesn't deserve to have a place in their heart. Never. Never…

The door to the twins’ room creaked open and he knew exactly whose footsteps it was without the need to look. “Belphegor, Lucifer gave me some sushi. You like this, right? Let’s eat it while it’s fresh.”

Lucifer again, huh...

“It’s yours. Eat it yourself.” There’s no more point in fighting a lost battle.

Let it grow, “Ehh? But you like—”

“Let’s stop this.” … or let it go.

“…Huh? Stop what?”

He also fears what he might do in the future due to this rotten affection of his. “Just as I thought, I couldn’t stand humans. You’re so naïve and trusting. I’m already fed up with dealing with your antics.”

“Wait, I don’t understand…” They asked, confusion and unease were all over their face.

“You don’t? Then let me explain in a way you’ll understand in that small, gullible brain of yours.” He took a deep breath. He needs to keep his cool or he will definitely break in front of them, “Everything is all an act. You thought I like being with you? Think again, fool. Having a human around me fills me with nothing but wrath and anger! Who do you cause my nightmares!? Your race disgusts me to death! Just looking at you makes me want to puke!”

“B-Belphegor… please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Kidding? Do I look like I’m joking?” he scoffed, holding back the pain clawing in his chest. “Be thankful for my brothers. If not because of them, you won’t be alive the second time, nor your ignorant race are.

“I won’t touch a hide of you or any human. So please, stop bothering me anymore.” being unable to stifle the emotions on the verge of bursting, he turned his back on the devastated human.

This is for the best. He’s back in his cage. Staring at the lacework of the long-lived spiders on the ceiling. He already witnessed its threads wear and replace countless of times. That might not even be the same spider he saw on his first night there. He could care less. After all, the only time he was truly curious of a being is when he met them.

How he wished the thread of his feelings were as flimsy as the spider’s. That way it’ll fall off over time. It can simply be cut off when it comes on his way.

“How I wished I didn’t meet you at all.” He knows it well. He is a big liar. In some way or another, just like the firstborn. But they deserve him more than his wretched self.

Lucifer, he was the morning star. The fact that both heaven and hell were captivated by his beauty and excellence. But Belphegor… he was nothing but a bleak abyss. He once dreamt of his brother’s greatness. Yet he couldn't be anything. He, miserable and empty, who only had nothing but guilt, regrets and a broken heart— as he watched them weep.

It’s been weeks since then. They never approached him like he said. Neither in the dining table nor classroom do they discern his presence. It was painful, but he can take it. The only unbearable one he felt is catching them cry— in Lucifer’s arms.

How long are they going to cry? Is it still because of him? No… This is for the best...

This is his atonement. His fate. He still couldn’t have anything, yet he already lost everything. His—

Lucifer… He is staring at him straight in the eye. I should leave.

But Belphegor couldn’t leave. Not after the eldest gave him that sly smirk. What does that mea…

Lucifer didn’t give him time to think. “Wha, Lucifer…?” Sound of confusion left their mouth as Lucifer grabbed their chin firmly between his index and thumb, with the menacing look on his face. “What are you—!”

And the gap between their faces disappeared. “Hmph!” The sight of the futile struggle of his beloved in the hands of the man he entrusted them to… made the youngest snap.

“LUCIFER!!!” His horns and tail materializing, he lunged towards him. His clenched fist flying in the air, aiming for his jaw. Yet, as if expecting it, Lucifer evade him, loosening his grip on the stunned human in the process. Belphegor saw this as a chance to pry them away from his brother’s hands, before jumping a few meters away from him.

“When are you going to learn to clean after your own mess, Belphegor?” As if the devious smirk were never been present on his face, Lucifer looked at them with his usual expression.

“What the hell?! You’re the one who assaulted them!!” He snarled like a wild animal, holding his treasure protectively from the threat.

“I didn’t do anything. Ask them yourself.”

“Ask? Do you think I’m blind?!” His stance became stiffer, fangs sheathed and glaring sharply at his brother, who is unfazed.

A light tug on his collar made his eyes soften, and caused him to realize his tight grip on them in which he loosen. “Are you hurt?”

“N-No… Lucifer’s saying the truth… He didn’t kiss me. I was just a bit confused he pressed his thumb over my lips.”

“.... What? Okay, but still—!”

“Do you think I’m a fool, Belphegor?” Lucifer cut him off, “I know what you’re planning. I'm already your brother for thousands of years.”

“...”

“Do you now understand the consequence of your foolish action? You left someone important to you in the care of others. But you didn’t think that sort of thing might actually happen?”

“But it’s you who they love!”

Lucifer’s frown deepens, “Even if it were some lesser demon they’re in love with, I bet you'll leave them in their care.”

“I...” He… Lucifer’s right… No one's more dangerous for them than himself.

Belphegor's horns and tail disappeared as he calms down, processing what his brother is saying.

“Everyone’s dangerous in Devildom, you fool. If you really are sorry for what you did, protect them instead.”

“Protect? But… But I...” Ignoring him, the eldest glanced at the person between the youngest’s arms.

“Do you already get what I’m saying Y/N?” They nod. “Not only are you both foolish and stubborn, but also blind. Now fix this yourselves. I’m done with your drama.” pinching the bridge of his nose, Lucifer left them in that awkward position without another word.

“...I’m really sorry. I was afraid to hurt you more than I already did.” After a moment of silence, Belphegor decided to break it first.

“You already did, you idiot.” Wiping the stray tears on their puffy eyes, Belphegor gave them a sad smile. “I guess I did.”

“But I still don’t think this is alright. Shouldn’t you be a bit more wary around me? I mean you already… died in my hands once.”

“You brat. Do you think I’d cry like that if I we’re okay with not being with you? I've never held a grudge against you in the first place.” They pout.

“Why? How can you forgive me that easily?” The demon frowns at them.

“Well, wouldn't life be more wonderful if we know how to forgive and forget?”

Frustrations were evident in his eyes, Belphegor's frown deepens. “That's not right… I killed you mercile—”

“Then shouldn't I be asking you? Why can't you forgive yourself?” He didn’t answer. Mistakes have already piled up as is.

Forgive himself? Why? Does he hate himself?

...Yes... I probably do... He loathed himself. terribly so... But they, who tasted the his abhorrence. He couldn't understand how they didn't.

“You want you to find happiness.” They cupped his disgruntled face in their palms, foreheads touching as they gave him comfort.

“I can’t.” with glassy eyes, he held a hand on his cheeks, “Not when you are my happiness. Not when you liked my brother.”

“You really are blind. And here I thought I was just assuming things.” their giggles were like music to his ears. Their orbs were like the placid sky set upon him. “You really are blind. And here I thought I was just assuming things.”

“I love you, idiot.” And their words, with no hint of doubt or hesitation, hit him like a surge. It made his feelings overflow, coursing throughout his entire body, and finally spilling on every corner of his eyes. It made him unable to speak. “I’m not even hoping for you to feel the same. I just wished to stay by your side… and for you to cherish yourself like how I’ve been to you.”

Belphegor felt so happy beyond words. Such indescribable feelings swirling inside him, one that he can’t put into words. With so much running inside his head, the only line he could form is… “Thank you.”

Weeping, but from so much joy this time, they huddled in each other's grasp, not caring of their setting, until their hearts finally felt whole again.

And after such a blissful moment, “...that’s it? No I love you too?” They spoke.

“What are you saying? I already said I love you.”

“No you didn’t. Saying I’m your happiness and confessing are separate things.” they frown at him, expecting.

“It’s the same.” Yet knowing how stubborn the demon is, the human raised their white flag, although disappointed.

“Okay, alright…” They sighed, wiping his eyes with a tear-stained handkerchief. “Why am I the one comforting you anyways? I’m the one crying because of you.”

Belphegor smiled mischievously, like he didn’t cry a while ago. “Because I’m the youngest.”

“Ugh, why did I fall for a spoiled brat?” Another sigh left them as they pulled him up, “Let's go, I’m sleepy.”

Yet as soon as he rose on his feet, he placed his arms on the back of their knees and shoulder blades to carry them, gaining a small yelp from them.

“Hey...” no protest managed to leave their lips as he sealed it with a chaste kiss. Probably not their first but it was the sweetest one. It only last a few seconds, but Belphegor knew fully well. This memory will last forever.

“I love you more, my solace.”

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part Eleven

Link to Masterpost

Kind of filler-y, I guess, but we’re almost to some juicier chapters! Enjoy!

Today’s prompts:

Aelin stealing clothes from Rowan’s laundry

Rowan being scandalized by Aelin’s laundry- this one was actually a DM from @queen-of-glass, rather than an ask! I BET YOU THOUGHT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS, DIDN’T YOU. WELL, I DIDN’T BECAUSE IT’S GOLD.

and

“It’s not mine, I swear!” / “How is it not yours?”

~*~*~

Aelin slipped down the stairs in sock-clad feet, basket of dirty laundry perched on her hip as the clothes dryer beeped. In the two weeks that had passed since Rowan’s nightmare, she had taken it upon herself to take over laundry for the both of them. It was the least she could do, as she had been summarily banned from the kitchen altogether after that incident.

Rowan had fussed at her a little when she’d first done it, insisting that he could take care of himself, but he’d eventually caved. She wasn’t sure how much of it was due to the lingering awkwardness of that one night she’d inadvertently spent in his bed, but if that’s what it took then she supposed at least one good thing had come out of it.

She genuinely hadn’t intended to fall asleep, only to stay long enough to make sure he had fallen asleep. But instead, she had awakened at the sound of his door quietly closing, wrapped around his pillow as though it were a lover. She had lingered there until she was positive he had left for the day before flying out of his bed and rushing to the safety of her own room.

Aelin sighed and shook her head before opening the door of the dryer, pulling all of the newly-dried clothing into a separate basket for clean clothes. Moving quickly so that she could fold the clothes while they were still warm and relatively free of wrinkles, she dumped the newly-washed clothes into the dryer and started it, then loaded her next load of laundry into the washing machine before moving away to the couch with the clean clothes.

She had soft music playing in the background, but even without that she would’ve found the repetitive motions soothing as she folded the shirts, smoothing the wrinkles out of each one before moving to the next. Before she knew it, she was left with two neat piles of clothing—one for herself, and one for Rowan. Perfect. She had time to sneak into the kitchen and see what she could swipe for a snack before the next round.

At least, it was perfect until she spilled the milk intended for her cookies down the front of her shirt instead.

“Shit,” she hissed, both at the embarrassment and at the cold wet sensation. At least Rowan hadn’t been here to see it; he would’ve mocked her endlessly for it. Not to mention, it would’ve been far more awkward to simply strip her shirt off had her roommate been around to see her parading about topless through the house.

Since she was already doing laundry, it was a simple task to toss the soiled shirt into the next pile. However, she would also need to find something else to wear, before Rowan got back in an hour.

A simple grey undershirt sat at the top of Rowan’s neatly-folded pile of laundry. She knew it would still be warm, and the material was impossibly soft. It was plain, with no designs, so it wouldn’t be immediately obvious that she had taken it from him. She could venture up to her room and grab one of her own shirts of course, but with such a tempting option right there…

What Rowan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The shirt was exactly as soft as she’d known it would be, gently caressing her bare skin as she slid it over her head. It was perfect, really; she hadn’t intended to go put on a bra, and to know she wouldn’t need to in order to be comfortable was a relief. The hem fell to her mid-thigh, the garment almost comically large on her smaller frame, but that was okay. Shirts worn with leggings were supposed to be large enough and long enough to cover all the important places, anyway.

Carefully, she picked up the remainder of his pile of clothes and slipped into his room to set them at the foot of his bed alongside her previous rounds. Mission completed, she glanced at the pillows and bit her lip as her cheeks grew warm. What should have been an innocuous display of an immaculately-made bed was still bringing back memories of soft sheets and pine-scented pillows and fingers carefully entwined with her own.

She shook her head and left, and it took a surprising amount of effort not to slam the door behind her as she fled the scene.

Gods, whatever this was, she had it bad. She could practically hear Sam and Lysandra both laughing at her and telling her she needed to get laid. Maybe they were right; she hadn’t been with anyone since escaping Rifthold, and maybe this was just a symptom of how long it had been.

The front door opened before she could think about it any further, and she darted back down the stairs to gather her own laundry and greet her roommate.

His eyes immediately focused on her as she rounded the corner, before narrowing. “That’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

Damn. How on earth had he figured it out so quickly? “Why would you think that? Oversized shirts are normal to wear with leggings.”

Rowan smirked. “That might’ve worked if I hadn’t seen what you normally wear for ‘leggings as pants’ days.”

Shit. Well, it had been worth trying. “So familiar with my wardrobe,” she purred instead. “Someone might wonder how you know what clothing I have so… intimately.”

Damn, he didn’t even blush at the suggestion. “Aelin, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that we live together and therefore I’m pretty sure I’ve seen most of what you consider to be casual loungewear.”

Fine. “Just for that, I’m keeping it!”

He called after her as she headed up the stairs with her own laundry. “Don’t think I don’t know you still haven’t given me back those pajama pants, either! What could you possibly be hoarding my clothes for? They don’t even fit you.”

Shit. Better to pretend she hadn’t heard that, since she hadn’t even begun to prepare an answer for why she hadn’t given those back yet. Instead, she quietly retreated into her room, putting her clothes away before grabbing a book and sprawling onto her bed.

She wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed, but before long there was a soft knocking at her door. “I’d ask if you’re decent, but I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.”

Aelin laughed and opened the door. “Never am. What’s up?”

A scrap of lace Aelin barely recognized as a crop top was dangling from the tips of Rowan’s fingers as though the material would burn him if any more of him came into contact with it. How had…? “That’s not mine, I swear,” she finally said.

“This ought to be good. Fine. How is it not yours?”

“It’s Lysandra’s,” Aelin admitted. “She encouraged me to borrow it, the last time we went out.”

Rowan snorted out a laugh. “So it’s not just me you’re hoarding clothes from.”

Aelin snatched the top out of his loose grip. “We’re not talking about this. Anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” The tips of his ears went pink as he pulled out underwear that was definitely Aelin’s. “I’m presuming you didn’t steal these away from an unwitting friend.”

“Um. No.”

“They don’t have a back. Why do they not have a back?”

Aelin took the underwear back, carefully detangling the series of straps that made up the backside. “Rowan. You were married. To a woman.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

“It means I’m assuming you’ve seen women’s underwear before.”

“Nothing like that.”

“Hm, that’s a shame. They’re fun.” She smirked as she set them aside on her desk to put away later. “Maybe someday you’ll find someone willing to show you.”

“Are you assuming I’ve been celibate this whole time?”

Aelin turned to rearrange one of her drawers, hoping the motion hid the flush of her cheeks and the sudden trembling of her fingers. “I’m not assuming anything,” she lied. “Well, except that no one’s worn anything like that for you, since you seem so confused.”

“Hm.”

Gods, could they talk about literally anything else? This wasn’t a conversation she was ready to have. “Now. Is there anything else from your laundry that may or may not actually be mine?”

He shook his head, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. “Not this time.”

“Okay, good. You’re welcome, then.”

He frowned. “Welcome? For what?”

Aelin grinned. “For the free entertainment.”

As she had known would happen, he grumbled something she couldn’t quite hear and left. Once the door closed behind him, she flopped back onto her bed and groaned into a pillow.

Gods, the sight of him delicately handling her underthings was one she had not at all been prepared for, and even the memory of it was still doing things to her. Not to mention his voice; it was as though his deep and lilting accent had been made to talk about sex, and it had wrapped around her like his shirt had earlier.

Are you assuming I’ve been celibate this whole time?

Gods help her, she had been assuming exactly that, if only to preserve her own sanity. She had been carefully not thinking about Rowan and sex in the same sentence for so long, and now that he had absolutely shattered that with a single question she wasn’t sure what to do.

There likely wasn’t much of anything she could do. He’d made it so clear that he saw her as simply a roommate—one to which he had warmed up, if only begrudgingly, but barely a friend and certainly not a…

What did she even hope this would be, anyway?

Aelin sighed and shook her head. It was pointless to think about, and nearly impossible to believe. She needed to get this out of her head before she did something stupid like crawl into his bed again and never leave.

Decision made, she reached for her phone and sent a text to Lysandra. You were right.

Her friend’s reply was almost immediate. I’m always right. What am I right about now, exactly?

Maybe it’s time for me to try to put myself out there again.

That’s my girl. Got any ideas, or are Sam and I supposed to set you up?

Aelin snorted. You’re impossible. I don’t know yet.

Well, figure it out. I’ve gotta know how I’m supporting you here.

I don’t want to be all the way set up, but I guess I’m open to suggestions?

I GOT U BB. <3

Aelin smiled and tucked her phone away before swearing and snatching at it as her pretimed alarm went off. Laundry day waited for no roommate crisis, it seemed.

She supposed she should probably feel a bit lighter as she darted back down the stairs for the next round of laundry. Instead, though, she only felt nerves. Maybe she had been out of the game too long after all, and this change would only do her good.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @livsdriverslicense @courtofjurdan @danibutterr @woollycat22 @rowaelinismyotp @sleeping-and-books @acciowests @stardelia

[slasherscream]

You don't have to if you feel uncomfortable but may I have a request where JD, Hannibal, Billy and Candyman react when they found out the woman they love who always cares and smiles for others, just a ball of sunshine coming from a dysfunctional broken home. Even when they find her with a black eye due to an argument, she still smiles and ensures she's fine

Jason Dean

JD never saw it coming. He figured you came from some perfect, little suburban dream family. A loving Mother, a doting Father        he didn’t know what else could produce someone like you but a stable home life. 

He had a childhood that was less than ideal, putting it lightly, and you two shared almost nothing in common. Where he was pessimistic you were looking on the bright side. When he pointed out the nastiness in others you’d somehow find a way to make him see the good in the people around you two as well.

Though sometimes he thought you were a little naive it endeared him to you more than you could know. No matter what he did you’d come back swinging with that positive, happy-go-lucky outlook and it was beginning to rub off on him, just a little. 

He smiled more when you were around. Everything felt more worthwhile. That was, of course, when the illusion went tumbling down. 

He crawled through your window ready to see you and surprise you as he’d gotten your address from one of your many friends at school. 

He climbed through the window he guessed was yours only to find you curled up on your bed, clutching your pillow and trying to block out the sounds of loud fighting going on downstairs. 

Multiple voices screaming back and forth, you flinching at every sound bleeding through your door. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was when he made a noise finishing coming through and you turned to look at him, startled. 

Your eye was swollen and already beginning to discolor but immediately upon seeing the expression on his face (rage and heartbreak mixing together) you raced to him trying to reassure him you were fine. 

He asked who touched you but you just kept reassuring him that everything was fine. You hugged him close and tried to soothe his nerves, all the while, the fighting downstairs got louder.  

You can say it’s fine all you want but JD will never forget and he’ll get his answer eventually. He’ll punish your family for hurting you all these years when there was no one around to protect you. You were everything that was good about the world, and if he had to burn it to ash to see you safe and happy the way you deserved to be? He’d do it in a heartbeat. 

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal is probably the closest to seeing something off right from the start of things. 

It’s not that you aren’t convincing, or even that you’re faking your joy and general love for the world around you. He hates people that aren’t genuine and he can sniff them out easily. 

It’s just that sometimes there is a sadness to you that he is always trying to trace back to something. You are a puzzle that he is trying to solve and somewhere along the line he falls in love with you. 

He notices how you dance around the topic of family, keeping your comments vague and going a bit quiet whenever he brings up wanting to meet the people who’d raised such a wonderful, young woman. 

For some reason his mind does not jump straight to abuse. There are plenty of strained parental relationships that are not out right abusive and outside of those tiny moments where you seem to break a little at the seams you’re so bright. 

Love is blind, he’d thought the expression only true for others, he hadn’t ever imagined himself being in love in the first place. He couldn’t have imagined his own assumptions towards you blinding him to the obvious. 

When you show up to a lunch date with him wearing sunglasses he tries to spend the meal ignoring them but finally asks, for the sake of manners, for you to remove them as you are at the table. He’d never known you to be rude. 

Slowly you take them off and the world goes still. Your face is pointed downwards towards the table but it doesn’t stop him from being able to see your eye. He rushes from his side of the table to cup your face and everything clinks into place immediately. 

“Who did this to you, dearest?” his voice is devoid of judgement, calm the way he is during his sessions. But inside he’s engulfed with rage. 

“My (family member) didn’t mean to. Our fights just get so bad and I’m always making them so angry-” He pushes your head into his chest, stopping your onslaught of excuses for a person who wouldn’t be in the land of the living very much longer. There was no need for you to think of them anymore. 

Billy Loomis

What draws him to you is how good you are. At first it annoys him because he thinks you’re faking it. No one could possibly be as sweet and kind as you’re pretending to be. 

He can stand few things less than he can stand a fake and at first, frankly, his interest in you is finding out everything he can about you so he can kill you and mentally torture you while he does it.

It’s while he’s learning everything he can about you and stalking you that he starts to fall in love with you, little by little. Stu keeps asking him when they’re going to off you and he keeps answering ‘not yet’ every time. Eventually Stu stops asking and starts to focus on the next victim. 

Billy doesn’t lose focus. He can’t think of anything but you. He starts stalking you more and more, the need to see you and hear you only worsening by the minute. 

Eventually he gets sloppy and slips up and you see him. You’re walking alone at night for some reason in a town with an active serial killer but you look like there’s no other place you’d rather be. He wonders why you don’t go home but just barely, he’s grateful you’re usually so easy to keep track of. 

When you spot him you recognize him from school and call out to him. He’s got no choice but to approach you casually, pretending he’s also out for a late night walk. “We should walk together to be safe!” Before he knows it you’re looping your arm through his and walking together.

You stay out nearly the whole night together and he asks you out the very next day. It’s not long before he’s calling you his girlfriend and stalking you less. You spend so much time with him he’s actually pretty secure in the relationship and what you mean to each other. Sometimes he’ll do it just to check up on you but it becomes a rarity. 

One night he follows you home, just to make sure you get there without incident, and he starts hearing strange loud noises from inside the house. He sneaks into your bedroom window just to make sure you’re okay. You run in crying right as he’s making his way to the door, clutching the side of your face protectively.

He’s on you in a second, locking the door and prying your hands away. You don’t have time to ask him what he’s doing there before he sees the early signs of your eye bruising and falls into shell-shocked silence. 

With more gentleness than you knew he was capable of he kissed your head, got out a bag, and began to pack away some of your things. You watch him quietly, trying to convince him it’s okay but he silences you with one intense look that he disappears quickly, replaced by the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” He crosses the room, cupping your face gently, thumb grazing the skin beneath your bruised eye.

Once he’s done packing he guides you carefully out the window and into his car. He’s going to take you to Stu’s where he intends to share their big secret. Then he and Stu are going to make a night out of killing your family. 

Candyman

He is a spirit, roaming and untethered, when he sees you and is first struck dumb by your beauty. He never thought he’d love again but the minute he sets eyes on you he knows he can grow to love you. That he could cherish you for the rest of your natural life and beyond. 

He wants you. Needs you. He begins to visit you in dreams. Never nightmares. In your dreams he is a princely figure that loves you already, that has loved you more than anyone in your entire life. 

You’ve never slept better than in the months where he woos you, and makes you fall in love with him, this phantom created by your own mind. 

Part of you thinks you’re going crazy. How could you be falling in love with a man that isn’t real? But you’re a romantic and can’t deny the pull you feel within yourself. They may be only dreams but they make you happy. Daniel, makes you happy. 

You don’t have to wonder for long if you’re losing your mind because he whispers to you in a dream that he can be real. Real as flesh and blood if you say a name three times in a mirror. Candyman. 

You wake up the next morning feeling silly but can’t help doing it. Part of you desperately hoping that your escape from your real life could become your real life, if there was really some magic in the world. 

It works of course and the minute you feel his arms around you, you start to cry tears of joy. But you’d forgotten about the fight you had with your family the night before. In your dreams you are always perfect and beautiful, your skin unmarred by the abuse you endure every day. But now, away from your dreams, Robert can see that someone has dared to harm you. His love. His darling. 

He doesn’t need you to tell him who’s done this. One look at you and he seems to know. He knows you better than anyone else. 

His hand, the human one, the one that isn’t for killing or hurting, touches gently your damaged skin. He presses a kiss to your forehead. 

He has been summoned and there’s a price of blood to be paid. 

[oriigami]

we slept on the ocean last night

(My gift for @cozza for the @setsailexchange! Strawhat feel-good fluff, feat. nightmares, love, and platonic intimacy. Also on ao3 here!)

It starts like this: Luffy can’t sleep alone. 

Zoro discovers this about six hours after they set out to sea from Shells Town, just the two of them in Luffy’s little dinghy and no destination to speak of. The sun has sunk past the horizon, and the water all around their tiny boat is pitch black, scattered with the shimmering reflections of stars. 

Luffy yawns, stretching his jaw open wider than a human’s should rightly be able to go (and maybe the rubber thing still freaks Zoro out just a little bit, okay, he’s working on it) and then, without a word of warning, crawls over to where Zoro’s sitting and drops bonelessly into his lap, sprawling against his chest with his head pillowed over Zoro’s heart. 

Zoro goes tense immediately, only barely resisting the instinct to shove him away immediately; in a boat this size, that would definitely send Luffy over the edge, and his new dumbshit captain can’t swim. “What. Are you doing.” 

Luffy yawns again, and snuggles closer. “Mm. Sleepin’.”

“Okay,” Zoro says, with what he decides is a truly admirable degree of forced calm. “Why on me.” 

“Comfy,” Luffy mumbles into his shirt. “‘nd warm.”

“Well, get off,” Zoro says, and then, when there’s absolutely no response, “Luffy? Hey-” 

He looks down at Luffy’s face, already slack with sleep and dead to the world, and the rest of the sentence dissolves into a sigh. “...Nevermind.” 

Because- see, Zoro’s not a touchy kind of person. It’s probably been more than a year since he was last hugged, and even that was just because Johnny tended to get kind of over-affectionate when he was drunk. Sometimes he shakes hands when handing over a captured pirate for the bounty, and that’s about it. And that’s fine. 

Luffy’s whole weight is on top of him, warm and heavy and snoring softly against his chest, and Zoro’s pretty sure he can’t even remember the last time he was in this much contact with another person for this long. Luffy’s hair is unwashed and salt-encrusted, and it tickles his chin.

But. Well. It’s not bad. It’s definitely weird, and something about it makes Zoro feel oddly warm, but it’s not bad. So he just sighs again, and leans back to look up at the stars, and absently reaches up to rest an arm around Luffy’s shoulders. 

He falls asleep a lot faster than usual, that night.

-

It goes like this: Nami has nightmares. 

She’s good at hiding them. Her sobs are nearly silent, muffled into her pillow and rendered all but inaudible by the doors between her room and the boys’. But Usopp is nothing if not observant- and besides, he doesn’t sleep all that well either. When he closes his eyes he’ll see his mother’s face, too still and too pale with a cloth draped over her kind, sightless eyes. More recently, there have been fresher terrors filling up the inside of his head when he tries to sleep; chief among them Kaya, carved to pieces by Kuro’s claws. 

The point is this- when Nami slips out of her room in the middle of the night, her breaths uneven and stuttery from crying, and pads almost soundlessly up to the deck on unsteady feet, Usopp is already awake. He lies still for a minute or two, worrying his lower lip and deliberating on whether to follow her. It’s obvious she’s trying to keep to herself. If it’s something secret, he doesn’t want to bother her. It’s not like he knows that much about her, or about any of them, really.

But at the same time- they’re crew now, right? Even if they’re only been sailing together for a few days. And crew look after each other. Usopp might not have much experience with being a pirate yet, but he has spent years crying into his pillow, so that makes him qualified to deal with this, maybe. He cautiously maneuvers his way out from under Luffy’s arm and tiptoes to the door, careful not to wake his other two crewmates up. 

He finds her at the bow, sitting with her back against the railing and her head resting on her knees, shoulders shaking. She startles a little when he steps up onto the deck, jerking her head up and glaring over at him, but her shoulders slump again after a moment. 

After another moment of indecision, he sits down next to her. He’s never been good at staying quiet- his mouth has a tendency to open up on its own whenever he’s nervous- but he manages it this time, and just sits there with his arm pressed against hers as she cries.

Once she’s worked herself down to what seems like relative calm again, he offers, “Do you, um. Wanna… talk about it?” 

“No,” she says immediately, and then, quieter, “I… no. It’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” 

It’s one of the most blatant lies he’s ever heard, and he’s been responsible for some real whoppers, but he’d be a hypocrite to point it out. Instead, he says, “Okay, um… do you wanna hear about the time a giant eagle carried me away to its nest, and I had to climb all the way down a tree that was so tall it touched the clouds?” 

Nami chokes on a laugh, and it’s an ugly, wet sound, half a sob, but she leans her head against his shoulder, all the remaining tension running out of her body. “Y’know what? Sure. Tell me.” 

Usopp’s just reached the part of the story where he finds a whole village of people living in the tree’s roots when he realizes she’s fallen asleep, and he trails off. The ends of her short orange hair poke at his skin, and her cheek is pillowed against his shoulder. 

He guesses he’s not moving for the rest of the night, so he carefully wraps an arm around her narrow shoulders and lets his head tip against hers, and closes his eyes. 

For once, he doesn’t have any nightmares.

-

It goes like this: Sanji doesn’t sleep.

“Oi, dumbass,” Zoro says, leaning against the kitchen doorframe and folding his arms across his chest. “Why are you still awake?” 

It’s well into the dead silent hours of night, and even varying as bedtime tends to be on the Going Merry, everyone else is already long since asleep, aside from Usopp, on the lookout in the crow’s nest. It had been a long and tiring day, and most of them had hit the sack immediately after dinner- except for Sanji, who’s still mindlessly moving around the kitchen, like he’s killing time until daybreak. 

It’s a measure of how exhausted Sanji must be that he barely even bristles at the insult, only blinks a little and glances over at Zoro. Even with his stupid bangs hiding his face, the sleeplessness is still plain to see in his visible eye. “Hm?” He blinks again, then says, “Oh. It’s you.” 

“Why are you still awake?” Zoro asks again, because he still hasn’t got an answer.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sanji says, and it’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth, either. “So I came up here to…” he trails off, makes a vague gesture at the pot bubbling on the stove. “It’s fine. I’m not even tired. I’m used to waking up early, for the breakfast crowd, so.”

There’s a lot of retorts hovering on Zoro’s tongue, but he bites them all back and just says, “Fuck that,” and reaches out and grabs Sanji by the wrist and drags him out of the kitchen without a backwards glance.  

“Jackass, what are you- let go of me- what the fuck, I said I’m fine- at least let me turn off the stove-” (Zoro does grant that one. Wouldn’t do for the kitchen to burn down.)

He’s probably lucky Sanji is so out of it, he muses as he hauls the cook belowdecks to the sleeping quarters- if not, he probably would have taken at least one bone-shattering kick to the skull by now. But then again, if Sanji wasn’t dead on his feet (and wasn’t a fucking idiot), Zoro wouldn’t be having to do this in the first place. They’ve just entered the most dangerous sea in the world. They need to get their sleep when they can get it so they’ll be ready for trouble when it comes.  

As usual, the shared bedroom is piled with pillows and slightly ragged blankets, transforming it into a comfortable little nest. Luffy is sleeping half-propped up against one of the walls, Nami napping with her head on his lap, and Sanji’s cursing goes quiet so as to not wake her up as soon as Zoro tows him inside, which Zoro is grateful for. It was starting to get kind of repetitive. 

He drops Sanji down directly next to Luffy, half on top of him, and nods to himself when a rubber arm almost immediately tightens around the cook’s chest, gently but firmly trapping him in place, and the captain snuggles up against Sanji’s side in his sleep. 

Sanji glares up at him and hisses, “I hate you,” or tries to, but he interrupts himself in the middle of the sentence with a yawn, which diminishes the impact considerably. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Zoro rolls his eyes and then drops down on Sanji’s other side, letting his head flop onto Sanji’s shoulder and letting his eyes slide shut. “Just go to sleep.”

-

It goes like this: Robin doesn’t touch people. 

It takes a couple days for Chopper to notice, because she does tickle his sides and ruffle his ears, but… she only ever does that with the false hands she creates with her devil fruit, the ones that dissolve into cherry blossoms that tickle his nose. She keeps her real hands close, only touches out of necessity, never when she doesn’t need to, and even then it’s always fleeting. 

And she sleeps apart from everyone else, too. 

Theoretically, Chopper knows, there’s a boys’ room and a girls’ room. In practice, though, there’s really one room for everybody, and another room where Robin sleeps and Nami changes and keeps her things. 

(He asks Zoro, one of the first nights, why Nami often doesn’t sleep in the girls’ room, why the crew instead sleeps all piled up and tangled together when he hasn’t ever heard of humans doing that before. Zoro just shrugs in response. “It’s a comfort,” he says simply. “Won’t air out secrets that aren’t mine, but people don’t become pirates just for fun. Most of us have trouble sleeping.”)

Chopper finds Zoro is right. He likes sleeping together with the others. It’s just easier, when he’s got Luffy’s fingers tangled in his fur and Usopp’s head pillowed on his side, to stop the Doctor’s last words from echoing in his head. 

(Luffy also declares him the second-best pillow on the crew, after only Zoro, which absolutely doesn’t make him happy at all.)

It happens just after Skypiea, when they’re all still just beginning to recover, sheltered in the sky while they heal from the battle against the mad god. Robin easily concedes when Chopper asks her to come to the sickbay so he can check for lasting damage from the lightning bolt, and lies down on the cot to let him check her ears, her eyes, her heartbeat. 

He’s finished his checkup (no apparent lasting problems, miraculously) and is noting down her baselines in his notebook for future reference when he glances up and realizes she’s slipped into slumber, her eyes closed and her breaths slow. It’s not a surprise; they’re all exhausted. 

But… maybe it’s because Chopper still doesn’t have that much real experience with humans, but he can’t help but think the way Robin is sleeping doesn’t look all that restful. She’s kind of curled up, her arms folded up against her chest, fingers digging into her forearms tight enough to bruise. 

Zoro’s voice rings in his ears. It’s a comfort. People don’t become pirates just for fun.

He slips down from his stool and shifts into his full reindeer form, and carefully climbs up onto the narrow cot beside her, folding his legs up underneath him and letting his side press against her back. He can feel the miniscule trembles running through her body, tight with tension. 

He rests his head on the pillow next to hers and closes his eyes, and slowly, slowly, she stills, relaxing into his side, her tremors calming little by little. 

He thinks he hears her murmur something that might be, “Thank you, Doctor-san,” just before he drifts off to sleep, too. 

-

It goes like this: It’s a comfort.

They’re all hurting after Enies Lobby, all aching and grieving and above all tired, a bone-deep weariness borne of running and fighting and crying and nearly dying over and over again. They can barely stay on their feet for the boat ride back to Water Seven. Robin can’t seem to stop smiling, even through the painful abrasions around her wrists and the tear tracks drying on her cheeks and the ache that digs down to her bones. 

Iceberg gives them a whole suite of rooms to use in Galley-La’s temporary headquarters, all comfortable, all with their own big soft beds to sleep in. He means well, she’s certain, but he just doesn’t know how the Strawhat Pirates do things. But, then, there’s nobody else who does things quite like them.

Iceberg is barely out the door before Robin is folding her arms across her chest, ferrying mattresses and bedding and pillows and comforters into the main lounge, gathering them into a piled-up nest of comfort. The shared bedroom on the Going Merry had been outfitted much the same, she remembers, and the warmth of familiarity is the least she can offer them after all they’ve given her. 

(Later, Franky will see this, and make a bed big enough to hold all of them, soft and comfortable and warm; but for now, they’re all safe and all alive, and so pillows on the floor are plenty.)

They don’t lie down so much as they all fall together at once in a tangle of limbs and pillows, now that the adrenaline has long since faded away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Robin finds herself with her head on Nami’s chest and one of Luffy’s arms slung across her shoulders, and Chopper cuddled against her stomach. 

It shouldn’t be as easy as it is to melt into the embrace, to let go of the constant vigilant caution that’s kept her alive for so long, but she trusts these people, like she’s never trusted anyone in her life. She was ready to die for them, and they responded by telling her to live for them instead, and remembering that fills her heart with such soft fondness it nearly hurts. 

But they’re not quite all together. Not yet.

She shifts to cross her arms again, careful not to disturb any of the crewmates already fast asleep around and on top of her, and lets an arm blossom from a doorframe in the hall outside to catch Usopp by the collar before he can slip away. She hears his yelp of surprise from just outside the door, quickly muffled, and smiles to herself. 

A moment later, he peers inside, hiding behind the mostly-closed door. She meets his eyes and smiles with all the gratitude she can’t begin to put into words, and nods towards an unused mattress and pillow at her side. He hesitates for a moment, clearly uncertain, caught between anxiety and hope, so she takes his hand in a succession of hers and tugs him over. He stumbles, but doesn’t resist, and she can see the exhaustion in him when he practically topples over onto the mattress. 

Within minutes, he’s asleep too, face buried in the pillow, snoring softly, one warm hand still clasped in Robin’s. She knows he still has things to work out with Luffy, with the rest of the crew, and there’ll be time for that later. Right now, though, they’re alive, and she’s free, and it’s time to rest. 

She falls asleep smiling for the first time in years. 

-

It goes like this: Luffy can’t sleep alone. 

So Rusukaina is… it’s hard. He’s not alone, Rayleigh’s there, and sometimes Hancock and the others visit and let him hug them as long as he wants, and that’s nice, but it’s not the same, not really. He misses his crew, misses Zoro’s solid warmth and the fluffy cushion of Usopp’s hair and the fleecy softness of Chopper’s fur and Robin’s low, rhythmic breathing. 

(He’s never slept better than when he was seven, piled together with Ace and Sabo and some ratty stolen blankets on the rough-hewn floor of their treehouse, with the crickets singing outside and the stars shining bright through the window.)

(But now there’s no Ace and Sabo, not ever again, and no crew to keep him warm and chase away the nightmares in their absence, and so he doesn’t sleep well.) 

He fights through it, because that’s what he always does, what he’s always done- press through. He has to get stronger for the people he has left. 

Going back to the Sunny is nothing less than going home. 

When night comes, they’re deep underwater, en route to Fishman Island, the sunlit waters of the surface long since gone. Past the railings of the Sunny, the world is nearly pitch black, lit only by the occasional bioluminescent creature wriggling past.

Luffy couldn’t care less, because right here and right now, the Sunny is the world, and nothing past their bubble of light and warmth and safety matters at all. He grins, and throws his arms out to drag his whole crew together into a messy pile in the middle of the deck- Sanji swears and Chopper shrieks and so does Nami, but not one of them tries to dodge- before flopping into the midst of the chaos himself. 

He winds up sprawled half on Brook and half on Sanji, who complains but doesn’t kick him off, his head on Robin’s thigh and his arms tangled through all of them, holding on tight to every member of his crew, the most important treasures in the world, the touch promising him they’re there, really there. 

He’s not letting go of any of them, not again, not ever. 

He’s reaching the crown with all of them or not at all. 

Someone runs a hand through his hair, and it feels nice. Someone says, “Get some sleep, captain. We’ll be here when you wake up.” 

He knows they will be.

[one-boring-person]

A Game Of Numbers. (Part Three, I)

Marion "Cobra" Cobretti x reader

Warnings: mention of death, mention of violence, very vague mentions of homophobia (barely)

Context: When a string of seemingly connected murders and kidnappings break out in LA, Cobretti is called in to figure out what is going on. He is, however, not alone in his investigation. Lieutenant "Hawk" (Y/l/n) is deployed to help him, though it quickly becomes clear that the crimes taking place are not as random as they first thought, but rather a little more personal than either of them would hope.

A/n: the "long post" limit thing has struck again so this part is in two👍

Masterlist

"This is your car?!" Hawk exclaims as she lays eyes on the replacement of his old ride, marvelling at the brand new paint job, as well as the sleek design.

"Yeah, it is." Marion smirks, feeling a flash of pride at the look of wonder on his new partner's face. Peering out from behind his sunglasses, the lieutenant casts his own eyes over the car, glad now that he'd asked to get it replaced after the first had been completely destroyed. 

"Echt? I'm impressed." Hawk looks back at him, grinning as she waits for him to imply it's ok to get in.

"Thanks." Cobretti nods, opening the driver's door and climbing in, waiting for her to do the same, before he starts up the engine.

His companion buckles up, sitting back in the seat with her arm up on the door, resting her head in her hand as she watches the view from the windshield. Her other hand lightly brushes over the dashboard, clearly as enraptured by the car's interior as she was by the exterior, something which Cobretti observes with some curiosity as he puts the vehicle into drive, pulling out into the road. Remaining quiet, they sit in somewhat awkward silence, both focused on the traffic ahead of them as Marion heads towards the middle of town, aiming to find a somewhat safer place to park near the actual club and street, knowing full well the place is crawling with thugs.

"What d'you think the killer did with the murder weapon?" Hawk finally questions, looking over at him casually.

"Probably kept it, or got rid of it." Cobretti muses, the match in his mouth twitching as he speaks.

"Would make sense." She hums in agreement, cocking her head as she turns back to face the traffic, "I guess if they dumped it, we'll have a hard time finding it."

"Depends." Marion grunts, turning onto a smaller street.

Frowning, Hawk looks over at him.

"What do you mean?"

He glances briefly over at her, before returning to the road.

"If the killer was in a rush, or was panicked, they'll have tried to get rid of the knife quickly, in a dumpster or something nearby. They wouldn't have thought about it too much, which would make it easy to find." He informs her, gesturing a little with his hand, "If they were more careful, then yeah, it'll be a nightmare trying to find it."

She nods in understanding, still contemplating something.

"Why do you think they did it?" She asks curiously, drumming her fingers on the door.

"Huh?"

"Why'd you think they murdered this girl, and then kidnapped another one?" She reiterates, "It doesn't make much sense to me, unless they're trying to make a point of some kind." 

He doesn't reply immediately, thinking to himself as he pulls into a parking lot. Drawing to a halt in a spare place, he turns off the engine and sits back in his seat.

"I don't know. It's bugging me, too." He admits,  looking over at her.

She nods, before climbing out, pulling her coat tighter around her body as she observes the surroundings. The parking lot is mostly deserted, but that's not surprising given that it's just past lunch time, leaving only a few people ambling about in the usual collection of odd clothing that is typical to this end of town. A taller guy stares at her from across the road, his electric blue hair falling across his bare shoulders in a wave of grease, his grimy face carrying a disgruntled expression behind the cloud of smoke coiling up from his cigarette. Ignoring him, Hawk turns to face Cobretti, who is watching the same guy, brow furrowed slightly. Silently, he jerks his head, gesturing for her to follow him as he stalks off towards the road, his coat flowing out around him. 

Falling into step beside him, Hawk shoves her hands in her pockets and discretely observes the surroundings, keeping an eye on the few odd people loitering around the area, keeping her expression neutral as her gaze strays over the blue-haired guy again.

"You got a picture of Kernes?" Cobretti suddenly speaks up, moving off towards the slightly busier road a little way ahead of them.

"Hm? Oh, yeah I do." Hawk replies, tapping her breast pocket knowingly. 

"Good." The lieutenant says, stopping outside a dingy tattoo parlour, pulling out his police badge, "We're gonna need it."

"Klar, weiß ich schon." She responds, her meaning nearly lost on him as he shoots her a confused look.

Shaking his head, Marion enters the small store, fighting to wrinkle his nose at the bad smell emanating from the place, eyes roaming the designs covering the walls, admiring the art momentarily. The tattooist looks up from a client, her dark skin as covered in designs as her walls are, her messily braided hair thrown up in a messy style that gives her a roguish look. On another day, he may have considered her pretty, but right now, he is on a job, meaning he must stay focused. 

Frowning, she wipes over her client's tattoo, before she turns to face us completely, expression unimpressed.

"What do you want now, Cobra?" She greets, voice wary of him.

"Just wanna ask a question." He replies, gesturing for Hawk to take out the photograph, "You ever seen this girl?"

Hawk hands her the photograph, which she looks over carefully, brow creasing a little.

"Yeah, I have. She's one of my clients. Did a piece for her a couple o' weeks ago, but she ain't come back to get it finished." She explains, giving the picture back, "Why?"

"Can't tell you that. Confidential." Marion denies, nodding at the information, "Did she come in with anyone?"

"No, she was on her own. Said she had plans, though. Told me she was gonna get wasted that night with a few friends."

"Did she say where?" Hawk interrupts, listening closely.

The tattooist cocks her head, eyeing the lieutenant curiously.

"Who're you?" She asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"Lieutenant (Y/l/n). Now please answer my question." Hawk supplies evenly, ignoring Cobretti's slight look of disapproval at her tone.

"No, she didn't say where, exactly. Only that it was near here." The tattooist frowns again, "Now is that all? I have to get back to work."

"Yeah, thanks for the help." Cobretti steps in, turning to leave with Hawk.

"Where to now?" (Y/l/n) asks, replacing the photograph back in her pocket.

"Just over here." Marion gestures at a nearby bar, the small place lit with neon signs, a few kids skulking outside it, cigarettes hanging from their mouths.

[nerdzzone]

Light After Dark: Chapter Six

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Content warning: Mention of overdose and past death of a close friend. It’s not too detailed, but I wanted to give people a heads up just in case.

________

May. 12. 2020 

Henry: I have a proposition for you

Me: That makes me slightly nervous

Me: What is it?

Henry: Would you like to go on a hike?

Henry: We can keep our distance and I've heard it's harder to spread/catch if you're outside

Henry: I completely understand if you're not comfortable though

I thought about it for a moment. As long as there wasn't too many people out on the trails then it should be pretty low risk as long as we kept our distance and I hadn't been out of the house at all since taking the cake over to Henry's house for his birthday. So, after my brief deliberation, I accepted his invitation.

Henry: Great, meet me at my house in twenty?

Me: Sounds good!

I quickly dragged myself off the couch, threw all the necessities into a bum bag, grabbed a sweater from my closet and shouted goodbye to my family with a brief explanation of where I was headed. They shouted a few questions back, but I rushed out the door without giving them a chance to get too nosy.

Me: On my way!

I sent to Henry when I was about halfway there before adding another message

Me: All masked up and ready to go

Me:

 As I turned onto Henry's street, he was standing outside his house, looking down at his phone as Kal sniffed the sidewalk around him.

"I like your sweater," Henry smirked as I got within a reasonable distance.

"Thanks," I smiled. "I thought it might scare any bears we might run into. You know, they might get confused and think I'm one of them."

Henry laughed and shook his head.

"There's no bears in Jersey that aren't locked up in a zoo," He informed me. "There's absolutely no dangerous wildlife around here."

"That's reassuring," I smirked. "But it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Fair enough," Henry chuckled before pausing. "Would you feel more comfortable if I wore a mask as well?"

I appreciated his offer, but shrugged.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," I assured him. "I know you've been staying pretty isolated and I'll probably take it off once we're off the main roads, but it just gives me peace of mind if we run into anyone along the way."

"Alright," He smiled. "Shall we head off then?"

I nodded and we started off down the street, Henry whistling for Kal to follow. He did so obediently, nudging his nose against my hand before walking a few paces ahead of us.

"I'm glad Kal gets to come," I commented. "But aren't you worried he might dart off after any little critter he sees?"

"Not really," Henry shrugged, respectfully staying on the edge of the road, just off the sidewalk as I walked along the opposite side. "I've got him quite well-trained. He might get distracted, but as soon as I call him he'll come back."

"What a good boy!"

Kal's tail wagged at that, but he was too busy sniffing around some bushes to pay much attention to us.

"He is," Henry nodded. "He's been an amazing asset. He comes with me every where I go and I can't imagine getting through this whole acting experience without him."

"That's really sweet," I smiled. "I always wanted a dog, but it's such a big commitment. I wouldn't want to get one and then be too busy to give it the kind of life it deserves."

"It is a massive commitment," He agreed. "I'm very lucky that I'm able to bring Kal on almost all of my travels and that when I'm on set there's always someone happy to keep him company."

"Well who wouldn't want to keep him company? He's gorgeous."

I held back a remark about dogs looking like their owners as Henry grinned proudly and we fell into a comfortable silence.

****

It was only about a ten minute walk before we turned off the main road and onto a more secluded path. The sun was starting to get stronger as it was almost mid-afternoon so I slipped my mask down to my neck so that I wouldn't get too hot, but could cover up quickly if we passed anyone on the trails. Somewhere along the way we'd fallen into asking each other random questions and, while most of it was silly, some of it was proving to be rather informative.

"That's so boring," I wrinkled my nose when he told me that his favourite fruit was an apple. "Considering how much of a world traveller you are I would have expected something much more exotic."

Henry chuckled at that as he did every time I criticized one of his answers.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe a papaya or a dragon fruit," I theorized. "Anything more exciting than a boring old apple."

"I don't think I've even tried either of those," He admitted. "Now, speaking of travelling, what's one place that you've not been to, but would love visit one day?"

I thought about it for a moment before answering.

"There's quite a few really, I haven't travelled nearly as much as I would have liked," I confessed. "But if I had to choose somewhere to go first, I think I'd choose Canada. Australia is a close second, but I'm terrified of spiders and I hear there's a lot there. So Canada, the part where the mountains and lakes are."

"My brother lives there," Henry's face lit up. "My younger brother, Charlie. He lives in Calgary which, from my understanding, is quite close to the mountains and lakes."

"That's so cool," I smiled, my words dripping with envy. "Have you been to visit him?"

"No," He sighed. "Usually he's the one to come here. He was back briefly before the lockdown actually, but he left to be with his family just before I came back to Jersey so we didn't see each other."

He looked sad as he spoke and I felt a pang of sympathy in my chest.

"That must be hard," I said softly. "Especially not knowing when international travel will be back up and running."

"It's tough," He nodded. "I'm used to only seeing him once or twice a year, but it's definitely worse not knowing how long it will be until we can all be together again. He's safe though and so is his family and that's what matters the most these days, isn't it?"

I nodded in agreement before a smile slid onto my face.

"And now, you can tell your brother that you'll be visiting as soon as you're allowed to because I fully intend to take advantage of this connection and make you take me there."

"Make me?" Henry laughed. "And how do you intend to do that?"

"I can be very persuasive," I smirked with a suggestive lift of an eyebrow before turning my attention back to the path before he could react. "So, if you weren't an actor, what would be doing?"

"I'd probably be in the military," He answered without having to think about it too much. "A couple of my brothers are and I'm quite disciplined so it seems like a good fit."

"More dangerous though..."

"Well, I do my own stunts so sometimes acting gets dangerous," Henry pointed out. "I did spend a lot of time hanging out of a helicopter for Mission Impossible."

"Yeah, but there's a whole team of people responsible for making sure that you don't die, right?"

"Of course and the stunt teams are amazing," He smirked. "But that doesn't mean there isn't any risk, accidents do happen."

I grimaced slightly, knowing that he was probably right.

"You should switch to baking," I suggested. "Definitely a lot safer."

Henry laughed, shaking his head.

"Alright, well, my next question is: have you ever had any bad baking mishaps?" He asked. "It might not compare to action stunts, but I'd imagine there's the potential for some nasty injuries."

"There is, but luckily I've always been pretty careful. A few minor burns and the odd slice of a knife, but nothing too serious. I have seen some pretty nasty stuff over the years though. Like once..." I paused for a second. "Wait, do you want to hear this? It's pretty bad."

"Yeah, go on," Henry nodded. "I think I can handle it."

"Okay, so, one of the bakeries I worked in for a while made a lot of things like doughnuts and churros so we had a deep fryer." My skin started to crawl just thinking of the memory and from the look on Henry's face he seemed to regret agreeing to hear about it, but I continued. "One day, my co-worker was cleaning the counter next to it, scrubbing really hard on a super sticky spot and her hand slipped and shot right into the boiling hot oil.”

"Oh my god," Henry squeezed his eyes shut, his fist clenching as if he was experiencing the pain himself. "That's horrible. Were you there? Was she okay?"

"I was," I nodded. "It was like it happened in slow motion and she didn't even scream, I guess from the shock, but I was hysterical. I kept expecting her skin to just slide off any minute like you see in the movies, but thank goodness it wasn't quite that bad."

"I think I'm going to have nightmares just hearing that story," Henry cringed. "Has it scared you off ever going near a deep fryer again?"

"I haven't had to use them much since that job actually, but it definitely made me very cautious," I admitted with a wrinkle of my nose. "What about you? Any nasty injuries on set?"

"No, I've been lucky as well. The stunt teams are all very good at their jobs so other than a few near misses with a sword here and there, I've never been in any real danger."

"Do you actually use real swords?"

"For the most part," Henry nodded. "For the Blaviken fight scene in the Witcher we used swords that were cut in half and then CGI edited in afterwards because we did it all in one take and there were a lot of moving parts that made it more dangerous."

"You filmed it all in one take?"

We were on a fairly steep incline and I was feeling the effect. My words struggled to come out as I fought to catch my breath and I was happy to give Henry some more time to talk before I had to answer any more questions.

"We did," He smiled proudly. "For the flow of the scene, it just made the most sense, but it was difficult. The cameramen couldn't see where they were going at all, they just had to use their memory with someone guiding them from behind so everyone had to hit all the marks just right to make sure there were no collisions. And with it all being one take, if anyone made a mistake or the timing was off at all then we had to stop the whole thing and start from the beginning."

"Wow, that's...impressive."

Henry caught my slight gasp for breath and looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you need to rest for a moment?"

I nodded and we both stopped walking as I pulled my inhaler out of my bum bag. I took a quick puff followed by a few slow breaths until I had managed to steady my breathing.

"Sorry about that. My asthma has been playing up the last few days and that hill just took it out of me..."

I felt silly getting winded while he was so unfazed, but he waved me off.

"Don't apologize," He insisted. "We can take a break whenever you need. There's been a lot of hills and I didn't even think about your asthma so I'm sorry for that."

"No need to be sorry. I haven't left the house at all since I brought your cake over last week so it's good for me to exercise," I assured him as I started walking again, much to Kal's delight as he charged off ahead of us again. "Anyway, back to your sword fight. That must have taken so much practice!"

"It definitely did," Henry nodded. "Hours and hours of it. It's like training for a big dance number really, everyone has to hit their marks exactly right, but we pulled it off first try."

I couldn't help, but smile at the pride in his voice.

"That's amazing. It must have felt incredible when you finished and knew you'd nailed it."

"Absolutely," He grinned. "So, if your asthma gets in the way of certain exercises, how do you stay so in shape?"

I felt my cheeks heat up at the subtle compliment, but he was looking ahead and keeping an eye on Kal so luckily he didn't notice.

"I do yoga," I told him. "Not the most exciting, but it is a lot harder than it looks. I thought it would be easy, but the day after my first class I could barely move at all."

"I've heard that a lot about yoga," He chuckled. "Even from big body builder guys at the gym, they try yoga thinking they'll smash the class, but they end up coming out just as sweaty as when they lift weights."

I'd had to defend my love of yoga to many people over the years. As Henry pointed out, my options for keeping fit were quite hampered by my weak lungs so I didn't have loads of choices, but I did end up really enjoying yoga and seeing plenty of physical benefits from the classes. It was annoying to have to constantly insist that it was in fact a workout worth doing so it was refreshing that someone with Henry's gym experience understood right away.

"It's pretty tough," I smiled. "Even though I'm sure you'd find it easy. I imagine with those muscles you could probably lift a car over your head without any struggle."

Henry laughed at that, shaking his head.

"Not quite a car," Henry smirked. "But speaking of strength, are you a good climber?"

I raised an eyebrow at that question as I noticed him looking off to the side of the trail at a small rock wall that was about Henry's height.

"Why? What have you got planned?"

"There's an excellent view if we take a brief detour," He explained. "But you'd have to climb that little cliff."

I looked at it a bit more intently than I had before and it seemed easy enough. It wasn't all that high and the edge was rough enough that it wouldn't be too hard to get a grip on.

"I think I can do it," I shrugged. "But what about Kal?"

"I'll lift him up. He's much lighter than a car."

He shot me a wink and I actually, literally giggled like some kind of flirtatious fangirl. It slipped out before I could stop it and, despite Henry either not noticing my embarrassing behaviour or just politely ignoring it, my cheeks went bright red again.

He led the way over to the wall and whistled for Kal who bounded over happily. The big dog didn't even flinch when Henry scooped him up and plopped him down on the top of the little cliff and he sat down obediently when he was commanded to 'stay'.

"You go up first and I'll spot you," Henry instructed.

I nodded and went up to the wall. It was pretty easy to find a good spot to hold so I grabbed on and hoisted myself up. It wasn't that far to go so I only needed to get my feet a little bit higher before I could push up and get my hands on the ground at the top. I could feel the warmth of Henry's body hovering behind me and perhaps it was the distraction of realizing how close he was or just that my running shoes didn't have the right grip for this kind of activity, but as I got my hands on the top of the cliff, my foot slipped off the wall before I could push myself up properly. I didn't fall very far though as Henry's hand was right there, ready to catch me as it collided with my bum.

Both of us froze for a moment. The warmth of his hand felt like it was burning a hole through the yoga pants I was wearing and my brain instantly felt the need to focus on the fact that his massive hand covered almost the entirety of the cheek it was currently cupping. As the shock of the contact wore off, I quickly found my footing again and dragged myself up so I was sitting on the edge at the top.

"Two metres apart, Mr. Cavill!"

He was standing there with his hand still out where it had been, looking just as surprised as I was, but as I scolded him his shock quickly morphed into a smirk.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," He assured me as he grabbed onto the wall and pulled himself up with an ease that made my attempt look quite sad. "But I must say, that yoga is definitely working for you."

My jaw dropped at his comment, but after a moment I couldn't help but grin. Even if I didn't have muscles like Henry, I did put a lot of effort into my body and my bum had come a long way from the flat board that it used to be and I was proud of it.

"Thank you," I said as I pulled myself up to my feet. "But please, keep your hands off of my bum...At least while we're out in public."

Now it was Henry's turn to be shocked by my comment and my turn to smirk as I turned and headed off towards the little path we were next to with Henry and Kal hot on my heels.

****

The path we ended up on was another steep hill which Henry profusely apologized for once he realized, but I assured him I was fine. It was a beautiful trail and it wasn't long until we ended up in the clearing that he was steering us towards. As promised, the view was amazing and absolutely worth the trek.

"Wow," I gasped quietly, looking out over the ocean. "This is incredible."

"It's one of my favourite places on this whole island," Henry admitted. "I don't think many people know about it as it's not a main viewpoint, but Charlie and I used to run wild all over this place and we stumbled across it when I was only about twelve."

"What a great find," I complimented him, still in awe. "It's beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with me."

"Of course," He smiled. "You're practically a local now so you need to know all the best spots."

I laughed weakly at his description of me as a local even though it was probably true. I’d been here for months and wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

"Well, I can't think of anywhere that would beat this. Can we stay for a while?"

"Sure," He shrugged. "I don't have anywhere to be."

I smiled and went to the edge before sitting down and letting my legs dangle over. It wasn't a straight drop down, there was a big ledge sticking out only a few feet down so it was safe, but gave me a sense of freedom as I looked out at the wide open space in front of me. Henry whistled for Kal and gave him some water from his bottle before joining me, but keeping a respectful distance.

"So," Henry broke our comfortable silence a few minutes into our pit stop. "After all those questions, I realized I've never asked you what your bakery was called."

I felt my stomach drop at that question. He probably thought it was a pretty easy one, but my hands went all tingly and clammy and I was almost positive all the colour had drained from my face. I stayed silent for a moment as I thought it over. I could have lied and told him anything, really. He'd never know. But deep down I knew it wasn't a subject that I could avoid forever so I took a deep breath and answered.

"Lola's."

As I predicted, he gave me a confused look and pressed for answers.

"Lola's? Is that your middle name or something?"

Again, I was tempted to lie and pretended he'd guessed right, but if I wanted to continue our friendship, I had to be honest.

"No, it was the name of my best friend." My voice was quiet, but it didn't crack or waiver so that was an improvement. "She died last year."

I saw Henry turn to look at me out of the corner of my eye, clearly at a loss for words, but I kept my gaze off on the horizon.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," He said after a moment of quiet. "How did she die? If you don't mind me asking."

I didn't mind, but it was hard to talk about. I'd gone the route of burying my emotions rather than dealing with them when she passed so it was usually a topic I just steered clear of completely.

"She overdosed," I told him, still not looking over at him in an attempt to hide the tears that were brimming in my eyes. "She was always into partying, much more than I was, but she never really did drugs until she started dating this new guy. Suddenly she was talking about all the things she was trying and a few weeks later she was dead. Apparently he was a dealer and he'd tried cutting his supply with something dodgy so he could make more profit."

"That's horrible..." Henry's voice was soft and cautious and it made my eyes fill even more. "I'm so sorry, Brooke."

"Thanks," I choked out. "Sorry, this is super heavy. I don't mean to dump it all on you."

I wiped my eyes and tried to sort myself out a bit, but he shook his head.

"I'm happy to listen," He insisted. "How long were you friends?"

"Since we were three," I smiled. "We met in nursery school and were instant friends. Her name was Laura, but I called her Lola from the day that we met, I thought it suited her better."

"Wow, that's a long time."

"It was," I nodded. "She was like a sister to me. Cassie and I are really close, but Lola and I just clicked instantly. No one understood me like she did and she absolutely always had my back. She was the one who gave me the idea to open my own bakery. She'd been saying it for years so when she died, I knew I had to give it shot. You know, to honour her. It made closing down so much harder because I feel like I've let her down."

"I would be willing to bet a lot of money that that isn't the case at all," Henry smiled reassuringly. "I bet she's watching over you, proud that you gave it a good shot and completely relieved that you did what was best for your health."

I teared up again as he spoke, knowing deep down that he was right. Lola wouldn't be disappointed that I failed for reasons that were out of my control and if she was alive she would have dragged me to Jersey herself if it was the safest place for me to be. I hadn't voiced my guilt to anyone else though so no one had the chance to tell me I was being silly and hearing it made at least a tiny bit of my regret melt away.

"You're probably right," I agreed, wiping my eyes again as a few tears slipped down my cheeks. "Sorry, it's just hard to talk about and it's her birthday in a couple of weeks so it's even more of a sensitive subject."

"No need to be sorry," He assured me again. "It sounds like it's still quite fresh, but whenever you want to talk about it I'm more than happy to listen."

I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth, biting hard to try to fight back the floods of tears I could feel rising. It was very touching how kind he was being when plenty of people would have run for the hills as soon as they realized what a nerve they'd struck with such a simple question. I glanced over at him, trying to find the strength to thank him without a sob bursting free, when he tentatively held out his hand, placing it palm up in the dirt between us. A few more tears escaped at the gesture, but a smile slid onto my face as well as I reached out and placed my hand in his.

We stayed like that for a long time. Hand in hand, but almost two metres apart as we looked out over the ocean with Kal settled in the dirt between us. It was refreshing and calming as was almost every moment that Henry and I had shared. Eventually, we realized that it was getting quite late and we should head back before we ended up walking back in the dark, but the comfort I'd felt in that time with him lingered even as we headed home.

The somewhat somber mood that had fallen on us was soon forgotten and the laughter and fun returned as we continued asking questions and talked about everything from what we do if we could be invisible for a day to how much we both wanted a family and children of our own.

We ended up down by the beach just as the sun was setting and paused by the pier to watch it. It was a pretty breath taking sight and by the time I got home I was feeling giddy from the magical day that I'd had. Henry was shaping up to be pretty much everything I hadn't realized that I'd wanted. I'd been so busy in the last year, grieving the loss of my friend and then trying to start and run a business that dating hadn't even been on my mind, but now, after sharing so many heartwarming moments with someone who made me feel as warm inside as he did, it was something I couldn't help, but think about a lot.

I was in the middle of filling Cassie in on my day's adventures as I rather inelegantly shovelled some food into my mouth when my phone beeped on the table. I saw Henry's name pop up on the screen and my heart melted at what I saw when I opened the message.

Henry: 

Henry: I took this picture earlier and I can't get over how beautiful it is...

Henry: And by 'it' I mean you, the sunset pales in comparison

[ohallthecrushes]

Bedtime routine // Arthur & Joker headcanons

A/N: This is self-indulgent , this is my attempt to establish... something (?) in my relationship with Joker. I guess I just wish he was more real. I played this make-believe with my friends when I was a kid, we pretend that people from tv shows and movies were real and were here with us, and we imagined things happening around us, our own story line with our favorite characters. I still make-believe in my head, but only by myself. :( 

This is still a reader format, so maybe some of you will find yourself in it. Comments are welcome as always. Enjoy. ^^

Contains: Mentioned of nightmares, insomnia, oral sex, morning sex; also lots of cuddles

Word counts: 1692

You’re a night owl when it comes to sleep. You always find yourself late in night doing or watching something, because your energy is high and you can’t take your mind out of something and just put yourself to sleep.

You try to go to bed at more reasonable hour, you really try, but somehow you just skip that hour and remind yourself to go to sleep way past midnight.

Being a night owl means that on your days off you stay up late at night unbothered by numbers on your digital clock and then sleep even till 12 p.m., starting your day in the middle of it.

In contrast Arthur is an early bird, his sleep and wake up hours are completely different than yours.

He tends to stay awake late at night like you, because of his insomnia, but he’s more self-disciplined than you and he keeps an eye on the clock, trying to get at least 7 hours of sleep before he wakes up for work.

He’s used to waking up very early because of his work and insomnia that strikes him also when the sun rises, but even on weekends he gets up early to prepare breakfast for you or to do some house chores, so you won’t have to.

Sometimes when he can’t sleep and he doesn’t really want to he comes to you and you both stay awake till sunrise, watching movies or having sex, or alternately watching movies and having sex, until you both are too exhausted to stay awake any longer.

He watches over your sleeping schedule and tries to make some changes in it to help you sleep better and healthier. It’s very important to him that you are well-rested and refreshed.

Sometimes when you’re too absorbed with the thing that you are doing, unaware of the passing hours, he fixes his eyes on you, his eyebrows knitted in concern. He won’t approach you right away, he will wait patiently, he would feel bad if he disturbed you, but on the other hand it’s so late and you really look like you need some sleep.

Also he needs some sleep, but he won’t go to bed without his teddy bear you.

And even though he very rarely tells you directly that he wants you to go to bed with him, you can feel his eyes on you and you put up your head to look at him. Seeing the pleading look on his face makes you give up on anything that were so important just a moment ago and you takes his hand and get yourself ready to bed.

Once you’re both in bed you hold each other closely, legs entwined, arms wrapping around your bodies, sometimes you face each other, sometimes one of you is a little spoon.

By the way Arthur loves when you put your arms around him when he’s a little spoon, especially when you do this in the middle of the night subconsciously. It tells him that you love him and you search for him even in your sleep.

When he’s awake or half-awake and you wrap your arm around him he gently cover your hand with his, being careful not to wake you up.

Your sleeping positions always includes touching each other. Even in hot summer nights when you both sweat and try to sleep on your sides to make some space, some parts of your bodies like hands or legs are always in physical contact.

Just holding hands in hot nights is something you tend to do to let the other knows that they’re not alone.

In the middle of the night sometimes you wake up to find Arthur clung to your back, hand firmly clasped around you, pressed to your chest, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck. It means two things: Either he has a nightmare or he needs to know that you are real and not a figment of his imagination.

When he has a nightmare you will hear a soft whimper.

It’s easy to wake him up from it, but he tends to have a laughing fit over something terribly he saw in his dreams.

You can calm him down with your voice and cuddles. He’ll come to his senses soon.

When you have a nightmare, he turns on a bedside lamp and wakes you up, calling your name.

He comforts you the same way you comfort him.

He can stay awake the rest of the night watching over you, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings just to make sure that no more nightmares will haunt you this night.

When the alarm rings and he wakes up, before he leaves the bed he puts a gently kiss on your forehead or a temple, wherever he can reach. It’s a “goodbye for now, sweets dreams, I’ll be back as soon as I can” kind of kiss.

When you wake up on your day off with Arthur, you can always feel his arms around you.

Even though it’s a double bed, most of the time you find him on your side, clung to your body, head somewhere near your neck.

When he’s still asleep (though it’s very rarely that you wake up earlier than he), you are in his embrace, his long arms holding you tightly to his chest, his nose buried in your hair. You are his teddy bear that helps him sleep peacefully and fights his nightmares whenever they appear, so no wonder he doesn’t let you go.

And even if he’s already on his feet doing something in the kitchen or smoking cigarettes on a sofa, he tries to be in bed with you when you’re waking up.

Usually he waits until you wake up on your own, but sometimes he wakes you with kisses whether they’re innocent or more hungry ones.

I can’t stress it enough but he adores waking you up by going down on you.

He is also more than happy when he can crawl back under the sheets for morning cuddles or sex.

Joker tends to disappear in the middle of the night. Don’t get me wrong, he would love to sleep through the whole night with you, but he’s got business to do.

As a night owl you often see him going out after midnight and sometimes when your insomnia won’t let you sleep, you catch him sneaking back home, quietly to not wake you up. But you haven’t even went to sleep yet, so you greet him at the door and he looks at you with concern visible in his eyes and hurry you to go to bed. He will join you soon.

He still loves to cuddle with you, so even if he has to go out at night, he will find some time to go to bed and keep you safe and loved in his arms for as long as he can, for there’s nowhere else he would rather be than with you in his embrace.

That’s why it’s so awfully hard for him to leave you alone.

He’s not that reserved and quiet anymore when it comes to speaking about his needs and observations, however he’s very cautious with his words, he doesn’t want to hurt you accidentally.

He’s not above pouting when he feels like he still doesn’t get your attention when he needs it.

He doesn’t disturb you, not directly, he just announces his presence around you somehow. Bouncing leg, staring eyes, clicking pen, sighing, rubbing your shoulder while passing you by often... until you notice his pleading eyes and agree to take his hand.

If he catches you still awake and your eyes are red and you yawn every now and then, he’ll approach you, take your hand in his and tell you directly that it’s time for bed.

He still keeps his eyes on your sleep schedule. He’s still worried about your night routine. He knows it’s not healthy to stay up so late and sleep through the half of the day.

He hates that he can’t be with you all night to make sure you get a proper sleep.

On those rare nights when you have him all night long only for yourself, you glue to his body, often using him as your pillow.

He absolutely doesn’t mind as he keeps you in his strong arms for all night.

Unless it’s too hot to cuddle. But he still needs to feel your presence, so you hold your hands just as you did in the old times.

Sometimes when he can’t sleep you feel his fingers ghostly drawing patterns on your skin.

He watches you sleep and sometimes you catch him doing it.

You doesn’t like how your face and hair look like in the morning so you cover your face before him. He doesn’t like it, he sees it as an issue that he has to fix. It’s like a sign to him to show you how beautiful and precious you are. So prepared for being attacked by his kisses, never ending compliments and gently touches or even tickles. All until he sees a smile on your pretty face.

Going down on you is more likely than before and usually he does that after a busy but successful night he had out there in Gotham.

Bonus action is, when you lay on your side and he’s already hard, you can feel him rubbing his hardness against your butt. And when he notices you waking up and liking it, you can count on lazy morning sex.

His sleeping routine is now more similar to yours as he works at night hours and comes home while the Sun peeks over the horizon, so you both sleep until noon.

His habits doesn’t change much, he still clings to you in the night and kisses you goodbye as he goes out.

Sometimes he’s your pillow and sometimes you use him as a weighted blanket that reduces your stress and anxiety.

He loves you so much, you are his teddy bear and even though he’s never been a fan of sleeping, with you he actually likes going to bed.

[splendidlyimperfect]

When Natsu runs into five-year-old Sting and Rogue at the Grand Magic Games, he thinks they're cute kids with a serious case of hero worship. But when it turns out that they're both Dragon Slayers and they belong to the ruthless Sabertooth Guild, something doesn't feel quite right. Natsu and Gray quickly grow protective of the two little kids, and they do their best to build a relationship with them to try to keep them safe and figure out what exactly is going on at Sabertooth.

alternate chapter art here

Chapter Summary: Natsu and Gray are both unsettled by the revelation about Sting and Rogue's dragon slaying powers, and Gray realizes he has something in common with Rogue.

Chapters (2/?): 1 | 2 Fandom: Fairy Tail Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Not Canon Compliant, like not even close, Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Sort Of, Childhood Friends, Cute Kids, Hero Worship, Fairy Tail Dragon Slayers, Protectiveness, protective Natsu, Protective Gray, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Parenthood, sorta - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Character, Nonbinary Character, Trans Gray, Trans Sting, Nonbinary Rogue, they're just adorable baby dragon slayers and Natsu wants to adopt them, and kind of does, Mutual Pining, because Gray and Natsu are idiots

-----

The walk back to the inn was quiet. Erza and Lucy quickly slipped into a recap of the day’s events, but Natsu was edgy and distracted, still trying his hardest to figure out what had felt wrong about the two boys.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you think too hard.” Gray appeared beside Natsu and bumped his shoulder, knocking him out of step.

“Hilarious.” Natsu nudged him back, but it lacked the usual enthusiasm of their bickering.

“I try.” Gray shoved his hands into his pockets, staying next to Natsu as they made their way through the dark streets. He didn’t say anything, which wasn’t unusual for him, but Natsu felt like there was a weight behind the lack of words.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Natsu finally said once they had arrived at the inn and the girls had headed in to sleep. He leaned against the wall next to Gray and stared up at the sky. The sun had set, and the sky was a dark tapestry littered with pinpricks of stars. “I dunno why it’s bugging me so much. We weren’t much older when we joined Fairy Tail.”

Gray nodded, absently patting his pocket where he used to keep his cigarettes. Natsu batted his hand away, trying to ignore the warm spark when their fingers touched.

It doesn’t mean anything, Natsu thought as he pulled his hand back and shoved it in his pocket. He’s your best friend.

Continue reading on AO3

Gray didn’t answer for a while. The silence that settled between them was easy and familiar, and Natsu felt himself unconsciously leaning closer to Gray. Everyone always teased Natsu about how much he talked, but when he was alone with Gray, it didn’t feel necessary. The urgent need to fill the air with cheerful words was replaced by a deep, quiet sense of familiarity that felt like home.

“I think,” Gray said after a while, keeping his gaze on the sky, “it feels wrong because they’re alone. I mean, not alone, but there aren’t any other kids in their guild.” He kicked at a rock, watching it bounce across the street and clatter down into the gutter. “They’re so young. And nobody’s looking out for them.”

“Yukino is,” Natsu pointed out, and Gray nodded. “But she seems…”

“Afraid?”

“Mm. She doesn’t really fit with them either.” Natsu sighed, prodding at a bruise that was still forming on his ribs. It was courtesy of a vicious kick from Orga during their fight that morning – one that Natsu and Gray had nearly lost to Sabertooth’s ruthless tactics.

Silence fell between them again. The soft chill that normally radiated from Gray was tempered by Natsu’s heat, keeping them both comfortably warm in the cool spring air. Natsu absently held out his hand and summoned a small flame, running it back and forth across his knuckles. Gray blew a stream of frosty air at it, and it froze for a second, glinting orange and gold in the dim light of the streetlamp.

“I think Sting’s trans,” Gray said as the flame went out.

Natsu raised an eyebrow, tipping his head to look at the soft expression on Gray’s face. Natsu still remembered the day he’d come out, even though it was years ago. They’d been nine or ten, sparring as usual, and Droy had told Natsu that he shouldn’t hit girls. Gray had yelled that he wasn’t a girl, said some words that he’d probably picked up from Gildarts, then punched Droy and stormed away from the guild. Natsu had followed him down to the river and they’d spent the afternoon together, carefully holding hands and watching the water sparkle in the afternoon sun.

Nothing had changed. Gray was still Gray, and Natsu had still loved him just as fiercely.

“How do you know?”

Gray shrugged. “I dunno, something…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely. Natsu nodded. He’d known right away that Rogue wasn’t a boy or a girl, just like Freed, but he couldn’t quite explain how.

“I wish they could come with us,” Natsu said. “There’s something off – not just about Sabertooth, about them. I can’t figure it out and it’s driving me crazy.”

“You could try to talk to Yukino,” Gray suggested. “Not to take them or anything, just to maybe, I dunno, offer to help them. Train them, I mean. With the dragon slayer stuff. Jiemma might go for that if that’s what he’s… keeping them for.”

“That’s… actually a good idea.”

“I happen to have those sometimes.”

“Only when you’re inspired by my brilliance.”

Gray laughed – a rare, quiet sound that made Natsu’s cheeks warm and his stomach twist in a gentle, familiar way.

“C’mon,” Gray said, pushing himself off the wall and nudging Natsu’s arm. “It’s late, let’s go to bed.”

Natsu swallowed back the disappointment that washed over him – he wanted to stay here, shoulders touching, talking quietly in the night. He liked having Gray to himself. It happened so rarely now that they were adults, and Natsu missed the afternoons they used to spend by the river. He missed holding hands. He missed falling asleep together under the afternoon sun and waking up with his head on Gray’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right in,” he said, forcing himself to smile.

Gray frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Natsu said quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

~

“You shouldn’t drink so much of that; you’re going to have a heart attack.”

Gray glared half-heartedly at Lucy over his fourth cup of coffee. Even with that much caffeine flowing through him, he was still exhausted. Sleep had evaded him for most of the night. At first, he’d spent his time waiting for Natsu to come inside, wishing he’d stayed out with him. Then, once Natsu had finally crawled into the bed across from Gray and was snoring softly, the nightmares had started.

Gray hadn’t dreamed about his mom in a long time. He’d woken up in the early hours of the morning, skin and sheets covered in a thick layer of frost, and had been surprised to find tears frozen to his cheeks.

“’m fine,” he mumbled. “Stupid beds are uncomfortable.”

Lucy nodded sympathetically as she sat down at the table across from him. The inn had its own small kitchen, and Gray was grateful for the option to eat here, mostly alone, instead of heading to the market to find food with everyone else. He still felt unsettled and wasn’t quite ready to face the world.

“Are you okay?” Lucy’s gentle question made the fragile barrier around Gray’s heart splinter a little and he sighed, dropping his head into his hands. Somehow, she was always able to see past his bullshit.

“Just bad dreams.”

“Is it because of the kids?”

Gray peeked up at her. “You’re freakishly perceptive, you know that, right?”

Lucy laughed, poking at her pancakes. “So that’s a yes, then.”

“I guess.” Gray rubbed his face. “I dunno. They’re little and alone.” The words stuck in his throat and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself together. “It just…”

“Reminds you of yourself?”

“Would you stop that?”

“Nope.”

Gray groaned. “Yes, okay? And I know a lot of us had shitty childhoods, but it made me think about my mom, and how it sucks they don’t have their parents. That’s all.”

Lucy reached across the table and took Gray’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay to miss your mom,” she said gently. “I miss mine, too. And I know that Natsu’s thinking about his dad. You’re not alone, Gray.”

He let out a noisy breath and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know.” He squeezed her hand, giving her a small half-smile before letting go and grabbing his coffee again. The taste was bitter as he downed it in one gulp, then stood up and pushed his chair away from the table.

“You’d better get going,” Lucy said, gesturing at the clock on the wall behind him. “I’m pretty sure you’re up first this morning.”

“Mm.” Gray stretched, then leaned across the table and quickly kissed the top of Lucy’s head. He pulled away before she could say anything, turning toward the door so she couldn’t see the redness in his cheeks. “See you later?” For some reason it came out as a question, almost seeking reassurance.

Of course, Lucy provided it. “I’ll be cheering for you,” she said. “Good luck!”

~

The fight was exhausting. Gray was matched one-on-one against someone named Renne from a guild he couldn’t even remember, and the lack of sleep caught up to him halfway through the fight. Something hit him hard in the forehead and he stumbled backward, blinking when blood dripped into his eyes.

C’mon, Princess. Natsu’s voice filled Gray’s mind and for a moment, he thought it was his imagination. Then he glanced up into the stands and realized that Natsu was staring down at him with Max by his side, borrowing his telepathic magic. You’ve got this.

Gray shook his head to clear his blurred vision, launching a barrage of ice blades from his hands as Renne teleported behind him. Another hit landed on his jaw and he grunted in pain, stumbling forward and cursing under his breath. Frustration and embarrassment washed over him as blood filled his mouth.

The kids are watching. Natsu’s voice appeared again. Look up.

Gray spun around, gaze moving from Natsu’s grinning face to the enormous screen that panned across the crowd. Right now, it was focused on Sabertooth, and there, leaning against the railing, were Sting and Rogue. Sting had a wild grin on his face and was bouncing up and down in excitement, turning to talk to Yukino as he pointed at Gray. Rogue was standing behind him, looking much more subdued, but when Gray realized they were still holding the snake he’d made, something warm flooded through him.

Fuck this, he thought, spitting blood onto the ground and turning back to Renne. I’m not gonna lose. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

As soon as he thought about it, the devil slayer magic he’d been ignoring for so long started to thrum under his skin. An anticipation grew along with the power, layered with an irritated almost-whisper of, why did you wait so long, let me out, let me free, let me destroy.

Gray gritted his teeth, pushing back against the destructive desires of the magic. It itched and stung, just like every time he called on it, pushing at him like it didn’t quite fit in his body. The black marks raced across his skin like ink on parchment, twisting in patterns that Gray still didn’t understand. He didn’t use the magic often – even after a year, the new powers still unsettled him.

He exhaled, letting the tension and fatigue flow out of his body, then looked up at Renne again. Everything about her was sharper. Gray could see her magic now; a purplish-blue aura that darted around her, quick and nimble. It tasted bitter, overpowering the coppery tang of blood that clung to the inside of his mouth.

A look of surprise appeared on her face that was quickly replaced by disgust, and she cursed as she charged at him. Her magic flowed just ahead of her, and Gray watched the movements carefully, stepping out of the way of her attack. She stumbled uncertainly, then glared at him as she disappeared in a burst of light.

Gray closed his eyes, letting the magic flow out of him like a sixth sense, feeling through the air until it found a heartbeat. He whipped around as the magic snapped back to him, crystallizing along his arms until sharp blades spread from his fingers to elbows. Renne appeared exactly where he’d expected, and her nasty grin was quickly replaced by a look of surprise when he caught her blow one-handed and tossed her to the ground.

A hungry sensation raced through Gray at the expression on her face, but he pushed it back, refusing to give in to the vicious desires of his magic. The commentators shouted something, and a cheer spread through the crowd, but it all turned to a dull roar as Gray pushed the magic out again, letting it crystallize into a group of wicked-looking ice shards that hung around Renne.

“What the hell kind of magic is this?” she hissed, pushing herself to her feet. The shards moved closer to her, bathing her in the bruised purple light of the devil slayer’s ice.

“Mine,” Gray said simply. Then he closed his fist and detonated the ice. It exploded into thousands of tiny fragments that whipped around Rennee, sharp and deadly. She swore as one of them nicked her arm, then scowled at Gray and teleported away.

He closed his eyes again, following the magic as it moved. It darted back and forth around him and through the air, leaving behind a sour, acidic smell, then stopped on near the edge of the stadium. Gray quickly dropped to one knee, pressing his hands to the ground and sending out a shockwave that culminated in a mass of razor-sharp ice spikes exploding underneath where Rennee reappeared.

She disappeared again and Gray could feel her anger and resentment, a dark blue color seething through the lines of her magic. It made her even easier to track. He kept his eyes closed, shifting to follow each teleport and block it with the hungry magic that flowed through him.

A few attempts later, he caught her. She materialized into a prison of dark purple ice that raced across her skin until it covered her torso and pinned her arms to her chest. She stumbled forward, landing on her knees and not standing again.

The commentator’s voices were fuzzy as a cheer raced through the stadium and the Fairy Tail logo filled the screen. Gray exhaled in relief as he released the magic around Renne, pulling it back to him and letting it dissolve. The marks quickly disappeared into his skin, leaving him worn out and oddly cold.

“Freak,” Renne hissed as she stumbled to her feet. “That magic is evil. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gray didn’t have an answer for her, and he dropped his gaze to the ground as she turned on her heel and walked away.

I knew you could do it. Natsu’s voice appeared in Gray’s head again and he looked up to see the stupid, brilliant smile that always made his heart ache. You looked pretty badass, too. Gray was glad he was far enough away from Natsu that he couldn’t see the embarrassed flush that crept into his cheeks. I think you’ve got a new fan, Natsu added, nodding to the screen again.

The camera had panned to the left, but the edge of the screen still caught the Sabertooth viewing area. Sting had been cut out of the picture, but Rogue was still there, clutching the snake to their chest and gazing down at Gray with a wide-eyed look of adoration. The warm feeling from earlier swelled in Gray’s chest again – for some reason, that look was worth more than all the cheers from the rest of the stadium.

~

The dizzy, uncomfortable feeling that always appeared after using the devil slayer magic plagued Gray for the rest of the day. He tried his best to shake it off and cheer for his team, but the feeling dug its claws into him and wouldn’t let go.

Freak.

Evil.

Demon.

The echo of Renne’s voice drifted around in his mind, next to the headache and the unsettling feeling of his skin not fitting quite right.

“You okay?” Natsu asked once they’d left the stadium for the day. The evening sky was a soft pink and cast gentle shadows across the cobblestone street. The market was closed for the evening and the quiet was a calm reprieve from the shouts and excitement of the games.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Gray grumbled. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Natsu gave him a sideways look but Gray refused to return it. “You look like shit.”

Gray snorted. “Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” Gray caught Natsu’s grin out of the corner of his eye. “Seriously, though. You used the magic.”

Gray’s stomach twisted. “Of course I used magic,” he said quickly. “It’s called the Grand Magic Games.”

“That’s not what I meant, idiot, and you know it.”  

Gray sighed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. He missed being able to hold Natsu’s hand. They’d done it for years, and the gentle warmth of Natsu’s palm against his had always been enough to make Gray feel safe. Then they’d grown up and it had started to feel like something else, and it hurt Gray too much to keep touching Natsu and knowing he couldn’t have him like that.  

“I just—”

Gray’s words were interrupted by a yell, and a familiar voice shouting, “Stop it!”

“Sting?” Gray frowned at Natsu, looking around the empty market for the little boy. It took a second and another shout for him to see the head of curly blond hair on the other side of the fountain in the center of the square.  

“Are they out here again by themselves?” Natsu asked, sighing in exasperation as they both quickened their pace and headed toward Sting. “I swear, I’m gonna—”

“Leave them alone!”

Sting yelled again, and they arrived at the fountain just in time to see someone shove him. It was a boy who looked to be a couple years older than Sting and Rogue, and an ugly look crossed his face as Sting stumbled backward.

“He’s stupid and you are too,” the boy said, hands clenching into fists. A terrified-looking Rogue stood just behind Sting, and a spark of protective anger flared in Gray’s chest. Sting’s cheeks were red, and he looked like he was about to cry, but he didn’t back down. His hands shook as the boy took a step toward him.

“Hey!” Natsu’s shout caught the boy’s attention as he stepped forward, and he whipped around to face them. His eyes widened when he realized who Natsu was. “What do you think you’re—”

Before Gray could grab him, the boy was gone, darting out of the market and into the maze of alleys that wound through the city.

There was a moment of silence, and then Sting burst into tears.

“Hey bud.” Natsu’s voice was gentle as he crouched down next to Sting. “Are you okay?” Sting shook his head, and Natsu made a sad sound, pulling the little boy into a hug. “It’s okay,” Natsu said softly as Sting pressed his face into his shoulder. “You’re safe.”

Gray turned to Rogue, who was staring uncertainly at Sting and Natsu. Gray hesitated, not quite sure if he should step in or let Natsu handle it. Kids weren’t his forte – even with Asuka he sometimes felt awkward and out of place, unsure of how to respond to her exuberance and desire to play.

Then Rogue rubbed their face and Gray realized they were about to cry as well.

“Hey, c’mere,” Gray said gently, holding out his hand. Rogue stared at Sting for a few more seconds, then cautiously took Gray’s hand and followed him over to the fountain. Gray sat down on the edge and lifted Rogue up to sit beside him, surprised by how light they were. Rogue quickly curled up against him as they sniffled and tried to hide their tears.

“Is Sting in trouble?”

“Of course not,” Gray reassured them, wrapping his arm around them as they snuggled closer to him. The easy trust that Rogue seemed to have in him made Gray feel warm and important. “That kid was a jerk,” he said. “Neither of you did anything wrong. Did he hurt you?”

Rogue shook their head, sniffing and wiping their face with their sleeve. “He said my eyes was weird,” they said quietly. Anger flared up in Gray’s chest again and he contemplated chasing the kid down. “Sting telled him to go away but he didn’t listen. Why he was mean?”

“I don’t know,” Gray said honestly. “Sometimes people aren’t very nice and there isn’t a good reason for it.”

Rogue didn’t answer, just rested their head against Gray’s shoulder and played with the frayed edge of their sleeve. Gray looked back at Natsu, who was still crouched next to Sting with a hand on his arm. Sting had stopped crying and his face was set in a stubborn frown, and Gray almost laughed when he realized it was the same look Natsu had always worn at that age.

“You’re nice,” Rogue said, pulling Gray’s attention back to them. “I like you.”

Gray stilled, not quite sure why the words made his cheeks burn. “I like you too,” he said carefully. He looked back at Natsu, who had managed to get Sting to smile, then back down at Rogue. He felt wildly out of his element and he had no idea how to make Rogue feel better. Then he thought of the way Rogue’s face had lit up at the snake sculpture he’d made the day before.

“Hey, you wanna see something cool?”

Rogue looked up at him, half of their face hidden behind a curtain of dark hair. “See what?”

Gray held out both hands, summoning his magic as slowly as he could. Snowflakes drifted up and around his palms as they started to glow with a faint blue light. Rogue’s face immediately brightened with excitement and they leaned forward, staring at the magic.

“You can make a snake again?” they asked as they gazed at the soft blue light.

“Sure,” Gray said, relaxing as Rogue’s tearful expression transformed into a small, shy smile. “I can make anything you want.”

“Anything?” Rogue’s eyes widened further.

“Yep.” Gray moved his fingers and the ice twisted into a snake again, then into a thin, delicate snowflake, then into a small cat. Rogue watched the whole time, head tilted to the side, entranced by the movements.

“You can do it black?” they asked, looking down at their own hands.  

Gray frowned. “Black?” Rogue touched Gray’s forearm and his eyes widened as he realized they meant the devil slayer marks.

“That’s sort of—”

“Like mine.” Rogue held his palm out next to Gray’s and a tiny, black wisp appeared. “See?” Gray watched as it flickered and twisted, then dropped back down onto Rogue’s hand. A bit of it spread out under their skin for a moment, just like the marks on Gray’s arms. “It’s only little cause I did a big one and it scareded Yukino but it was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

The uncertainty and shame in Rogue’s voice made Gray’s heart ache.

“I’m sure she was just surprised,” he reassured Rogue. Then he pushed away his exhaustion and slowly pulled at the devil slayer magic until a pattern of dark marks swirled across his arms. The soft blue glow in his palms darkened as he focused the magic, keeping it from overwhelming him. He jumped when he felt something on his wrist, but it was just Rogue’s fingertips, tracing the pattern of the marks.

“Show me yours again,” Gray said, nudging Rogue’s hands. They hesitated, then held up their palm next to Gray’s, summoning another wisp of shadow that danced along their fingers. “You can make it bigger,” Gray said. Rogue gave him a dubious look. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“’kay.” Rogue squirmed forward, bringing their other hand up as the shadow grew, spiraling and flickering until it was nearly the size of a house cat. Gray nudged it with his own magic, drawing the shadow into the cloud of dark snowflakes.

“See?” He smiled at the delighted expression on Rogue’s face. “It’s not scary. It’s pretty.” The marks on his arms shifted again and he felt the magic trying to stretch. “What should we make?” he asked, trying to ignore the sensation.

“A frog?” Rogue asked. “I like frogs.”

Gray laughed, shifting his magic alongside Rogue’s and molding it into the shape of a small frog that fit in the palm of their hand. Instead of the bright, clear blue from the other day, this one was deep purple, with wisps of shadow twisted inside the ice. It was beautiful, in a strange way.

“Thank you.” Rogue tipped their head onto Gray’s shoulder, letting out a happy sigh and snuggling close as they ran their fingers over the frog. He exhaled, letting the magic sink back into his skin as he wrapped his arm around Rogue again.

They sat in silence for a while as Gray watched Natsu and Sting. Natsu had moved to sit cross-legged on the ground and Sting was in his lap, still red-eyed but no longer crying. The soft, fond feelings that Gray tried so hard to keep to himself surfaced easily as he watched the two of them. Natsu’s smile was genuine and his hands were gentle, and he was beautiful in the shadows of the setting sun.

“All right, you two,” Natsu said eventually, standing and scooping Sting into his arms. “Oof, you’re heavy.”

“I’m five,” Sting said, managing to look indignant even while wrapping his arms around Natsu’s neck. “That’s big.”

“That is big,” Natsu agreed, giving Gray a soft smile as he stood as well, holding a sleepy Rogue in his arms. “Now, let’s go find Yukino.”

[rosenbergh]

Attic slumber parties

I wrote a fic based on this post by @dashuisofanubis because I have no self restraint lmao

Summary: Noa has nightmares and doesn’t feel safe in her room after the events in the season two finale. Solution? Attic slumber parties which keep getting bigger.

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

So here’s the thing: when you’re minding your own business in your room and then someone you were supposed to be able to trust shows up, chloroforms you, kidnaps you, and wants to use you for a ritual along with her partner in crime (another person you were supposed to be able to trust!)—that’s kind of a hard thing to get over.

When it gets revealed that you’re an Egyptian princess, well, that’s something that requires some processing, too. Noa had her suspicions, of course, but to get it confirmed like that with a disgusting piece of skin in a baggie was…something else.

The whole ‘holding the grail up to save Jeroen from getting killed despite not knowing if she would survive the ritual’ thing was probably the worst of it.

But she’s dealing with it! It’s over, done, it happened. Wolf, or Raven, or whatever he wants to call himself, is gone and so is Vera. She prefers to focus on the positives, just forget the whole thing entirely and move on.

At least, that was the plan. When she’s back in her room in the attic, she gets this sick twinge in her stomach. Noa staunchly ignores it and crawls in her bed to go to sleep. The ghost is gone, too (the ghost that is her ancestor, because her life wasn’t crazy enough already), so she has all the peace she needs for a good night’s sleep.

She dreams about being in her room, a place that was supposed to be hers and safe, but Vera and Wolf are there. They sneer and laugh and mock her, you’re not Noa, you’re Fazia, and there’s rope around her wrists, and they’re in the tower—Raven is about to kill Jeroen so she holds up the grail despite his pleas to the contrary, except she doesn’t have the grail, it’s gone, and Raven and Vera are so angry—

She wakes up on the floor, her cheeks wet. “But I love you,” she’s saying. “But I love you.”

Disoriented, she looks around, and concludes she must have fallen out of bed. The dream is over, it wasn’t real. In reality, everything turned out okay, but she still doesn’t feel safe.

Eventually, she goes back to bed and cries herself to sleep.

-

The morning after her nightmare, she sees the bags under her eyes that she saw in the mirror reflected in Jeroen’s. She doesn’t need to ask to know that he had a nightmare, too. He doesn’t ask, either. Both of them know.

Amber, on the other hand, is well-rested and very concerned in that Amber way of hers. She asks if she’s okay, to which Noa replies yes.

“Are you sure?” Amber asks, her perfectly epilated eyebrows resting in a frown. “You look tired. Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” she lies. “I’m just tired because of everything that happened.”

She still doesn’t look satisfied. “Okay, but if something is up, you can always tell me. You know that, right?”

“Of course, Amber,” Noa says. “Thank you.”

The next evening, when she goes up to her room, Jeroen joins her under the guise of watching their favorite horror movies together. It’s very reminiscent of the first time they watched a movie together, except this time when they fall asleep in her bed, it’s deliberate.

Raven and Vera are gone but she’s still the ‘chosen one’, like she’s some overglorified unicorn instead of a human being, and what if there are other rituals that have to involve her? Other people that need her? The possibility of opening the door in her room to another Vera with more chloroform is not an irrational fear and she thinks that, actually, that’s the worst part.

It’s the worst of worst parts, and she dreams about people she trusts like she used to trust Vera and Wolf showing up in her room and the whole mess happening all over again, until she’s gasping awake.

“Whoa,” Jeroen says, steadying, like it’s not weird that they’re both awake at—she blearily glances at the clock—four in the morning. “It’s okay, you’re fine, you’re fine, Noa.”

She’s silent and just breathes while he rubs her arms like he’s trying to soothe the dream away.

“Sorry,” she says when she can’t take the silence anymore.

“For what?”

“Waking you up.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I was already awake.”

She looks at him as best as she can in the dark room, concerned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you?” he counters, which, well, she really doesn’t.

Still, despite herself, she confesses, “I’m scared.”

He’s running his fingers through her hair lightly, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“It’s okay,” he says again, like if he says it enough times it’ll be true. “It’s okay.”

-

They spend the next couple of nights like that, always careful to make sure Victor doesn’t catch him going to the attic at night. It doesn’t always stop the nightmares, but not being alone in her room helps.

“That smells godly,” Appie says, walking into the kitchen excitedly. “What is it? When is it done?”

Trudie gives him a reproachful look while Noa crouches down to put the batter in the oven.

“You’ll have to wait until after dinner to find out,” says Trudie.

Noa stands up again and gives him a smile. “I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

“Something baked by Trudie and Noa? I don’t doubt it.” He smiles back dreamily. “My taste buds thank you in advance.”

She laughs and Trudie exits the kitchen to start cleaning elsewhere.

“So, Noa,” Appie starts nonchalantly once they’re alone. “I couldn’t help but notice Jeroen’s bed has been empty these past few nights.”

“You noticed that, did you? Your powers of observation are out of this world.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “So, what are you crazy kids up to at night? Slumber parties? Ghost hunting?” He does a dramatic gasp, and whispers, “Karaoke?"

“No,” she says sweetly. “Sleeping.”

He frowns. “Well, that’s boring.”

“Tell you what, next time you can join us and liven things up, how does that sound?”

His eyes light up. “Yes, that’s a great idea! I told you, everyone needs a bed Ap. Without one, life is just too sad.”

“Okay, Appie,” she says, humoring him.

She’s sure he’s joking, right up until the moment when not just Jeroen shows up in her room that evening, but Appie as well.

When Appie makes himself comfortable and is clearly gearing up for some shenanigans, she sternly tells him she just wants to sleep.

“Okay,” he says. “So I guess you don’t want to hear about the time Jeroen stripped in front of a teacher.”

Jeroen’s eyes go wide.

“Tell me,” Noa urges, curious, ignoring Jeroen’s protests while Appie gleefully launches into the story.

They spend the rest of the night like that, telling ridiculous stories until they fall asleep. Not a single one of them have a nightmare.

-

The thing is, once Appie starts extending his nightly visits to more than just one time, Amber starts noticing it. And wants in. It’s really hard to say no to Amber when she’s determined, so Noa resigns herself to having three extra people sleep in her room.

It’s way too rowdy an environment for falling asleep in, and if they make more noise Victor’s gonna hear them, but when Noa laughs at Appie’s Victor impression, she doesn’t mind it so much.

“The last time I used my Victor impression, it was to con ourselves a bad replacement of Trudie. It backfired, though.”

Amber shudders next to Noa. “Don’t remind me of that.”

All four of them are in Noa’s bed, and it’s a really tight fit, but she can’t bring herself to demote them to a sleeping bag or chair this time, not when their prescence makes her forget the reason she doesn’t want to be alone in this room.

“Replacement?” Noa asks, confused.

They explain that Trudie had been fired, and as a result things at the house had gotten very unpleasant.

“He built a fence?” she repeats shrilly, before quickly lowering her voice. They’re at the attic, but there is a limit to the amount of sound they can make if they don’t want to get caught. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it was big and blocked the stairs to the first floor completely,” Jeroen confirms.

“And if we didn’t get up at a ridiculously early hour, we didn’t get to eat breakfast!” Amber says, still sounding incredulous about it. “I ended up fainting in class because I was so hungry.”

“So what changed? Why was Trudie allowed to come back?”

“Mick’s father pretty much saved the day,” says Appie.

Noa changes the subject, because the thought of big fences blocking her way out of the house gives her an icky feeling in her stomach. “Hey, Amber, I noticed you were wearing a new dress today. It’s really pretty.”

Amber looks extremely flattered. “Thank you! Finally, someone who can appreciate good taste.”

Appie and Jeroen exchange looks and eyerolls at the direction the conversation is going, but both are smiling.

“I think the clothes you wear are really pretty, too!” Amber continues, excited. “We should go shopping together sometime.”

“I’d like that,” she says. “I don’t always buy my dresses, though. Sometimes, if I have the time and fabric, I make them myself.”

“Really?” Amber looks at her with wide eyes. “I wish I could do that!”

“I could teach you,” she offers.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m not really great with that sort of stuff,” she rambles. “I’m more of a ‘buy the most pretty looking stuff with my dad’s credit card’ type of girl.”

“Nonsense. Everyone can learn how to do it. You’ve already got the style, you just need the skills.”

Amber looks like she just handed her the moon. It makes Noa smile.

“Okay, as interesting as all of this is, I think it’s time we talked about what’s really important: horror.”

“No, Ap, I’ll get nightmares,” Amber protests.

“Well, then what else is there to talk about?”

“Something all of us can talk about,” Jeroen adds.

All are silent for a moment, before Amber perks up. “I’ve got it! We can play truth or dare.”

Appie grins. “Okay, but if it ends with Jeroen and Noa kissing again, I’m out of here.”

-

“This is getting ridiculous,” Noa informs them the next night while Nienke gets in the bed right next to Amber. Appie follows.

Fabian stands next to the bed, uncertain. “I don’t think I’ll fit. I can sleep in the chair.”

“You can fit, come on, just try it,” Nienke says.

“No, I agree with Noa,” says Jeroen. “This is getting way too cramped.”

“Well, then, why don’t you sleep in the chair?” Amber asks, sickly sweet. “And then Fabian can join us.”

Jeroen is silent and doesn’t move from his position, lying on the edge next to Noa. Next to Noa is Amber, then Nienke, and then on the other edge is Appie.

“That’s what I thought,” Amber says smugly to Jeroen.

Fabian smiles at them like they’re crazy and Noa is starting to think the same thing, but he gets in the bed next to Appie nonetheless.

It’s tight and Noa can barely move, yet somehow, when she falls asleep, it’s the best sleep she’s had in weeks.

-

(The next time she’s alone in her room, she doesn’t feel a sick twinge in her stomach. There’s the memory of getting ambushed by Vera, but there’s also countless of memories of sleepovers, and she chooses to focus on those—she feels safe again.)

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

The Guilt Imprisonment - Chapter 01

Summary : "Guilt really was an awful feeling. Lurking in the darkness, always waiting for the worst moment to attack its host, this terrifying emotion could have so many destructive effects on one’s mind. The damage was even worse if said person’s mental health was already in bad shape after hundreds of years passed in absolute isolation.

Other factors could play a role in that as well and, for Moonjumper, it was mostly jealousy, hatred and resentment. All of them had been directed towards one particular person: his other half. While the latter had managed to escape from Vanessa’s basement, Moonjumper had woken up in this nightmarish dimension, one he ended up calling the Horizon."

Moonjumper feels extremely bad about his past actions. His mind cannot help but remember them constantly, trapping him in a prison of guilt. However, he learns that he's not the only one feeling that way...

Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24665326/chapters/59601370

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Guess the sequel of "Reliving An Old Nightmare" is here ! Hope you'll like it !!

If you haven't read "Reliving An Old Nightmare", I highly suggest you do so before starting this one, as you'll probably don't understand this story otherwise. If you like this story, please don't hesitate to tell me !

Also, English is not my native language, so there might be some grammatical mistakes I'll need to correct. Don't hesitate to tell me about them if you find one !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 01 - A New Beginning

Guilt really was an awful feeling. Lurking in the darkness, always waiting for the worst moment to attack its host, this terrifying emotion could have so many destructive effects on one’s mind. The damage was even worse if said person’s mental health was already in bad shape after hundreds of years passed in absolute isolation. Other factors could play a role in that as well and, for Moonjumper, it was mostly jealousy, hatred and resentment. All of them had been directed towards one particular person: his other half. While the latter had managed to escape from Vanessa’s basement, Moonjumper had woken up in this nightmarish dimension, one he ended up calling the Horizon.

He had never been good with names. Coming up with one for this place had been quite hard, given how desert and empty it was. After all, this dimension was just a seemingly infinite void, white everywhere, with small floating islands. Some of them were bare of any element, others had trees and bushes, while certain were full of rocks.

However, only one had a magical pond, and it was the one he was on most of the time. Now that he had gained the ability to float rather than having to crawl on the ground, he had been able to explore the Horizon, discovering what the other islands had to offer. Well, the answer was “not much”, though it was still better than being restricted to a single island. Considering the infinity of this place, Moonjumper tried to use his strings to connect the islands together, as a way to find his way around. It was like a giant map, where he had to follow the strings and their directions to find back his original island. Most of the time, it worked pretty well! Other times… The ghost had to search for it for what seemed hours to him.

Well, time couldn’t be measured here anyway.

His inability to find good names could also be seen in the way he chose to call himself. After coming to hate his other half and what the latter had become, the undead spirit didn’t want to have anything to do with him, and that also covered the person they both used to be. Thus, just like his other part did with his own name, Moonjumper thought of another identity he could use. The process had certainly not been easy and he had had to see which name fitted him the best, which one made him the most comfortable. He had tried to find something related to one of the things he liked the most and, eventually, the name Moonjumper came to him.

The Moon had always been something he had loved, watching it at night. Some people loved to stargaze but, as for him, he always had prefered to admire the beauty of the Moon. Choosing a name based on it seemed like a good idea and he had liked the sound of it.

And then, an opportunity had presented itself to him, an opportunity to leave this cursed place. Moonjumper had not hesitated a single second, manipulating Vanessa during her sleep to contact her. If he had to be honest, he wasn’t even sure how he did that, even to this day. It was before the Time Piece affected his body, his appearance and gave him his… Abilities. But maybe he already had gained some powers after his death, but wasn’t aware of it. Even today, the ghost still didn’t know. What he did know at the time, however, was that a small child had fallen from the sky in the mortal plane… A hatted little child, who had brought with her a lot of powerful artefacts, some sadly lost in Subcon Forest…

All he had had to do afterwards was to find someone desperate enough to listen to him. Someone easy to manipulate, someone who would do anything if promised the impossible… And soon, a plan had appeared in his mind. It was flawless! He had passed so much time planning everything so it would be perfect, so he would finally leave and get his revenge at the same time! What a wonderful opportunity!

Except it wasn’t. Because he had killed a kid in his attempt to get free.

Leaning on a tree, back in the Horizon, he closed his eyes. A lot of things had changed since then and, one of the biggest difference was that he was now able to go in and out of this dimension as he pleased. The spirit’s face winced as he remembered the scene. So much blood, so many tears and cries, the little girl’s body sliding against the ice as gravity pulled her body closer to the floor… It has been so awful, so horrible… And something the ghost had never wanted to do in the first place.

… Well, this wasn’t entirely true. He did try to kill her once, shackling her in the cellar, next to his unconscious other half. The truth was that, even if he had considered her as a threat to him because of her magical hats and knowledge regarding other dimensions… Moonjumper was not a killer. Contrary to his other half who had named himself The Snatcher, the spirit had never killed anyone voluntarily, let alone a child. When he had to get rid of her… He had chickened out, unable to murder her. All he had been able to do at the time was to lock her somewhere, hoping the collapsing rift would kill her instead, taking away the dirty work off his hands.

And it had been the same with Snatcher and Vanessa: it had all been hot air, bluff, lies, empty threats! Anything so he wouldn’t have to kill them himself. Using the hatted child as a hostage had given him the perfect escape scenario! Snatcher and Vanessa hadn’t been able to attack him while he was holding the little girl, just like he had planned. However… He hadn’t planned said kid would risk her life to get free. When the spirit had pushed her away, trying to avoid her attack… He had never meant to kill her. It had all been a huge accident!

The ghost curled up, taking his head into his hands. He could feel the sensation of his claws scratching his head, leaving marks as he brought them down. It made an awful sound. Silence was everywhere around him, making his thoughts even louder in his mind. Guilt was an unbearable feeling. Every day, every hour, every minute, every second… This was all he could think about: how he had murdered an innocent kid.

It hadn’t been a definitive death, but still.

After his other half broke the Time Piece, he had woken up in the attic, just like he was before being teleported outside the Rift. Next to him were the unconscious bodies of Snatcher, Vanessa and… The hatted kid’s. Since there hadn’t been any ice pillars in this version of the attic, the child had been lying on the floor, safe and sound. A sudden wave of relief had engulfed him as he had realized that she was still alive. He had tried to float closer, wanting to be sure, though Vanessa had woken up, trying to attack him.

He barely escaped that day.

The spirit had been free since then. Yet, he didn’t feel like he deserved this newfound freedom, especially because it had happened thanks to a child’s -temporary- death. Eventually, he had learnt that his body had been much more affected by the Time Piece than what he first thought.

First, the ghost was now alive and dead at the same time. It was extremely weird to him, in a lot of ways. One of them was that he could feel and smell things, contrary to his other half, who apparently couldn’t. Another one was that, while he didn’t need to eat, he felt the need to sleep. He could also feel pain, though he wasn’t able to heal his injuries, the ones caused by Snatcher. The latter had ripped the Time Piece out of his ribcage, breaking bones and bruising some organs in the process. Now, some time had passed since then, probably a few months from what Moonjumper had been able to tell, but… His body had remained unchanged, still as damaged as before. Since he didn’t have any healing magic, the only thing he could do was tying his chest up, in order to keep it closed. He had thought about closing it definitely by sewing his own skin, but… The very idea made him extremely uncomfortable. Considering he could feel pain now, this was not something he wanted to do. Thus, he had chosen the least painful solution, hoping that one day he’ll have the courage to do more than this.

He knew he wouldn’t, though.

The spirit let out a huge sigh and lifted his head back up, his eyes reexamining his surroundings: nothing ever changed in this place, it always remained the same. Just like him, in the end.

Moonjumper materialized several red strings, tying them between his fingers as he started to draw forms with them, mindlessly playing as his thoughts kept on wandering.

He couldn’t say he liked going back to the Horizon. Yet, even if he now had the possibility to leave and explore the world he had yearned so much… It was -oh- so overwhelming. The mortal plane was so lively, so noisy, so full of sensations he had lost the habit of feeling… At first, Moonjumper had been so happy to leave the Horizon, but soon his senses had been submerged, hit by a wave of sensations he had forgotten the existence.

Plus… There were a lot of people staring at him, judging him from afar… But who could blame them? It wasn’t every day one could see a literal living corpse! Though, all those stares and scared glances made Moonjumper feel even worse about himself. His new appearance was a reminder of what he did, of the bad things he had done just to be free… Of the death of an innocent child. It was too much.

Eventually, he couldn’t help but come back to the Horizon, where it was calm, where there was no one else but him, where no one would judge him. He did that very well on his own anyway. He still liked to leave this place, of course! Just… Not too long and only when it was late in the mortal plane. In that case, there wouldn’t be too many people staring at him.

It was really ironic! He had wanted to be free, to get out of there so much… And now, he was trapped again, trapped by his own loneliness. He did try to talk to people, but most of them were either scared or really uncomfortable by his presence. In the end, his situation was even worse than before. Yes, he could leave, but now his inability to socialize was his own fault. When he was stuck in the Horizon, he had his other half to blame for that… Now, he had no one else to blame other than himself.

It was a very different matter.

Moonjumper made the strings disappear and he stared into space. He needed to take his mind off all of this. Maybe a walk at night would help him? It had been a long time since the last one. He had been focusing on staying outside longer and longer. The mortal plane was overwhelming, but it was becoming easier to bear all those new sensations. It was a slow process, but it was progress nonetheless.

The ghost lifted himself from the ground, using his new floating abilities to move. He flew higher and higher, getting farther off the island he was on. Then, he extended his hands in front of him, grabbing empty space with them. But there was still something, even if it wasn’t visible. Clenching his teeth, the spirit started pulling the reality apart, separating it with his hands as he tried opening a window to the mortal plane. It was hard, and Moonjumper could feel his arms getting tired quickly at how difficult it was. But, after a few seconds, he managed to open a passage. The sight of a city greeted him, a town plunged into the darkness of the night, with no one outside. It was apparently a calm city surrounded by water, with tall buildings. An island, perhaps? But it mattered little to the ghost: all he wanted was to go on a stroll without catching anyone’s attention.

And this place seemed perfect for that. Before leaving his dimension, he examined the city once more, smelling the sea air as he passed his head through the crack. It was a messy town, with garbage and graffiti everywhere. There were a lot of scaffoldings, as if the city had gone through major changes. Many crates were scattered around. There was a beach, though it seemed just as messy as the rest of the island. Several hot-air balloons were settled on the sand, all empty. A huge geyser was coming out of the centre of the town, holding up a sort of platform on which could be seen a building.

Moonjumper let a small smile appear on his features, something he barely did nowadays: this was going to be a promising stroll, he thought, as he entered the new dimension, the crack slowly closing behind him.

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Hope you liked that first chapter ! :D

See you soon on the next chapter ! Take care in the meantime !

=> Chapter 02

[chibi-honey-cake]

Top 10 favorite preds?

OH, SO YOU HAVE CHOSEN BEARS. Perhaps you didn't know what you were asking, but I am holding back more love for the bears from the Fi.ve Ni.ghts at Fre.ddy's series than is necessarily healthy, I'm sure. So it’s all bears on this list. Please note that these are my interpretations of the characters.

Get ready for Freddy some fancy singer bears because this girl is all about them sharp-dressed preds! [Stick around 'til the end for honorable mentions, a.k.a. If Chibi Wasn't Completely Teddy-Beared] Also beneath the cut because this got STUPID LONG.

10. Nightmare Freddy The only canonical parent. *snicker* I put him this low because despite being what I would call a demon, he's kinda vanilla in my head. He has sharp teeth, claws, a great intimidating aura and sure, he can make you fear for your safety... But in the end, he's careful with those pointy things. (Side note: In most of my writing the Nightmares feed off of fear, which leads to a lot of teasing fearplay with no real harm.)

9. Classic Freddy/Withered Freddy (Hey, they're the same character, shut up) He was my original crush of the series and I'm always going to love the main bear singer. Half of the time I portray him as a soft, charming pred that gently coaxes prey into being eaten and the other half he's a huGE TEASE, grinning and cooing to prey about how filling they'll be squirming in his gut all nice and snug- AAAA! He has the 'suave smile' down pat, I don't know how he does it!

8. Nightmare Fredbear Okay, look. He's intimidating, huge, wide, has sharp teeth, a belly maw, and claws. He is literally made to tower over you and make you question reality, a demon sent to torment... Really, he's a smug, teasing monster that relishes in your nervous stammering and fearful trembling. He wouldn't really harm someone, he's more interested in the fear they exude though. He also borrows some teleport powers from both being a Nightmare and a copy of Golden Freddy, so sometimes he'll appear behind you with that big, toothy, smug-jerk grin until your skin crawls enough to notice him... Or his belly rumbles ravenously right behind your head. And his tummy is LOUD when you're outside, let alone inside...

7. Lefty Okay, Lefty's a little hard to explain. He's calm and gentle in his daily life performing alongside the Rockstar models, sometimes even more slow and quiet. He likes to watch others more than participate, opting to stare. Sure, maybe he's just shy... Or maybe he's calculating the best place to catch you by yourself. Most of the time though, he's more concerned with the health of those around him. If he thinks you're pushing yourself too hard, he'll gently make sure you'll take a break. He'll shush prey as he holds them carefully inside, reassuring them. Often he will activate his inner music box to soothe his prey to sleep. He just wants you to take a nap- in his belly~

6. Shadow Freddy/Phantom Freddy Okay yes, two different characters, but I treat them more like brothers or duplicates of one another. They act almost the same, so I'm cheating shut up. Phantom Freddy is a ghost, obviously, and Shadow Freddy is a shadow entity, again obviously. They are both non-verbal most of the time when I write for them, opting instead to nudge and gesture (and tease like the dickens in a one-sided conversation). But they purr loud to let you know if they're enjoying themselves.Since they are both beings made of energy, that's what they need to maintain their forms. They just 'borrow' some liveliness from their prey, which leaves the prey a little drained afterward. But that's something that can be solved with a nap and some snacks~ Some friendly warnings- since they are not really physically solid, they're known for surprising prey. They love hugs, both outside- and inside. It depends on the day whether they are going to swallow prey- or just absorb them into their bodies. But it's like floating in cool air- you're okay with that, right?

5. Molten Freddy I have so many feels for my poor, unraveled boy... He's gone through a lot, stuck in a long, snaky coily body by himself, but he still has such a sweet demeanor! His mass appears so much bigger now that his endoskeleton has come undone, Molten Freddy can control all of his coils separately. He's starved for attention and if someone shows the slightest empathy to him, he latches onto them hard. He's so fond of hugs that he'll hold prey with his coils and call them sweet names until they fluster bright red. Then he'll wrap them up and swallow them slowly, purring as he works them down deeper into his metal-cable body for long, internal hugs... Bear with snake body, yeth~

4. Nightmare Okay, so Nightmare Fredbear? Just- magnify all of that. Like, 2000% magnification. Nightmare is what his name suggests: a literal embodiment of nightmares. His teasing can get rough, borderline possessive sometimes. When he feels he's going overboard in terrorizing his prey, he'll subtly ease back. But let's face it, it's easy to go overboard when you're... well, basically the King of Fearplay. He can be a pushy jerk, being the leader of the Nighmares means he calls a lot of the shots... But if you know him well enough, he'll reveal more of his true self and become easier to deal with. He'll be your huge, intimidating back-up with an army of nightmares at his command- no one will mess with you again. But when faced with his insatiable appetite, it means that you'll be dealing with his belly maw more often than his fear-inspiring appearance.

3. Fredbear/Golden Freddy/Withered Golden Freddy (Again, same character) Ah, a wonderful golden bear! He has such versatility since you see him in so many eras! As a younger bear, he was more polite and reserved. As the years wore on, he began to get more... sloppy, for lack of a better term. His politeness wore down and he became less reserved, starting to be more teasing and smug. By the time the first game started, he was a grinning, teleporting menace. He loves to spook prey by appearing behind them, then pinning them against the wall to fluster the daylights out of them with his ravenous appetite. "I've been empty for so long... Could you help me with that~?" He can get possessive over his prey occasionally, and he loves nothing more than lounging around with a squirming belly full of delicious prey.

2. Funtime Freddy The excitable boy, despite being my main F/O, number two on the list of favorite preds? *gasp* Okay so I LOVE Funtime Freddy so much, it's not funny. ...There's a pun in there somewhere. Hm. He's such a silly bear, so full of energy! He's bouncy and giggly most of the time, always ready and glad to spend time with someone! There's only one problem... He also burns a lot of energy and his tummy often reminds him to eat with sudden, sharp growling. And when your hunger is that fast and demanding... Oftentimes the best food source is his tasty prey friend literally right next to him! Hope the prey doesn't mind the sudden change of scenery! He has an issue with going too fast out of eagerness to fill his tummy, so sometimes he'll give himself a tummyache. Guess the prey better get to work soothing their big pal's tum, huh?

1. Toy Freddy That's right, my soft boy~ He's such a nervous, fretting bear that needs some soft reassurance and hugs. Good thing he's already soft and plush, ready for someone to soothe his nerves. He's extremely polite and reserved, never wanting to impose or bother others... But sometimes his tummy speaks up for him. If he's hungry, he cannot stop the starved rumbling of his empty tummy and he will be so flustered about it! Apologizing, stammering, trying to subtly rub his tum to calm it down (not knowing it's doing the opposite), he's a flushed, famished mess. Most of the time it takes a prey offering themselves up for Toy Freddy to eat them and he'll constantly ask, "Are you sure?" He goes slow to ensure prey's comfort and because he absolutely must savor their flavor, thanking them gratefully as his belly accepts its treat with loud approval. (But if the prey is oblivious and his hunger gnaws too hard for too long, he might snap and stuff the prey into his mouth. He'd apologize profusely after he'd gulped them down, ashamed at his own behaviour. Don't drive the poor soft boi to those measures...)

[Sorry, Rockstar Freddy. Your politeness, smooth compliments, and offers of 'substitute payment' weren't enough to get you on the list. I'll make it up to you later.]

Okay so, here for the honorable mentions now? Unfortunately, I haven't really branched out very far beyond these bears when it comes to noms, but here's a few I've experimented with or am thinking of experimenting with.

King Dedede (from Kir.by) - He's such a glutton, though! He's kind of bossy and definitely greedy for food, but oh well lunch isn't for another ten minutes so his servant or guest might just have to do until then! It may be sudden and lunch may end up joining you, but at least his belly is pretty spacious! He's a kind pred behind closed doors where no one can see his nice side, happily holding prey inside. And he'll definitely let you out later, just... keep squirming, your king demands it~

Globox (from Ra.yman) - A huge, plump frog-like friend! He literally eats stuff to store it repeatedly in Rayman 2 and (although I haven't played it yet) in Rayman 3, I think Globox accidentally swallows the bad guy and the whole plot is about getting them out? I wonder why there's not more content of him out there, he's positively MADE for this community, lol.

King K.Rool (from Don.key Ko.ng 64) - Okay so, lemme call myself out. Past Chibi, who didn't know what vore was at the tender age of 10, had a fascination with the villain of DK64. -And had daydreams of causing trouble with my friends the Kongs only to be captured and eaten by K.Rool as an act of punishment against the Kongs? Didn't know why I liked that thought, but I just- kept coming back to it! Now I know why! Considering how H U G E he is compared to the Kongs in that last boss fight, um... G/t vore? Haha!

Slimes (from Sli.me Ran.cher)- We knew this was coming. Considering the very nature of our ranching-of-slimy-friends game, I couldn't help but think of plenty of pred and prey scenarios. But the best pred scenario I can think of is an inexperienced rancher coming across a gordo slime (which is a ton of slimes congealed into a larger one). Of course they're a dumb-bucket and decide to poke it when their vac-pac doesn't work, which leads to them getting stuck and sucked into the sticky, slimy mess. When they get free somehow, they embarrassingly admit it to another rancher who laughs. "Oh, that happens to everyone once."

TL:DR- Chibi has EXTREME CRUSH on several dapper bears and very clearly has a pred type [taller, larger, and stronger than her].

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter nine

i apologize from the bottom of my heart for this chapter taking so long!! school sucks and takes up so much time. so please enjoy all these words that i wrote! big plots coming up real soon!! also i apologize in advance for the amount of pov changes in this chapter lol.

genre: angst, fluff, smut

pairing: season 10 spencer reid x female oc

warnings: talk of childhood abuse, smut, alcohol consumption, guns, me not knowing anything about art

words: 10.2k

AMELIA

I’m practically drenched in sweat when I wake up, cocooned in Spencer’s arms with my face pressed into his neck. Spencer becomes a furnace during the night, and combining his body heat with his tendency to cuddle me for hours upon hours, waking up sweaty is a common occurrence. My nose scrunches up and I start my gentle trek to unravel from Spencer’s arms. Thankfully, his grip isn’t too tight and he lets me go, snoring away and tucking his hands under my pillow. 

I have every intention of getting up to go make breakfast before Spencer has to leave, but when I linger and let myself admire his face, I stop in my tracks. I revel in the beauty of his little button nose and his unruly eyebrows and his dimples, a different type of warmth spreading through my body. I resist the urge to reach forward and run my fingers over his face. He needs to get as much sleep as possible before he returns to work in a few hours. 

Work. I guess he has to go back to work. Our six weeks together were absolutely amazing and only made me fall deeper in love with Spencer. We switched from apartment to apartment for the first two weeks or so, spending most of our time watching movies, laying in bed, or sitting on the balcony as we share a blanket. And once Spencer was mobile again, we opted to go out more than we had been. We went to the grocery store, bookshops, dinners, a drive-in movie, and Spencer even took me to a planetarium. We stayed there for hours as Spencer rambled on and on and on about the stars and planets and constellations. I don’t think I retained any of the information he relayed but I didn’t care and I still don’t. I got to spend time with my boyfriend with my head on his chest as he hugged me as tight as he could and that is all that matters. 

But now he’s leaving and he will be returning to his insane job. He will be traveling for days at a time and at a moment’s notice, leaving me to stress over his well-being and safety. That’s a feeling that I don’t miss. I shake my head at my own intrusive thoughts, pulling away from my peaceful boyfriend. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and bury my face in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut as the horrible images of Spencer in the hospital resurface in my brain. I'm not even the one with the eidetic memory and I can still vividly remember how broken and weak he was after having three serious brushes with death in two days.

"Amelia?" I hear Spencer's voice behind me, the bed dipping as he rolls over. "What's wrong?"

I hastily wipe my cheeks and shake my head again, waving my hand. "Nothing, go back to bed."

I flinch when I feel Spencer's hand on my waist, his arms wrapping around my midsection, his chest pressing against my back so I'm sitting between his legs. "You're crying," his morning voice is undeniably sexy and raspy in my ear as he rests his chin against my shoulder. "Talk to me, please."

I place my hands on top of his where they rest on my stomach, intertwining our fingers and trying to remind myself that he's here and he's safe. But he won't be soon. He'll be off in the field and he'll be around the worst that society has to offer. People who kill without a second thought and don’t care if they take a federal agent and leave a sobbing, lovesick girlfriend behind. He faced three people like that and almost lost his life. It's a miracle he's even sitting here right now.

"Amelia?" He asks again, peering over my shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of my face. "Come on, talk to me. I don’t want you to cry."

"I just," I let my head fall back against his shoulder, wanting to be as close to him as possible, scooting my butt back until my body is completely flush against his, "I don't want you to go. I'm so scared you'll get hurt again and I can't- I don't wanna see you like that again, Spence, I can't-"

“Okay, okay, come here,” Spencer pats my thigh and scoots back against the headboard, opening his arms for me. I crack a smile, silently crawling into his arms and curling up against his chest. I can hear the steady rhythm of Spencer’s heartbeat in my ear, calming me down to the point where I almost fall back asleep. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. I’ll fall asleep on top of Spencer, he won’t have the heart to move my sleeping body, and then he has to stay home from work. It’s a win for everyone, except maybe Spencer’s boss.

"I'm gonna come home to you," Spencer whispers, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "I always have. I mean, I got shot and I still came home, right?"

"Spencer, acknowledging your gunshot wound isn’t helping,” I lift my head and my eyes wander to his neck, seeing the mark that's there, no longer a wound or even a scab, just a scar that will likely take a long time to fade, if it does at all. "I’m always gonna worry. I still worry about what types of situations you'll get yourself into and how many people are dying and if you're in danger and if someone is targeting you. I’ll always be worrying about you, except for the moments when you’re right next to me.”

"I know," Spencer sighs, brushing my hair behind my ears. His soft touch sets my skin on fire, and every time his lips touch my skin, I shutter. "I know it's hard and I'm sorry that you have to deal with this alone. But you know that I'll call you as much as I can to check in while I'm away. I might not even get a case today and then we can be together tonight! You never know what could happen.”

"I just-" I pause again, resting my forehead against Spencer’s chin, breathing in the lingering scent of the body wash that I’ve caught sight of in his bathroom. I try to breathe it in as much as possible so I can remember it when he leaves, “I love you. I love you so much.”

Spencer grins. Every time I recite those beautiful three words to him, even after six weeks of telling him at least four times every day, he stills grins in the most adorable way. "And I love you too. Don't worry your pretty little head about me, though. Go to your studio and make some more of your beautiful art. You haven't exercised your creative side properly in almost six weeks and you need to get it all out."

"Text me," I completely ignore what he says, far too wrapped up in my anxiety. "Just text me if you get a case and text me all the time if you can't call me, just so I know-"

"I always do," Spencer cuts me off. "Don't stress out too much, Lia. I've got a gun and my team, that's all I need. I'll come home to you, don't worry."

My bottom lip quivers as more tears threaten to fall, and I grip Spencer's tee shirt in my fists. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Course," he lures me closer, pressing his lips to mine in a feather-light kiss. For whatever reason, the simple kiss calms me down. For a millisecond, it makes me forget that he's about to run into the belly of the beast yet again. The pain returns when we pull away, and I wish I could keep kissing him forever to keep him in my arms and protect him from the horrors he is about to go see. "Alright," Spencer sighs, his hands falling to my waistline, "I've gotta start getting ready or we won't have time to get coffee."

“And tea!”

“Yes, and tea for you.”

I pull away and climb out of his bed, running my fingers through my hair as I reach for my bag, stuffed full of clothes, setting it on the bed. Spencer silently climbs out and heads into the bathroom to shower, leaving me in the bedroom to change. My hands are still shaking but I try to calm myself. Spencer seems calm so why shouldn't I be? He’s the trained federal agent here, so I have nothing to worry about, right? He knows what he’s doing and he’s been doing this job for years. I don’t need to worry. Please stop worrying.

I'm tightening my belt just as Spencer is coming out of the bathroom fully dressed, running his fingers through his wet hair. He looks criminally attractive but I don't let myself get distracted for long, tying my shirt up and running my fingers through my curls to tame them just a bit. I sit on the bed and tie on my tennis shoes, seeing Spencer clipping on his watch, always over the cuff of his sleeve. When he cranes his neck to get his tie on, I see the scar again and I have to tear my eyes away before I start crying for the third time this morning.

"Are you gonna be here when I come back?" Spencer asks, moving to stand in front of me, my eyes raking up his body until our eyes lock. He’s smiling, almost like he’s excited to go back to the job that got him addicted to drugs and the job that got him shot twice, and the job that gives him constant nightmares.

"I can be," I stand, giving him a weak smile as I reach for my overnight backpack. I wordlessly toss open the bedroom door and pick up Spencer's messenger bag, handing it over to him as he follows me. I don't even wait for him before I leave the apartment, hearing him closing and locking the door behind us.

Spencer only catches up to me when we get onto the sidewalk outside, the welcomed warmth from the sun soaking into our skin. He captures my hand in his and doesn't let go, intertwining our fingers and squeezing. "Why do I get the feeling that you're mad at me? Did I say something?"

I tug on his hand and he comes closer, allowing me to rest my head on his arm as we walk, our pace slowing a bit. I don't have the proper words to express the utter fear I'm feeling. I've lost the people I love before and I can't let that happen again. If I lose Spencer then there's no reason for me to be on this earth anymore. I can’t keep dealing with the heartbreak. I've never loved anyone the way I love him and if that gets ripped away from me yet again, I don't know what I'd do. I can’t lose my family and the love of my life and expect to continue living my life. I wouldn’t be able to. 

"No," I answer his question weakly. I feel Spencer's eyes on me but I don't dare to look up at him, despite the way I crave to be comforted by the beauty of his eyes. "I’m not- no.”

"I don't want to go to work with you like this. I don't wanna leave you upset," he brings our hands up, pressing his lips to my knuckles. "And," he sighs dramatically, loudly, dropping our hands back down to our sides, "love, if this is too much for you and my job is too much, you don't have to stick around.”

I instantly freeze, my feet melting into the concrete sidewalk. "Are you breaking up with me? B-Because you think I can't handle the baggage that comes with your job?"

"No, no," Spencer shakes his head, standing in front of me and grabbing my cheeks. His forwardness would surprise me any day, but I’m stunned that he is willing to act like this and show any level of PDA on a public sidewalk while everyone is rushing to work. "I don't wanna break up with you, god no. But I love you and if you're in pain because of what I'm doing then I don't want you to go through that.”

"I don't wanna leave you. I'm not in pain, Spencer," I reach my trembling fingers forward and place them at his waistline, clutching the soft fabric of his cardigan. "I've lost people. And I love you so much. I don't wanna lose you like I've lost everyone else in my life but I don't wanna leave you. That's the last thing I wanna do. I just want you to be safe and I want you to come home to me, that's all I want."

"I will, I always will. But like I said, just go to your studio and focus on your work. I’ll text and call when I can, but I want you to worry about yourself. Do all the work you didn’t get to do when you were taking care of me. And thanks for that, by the way." Spencer brings his lips down to mine again, thumbs brushing against my cheekbones. I hold him there for longer than we probably should be kissing on a public sidewalk, but as people rush past us on their commute to work, I keep my focus on him. "Let's go, come on, I need my coffee and you need your tea."

Spencer grabs my hand again and pulls me along the sidewalk, dodging hurrying businessmen in tight suits. I'm glad Spencer doesn't wear suits to work, not like his unit chief. I'm sure he'd look incredibly attractive in them, but I like his style. Focus, Amelia. Your boyfriend is about to return to the job that got him shot. Stop thinking about his outfits and his sense of style. Get your head out of your ass.

Spencer orders both of our drinks and then brings me over to our normal booth, and I usually sit across from him, but today, I sit on the same side as him. He doesn't seem to mind, though, as he pulls his messenger bag off his shoulder and places his hand on my thigh. I lean my head onto his shoulder and let my eyes close, letting the warmth from the cup in my hand and Spencer’s hand on my leg spread to the rest of my body. 

"Are you nervous to go back?" I finally ask the question that's been on the tip of my tongue all morning. Well, maybe it’s not the only question I’ve been dying to ask. There are a million other questions that I could ask and none of them would feel right. Not to say that this one is the right one, but this one seems natural.

Spencer hums. "I try not to let myself get nervous because then I make mistakes and I can't afford mistakes. I block out nerves. I'm not happy to be leaving you because I've loved spending six weeks with you, but I'm excited to be getting back to work and-"

"Helping people," I finish for him. Spencer nods and goes quiet again. My other questions are swirling around in my head and as much as I tell myself to shut them out, they don’t stop. "I have another question. It’s an, um, an odd question."

"And what would that be?”

"I know I'm not the profiler here," he chuckles as I shift around to face him, "but I've noticed that you never wear your gun around me. You wear your holster but not your gun. When I go to see Penelope at the BAU, everyone has their guns, even outside the buildings. Your team had their guns in the hospital, even Mike always had his gun on him at home. Why don't you?"

Spencer hums once more, taking a moment to think through his answer. The silence makes me regret asking the question. I’m dying to know, but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Is Spencer uncomfortable? Is that why he’s quiet? "I don't think I really need to. I don't feel the need to subject you to the constant presence of a gun.”

"It doesn't bother me," I tell him softly, tracing my finger around the rim of my cup. I avoid eye contact. "I've seen worse than a gun. I can shoot a gun, did I tell you that?"

Spencer's eyebrows shoot up. "Um, no. You didn't tell me that. I want to ask why you know how to shoot a gun but I don’t think I want to know the answer.”

"I'm not that good at it," I take a sip of my piping hot tea, shrugging my shoulders in a way that is far too nonchalant for this conversation. "Mike taught me a few years ago. Self-defense and all. He actually came to me about it. I was the oldest kid in the house so if anything were to happen when he wasn’t around, I’d know how to shoot one of his spare guns."

Spencer gingerly places his cup on the table, pulling his hand away from my thigh and placing them in his lap. "Just because you know how to shoot a gun doesn't mean I have to go around, parading mine on my hip whenever you're around."

"Have you ever noticed," I ignore his insistence of my innocent, angel personality, "that I don't cool down my tea?"

Spencer taps his fingers against the table, not even looking at me. "Yeah, actually, I have noticed that."

I glance around the emptying cafe and notice that the booths around us are empty and nobody is in earshot. "When I did ‘bad things’ like get a snack during the night or come home thirty seconds late from school or ask what was for dinner, my dad used to hold me down, force open my mouth, pull out my tongue and hold it out, and pour hot sauce on it. It basically fried my tongue to the point where the heat from a cup of tea or coup doesn’t bother me. It’s nothing compared to what I’m used to. I spent my childhood getting hot sauce on my tongue and getting cigarette burns all over my body. I’ve done things and seen some pretty fucked up things throughout my life and, frankly, seeing a gun on your hip won't affect me more than seeing a tattoo of my dead brother on my arm will." 

Spencer grabs onto my arm, gentler than ever, tracing his fingers over a few tattoos- the ones I didn’t tell him about. With my spare hand, I grab my tea and take another sip. “Those five are for my foster homes.”

“Your foster homes? You hated them. Why would you get them tattooed?” 

“Because they’re apart of me,” I shrug one more time and twist my arm around in Spencer’s grasp. “The cactus is from when I lived in Arizona. Pretty self-explanatory. The book is from one house I lived in right next to a library and I would sneak out at night and break into the book drop off bin and read the books that people were returning. The bumblebee is from a house with a wasps nest in the backyard, and it’s where I found out I’m allergic to bee stings. The turtle is from when the house had a pet turtle. And the heart is from a house I lived in where they had this weird metal replica of a heart, and my foster brother at the time broke it and we all got beat up for it. So there, now you know about all my tattoos and about most of my shitty childhood.” Just in time, the alarm on my phone goes off. "You've gotta go," I collect my cup and my phone, slipping out of the booth and stomping towards the door.

Spencer follows after me quickly, his long legs carrying him over to me at record speed. And despite the negative energy radiating off of me, Spencer laces his pinky with mine as I start to walk towards the train. Our laced pinkies are such a tiny gesture but it fills my body with so much love and warmth that my ears tear up. Spencer doesn’t say anything about my bad attitude or the new information I just blurted out. He just pulls me closer to his body and swings our arms between us. When we get to the metro station, Spencer doesn’t make any effort to go down the stairs. He wraps me in his arms and holds me as tight as he can.

"Be careful, okay?" I tuck my face into the crook of his neck and inhale his scent, an intoxicating combination of coffee, peppermint, and some musky cologne. Spencer kisses the top of my head and squeezes my waist. "I love you so, so much. I don't want another call from Penelope that you're in the hospital, okay? No more of that.”

Spencer nods against me. “No more of that,” he confirms.

“Do you promise?”

"Of course, I promise."

///

SPENCER

///

It's refreshing to finally be back in the BAU after six weeks off with the girl I love, but my mind is racing and part of me can't even enjoy being back. The elevator doors open and I easily spot Morgan and JJ chatting in the bullpen through the glass doors, but I take a sharp right. I knock quickly on Garcia's door, waiting to hear her shout before opening.

She gasps and grins when I enter, jumping out of her chair to come give me a hug. "It's so good to see you, Spencer! How are you feeling? How's Amelia? How was it spending six weeks together?"

"I'm fine, she's amazing, and six weeks off was great and I'm happy to be back. But I need you to do something for me." I speak quickly, far too scatterbrained to hold off on my train of thought.

"Oh," she looks a bit stunned as she nods and hurries back to her computer. "I'm at your service, Boy Wonder."

"Okay," I lean over her chair with a heavy sigh as the guilt starts to weigh on me. "I, um, I need you to look up the case that Amelia was involved in."

Garcia whips her head back to me, her eyes wide. "She told you about that?"

"Yeah, she did. And I need you to look it up."

"But why?" Garcia whines as she types in Amelia's name. "I feel icky when I look up my friends and family. I don't like poking into their lives. I already unsealed the court documents from when Rossi made me look them up and I felt absolutely horrible about that."

I lean in closer to read the screen when a whole load of documents and paperwork pop up. "Alright. Damien Kelsey was arrested by Gideon and Rossi, and Amelia was taken to a foster home. He was found guilty on thirty-seven counts of murder on women but he was-"

"Oh my god," Garcia's eyes widen, her hands stilling over her keyboard.

"Print all this information out for me," I demand without meaning to sound so rude, but I barely even give it a second thought as I go storming out of Garcia's lair. I throw open the doors to the bullpen, my eyes locked on one particular closed door. My blood boils hotter than ever before and my hands ball up into fists. Morgan and JJ both greet me from their desks but I ignore them, instead throwing open Rossi's door and then slamming it closed.

Rossi, understandably, looks alarmed as I enter. I can't help the anger that bubbles up in me, but I don't even think it's aimed at him. I think I'm just angry at the world. I just want to wrap Amelia up in my arms and protect her in my arms. From the moment I met her, I just wanted to protect her. I wanted to keep her out of my insane job and to put her in a bubble of innocence and happiness. But knowing that her innocence has already been tainted and her childhood was ruined makes my heart hurt more than it already does.

"Reid?" Rossi stands from his desk, brows furrowed. "What's going on?"

"Damien Kelsey.”

Rossi sighs, relaxing back into his chair and crossing his arms. "So Amelia told you about her father."

"Yeah, she did. But she didn’t tell me,” I slam a stack of papers on the desk in front of him, “this. And this seems pretty damn important.”

"Reid, take a seat, please," Rossi states, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. But when I don't, he knows it's not worth it to continue to harp on it. "I’m aware of this and it’s being dealt with.”

“It’s being dealt with? For over a decade?” I snap. “This is something that should be done already!”

A knock on the door interrupts us, and Garcia pops her head in. "Sorry to end this very loud conversation, but I have some questions about what dessert I should be bringing tomorrow. Chocolate chip cookies or apple fritters?”

I whip my head back to Rossi, pointing at the papers on his desk. “This conversation isn’t over.”

AMELIA

I took Spencer’s advice and went straight to my art studio after he disappeared into the train station. I desperately needed something to distract me and working usually does the trick. So I rush a few blocks over and throw on an apron, getting to work. I haven’t done much work, other than simple drawings, the last few weeks and it’s nice to get back to the thing I love. I guess that’s how Spencer feels about going back to work today. Maybe I should have been more accepting and supportive of his return to the BAU. 

I lose myself in my work, tossing paint at a canvas and creating everything I possibly can in the shortest amount of time. I’m not sure when my time here could be interrupted so I try to get all of my thoughts onto canvas before I have to leave. I’m there for hours and hours before taking a break even crosses my mind. So I collapse into the bean bag chair in the corner of the room and take a break for the first time all day.

Now, Penelope Garcia is an absolute master at what she does. I’ve seen her in action a few times and I’ve heard plenty of stories from Spencer about how she solves a case and finds an unsub just in time to save a life. Penelope Garcia has never been to my studio before but I become momentarily convinced that she broke in and installed cameras to watch me because the second I sit down to take a break, she calls me.

“Hello, my love,” I greet her sweetly. “How is going at the BAU today?”

“Hello, Girl Wonder! It is going great at the BAU today. So far, it’s been a paperwork day and I’ve been bored so I wanted to call you to check up on my new best friend.”

Oh, thank god. It’s a paperwork day. Hopefully, it’ll stay that way and I’ll get to spend the night with Spencer. 

“Oh, that’s sweet, Penny. I’m doing pretty well. I’m at my studio right now and working on some new pieces. I haven’t really been able to work lately so I’m cramming all my thoughts into a few hours,” I take a glance around my studio, or more specifically, at the paint splatters on the wall and the brushes on the floor, “or actually, just making a total mess.”

“I’m not the best painter so you should teach me how to paint. Oh! Oh! I know! You should teach a paint night for the BAU! That would be so much fun. And maybe you could do it at Rossi’s dinner party tomorrow!”

“Dinner party?”

“Oh, yeah,” Penelope’s voice drops slightly. “Spencer didn’t tell you about that?”

“No, he didn’t.” A pout creeps onto my face. Maybe I really, truly annoyed him this morning with my excessive worrying. I’m only trying to protect him, he has to know that. Or there’s a possibility that he doesn’t want me at the dinner. He could want to hang out with his coworkers without me. After all, we did spend six weeks straight together. Maybe he needs a little break, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But it still hurts a little that he didn’t tell me about it, whether he decides to invite me or not. 

“Well, Rossi only invited us today and we all know Boy Wonder isn’t fond of technology, so maybe he’s planning on asking you in person. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. But, hey! That paint night. What do you think?”

SPENCER

I drag my feet up the steps of the metro, into the chilled air of the night, taking a quick glance of my surroundings with my tired eyes. The moonlight creates the path back to my apartment, and the closer I get, the more excited I become to getting into bed. Despite it being a paperwork day, I had a mountain of work to do that didn’t get done while I was on medical leave, and it needed to be finished asap. So it’s just passing eight o’clock when I drag myself up the stairs to my apartment, constantly pulling the falling strap of my satchel up my arm. The last time it falls, I let my bag fall completely onto the floor, fishing through the pocket to find my keys. 

I enter my dark apartment and throw my satchel aside and hang up my jacket, locking up my gun in a safe and kicking off my shoes. I drag my feet into the kitchen, hopefully for some dinner, flicking the light switch as I walk in. I have every intention of heading to the fridge but first, I find a container of food from my favorite restaurant on the table. Beside it, a note from Amelia.

I ordered dinner for us before I knew you were going to be late, so this is yours. I’m going to try and stay up for when you return but I’m really tired so I might not make it. So if I’m knocked out by the time you get home, then I love you and I missed you a lot today!! Now come give me attention!!!!!!!

Love, Lia <3

My socked feet are silent against the hardwood as I tiptoe into the living room, finding my sleeping girlfriend on the couch, wrapped up in a plaid blanket with her feet sticking out of the bottom. Her laptop is on the coffee table in front of her, displaying the title screen for a show called Lucifer that she had been telling me about the other day. I watched a few episodes with Amelia during my medical leave but I couldn’t get over the unlikeliness that a biblical figure could have the powers to slow time on Earth or that a human could have a baby with a biblical figure that isn’t even a human. Amelia banned me from watching the show again.

I crouch down beside the couch and bring my hand to Amelia’s cheek, stroking my thumb along her cheekbone. "Amelia," I whisper, only seeing her eyes flutter in the slightest, "sweet girl, wake up."

She hums, scrunching up her nose, and before coming to, eyelids fluttering again before opening. She smiles softly, wiggling her hips to turn to me. "Hi, baby."

"Hi," I whisper back. "Come to bed. I’m tired and I wanna go to sleep too. Don't sleep on the couch."

"Did you eat?" Amelia murmurs, her hand trailing up to rest atop mine. She twists her head and presses a kiss to my palm, pulling my hand down so she can clutch it against her chest. "I left you-"

"Shh, shh," I hush her softly. "I'm really tired. So let's just go to bed, okay? C'mon, pretty girl."

Amelia smiles lazily, sitting up and letting me push the blanket away from her. "I like when you call me that."

I chuckle, standing and holding my hands out for her. I pull her off the couch and right into my arms, tucking her head under my chin and wrapping my arms around her shoulders. "Pet names are usually your thing."

I lead her off to my bedroom and she goes crawling into bed, leaving me to change into my pajamas. I do that as quickly as I can and then slip under the duvet with Amelia. She immediately scoots backward until her back is pressed to my front and until she’s almost completely on my pillow. I move her hair aside so it’s not in my face and press a kiss to the side of her neck, and she lets out a cute noise in response. 

“I’m sorry if I annoyed you this morning,” Amelia whispers, reaching behind her to place her hand on my cheek. Just like she had done to me, I turn my head and press a kiss to Amelia’s palm. “I was just worried about you. And I’m sorry for being an asshole when I just blurted out all that stuff about my foster homes and my dad.”

“You weren’t annoying at all. I know you were worried. And you weren’t being an- well, you know what. You were worried and anxious for me and I understand that.” Amelia just hums in response, nodding softly against my chest. “But hey, are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Asking me on a date, Doctor?”

“Almost,” I chuckle. “Rossi is having the team over for dinner and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

“Penelope told me about this today. She called me,” Amelia mumbles. She rolls over to face but tucks her head into the crook of my neck, leaving a few kisses right over my pulse point. “I’d love to go with you.”

“Great. You can meet our new team member. Her name is Kate, she’s pretty awesome.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Is there a dress code?” I laugh again, pressing a kiss to Amelia’s forehead that makes her join my giggles. “It’s important, Spence! I can’t show up in heels if everyone else is wearing sweats. That is my worst nightmare.”

“Of course it is,” I quip. “Text Penelope and ask her. I’ll probably just wear the same boring outfits I wear everyday.”

“Hey,” Amelia finally opens her eyes again and looks up at me, “I love the way you dress. It’s not boring. You’re fucking adorable with your button ups and cardigans and ties and fun socks.”

I ignore the sentiment behind her statement and instead furrow my eyebrows. “You call them button ups?”

I can barely see her face in the darkness of my bedroom but I can still make out her expressions, and she furrows her eyebrows right back at me. “Well, what do you call them?”

“Button downs.”

“You’re wrong. That’s so wrong, baby.”

“I can’t remember the last time someone told me I was wrong, and I remember everything.” And this time, I see the corners of Amelia’s lips tip upwards, and an adorable smile graces her face. “But yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Damn right I am, Doctor 187.”

///

"Come on, Amelia! We're already late!" I call up the stairs where my girlfriend is hastily getting ready for dinner.

"Coming!" She calls back, but her voice sounds distant. She has been telling me for an hour that she will be ready in five minutes but clearly, she hasn’t been telling me the truth.

While I'm still waiting for her to finish getting dressed, I wander into the living room to take the record out of the player and tuck it away safely. I make sure that it goes back in the correct place because I don’t want to face Amelia if I mess up her record organization. Amelia's apartment has become like a second home to me over the last few months of our relationship and I’m so grateful to have a safe place like this. Whenever I step foot through the door, I’m enveloped in a certain warmth that only Amelia can provide for me. The plants and the fuzzy blankets and the records that are constantly playing and the artwork on the walls and the balcony with yellow Adirondack chairs and, of course, the girl that the apartment comes with make for the perfect escape from my job. I always thought that my apartment was enough of an escape, and then I came to Amelia’s apartment for Christmas and suddenly, I never wanted to leave.

Amelia comes barreling down the stairs a moment later, her black heeled boots in her hand. She pauses at the door of the stairs and smiles nervously at me, holding her hands out as if to present herself to me. "Do I look okay?"

I don't even know why she asks because she always looks absolutely stunning, no matter what her outfit is. She's wearing a simple black dress that hugs her body in the most beautiful ways, showing off her array of colorful tattoos. She is, of course, wearing her butterfly necklace and her clusters of rings, nails painted yellow again. Her blonde hair is straightened and she has a scarf tied in her hair like a headband with a few pieces of hair pulled out to frame her face. I swear, whenever I see her, I'm speechless. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful human in my life.

"You look gorgeous, love, you always do," I compliment, holding my hand out for her to grab onto so she doesn’t tip over when putting her shoes on, "but aren't you gonna get cold when it gets dark?"

Amelia shrugs and swats her hand at me nonchalantly, grabbing her backpack and camera from the staircase banister. "I'll be fine. Let's get going. I can't believe you're driving! This is so rare!" She throws a smile over her shoulder when she walks past me, leaning over to press a kiss to my cheek. "If Penelope lied to me and there's no wine here tonight-"

"There's gonna be wine," I insist, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the building. "Rossi always has wine."

///

"You made it!" Rossi grins as he pulls open his front door. "And you've brought Amelia. Good choice," he pulls the two of us in for a hug, prompting Amelia to compliment him on his house. "Alright, you two, into the backyard. Everyone else is already there."

I give Amelia a look as if to shame her for taking so long to get dressed, and she just shoves my shoulder. She murmurs something under her breath that I don’t quite hear, but I wouldn’t have had time to ask anyway because we’ve joined everyone in the backyard a moment.

"Yes!" Garcia immediately cheers, running over as fast as she can on her ridiculously high heels and pulling Amelia into a hug. "I knew it! I knew you'd make it and Reid would tell you about this and you'd get to drink lovely wine with us. I knew it!"

Amelia laughs as she hugs Penelope back, pulling away only to be pulled back in. "It's nice to see you too, P."

"You've gotta meet everyone!" Penelope exclaims and almost spills liquid from the glass I'm realizing is in her hand. I find myself wondering how much she's already had to drink. Amelia glances over her shoulder at me desperately as Garcia drags her away and over to the long table that's set up. She's introduced formally to the team, yet again, along with Savannah, Beth, Sam, Will, and Chris. And of course, she takes the time to introduce herself to Kate. She's always been good at talking to people, unlike me, so a glass of wine is thrust in her hand and she's enveloped in conversation. But I linger on the porch, just admiring how easily she bonds with everyone and how her face lights up when Savannah cracks a joke.

"How's it going, Pretty Boy?" Morgan is at my side, patting my shoulder with a teasing smirk that I saw all day today. He spent the last two days asking me how my medical leave was and if I finally sealed the deal with Amelia. His prying would have considered invasive if I wasn’t so used to it already. "You brought your girl."

"And she's already been taken away from me," I cross my arm, watching her take a long sip of her wine before turning her head to Hotch and Beth. "At least she's getting along with everyone."

"Yeah," Morgan sighs and the mood instantly drops. "Listen, I don't know what happened with the whole situation where Rossi recognized her and-"

"Morgan-" I try to interject, but he shakes his head.

"Kid, I don't wanna know, that's what I'm saying. You two seem to be over it, and if you're happy, then I'm happy for you. You seem to trust her so that’s all that matters. She seems like a good girl for you. She makes you happy."

I turn my gaze back to her and my heart flutters as she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, holding her wine glass in her hand delicately. She looks too beautiful for anyone’s good in her stupid, tight black dress and heels that make her legs look as long as mine. "She does."

"I gotta be honest," he chuckles lightly. "I didn't expect you to shoot for a girl with a nose piercing and two arms of tattoos but I'm not complaining."

"Uncle Spencer!" Our conversation is fully stopped by a little voice, and Henry comes barreling over, having broken away from JJ's hold. My face lights up as he comes jumping into my arms, crouching down to catch him. Morgan pats my shoulder again, heading to the table to leave us alone.

"Hi, Henry!" I exclaim, hugging him tightly. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

Henry giggles, his head falling onto my shoulder in the most adorable way. "I missed you, Uncle Spencer."

"I missed you too, Henry." I smile, ruffling his hair. He pushes my hands away with a giggle and pushes his own long hair behind his ears. "Did you meet my girlfriend?"

Henry's eyes widen as he lifts his head. "You have a girlfriend?"

I hold in my laugh at his astonishment as I nod, bringing his attention to where Amelia is now standing with Penelope and Sam, chatting away. "That's her, right there. With the blonde hair and the black dress. Her name is Amelia."

Henry lifts his head even more to get a good look at her, and just as he does, Amelia turns her head to look back at us. As she does, Henry gasps and whips his head back to face me. "She saw me!" His eyes widen and he puts his tiny hands on my cheeks. I mimic his surprised expression and I see Amelia excusing herself from her conversation to walk back over to us. Henry turns his head slowly to peer back at her, and when he sees that she's walking to us, he gasps again. "She's coming!"

Amelia gets to us with a huge smile towards Henry, setting her glass of wine on the table. "Hi!"

"Say hi, bud," I prompt as he drops his hands back to my shoulders again. Henry gives me a nervous glance and only turns his head slightly towards Amelia.

"Hi, Amelia," he says, waving just a tiny bit.

"Hi, Henry," Amelia grins. "I've heard a lot about you from Spencer. He tells me that you're the coolest kid he knows."

Henry's eyes light up and a small smile plays at his lips. "He did?"

"Oh yeah, he totally did," she nods confidently. I have to admit, I've never seen her interact with children before, but I could watch this all day. Where did her love of children even come from? Did it come from Cody? Or did it come from protecting her foster siblings from abusive parents? 

Henry is silent for a moment and I can tell he's noticing Amelia's tattoos. He points at her arm. "You've got drawings all over your arms!"

Amelia looks down at her arms as if she's forgotten she has tattoos, nodding "I do. Super cool, right?" Henry nods. "I'm an artist, I drew some of these. So that means I draw and paint pictures as a job.”

"That's awesome!" Henry exclaims, his face lighting up even brighter than before. "Could you draw me some pictures?"

"Of course I could!" Amelia immediately exclaims. "I always have pencils and a sketchbook with me. Let's go, bud," she gives me a cute smile and I place him on the floor, letting the two go off on their own. I watch them for just a moment as Amelia grabs her backpack to pull out her pencils and sketchbook before finding a good place to sit with Henry.

"Wow," JJ is the next person to materialize at my side, "I've never seen him gravitate towards someone so quickly. And I've never seen him leave your side so quick," The two of us watch as Jack runs up and joins the two of them, sitting on Amelia's unoccupied side and peering over her arm at her sketchbook. She greets Jack and then gets back to work, listening to every demand the boys have over what she should draw. "C'mon, Spence, come join everyone."

JJ grabs my arm and drags me over to the table with everyone else, sitting me down beside her. It's nice to see everyone outside of work every once in a while, especially after such a stressful stretch of a few months. I'm not one to admit that I need relaxation but I definitely needed a night like this with everyone. I especially needed a night with my friends and my girlfriend getting along. My biggest fear is that everyone on the team would reject her after her moment with Rossi. But they seem to love her, even the kids love her, and I’m just so relieved.

After a little while, the boys come sprinting over, waving their drawings in their hands as they rave to their parents. Amelia returns to me with a proud smile, claiming the seat next to me and scooting as close as she can. She leans into my chest and I leave a kiss on her temple, and the purr-like sound that she makes brings a smile to my face.

"Dinner," Rossi announces, "is served."

///

"Have you ever played rummy?" I drag my eyes up and down Amelia's body as she comes to sit next to me after helping Rossi with the cleanup of plates. She's got her second glass of wine in her hand and my jacket wrapped around her shoulders, hair cascading down her back in gentle curls. She starting scooting closer to me during dinner, and it took me all of a millisecond to realize that she was cold and when she told me that she was wrong about not needing a jacket, I happily gave her mine.

"No, actually. I haven't. Will you teach me?" She presses her face into my arm, one of her hands clutching her glass of wine and the other finding home on my thigh. I have to resist the urge to squirm around when her thumb strokes my leg atop my pants. I’ve noticed that she has been nursing her second glass of wine for quite a while so it’s unlikely she is too drunk to realize the effect her touch is having on me. But she doesn’t really pay any attention to it when I shift my position in my chair.

"Yeah, of course," I clear my throat and grab our little stack of cards, spreading them out in my hands. I look down at Amelia to find she’s already looking at me. Her eyes are half shut and her lips are pouted just slightly, enough to make it necessary for me to lean down and kiss her. "And you've got the best teacher, too."

"Pretty boy's banned from casinos in, as I remember it, Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump," Morgan interjects, earning a slap on the arm from Savannah for interrupting.

"So we need to be collecting cards based on the rounds," I tell her and she nods. "For the first round, we need to sets of threes, get it? We need two sets of three cards with the same number, any suit, red or black."

"Not too hard," she takes a sip of her drink and starts silently arranging the cards in my hands as I've instructed. I go on to explain the concept of taking cards out of turn and then how to lay down cards and then how to win a round. She's nodding but I'm not sure if she's retaining any of this information, but I could win this game blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back so it's not a big deal. All I’m worried about is Amelia keeping her hands on me and getting her home soon.

The game starts and we take the lead immediately, but it’s not like anyone is surprised. And it takes about an hour but, sure enough, Amelia and I win rummy. The win is followed by rolled eyes and groans, and a few stolen kisses between us when everyone starts cleaning up. It's odd, I think, to have someone to be affectionate with during a team dinner. I've spent years being alone at team dinners and I've watched everyone with their significant others and wished I could have that. But now I've got the most amazing girl at my side who I'm head over heels in love with who I'm certain I'm gonna have for the rest of my life.

"Spence?" Amelia's soft voice breaks me out of my lovestruck daze. She places her empty wine glass in the sink beside me, pulling my jacket tighter around her shoulders. "Are we leaving?"

I smile, nodding as I run my hands up and down her arms. "Yeah," I dig into my pocket and hand her my keys, "get in the car. I've gotta ask Rossi a work question and I'll be right out. Don't drive away.”

“I won’t,” she giggles, going up on her toes to kiss me. Her lips taste like wine and her tongue tastes like chocolate and it’s such an intoxicating taste that I kiss her like we’re not in the middle of Rossi’s kitchen. Amelia’s hands come up to my stomach, grasping my shirt for a split second before she pulls away. Her hands come up to my face and her thumb swipes away a little bit of lip gloss from the corner of my mouth before she abruptly turns on her heel and struts away. I watch her hips sway when she walks, all the way until she gets to JJ and Henry, saying goodbye and exchanging phone numbers with the ladies of my team.

Once Amelia is out of my sight, I make my way down the hallway and into Rossi’s office, closing the door behind me.

AMELIA

I collapse into the passenger seat of Spencer’s car, putting the keys in the ignition and turning the heat up. I tug my shoes off and toss them onto the floor, spreading out my toes and stretching them out for the first time in hours. The driver side door opens a second later and Spencer slips in, watching me massage my feet for a second. “I don’t know why you insist on wearing those everywhere if they just make your feet hurt.”

“Because they complete the whole outfit, bubs,” I sass right back at him as we both put on our seatbelts. “Are we going back to my apartment or yours?”

“Yours, if that’s okay. I have my go-bag so I can change before work tomorrow,” Spencer puts the car into drives and speeds off. I can’t take my eyes off of him when he drives. The way his biceps flex as he grips the wheel or the way he elongates his neck when he looks over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars. 

When he stops at a red light, he reaches over and puts his hand on my thigh, the same way I had done to him during cards. Spencer smiles over at me with the most innocent look, and it almost takes my breath away. I open my mouth to speak but he starts driving before I can say anything. His hand tightens and releases its grip every few seconds, and by the time we arrive at my apartment, I’m barely able to sit straight. I practically trip out of the car and hurry upstairs, Spencer hot on my heels. 

The tension that we’ve been building the last few hours is looming over us, and as we stroll up the stairs to my bedroom, I can feel Spencer staring me down. I do what I can to ignore his burning gaze but the attention is addicting and it feels involuntary when I sway my hips in the same way that got him a little too excited before. 

Once we reach the top step, Spencer’s hand grasp onto my waistline and he pulls me into his chest. He ducks his head to place a kiss on the side of my neck, already reaching to pull his jacket off of my body. “Is this okay?” He murmurs, lips brushing against my skin.

“Yes,” I roll my shoulders back to let the jacket fall to the floor, then I twist around in Spencer’s arms to start pulling at his shirt. I tug him towards the bed and fall backwards, bringing him down with me. He catches himself before he bares all of his weight on me, sitting up on his knees and staing down at me with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

“Are you sure this is okay? I know you were drinking tonight and I don’t want to take advantage.”

“I’m not drunk and you’re not taking advantage,” I grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss, feeling him shuffle around to undo the buttons of his shirt and toss it onto the ground. His shoes, socks, and belt follow, and when he is almost completely undressed, he pulls away from my lips. 

His fingers trail up my thgihs and to the hem of my dress, slowly pushing it upwards. My breath hitches as the dress gets to my hips, and Spencer immediately stops. “Do you not want me to take your dress off? I can leave it on.”

“No, well, I-”

“No?”

“Yes!” I place my hands on Spencer’s shoulders and take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment. Spencer’s hands move from the hem of my dress to my waistline. “I just, well, I usually keep a shirt or a sweater on when I have sex. It’s just-”

“You don’t have to take your clothes off if you don’t want to. We don’t even need to continue if you’re uncomfortable,” Spencer leans down to press a kiss to my nose, and that tiny act brings a smile to my face. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I parrot his sweet words, leaning up on my elbows to peck his lips. “I trust you.” It’s more of a statement for me then for Spencer. I just needed to reassure myself that this is my Spencer. My Spencer who stumbled over his words when we first met and my Spencer who still sometimes asks just to kiss me. He’s not like the other assholes I’ve dealt with. He’s special.

So I wiggle from under Spencer and stand at the foot of the bed. I’m flustered for a second as Spencer lays on his back and tucks his hands behind his head, his chest completely on display for me. But I drag myself away from my thoughts and unzips my dress, letting it fall to the floor with trembling hands. And while I have the tiniest bit of confidence in myself, I unclip my bra and let it join my dress.

Spencer’s face grows into a grin, sitting up and grasping my waist again. His touch calms all my nerves and momentarily makes me forget that he’s the first man to ever see me like this. He’s the first man I’ve ever let myself be completely vulnerable around. He is the first person I let see my scars and my piercings and as terrifying as it is, his soft gaze makes my anxiety drift away.

He traces his fingers over one of the scars on my stomach, then drags it down to the silver jewel in my bellybutton. “I didn’t know you had piercings.” I reclaim my spot on Spencer’s lap and wrap my arms around his neck, bringing my lips down to his in an attempt to silence the conversation. It works because Spencer is shimmying out of his pants and tossing them haphazardly away.

Spencer flips us over so I’m pinned under him, his lips traveling down to the metal bars in my nipples. “You’re so beautiful, Lia.” He presses his lips to each and every scar on my stomach before grazing his teeth on the hem of my panties. “You can tell me if you ever want to stop, okay?”

I really and truly never thought I’d ever fall in love with someone like Spencer. I never thought that I’d fall in love at all. I thought that all men would be like the asshole I lost my virginity to, who laughed at my crooked bellybutton ring and asked countless questions about the scars that I didn’t want to talk about. 

I didn’t think I’d find anyone as amazing as the man above me right now. I didn’t think I’d find anyone as amazing as the man who kisses me with every thrust of his hips and brushes my hair behind my ears and listens to the way my body speaks. He double and triple checks that the condom is on correctly and asks if I need to use lube. He touches me in every spot that craves attention and switches our position when my legs cramp up. He intertwines our fingers and circles my clit when I ask him to. Spencer is the sweetest lover and, even when we’ve both worked our bodies to exhaustion, he rolls over and presses kisses over the hickeys he left on my neck. I try to lift myself on my elbows to clean myself up, but Spencer pushes my shoulders back down. He tells me to stay there, then returns from the bathroom with a towel to clean me up. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer wonders, pulling the duvet over the both of us after tossing the towel back into the bathroom. “Do you need anything?”

I roll onto my side and bury my face in Spencer’s neck, still struggling to catch my breath. “Spencer, no man has ever made me cum. Ever. Much less three times.”

Spencer furrows his eyebrows, pushing my hair out of my face and tracing his fingers over the bruises on my neck. “Was it too much?”

“No! Oh my god, no, dove. That was absolutely amazing,” I pull his hand away from my neck and kiss his palm, scooting as close as I possibly can to his body and soak up the warmth that radiates off of him. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too.” Spencer presses a kiss to my swollen lips and even though his body language does the opposite, he pulls away from me. “I hate to ruin the moment but you should go to the bathroom. You’re more likely to get a UTI and if a UTI goes untreated it can cause a kidney infection. It’s a common myth to think that a UTI can turn into an STI like chlamydia, but that’s completely not true.”

I hold back my giggle, running my fingers through Spencer’s sweaty hair, pushing it away from his eyes the same way he does to me. “Dirty talk is your strong suit.” 

“Is that sarcasm?” Spencer raises his eyebrows at me as I start to climb out of bed and wander towards the bathroom. “Was it not good?”

“I’m only joking, sweet face. You were amazing. The best I’ve ever had.”

Spencer grins the proudest grin I’ve ever seen. “Really?”

“I just told you that no man has ever made me cum but that you made me cum three times. Yes, you’re the best.”

“Hmm,” he hums, falling onto his back again and tucking his hands behind his head, “yeah. I’m the best.”

I lean over the bed one more time and kiss Spencer’s cheek. “You’re adorable, dove.”

TAGLIST

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[pitterpatterpot]

Giant Mice?

Sheryl will admit that the change is… disorientating.

The purple-haired ghost girl definitely isn’t happy that Sheryl is her new roommate. Sheryl isn’t happy that she’s stuck will a little alien who nearly blows her head off every time she has a nightmare and randomly shoots purple fire.

The Tryvuulian edges around her, giving nervous smiles as he tries to strike up conversations. HUE does the same before awkwardly waddling away, Mooncake usually floating after him. AVA insults her to her face, not that Sheryl really minds.

Gary is trying, truely trying, to get along with his mother. There are times where Sheryl sees him flinch away from her, but overall her son seems to enjoy their conversations about piloting. She doesn’t doubt it, she knows how long he must have wanted to have a conversation with his mother without her trying to kill him. If anything, she’s the one that struggles during their talks.

Quinn is…

Sheryl is unsure of what to make of Quinn. She reminds Sheryl of John, which hurts more than the thief would like to admit. Quinn edges around Sheryl in a similar manner, not knowing the full story between her and Gary. The poor lady seems torn between wanting Gary’s mother to like her and being cautious of the criminal.

Avocato has been indifferent ever since Sheryl tried to distract him with a red dot. Really though, floating through Final Space can be quite boring. She needed some kind of entertainment. Barely-repressed hostility seems to be the only thing between them.

There’s only one person she hasn’t really interacted with yet.

“Hey, Grandma.”

And there’s a good reason for that.

Plastering on a smile, Sheryl swivels around in the pilots seat. “Hey… kiddo.”

The small Ventrexian hops into the seat to the right, tapping away at the screen. If there’s one thing Sheryl has to admit it’s that the kid knows how to fly. But being called Grandma? She’s still getting used to Mom.

“Are the primary thrusters online?” Little Cato perks up, eyes big and wide as he looks at her.

“Uh… yep.”

“Cool, cool… whydon’tyousoundlikeGary?”

The kid says it so fast Sheryl has to blink. “What?”

“You, um,” Little Cato’s ears droop slightly, his eyes flickering away. “You sound different to Gary. He said you have an accent.”

Ah, right. Most aliens learn American English. Her Aussie accent must sound weird to the kid.

“It’s ‘cause I’m from Australia,” Sheryl keeps her focus on the controls. “We speak English there too, but different from America.”

“America?”

“The place Gary is from. It’s a country on Earth.”

“Oh, cool.”

Sheryl waits for another question, but the kid stays silent. They both fiddle with the controls, the ship slowly following Bolo through Final Space, everyone on edge as they wait to come across the first Titan besides Bolo.

“We have kangaroo’s in Australia.”

“Huh?”

Sheryl winces, regretting the words. “They’re a, uh, an animal. Kind of like a giant, jumping mouse.”

Preparing to face the kid, she turns slightly in her seat. And immediately swears at the large eyes of the kid blinking right at her. Somewhere during the giant mouse moment the kid had left his seat and padded over to her, leaning with his hands against her arm rests and eyes wide with wonder.

“Jesus Christ,” Sheryl hisses, clamping a hand over her heart. “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”

She gets a little shrug in response, the kid leaning in closer. “Giant mice?”

Sighing, the thief settles back in her seat. “Yeah, kid. Giant mice. Most are red, like a rusty red, and some are kind of blue and gray. Depends on the kind.”

“Whoa,” the little Ventrexian breathes the word. “Giant, colourful mice? Can you eat them?”

Now that throws Sheryl off for a moment, making her laugh. “Uh, yeah. We can eat kangaroo meat. It’s actually pretty good. I’d never eat a joey though.”

“Joey? Is that, like, a person?”

“No,” Sheryl snorts. “It’s a baby kangaroo. Their mum’s keep them in a pouch they have on their belly to carry them around.”

“Huh,” Little Cato rests his head on his arms. “My dad’s carry me around sometimes. Usually on their shoulders.”

“I noticed,” Sheryl smiles slightly. “You’re a light one, aren’t ya?”

“Yeah,” those little ears droop again. “I didn’t really eat properly for a while. I’m kind of small for my age.”

“What, did Gary forget to feed you?” Sheryl smirks, chuckling. “Or let me guess, only gave you cookies?”

She expects some kind of comeback. Not for the kid to shuffle on his feet and look away. It makes something oily roll in her stomach, a weird feeling that’s been occurring more frequently lately ever since she decided to stop trying to kill her son. So far the feeling has only been restricted to when she’s dealing with Gary and her past mistakes. It can’t be a good thing if that feeling is spreading to the kid.

“What?” Sheryl rotates the seat to face the kid. “When didn’t you eat?”

“I…uh…” Little Cato winces. “I kind of spent three years in prison? Well, different prisons. They had to move me around a lot.”

Sheryl blinks.

And blinks again.

“You went to prison?”

“Yeah,” Little Cato shrugs once again. “The Lord Commander placed me there to keep me from my dad. I was in the Sector F8 military base until I started a small fire, then got moved to the Sector 472 prison colony, and after my third escape attempt there they decided to just keep moving me.”

For the first time, in a long time, Sheryl laughs. Her head tips back and the sound bellows out of her lungs. Little Cato jerks back, surprised, before starting to giggle along. It isn’t long before they’re both cackling.

“Crickey,” Sheryl wheezes, tears nearly squeezing out of her eyes. “You little bastard! You’re a demon!”

“Yeah, and?” Little Cato raises his brows, grinning.

Sheryl looks the kid over. The Ventrexian that Gary trusted to fix the light-fold engines, that obviously knows his way around mechanics. And that has obviously raised hell in his short life-time.

“And have you ever hot-wired a ship before?” Sheryl smirks.

“No,” the kid pivotes around to poke at Sheryl’s controls. “Always wanted to learn. Just don’t tell my dads.”

“I think we can make that work. Alright, so what you’re gonna want to do is remove this panel here…”

~~~

“Uh, Mom?” Gary eyes the second plate in his mother’s hand, tiredly rubbing at his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Sheryl throws a look over her shoulder. “I’m showing that kid of yours how to really pilot. We need fuel.”

“We’re in Final Space, now isn’t the time for a lesson!”

“All times are good times, sweetheart.”

~~~

“So,” Little Cato speaks around a mouthful of what has been deemed the ‘purple yams’ by Gary. “You’re pretty good at fighting.”

“Thanks,” Sheryl throws a glance to the kid, relaxed in the pilot’s chair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you call me ‘grandma’?”

“Because Gary is my dad,” Little Cato shrugs. “Or at least one of them. And he loves you and wants you to be his mom. That makes you my grand-mom. Or, you know, grandma.”

“Huh, it’s that easy for you?” Sheryl taps against the arm rest of the chair.

“I guess,” Little Cato fiddles with a loose screw. “I can stop calling you that if you want.”

“…Nah, it’s alright. Say, kiddo, you mind passing me that screwdriver? We should probably keep that panel from falling off.”

“I’ll fix it.”

“Thanks.”

They spend the next few minutes fiddling with the systems, Sheryl checking over the systems as Little Cato fixes all loose screws. After a while Sheryl pauses for a moments, blinking, annoyed when she struggles to open her eyes again. A yawn from the kid sets her off, her jaw clicking.

“Alright,” Sheryl stands, cracking her back in a stretch. “I’m gonna go get Gary to take over. I’m hitting the hay.”

“’Kay,” Little Cato mumbles, finishing the last screw.

Sheryl pauses at the doorway, sending one last look at the kid. She can see his fuzzy ears, the rest of him hidden by the pilot’s chair. The orange tips are drooping slightly and she knows that the little Ventrexian is slouched. The door clicks behind her as she makes her way to the dining room, where everyone most likely is. Take your shift, sleep, then eat. No doubt Gary is having breakfast with the rest.

Now that she thinks about, Sheryl took the shift that no one else wanted to avoid everyone. The kid shouldn’t have been awake.

Shaking the thought out of her herd, Sheryl pokes her head into the dining room. “Hey, hun, I’m hitting the hay.”

“Oh,” Gary looks up from his plate, blinking. “Cool. Uh, thanks, Mom. I’ll take over.”

Before she leaves, Sheryl looks to the adult Ventrexian with the name that sound like an Earth fruit, Avocado… Avocato. “Hey, your son’s asleep in the control room. He’s been there for hours.”

Swearing under his breath the Ventrexian stands immediately, hurrying past Sheryl. Garry gives his mother a long look before he begins to smile. She tries to ignore it for the first few minutes. Her skin begins to crawl.

“So, you talked to Little Cato?” Gary grins, leaning forward with his arms braced on the table.

“Oh, yeah,” Sheryl smiles over her shoulder, her usual aloof yet sarcastic tone in place. “I did. Oh, and just a quick warning, hun. Don’t be surprised if the kid starts asking about giant mice.”

“Giant- Mom, what were you talking about? Mom?”

Sheryl closes the door behind her, smirking.

The kid isn’t so bad.

________

I like to imagine that Sheryl and Little Cato would eventually get along. Also, it is so good to have an Australian character. I don’t need to worry about keeping her speech and dialect American. 

[depressed-sock]

Monster of the Week 2

one

Words: 3k

This work is entirely a self-indulgent throw a bunch of Oc’s at the TMA world and see what happens lmao

Tw: threatening of bodily harm

sections 2 and 5: stranger fear, harassment of a colleague, purposefully using the wrong name, mention of intent to gaslight, it/it's pronouns used

section 3: flesh fear, not actively descriptive but it deals with meat if you want to skip it.

Click. 1

“Investigation of Why the Archive never stays organized, brought to the Archives attention by me for the last thirty years." She stresses the words, trying to make her frustration clear to everyone who can hear her in the room. "Investigation begins on July 9th, 2014, and is being investigated by archival assistant Olivia Stanek.”

"So, first things first." She pauses, taking in a deep breath as her hands stay firmly clasped together before she finally releases her pent up anger with a quick movement. Standing up sharply and banging her hands on the desk. "What do you people not understand when I say to put things back where you found them!"

She turns with a barely held back growl, glaring at the now suspiciously empty room around her. "You fucking little cunts, I will find you and I will get you to leave my organization system alone!"

Click. 2

"Did you try turning it off and on again?" The man next to them sighs heavily, his shoulders already taking on a stiffness of agitation.

"Yes, Rupert. That was literally the first thing I did." Corwin glares at the blonde man who now decides to lean against their desk. His face forced into a quiet contemplating frown as he stares at the static-filled screen of their computer.

"My name is Rick, and did you click any suspicious links?" He glances at them, missing their glare that's turned into the perfectly innocent look of boredom.

"Do I look that stupid Rupert? Really?" They cross their arms over their chest defiantly, watching carefully as the man's frown twitches into a barely held back snarl.

He's already breaking down and the day has barely started. An accomplishment that's taken only a few weeks of patience and maybe Corwin is a little too proud of that.

"Rick. My name is Rick. And," he sucks in a deep breath before blowing it back out, "You know what, move I need to check the cable from the computer to the screen." He pushes their chair back without their consent, kneeling down under the desk to look for the cable.

The cable that they had purposefully cut with scissors earlier. After they unplugged it of course. They're not that stupid.

"Why is this cut?" He brings half of the cable out, holding it up for them to see while he tries his best to glare them down.

An attempt that feels more like dealing with an upset child. So they treat him exactly like one. "If I knew that, why would I have called you?"

"You!” He bites back the rest of his reply. Taking a moment before he finally grits out, “Just use a different computer until I find a replacement cable!" He stands up fast and awkwardly, knee slamming into the desk and forcing out a string of curses before he finally storms out of the room in anger.

"You got it, Rupert!"

The scream of rage that follows is a lot more satisfying than they'd thought it would be. Maybe they should go out into the world and do this more often. Maybe it's their true calling.

"Was that the doppelganger thing? I figured it would have quit by now." Olivia walks up from behind them, coming to a stop beside them as she tries her best to force her greying hair up into a messy bun. "Or at the very least murdered you next."

"Yeah, I think we need to start upping our tactics." They stare at the doorway he had left through an evil grin slipping free, "I say we gaslight it next."

She gives them a look of disgust, "Corwin really?"

They shrug in response, "It's not my fault it decided to kill and replace the I.T guy. Or that it's choosing to suffer by continuing to work here."

"Speaking of suffering. Where's the statement you were investigating in California?" She leans just a bit closer to them, her hand gripping the edge of their desk. While her eyes take in every aspect of their existence.

"I don't know. I put it back after I was done writing down the details I needed." Which is most of the truth. They put it back. Then Jordan took it back out and then they lost it in California because neither of them wanted to go back to the campsite.

Corwin's not going to tell her that. At least not yet. Maybe when Jordan pisses them off at some point but right now they'll wait to throw him under the bus.

Even if she's towering menacingly ever closer over them, her voice a whisper of threats, "If I find out that's a lie, I will personally hunt you down and skin you for the Stranger."

"Right, you do that. It's been great chatting with you Liv, now if you don't mind I'm trying to make the doppelganger’s life a living hell."

Click. 3

"Imani! Do you know where the werewolf files got put?" Jordan's voice echoes through the room of filing cabinets. Well, she thinks room, but it almost feels like an endless warehouse at times. Like now for example. She's pretty sure she's somehow gotten lost even though she's exactly where she needs to be.

"Um, I think it's somewhere near me?" She responds a bit more quietly but nonetheless heard; the room already echoing with her voice. It's what she likes about this particular room, no matter how loud or quiet she tried to be if someone else was in the room they'd hear her. "Let's see, nightmares about trees, mutated frogs, hmmm oh is this…. WHAT THE HELL."

She barely has enough time to cover her mouth and nose with her sleeve, backing away but still not fully able to escape the smell that layers itself against her tongue.

"Imani?"

She gags, backing up further away. Taking a second before she feels safe enough to speak muffled words, "Why is there a filing cabinet that's filled with rotting meat? This is… oh gods this is disgusting."

"....Oh um, I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be in Artifact storage. One second, let me go get someone to come collect it."

Her brow furrows as she stares at the cabinet, confusion becoming more and more prominent, "What? Why is there supposed to be a filing cabinet full of meat in Artifact storage?"

"Good question! I have zero answers." Is all she gets out of him before she hears the door shutting behind him. How did he even find the door that fast? She’s never been able to find the door that fast in the last few months she's worked here.

When she had applied for the job she had thought she had known what to expect. Creepy things, supernatural things. Gwen had given her a full rundown of the fears and the possibility of not being able to quit. She knew what to expect.

But knowing and experiencing are apparently two different things. And she's pretty sure nothing could have really prepared her for… this.

Click. 4

“I’m thinking we need more empathy in the Archives,” Gwendolyn says, as she adjusts her glasses, though it seems to do nothing to help as she continues to squint at the paper in front of her.

Oliva feels her face crawling into a snarl in response. Her fingers gripping into the edge of Gwendolyn’s desk she leans against. “Which one of those little fucks complained about me?” She would be sure to personally show whoever it was, exactly how empathetic she couldn’t be.

Gwendolyn turns her squinting from the page straight up to her with a look of amusement followed by an exasperated sigh, “Love, is there something I should be aware of if you think someone's complaining about you?"

Olivia glares down at her before a smile splits her lips and she lets out a bark of laughter, "Would I really need to tell you that bright eyes?"

Gwen's laugh is light, her eyes taking on a brighter sheen before fading to a dull grey, "No, I guess not. But I’m talking about empathy in general. Corwin seems more intent on harassing I.T than ever before, Jordan has begun to withdraw from people, Imani is starting a bad habit of asking questions she shouldn't, and you continue to be you.” The last part of her complaint dulled as she pries one of Olivia’s hands free from her desk, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

“I don’t see how this is a problem?" She shrugs, not bothering to free her hand. "Everyone in the Institute is some kind of fucked up. So Jordan’s a little more untrusting of everyone and Imani is overly curious, she certainly wouldn't be here if there was no attachment to the beholding. It’s all problems that will eventually resolve itself.”

“I see you didn’t mention Corwin or yourself in that.” Gwen let’s go of her hand to set her glasses down. Quickly trying to rub the tiredness from her eyes.

“You love me just the way I am," she leans forward planting a soft kiss on Gwendolyn’s wrinkled brow, "and Corwin is trying to deal with our doppelganger issue.”

She grins widely in response, “I wouldn't have it any other way Love." Before her grin turns into a soft frown, "So, it was one of the poor lads in I.T? Which one?”

“Gwen, you already know who. And do you really expect me to ever show an interest in learning anyone’s name or Identity here?” She doesn’t bother to add on the last of her thoughts; considering how often people die. Too often to really get attached anymore.

“As much as I love you all thinking I’m all knowing I truly am not. Honestly though, I don’t think anyone here really has bothered with that. The poor thing chose very poorly in any case. Not much fear to be fed on when everyone is either already a stranger or you just have a deep-seated hatred for everyone and everything here. Not to mention, every single member here has been estranged from anyone they could call family.”

She narrows her eyes at that, “You know I’ve always wondered about that.”

“What? Do you really think any sane person with love and support would ever continue to work here? Let alone apply for a job here?”

"What does that make us then?" She leans forward, arms resting on Gwendolyn’s shoulders as their foreheads touch together.

"Two old women who are deeply in love with each other and bringing terror wherever we go."

"You always do know how to sweet talk me. But I'm still going to strangle the first person who doesn't put a statement back correctly."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Click. 5

"Alright, I've got your computer back in working order." The man claps his hands together, a look of accomplishment on his face.

A look that is quickly wiped away by Corwin’s own smile, "Great, but uh, something seems to be wrong with Olivia's computer now. Not sure what but it's stuck on this video and I can't seem to get it off."

"Why were you using Ms. Stanek's computer?" The man asks carefully. Lines of frustration already wrinkling around his eyes.

"Because you told me to use a different computer? Seriously are you always this forgetful Ralph?" They tut half heartedly with a shake of their head.

"What I meant by a different computer, was one of the dozens we have that no one else uses. NOT Ms. Stanek's.” They can almost see a static around him. A form that’s too long, too strange takes up the dark fuzzy spaces around him. It probably doesn’t even realize how badly it’s giving itself away.

"Well, I guess you should have been clearer then. Either way doesn't change the fact that the screen is still stuck on that video."

“I can’t believe this, why are you doing this?! I thought we were friends, Corwin!” He finally breaks, words echoing in slightly different tones against the emptiness of the room. They can’t help the sharp grin as it finally asks exactly the question Corwin has been waiting for. They stand from their chair, immediately crowding it’s space.

“See the thing is Ralph,” they lean in close, “I don’t have friends. So you being my friend is incredibly suspicious. So suspicious that I may have to do something about it. And I’m sure you don’t want that, do you Ralph?”

It tries not to look intermediated by their smaller stature but fails as their eyes take on a dangerous hue. It’s voice comes out weakly, now a pale imitation of what it was, "my name’s rick..."

“No. It’s not.” They know. They see.

It’s beginning to shake. Fear overriding its previous anger. Until finally it turns, fleeing the room. Not bothering to try and rebuttal them. A disappointing outcome to say the least. They had at thought it’d try to murder them. It’s why they didn’t point out the real reason they knew he wasn’t Rick.

It would have been funnier though if they had. They can already imagine what would happen. Watching the dawning realization on its face and it immediately looking down at his ID to find a man who looks vastly different than it. After all, everyone's ID photo on their work badges are all polaroids that have been laminated on.

Too many missteps from previous generations that made it necessary. At least it’ll make it easier to know if the doppelganger decides to switch to someone else in the Archives.

They wonder if it'll finally leave now.

Something in the back of their mind tells them it’s far too late for that.

Click. 6

"Jordan! Don't you dare run away from me you fucking little-"

"Olivia?" his footsteps slow and he turns back to face her with a furrowed brow, "I'm not running from you? We've got a loose artifact in the filing room."

"Don’t you dare start making up excuses!" She's still storming towards him, face scrunched in anger.

He should probably be afraid. Olivia on rampage mode always meant that someone was at the very least going to be severely injured. Mostly because some idiot didn’t take her threats seriously even though it’s been proven time and time again that her threats are 100% serious. But he's got far greater fears than anything she could ever do to him.

"I'm serious Oliva. Imani found the meat cabinet there." He holds up his hands in surrender but it does nothing to placate her.

"AND YOU JUST LEFT HER THERE!"

"Yeah? It's just the meat cabinet. At most it'll make her sick for a couple of days and then she'll be fine." They’ve all had to deal with a rogue artifact at one point or another. It was the archives own official... hazing? No, it’s not so much a hazing as it was just something that happened too often and the newbies didn’t know better yet.

"I can't believe this, you just abandoned your co-worker to an Artifact!"

"Olivia you've literally done the same thing to all of us. Live by example maybe?" He’s also pretty sure she’s killed people so he doesn’t really understand where this is coming from.

She stares at him for a long moment before her body immediately relaxes as if she’d never experienced anger a single day in her life. "Eh, who am I kidding, I honestly don't give a shit if you've let your paranoia get the best of you. Anyway, did storage move it there? Or did it decide to do that itself?"

"I'm not paranoid," he bites back. And what does paranoia have to do with leaving Imani there? She can handle herself, she doesn't need help. "I haven't gotten to Artifact storage yet to find out."

"Right well you get that sorted, I'll go grab Imani out of there before we have to hire janitors." She pauses turning back with a glare, "By the way do you know what happened to the California statement you were helping Corwin with?" Her voice takes on it’s previous edge, eyes tightening in anger.

"No." He definitely does not know exactly what happened to it. It could have caught fire, or could be buried, or ripped to shreds. He doesn’t even know if it’s still anywhere near that makeshift campsite.

"I'm watching you, little man."

“Yep, bye Oliva.”

Click. 7

(The sound of the air conditioning kicking on fills the room, accompanied by the sound of a man cursing under his breath.)

"Ah there you are-”

(The man lets out a barely held back scream, and something flatters to the floor.)

“Oh calm down, your name is Rick, correct?"

"Uhm...Yes, Ms. Gwen."

"Fantastic, I've been looking for you. Unfortunately, there seems to have been an issue with your work contract and you're now being transferred to the Archives."

"What! But. NO, I quit, I'm not going back down there with those demons."

"Oh dear. You can't quit. And I think you'll fit in just fine if you think them monsters of your equal."

"I-"

"No, hush now. If you kill any more of my employees, I'll have to let Corwin deal with you exactly how they wanted to and believe me. That young person is incredibly creative when it comes to killing your kind."

"..."

"So. Pack your things, and I'll get your contract sorted. Don't try to run, because" (a harsh bark of laughter fills the room.)

"We'll find you."

(The man curses a bit more under his breath before heavy steps lead out of the room and fade away. The woman gives out an exhausted sigh.)

“I see you’ve started recording again. Preparing for an Archivist who’ll never exist? Or are you preparing for one that’s coming to visit?”

…

“I guess it doesn’t matter because we both know the answer to that don’t we.”

Click.

[riverboundao3ff]

Riverbound, Chapter 11

You are THE GUARDIAN, and you’re currently listening to the sound of your girlfriend murdering people.

Okay, so you’re not a judgy person, because that’s like, your thing. You’re the listening ear, the shoulder to cry on. You’re the bridge between tattered hearts and the friend that keeps them safe. You also know that Polypa kills people for a living. She’s an assassin, and that’s her thing.

None of that stops you from nearly passing out as you listen to the death rattle of some teenager.

The brief whine of psionics makes you taste metal. You brace for another series of wet gasps, but all you get is a dull thud of a body hitting the floor.

Fuck my life. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--

You hear your alien moirail call your name, and it sounds like she’s talking to you underwater. Unthinkingly, you reach out, grab a fistful of space-time, and drag yourself a few meters downwards. Man, if Ultimate Dirk could see you right now he’d laugh until he shit himself.

Oh, hey, you’re falling now.

There’s a thump as another body hits the floor, except now it’s your body.

Something shoves your shoulder, and then rolls you over on your back. You look up into Polypa’s bemused face. There’s a bit of golden blood on her cheek.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

You try and say “Yeah,” but what comes out sounds more like “Unngh.”

“Okay. You can stay down there if you want.”

She flips you back over on your stomach, rifles around in the backpack, and pulls out a bomb and some papers you assume are the instructions. You guess she’s setting it, because you hear her messing around with the thing.

Come on, get back up. Come on.

You get one arm underneath you, then the other. Somehow you rise to both feet, force yourself to keep your eyes away from the bloody bodies tossed into the corner and aimed literally anywhere else. They end up settling on Polypa.

“Watch this.” She stomps on a tile a few times, making it flip up on one side. Carefully, like she’s setting down a piece of valuable art, she places the bomb underneath and lets the tile fall back into place. “This whole factory is probably older than the damn Grand Highblood. It’s like they’re asking to get infiltrated.”

She’s trying to distract you, which you appreciate even if it’s not working that well. “... Well, next time I see him I’ll ask.”

“You…” Polypa just stares at you for a moment before scrubbing her face with her hands. “Of course. I’m gonna go take care of the bodies. Be right back.”

“Yeah.” You check your watch. Has it really only been four minutes? This was going to be a lot quicker than you thought it was going to be. As long as no more people got hurt, everything was right on track.

You’re not looking, but you can hear Polypa shoving the dead goldbloods into the janitorial closest on the other side of the room. It won’t do anything to deter a troll from investigating the suspicious scene-- even you can pick up on the stench of death with your crappy human nose, but if something went to shit then it would hopefully buy the two of you a couple of extra seconds.

Polypa comes back, wiping her hands on her pants like she does this sort of thing every day, and hey, maybe she does. She reaches for your hand. You have to force yourself to take it without hesitation.

Mission now, feelings later.

“Ready?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

You concentrate hard on the map Tyzias showed you, and then on a spot with no other people around, and jump.

This time you get much luckier. The computer room the both of you appear in is abandoned, and the lights are off. Nobody’s been here for a while, which helps you feel a little better, but for the umpteenth time in the last few days you can barely see anything.

You sling off the backpack and pull out another bomb. “What time do we set them for?”

“Just let me do it. I know you can’t see.”

“But I haven’t even done anything yet on this mission!” You fumble around with the bomb and feel the timer buttons underneath your fingers. “What time?”

Quick as a flash, the explosive is swiped from your hands. “Nope.”

“Polypa! Come on.”

“With your luck you’ll just set the thing off.”

“What, no faith in your own moirail? That stings,” you huff. She’s right, though. You like to think yourself a bringer of good fortune and even greater shenanigans, but you can’t deny the occasional nightmare you have over a timeline gone wrong. It’s never the entire situation, which you’re grateful for, because you’ve already got enough trauma to last the rest of your possibly immortal life but it’s still enough to make you nervous about going to sleep. You don’t know if it’s good or bad that you don’t remember everything about the other “outcomes”.

Then you realize you’ve just been standing there, staring off into the darkness for who knows how long, so you huff and cross your arms to let Polypa know you’re still alive.

“Done. Also, there isn’t a timer for these things. Tagora has the detonator,” she tells you.

“Cool. I knew that.”

“Sure you did.”

You kick at the sound of her voice and miss horribly. She snickers, shoves your shoulder, almost knocking you over when you trip over something that feels like a cord.

All of the computers wake up in a blaze of light that nearly blinds you. You freeze in place, and Polypa covers her eyes with a hiss.

No alarms go off-- none that you can hear, anyways, but you’re not wasting any time. You lunge for your alien girlfriend and zap the both of you right the hell out of there.

The next place you appear in looks like some sort of basement. You’re still in the drone factory, because your space-time spidey sense says so. It’s damp and gross and you’re fairly certain your left shoe is in something nasty.

Neither you or Polypa move or make any noise for what feels like hours. You know it’s only like, thirty seconds, but goddamn if it doesn’t take forever to get the courage to take a step closer to your moirail.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” She smacks you upside the head.

“Ow! Hey, it wasn’t my fault! You pushed me!”

“Sometimes I wonder how you’ve survived for this long.”

“Yeah, dude, me too.”

You’re pretty sure that nobody else is around, so you peek out from behind a big furnace-looking thing to get a better view of your surroundings. There isn’t much to see-- dust bunnies, junk, more junk, pipes… hey, are those more computers?

“Hey, Polypa? Is it normal for a creepy old basement to have a whole computer lab?” you ask, trotting over to investigate.

“Uh, I mean, I’ve seen movies?” she offers, leaning over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at. Something in your gut is telling you that this particular point in space and time matters. Intuition rarely fails you, so you listen to what the universe has to say.

You tap on what you assume is the spacebar on a particularly fancy-looking monitor. The screen lights up, presenting a login bar alongside a shutdown option, with a background depicting some anime character Tegiri most likely would have been able to name.

“Pfft, okay, whose goofy weeb ass works here? I just wanna know,” you snort.

“Why is this important?”

“I just have a feeling. Any ideas as to what the password could be?”

“... Why would I know?”

“Boo, you’re no fun.”

By some miracle of the gods, or whatever higher power decided to watch over your crackhead self for the night, your eyes wander to a sticky note stuck on a folder that was half-buried under some paperwork. The writing on it is messy, but you’re able to make out six digits scrawled out in red ink.

0-0-0-4-1-3

Right. 413. That didn’t make your skin crawl in the slightest.

You type in the numbers and hit the enter key. Of course, it works.

“That’s weird,” Polypa mutters.

“Yeah, for real.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I have no idea.” You click on the Goregle icon, close out of it, draw a dick with the cursor on the desktop, and go into Settings and turn the volume down. Man, where was Mallek when you needed him? You wish he was here with you. He’d have a fuckin’ blast getting into this system, you just know it.

A dash of red catches your eye-- a desktop app shaped like the head of a drone. You click on it and are greeted with a spreadsheet full of dates and times, and next to every date is a location. There’s also notes on what trolls lived where, like Fangrash, which was predominantly rustblood, or Glitch, where a ton of goldbloods live.

It’s only when you see Outglut with today’s date beside it does it hit you. This isn’t just some company organizational bullshit.

These are plans for drone raids, and in three hours and however-many minutes Outglut was about to get carpet-bombed to hell.

“Polypa,” you whisper.

You feel her tense up beside you, hard as stone in a matter of seconds. “Oh, no. You don’t… oh, no. Yeah.”

She whips out her palmhusk and snaps a couple pictures. You stare down at your hands, forcing yourself to keep breathing. No, you are not going to have two panic attacks in one hour. You’re better than this. You’re the motherfucking First Guardian of the Universe, and you will keep your shit together--

You barely even notice Polypa kicking the third electro-bomb under the desk and throwing the carpet back over it until she’s right next to you.

“Let’s go.” She tugs at your sleeve, and you snap out of the haze you were falling into and throw yourself and your girlfriend through space and into another part of the factory.

The two of you don’t even bother putting the bombs close to the computer rooms anymore, not like it mattered in the first place. Tagora had said something about the radius of the electromagnetic explosion or whatever would be more than enough to encompass the whole factory, but you had tried to be precise anyways, because… you dunno, better safe than sorry. But that’s a luxury you no longer have. The bombs would wipe out all of the information the drones collected, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop an attack.

Polypa leaves the last bomb in an air vent, and you wish it a merry exploding-day before teleporting back to the hideout, scaring the shit out of Tagora when you land right behind him.

“Augh!” He stares at you, then at Polypa, and hisses. “Don’t do that-!”

“That was fast,” Lanque comments.

“We got a problem! Once the drones complete their maintenance and shit they’re gonna bomb Outglut!” you explain frantically. “Polypa and I found a schedule for when the raids happen.”

Tagora and Tyzias both stare at you, dumbfounded. Stelsa, who was doing her lipstick, fumbles with the tube and drops it on the floor. Lanque’s ears pin back and he slowly gets to his feet.

“Just look,” Polypa says, shoving her palmhusk at Tagora. Tagora takes it and zooms in on the picture. Somehow, his eyes grow even wider.

Tyzias groans and drops her head into her hands. “Well, fuck me right up, isn’t this just perfect. Please tell me that you guys got the bombs delivered.”

“We did.”

“Good.”

“The last recovery mission took three wipes to complete, and that was only one neighborhood. How the hell are we…” Lanque just shakes his head in dismay.

Your mind races, trying to figure out a possible solution.

Ask Azdaja to hack into everybody’s palmhusks and tell them to GTFO? No, you’re pretty sure that if it was that easy it would have already been done. Rally the whole neighborhood and try and take down the drones together? As if. You can’t stop your subconscious from playing back the memories of various raids you’d heard about or been near-- the explosions that seemed to shake the very planet, the screaming, the wail of the sirens that haunted you in your nightmares.

Wait.

“The sirens,” you mutter.

Stelsa turns to you. “What?”

“The sirens! We find them and set them off early. I don’t know how much of a difference it’ll make, but maybe it could give everybody a head start,” you explain.

“That is… highly illegal. The sirens aren’t activated until a certain amount of hives have already been destroyed,” Tagora points out.

“And?”

“It would be a shame if you were to find them. On the corner of Slimewash and Bryght Street,” he continues. “Of course, they’re usually set off remotely, but the system is actually quite simple. It wouldn’t take much to rewire it and trigger it manually.”

Despite everything you can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, that would suck.”

Stelsa winces, looking almost fearful, before grabbing Tyzias’s hand. “Is this really worth the risk?”

“To save people’s lives? Yes. If you don’t want to come that’s fine, though,” you tell her, before remembering you know jack shit about rewiring things. “... Actually, it would be nice if somebody came along to tell me what wires go where or whatever.”

“If somebody sees you things could get bad real quick,” Polypa says quietly.

“Yep.”

“Then I’ll come.”

“I’m coming, too.” Lanque smirks. “I’m not ready to go back to the caverns just yet.”

You see the hesitation in Tyzias’s eyes as she glances at Stelsa, then at you, and then back to her matesprit. She’s torn between safety and the rebellion she leads, and you don’t blame her at all.

“You should go home,” you tell her. “A tealblood in a lowblooded neighborhood is probably gonna get some looks. Besides, the less people who see you guys with me in public, the better.”

Both Stelsa and Tyzias give you grateful looks, and some of the tension leaves Tagora’s bony shoulders. The highbloods aren’t just risking their lives, you know; they’re risking their reputation and status, too. And reputation and status are something you guys are gonna need sooner or later.

You blow out a breath. The bombs won’t be set off for another three hours. You’re way ahead of schedule, which is way better than being behind schedule, but that still leaves you and your friends with way too much time to kill before you need to do more crime.

“Sooo…” you say, not meeting any of the troll’s eyes. “What do y’all wanna do now?”