#Oh dear Nightmare I forgot to tag something

[sl33pyst4r5]

Yeah, they deserve that. No thorns, only roses.

(I started drawing this right after I saw those tags, so thanks for the idea @ashyronfire)

[devildom-moss]

Hello first of all i just wanna say that i love your writings! Especially on how you write solomon it always gives me butterflies 🦋👌

Can i request something like, an alternate, smutty ending for his recent ur card i forgot the name but its where mc and him watched a horror movie and mc got a nightmare after that so sol offered to sleep together, because it had SO much potential. Gn!mc if you may.

That is all thank you so much for sharing your works with us have a nice day and stay hydrated! ⭐️

Thank you so much. I hope that this Solomon fic will also provide you with butterflies. Luckily, I had this card, so I was able to pull from the original story line better. I'll be honest, my own personally kind of dark-loving and horny brain influenced the first half of this a lot. Anyway, I hope you like it! I'm sorry it took soooo long.

For anyone who doesn't have the card or just wants a useful refresher: Solomon had MC watch a "The Silence of the Lambs"-esque movie with him. They decide to sleep in Solomon's room together because why not - but Solomon has a guest bed, so you sleep in separate beds. MC has a nightmare about Solomon going all Hannibal Lecter on them. Solomon wakes them up (MC was moaning in their sleep), and Solomon decides that they should share a bed to help MC sleep. I picked up the story in the nightmare, because I spell it whore-or.

Solomon - The Gourmand's Main Dish card alt ending (NSFW)

(Solomon x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (NSFW tags: switch(ish)!Solomon and MC, bottom!Solomon, top!MC, light bondage, oral - receiving, Solomon riding MC's cock/strap on, hands free riding, begging, check-in's and overall very sweet sex, a bit of fear-play kinda?, implied intent to cockwarm, me writing Solomon as a loud, moaning mess) (other tags: dark themes, mentions of cannibalism, MC is a little unhinged in the face of dream/evil Solomon, some awkward moments, blood, knifeplay?, some of the dark themes written with a hint of sexiness)

Word Count: +2700

“Try the Demonus, my dear,” Solomon cooed, sliding a chilled glass filled with a sweet-smelling red liquid towards you.

The moonlight shining through the large dining room windows brought a soft cool glow that balanced out the warmth of the candlelight, creating an odd natural white. It left you unnerved, as if when Solomon had woken you up for breakfast, you were still stuck in a hauntingly quiet Devildom night – not that the lighting was ever much different between night and morning in the Devildom anyway. Maybe you just didn’t feel right because you could have sworn you fell asleep in Solomon’s room last night, only to have him wake you up in your own bed. It was all so disorienting that you wished the effects of Demonus worked on humans. You could stand to chill your nerves a bit.

The looming threat of Solomon’s breakfast offer – one that he advertised as a special treat for you – also weighed heavy on your mind. When he brought out what he referred to as “the appetizer,” which he had made a point to whisper into your ear as he set your plate in front of you, the fear of having to politely decline more than one dish came over you.

Admittedly, the dish that Solomon brought out looked surprisingly edible, but you refused to be fooled. The temptation continued as Solomon gracefully brought the fork to his lips. He had even dressed up in a fine suit for the occasion; it seemed a shame not to give him a chance. However, your better judgment held firm as you sipped at the glass of Demonus. Your eyes couldn’t leave Solomon, and the light that reflected off his soft, silver hair only made him more enchanting. His eyes were dark and hungry as his gaze flashed up at you.

“Oh, my dear, what’s the matter?” His eyes softened up, and an off-putting smile formed along his pretty pink lips. “Are you not hungry yet?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not very hungry this morning.”

“That’s a shame,” he let out a gentle chuckle, “but perhaps you’ll change your mind for the main course. I still have to prepare it, but it will be well worth the wait, my dear.”

Solomon pat his mouth with a napkin before he stood and left the room. His return was accompanied by a cold metallic scrape. You turned your head to see him sharpening a large knife as he slowly approached the table. You gulped. His ominous gait and deliberate strikes along the edge of the blade instilled a dread in you that only dug deeper into your chest when you realized that – barring the knife and sharpening rod – Solomon had returned empty-handed.

To your recollection, although you had scarcely taken your eyes off Solomon during the appetizer, there wasn’t another dish on the table. However, you were too afraid to double check; you weren’t sure what would happen if you looked away from him now. Solomon stopped directly at your side, forcing you to stare up at the wicked grin on his lips. You felt frozen in that chair.

“I feel honored that you can’t seem to pull your gaze away from me today. You must be so sweet.” That was a strange way to phrase it, and his words did nothing to reduce your growing unease. The tension in your body was different than the usual nervousness Solomon caused in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s the main course, Solomon?” you asked anxiously, despite the heavy lump in your throat. Somehow, you were already certain of his answer and were just seeking confirmation.

Solomon leaned down to whisper in your ear, “why, it’s you, of course.”

And there it was: confirmation. Solomon dragged the tip of the blade up your thigh. You held your breath and waited for the gentle scraping sound to stop. Solomon continued to drag the knife up your stomach. You squirmed back into your seat, attempting to put some distance between the knife and your body, but that displeased Solomon.

He clicked his tongue and quickly brought the blade to your throat. “Nuh-uh-uh. Please, don’t struggle. I want to take my time carving you up nice and pretty, but if you’re going to squirm, I’ll slice up that soft little throat first. Now, behave, and allow me, my little lamb.”

You let out a shaky breath as Solomon dropped the knife down to your chest. He cut the top button of your shirt off, using the dull edge of the blade to pull your collar back. If only you could get the knife out of his hand without getting injured – but some sick, depraved hope kept you still as you watched Solomon’s wicked gaze light up.

A dull sting accompanied the ring of metal running against a surface and Solomon’s contented sigh. You could feel the blood beading up along the skin just above your collar bone. Solomon kept the knife pressed against your abdomen as he licked along the cut, stopping to suck on your skin. The sting of his saliva and the cut didn’t detract from the pleasure of his tongue and lips on you as much as you would have preferred. A shiver ran up your spine.

It was said that fortune favors the bold; perhaps boldness could preserve you. Somewhat abashed, you asked, “are we going to fuck first?”

Solomon stopped sucking on your skin and pulled away, still leaving the knife against you. He clicked his tongue. “Now, now. Don’t be vulgar. It’s impolite.”

“I’m sorry,” you lied. Annoyance briefly overcame your fear, “cursing is impolite, but non-consensual cannibalism is fine. Understood.”

“MC.”

“No, my bad.” you shut your eyes and sighed. “I misread the situation. Just – listen – go ahead. But if I find out you waited until after I was dead, I’m going to be so disappointed in you. Honestly, Solomon.”

“MC!” Solomon’s voice seemed to echo throughout the room so loudly that you felt the entire house shake. When you opened your eyes again, Solomon was leaning over you, concern overflowing in his eyes. That eerie smile was gone.

You weren’t in the dining room anymore. You were back in Solomon’s bedroom.

“Are you okay, MC?” Solomon stroked your cheek with the back of his fingers. His cool hand eased some of the tension in your body. You smiled up at him, nodding. This was the Solomon you knew and loved. A sigh of relief left Solomon’s lips and his shoulders relaxed. However, his face was more flustered than before, and he was tinted pink up to his ears. “You were moaning in your sleep. You weren’t dreaming about me, were you?”

“I was,” you admitted. “You tried to eat me!”

Solomon’s eyes went wide. “I did?”

“You were going to carve me up and have MC-sashimi.”

“Oh,” Solomon nearly choked on his assumptions. You meant eat literally. Shame and guilt overtook Solomon’s embarrassment when he realized you had a nightmare, and it was probably because he made you watch that movie right before bed. “I’m so sorry, MC. This is my fault. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Can you stay with me – at least for a while?” In truth, you felt better after seeing Solomon’s sweet face again – not that evil, dream Solomon, but the real one. You just wanted to be closer to him. You moved over, giving him a bit more room to join you.

Solomon crawled into bed and turned on his side to face you. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but I kind of like being so close to you. Maybe we should have slept in the same bed to begin with. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Can you hold me?” you asked. Solomon looked flustered again.

“I actually – well, I can, but,” Solomon tried to find the right words. “I got a bit hard after hearing you moaning so much in your sleep. I’m sorry! It happened before I realized you were in distress. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, but if you don’t mind it, I’ll hold you.”

You chuckled and sat up so you could crawl over Solomon and push him on his back. He was still blushing as he stared up at you. “How could I have been so scared in my dream? You’re being adorable right now.”

You trailed kisses down the side of his neck, catching the faintest tremble of his pulse under your lips as his heart began to race. A stifled moan vibrated in his throat. Solomon was biting his lip just to restrain his need. You weren’t going to give him that, so you kissed him. Even if he wanted to be quiet, you were the only one who was going to bite his lips.

Perhaps the roles were reversed in the real world. You had Solomon captured, and you wanted to eat him up. Your tongue teased him, and his moaning was increasingly desperate. Solomon’s restraint was crumbling. You felt him grind his hips up into you, craving more friction.

“Please, MC,” Solomon whined, “if you keep going, I won’t be able to hold back.”

You refused to heed his warning. Instead, you egged him on. “Then don’t hold back.”

One of your hands dipped between your bodies to rub over the bulge in Solomon’s pants. He took advantage of your diminished support to flip you on your back and straddle your hips. As he dipped down to kiss your neck, you felt his erection rub against your lower abdomen. The tremble in his breath tickled your skin as he made his way down. Solomon stopped at your collarbone and lapped at it with his hot tongue before he started to suck on it.

Your mind flashed back to the way dream Solomon had sucked on you, and a wave of fright washed over you. You pushed against Solomon’s chest gently.

“I’m sorry,” Solomon apologized as he sat back up. “Did I do something wrong? Do you want to stop?”

“No, I don’t. I just. . .” you trailed off. You knew it was silly to be afraid – especially because even when you were afraid in the dream, you were still turned on. It was confusing, and that was all the more reason to want to forget about it and just focus on fucking Solomon.

Solomon could see the worry on your face, and he correctly guessed that it had something to do with the nightmare you had. A characteristically Solomon idea popped into his mind, and, impeded by desire and without a second thought, he offered, “you could let me eat you.”

“What?!” Your breath caught in your throat.

Just as you were about to struggle under him, Solomon got off you with a gentle smile. He walked to his dresser and pulled a deep red silk scarf from the top drawer. You stared at him, cautious and confused. Solomon stood at the foot of the bed, turned his back to you, and crossed his arms at the wrists behind him.

“Can you tie these nice and secure for me?” Solomon chimed with a playful tone. He stood there patiently as you slowly shuffled to the edge of the bed. You took the red scarf from his hand and tied his wrists together snuggly.

“What now?” you asked.

Solomon turned around and looked down at you with a shy grin. He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, turning his eyes up to you. “Use my mouth however you want.”

You mouthed “oh” and sat down in front of Solomon. He could tell you were anxious, and he just wanted you to feel comfortable. You wanted the same for him.

“Can you back up for a second, sweetheart?” you asked him, and he complied. You stood up and slid out of your pants and underwear, setting them on the floor on the other side of Solomon’s bed, before you sat back down. You reached behind you to grab one of Solomon’s pillows and placed it on the floor right in front of your feet – a cushion for Solomon to kneel on. He smiled up at you, surprised and delighted by your simple act of care; his heart was melting and threatening to flood his chest.  

When you opened your legs, Solomon took that as permission to approach. He settled into his spot at your feet – between your legs. Those soft, hazel eyes stared up at you, eager and hungry. Solomon wet his lips, looking as if he was about to beg “please.” And he was. “Please, can I taste you?”

He was too cute for words, so you snaked your fingers into his hair and pulled him gently towards you. Solomon nuzzled against your thigh and sucked at your skin softly before he turned his attention to his main course. Between dream Solomon’s sensual attack and Solomon’s cute gestures, you were already aroused.

Solomon moaned with his first taste of you. Gentle vibrations traveled up your body. The room was soon filled with the wet noises Solomon was making and his muffled moaning and whining. Even the feeling of Solomon’s hot breath was amazing. You couldn’t stop yourself from panting and moaning. His mouth was too good.

That hot mouth and skilled tongue was enough to bring you to the edge. Solomon had you twitching and trembling as he continued to swirl his tongue around you through your orgasm. You had to tug his hair and pull him back to avoid overstimulation.

Solomon licked his lips, ensuring every drop made it into his mouth before he swallowed. “You taste divine.”

You bent down and kissed him gently, feeling his slightly swollen lips against yours. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Not so scared of getting eaten anymore, are you?”

“No,” you admitted.

“Good,” Solomon grinned, lust still heavy in his eyes. “But, MC, can you help me now?”

“How so, sweetheart?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Solomon admitted, rubbing his thighs together. You could see that he was still hard. Your eyes softened, and you stroked his hair. Of course you’d fuck him, but Solomon interjected before you could agree. “But you must be a bit tired. So, maybe I could ride you, instead?”

“Can you stand up for me, sweetheart?” you asked him.

Solomon slowly got to his feet for you, and once he was steady, you helped him out of his pants and underwear. His cock nearly bounced up. He wished he could have hidden himself at least slightly.

You left Solomon standing there while you readied yourself for him (either by getting yourself hard again or by grabbing the dildo and strap harness from a box in Solomon’s bedside table). Solomon’s eyes never left you, eager to feel you inside of him. As you applied lube, Solomon’s eyes followed your hand’s slow strokes. He had been patient all night, but it was almost too much.

“Are you ready for me?” Solomon asked – a desperate plea to let him ride you.

You laid back in his bed and told him, “Go on.”

Solomon kneeled onto the bed and crawled over you. His hands were still tied behind his back as he lowered himself onto you slowly. A pretty whimper escaped his parted mouth. He was already unravelling by the time he took you all the way, but he wanted more. He needed it. You watched Solomon’s brows knit together and his eyes shut as he bounced on you. The sight was too sexy; you couldn’t leave all the fun to him.

When you bucked up into him, Solomon responded with sweet whining. His stomach flexed and his back arched. You took that as an invitation to slip your hands up his shirt and rub his chest, teasing his nipples. His moaning grew louder and more desperate. Solomon’s precum began to drip onto your stomach. Maybe you should thank Diavolo for ensuring that you had no neighbors or housemates to disturb.

“Keep fucking me,” Solomon moaned, “I’m so close.”

You obliged him. As you watched him inch closer to climaxing, you felt comfort in knowing that this man could never hurt you. It was too easy to reduce him to the slutty, moaning mess that he was now. Solomon came all over your stomach. His face was flushed as he stared down at you and the mess he made. You reached behind him to untie the silk scarf, which he then used to wipe you clean.

It was clear in the way that Solomon grinned – blissful and affectionate – that he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. “You should sleep in my room more often.”

[icouldntfinditsoiwroteit]

Back in town Part 1 gender neutral reader (the black phone fic)

Edit: Changed the title since this fic finally has a name, also part two is up

Also also forgot to add this, but this fic happens around five years after the movie so it's around 1983, and they are either 18 or 19

Also also also if you want me to tag you in the next parts I upload just tell me in the comments

Next>>

"Students, please welcome our new student," Miss Miller said as she pointed gently at the student that stood beside her.

"Would you please present yourself, dear," She prompted.

"The name's (F/N), nice to meet you," (F/N) said.

"Would you mind telling the class where you come from?" She asked.

"My dad and I moved back here actually,"

"Oh really, so you lived here before,"

"Yeah, my dad's job made us move at least twice a year, but he got a position that let him settle down," (F/N) scratched the back of their head growing more and more uncomfortable with all the attention on them.

"Welcome back then, if you may, please go sit next to Dylan," She said, and (F/N) sighed silently thanking god that the presentation was finally over.

(F/N) quickly made their way to the chair and sat sparing a look at the kid who the teacher had called Dylan before but what had caught (F/N)'s attention was the book on his desk, he was looking out of the window but seemed to feel (F/N)'s stare and turned.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"You like Stephen King?" (F/N) asked with a smile and this seemed to surprise the boy as his previous hostile behavior shifted completely.

Timeskip

The bell rang for lunch.

"Wanna spend lunch together?" (F/N) asked, during the class they had both been chatting while the teacher didn't notice.

"Sure," Dylan said with a smile.

They both walked to the cafeteria while talking about different things, jumping from subject to subject.

As they waited in line they didn't notice when a taller guy approached them and cut in line in front of Dylan.

Dylan said nothing but this made (F/N) even angrier at the dude.

"Oi, we were here first," (F/N) said as they pulled the guy from the shoulder.

"What did you say to me?" The guy asked threateningly.

"You heard me, we were here first," (F/N) repeated not backing down.

"(F/N), leave it," Dylan tried to pull (F/N) back.

"You the new one?" The guy asked with an amused look on his face.

"Does little Dily have a new friend?" He taunted.

"Oi, watch it," (F/N) warned and the guy held his hands up in mock defeat.

"Your new, so I'll give you the chance to learn the big mistake you just made, and tomorrow you can come and apologize to me, newbie,"

"The hell do you-"

"(F/N) please," Dylan pleaded and (F/N) quieted down.

"Let little Dily tell you how this place runs, he is quite familiar with it after all," The boy said before walking away.

It was here that (F/N) finally noticed how almost the entire cafeteria had been watching the encounter.

"Who the hell was that?" (F/N) turned to Dylan who looked about to pass out.

"Dylan?"

"That was Vance Hopper, he's um....he's real bad news, he and his friends," Dylan said as they quickly took their lunch and went to an empty table.

"So a bunch of assholes?" (F/N) said but Dylan immediately rushed her.

"You, don't want them hearing you say that, trust me,"

"Alright, at least explain to me who they are," (F/N) said after a long sigh.

"Well, they are six in total, the one you just met is Vance Hopper, he isn't usually as calm as he was back there,"

"The group was previously kidnapped by a spycopath, he was called the Grabber,"

"Oh, I do remember reading something about it in the news a few years back, it was national news,"

"Yeah, well, I don't know why he thought kidnapping six kids and keeping them in the same place was a good idea, but they managed to overpower and kill him as they tried to escape,"

"I see,"

"But if you ask me, I think they were never able to truly escape the nightmare that they lived, or at least to truly move on," Dylan said barely above a whisper.

"Then what is up with the rules he was talking about?" (F/N) asked.

"Well, there aren't many, and honestly as long as you avoid them you should never need to follow or even acknowledge them, but in case there are four,"

"One, don't ever talk back to them,"

"Two, if they tell you to do something you do it,"

"In my case, Vance makes me either save his spot in line or bring him lunch,"

"Three, you don't interfere with their business with others,"

"The next one is for those who had really bad luck and sort of became their errand boys or some even call them...toys," Dylan said a bit red in the ears.

"And four, you don't do anything they haven't told you to do or you'll get the beating of your life, if they say jump you say how high, if they tell you to stay in school you stay even if it's the weekend,"

"What?" (F/N) asked in disbelief.

"No matter what, leaving for class, going home, everything, they need to follow their instructions to the letter," Dylan said his eyes cast down.

Dylan's expression made (F/N) pale.

"Dylan, are you?"

"No, god no," Dylan assured.

"But most errand boys were their primary focus of bullying or who weren't on the best of terms with them and I'm not in the best position with them right now," Dylan admitted looking away.

"Dylan, if you need help I'll-"

"No, please, just stop, you'll just get on their bad side if you do anything, besides, we've barely talked for a day, so just apologize tomorrow and stop talking to me," Dylan said his eyes glassy as if he wanted to cry.

(F/N) remained silent for a moment.

"Well, too bad, I like you and you're stuck with me," (F/N) shrugged making Dylan look at her with wide eyes.

"And I don't give two shits about some kid's issues, if they bother you again I'll make them regret it," (F/N) said with conviction.

The bell rang, lunch was over and so was their conversation it seemed as they walked in silence.

"Hey, what subject do you have after this?" (F/N) asked.

"Chemistry," Dylan answered quietly. 

"Math, I'll see you after school?" 

"Sure," Dylan said with a slight almost hopeful smile.

They soon parted ways and as (F/N) was going up the stairs they heard someone call their name.

As they turned around they saw a familiar face.

"Finney?" (F/N) said surprised.

"It's Finn please," He said and (F/N) couldn't contain their huge smile as they pulled him into a hug.

"Holy shit, it's been ages since I last saw you, I had no idea you went to this school too," (F/N) said happily letting go of the hug.

"Same, I had no idea you were back until someone told me about the new student," Finn explained.

"How have you been?"

"You grew so much, here I thought you would stay tiny your whole life, although I'm still taller" (F/N) teased.

"Shut up," Finn said shoving gently (F/N)'s shoulder.

"Wait, if you are here, does that mean Robin is here too?" 

Finn nodded.

"Damn, I haven't seen him in so long either, what class do you have now?" (F/N) asked.

"Social studies,"

"Damn, I've got math," (F/N) said.

"It's okay, let's hang out after school," Finn said.

"Sorry dude, I'm already hanging out with someone else and I need to get back home soon, you know how worrisome my dad can be," (F/N) said but as the bell rang again (F/N) resumed their way up the stairs.

"Let's hang out tomorrow, during lunch," (F/N) yelled as they ran to class.

This left Finn looking at the space where (F/N) had been previously slightly annoyed that they didn't listen to him, but it was soon washed over at the thought of having his childhood friend back, he was sure Robin would also be happy.

(F/N) made it to the classroom just as the teacher was about to close the door.

"Sorry," (F/N) apologized and the teacher simply shook his head in disappointment.

(F/N) quickly went to the last desk available.

As the teacher began class he immediately told everyone to get in teams of two who they would work with for the rest of the year.

(F/N) gulped as they slightly saw how everyone got together, everyone except the guy behind them who was seemingly busy in his doddles.

They turned around to be able to see the boy well and tapped his desk calling his attention.

"Wanna work together?" (F/N) asked with a smile.

"Is there even a choice?" He asked sarcastically.

"Nope, guess we're stuck together then," (F/N) said with a smile that seemed to slightly surprise the boy.

"Name's (F/N)," (F/N) extended their hand which after a moment of consideration the boy shook.

"Billy,"

Timeskip

(F/N) walked looking forward to seeing Dylan but as they reached the school's exit he wasn't there, so (F/N) waited for him to come.

He never came, (F/N) had waited until almost everyone had already left.

It would have made them really mad but something told (F/N) that there was a reason for Dylan not showing up so they turned back and went to search for him in the school.

*C'mon where could he be?* (F/N) wondered as they searched the second floor.

But as they walked to the stairs once more they saw two girls almost running down the stairs, they only came to a halt to not collide with (F/N).

"Whoa, you two alright?" (F/N) asked worriedly.

"Oh yeah, just getting out of school, you should do the same," One said.

"Why?" (F/N) furrowed their brows.

"Better do so, you wouldn't want them to get angry at you for even being near their roof," 

"Poor guy, they really seem mad today, hope they don't do too much to him," One said with a worried voice.

"Let's just get back home," The other said pulling her friend to the next flight of stairs.

*The roof,* (F/N) thought looking up.

Meanwhile

"What exactly did you tell them?" Dylan heard the question but his body was in too much pain for him to even move toward the source.

"C'mon, Dily, just tell him and you can go," Dylan recognized Finn's voice, but he knew it was a lie, he had already told them what he said and they didn't believe him or maybe they did, didn't matter, they were mad, he just had to hold on until they got tired.

"I told you," He managed to mumble at which Robin sighed loudly.

"I don't think he's lying, anyway why do you care what he said to that newbie either way," Vance asked.

"Because the newbie is an old friend and I wouldn't want them to get the wrong idea of us because of some...misinformation," Finn said through gritted teeth.

"I think I have them in Math, (F/N)?" Bily asked his bored expression shifting.

"Yeah, you with them then," Robin confirmed.

"You mean the asshole who was bothering me at lunch?" Vance asked anger in his voice.

"Yeah, but don't worry they were always a fast learner," Robin assured.

"They better or I'll-"

"You'll what, you Dee Snider knockoff," At this even Dylan turned as his eyes widened at the sight of (F/N).

This fic is inspired by @kaylinlmao 's work in general

[paperbag880]

The fool of a God

Loki, Thor, Hela & brother!male reader

Part 2 to: The foolless God

Tags: @peter-the-pan @ravenqueen27

Recommended song: Willow Tree March [I don't use Spotify]

Warnings: major death?, violence

Not proof read

So fast the universe is going. So fast for the fool of a God that he almost lost himself in grief. His chest pained in ways he didn't like. He forgot about many things before but why would he ever forget his siblings?

Hela, the first born of Odin's, the goddess of death, and Y/n's only sister. She brought havoc with her once she came back from her prison and she started with her brothers.

Mjölnir has been destroyed. The two brothers separated and Y/n stayed in Asgard with his sister. Our little fool has been fooled. His older sister promised him paradise, but what's paradise without all of his siblings and people? Y/n never wished for this.

Locked in his room Y/n had only his thoughts to occupy him. Our God was older than his sister yet she treated him like he was made out of glass. She told him he was corrupted by their brothers, that they told him lies and forgot about him. He wished for his foolishness to not believe what his dear sister said, yet...he couldn't.

One day Asgard fell into a deep slumber. All except for the reason and Hela. The Goddes, immune to her brother's spell, knew exactly why everyone slept. Y/n's grief, anger, and finally denial were too much for him to handle anymore. He let his tears fall to the ground as his questions echoed in each dream.

Why? Is it true? Why would they?

Why can't I remember?

What did I do wrong?

When will it stop?

I want my brothers back...

Asgardians cried Y/n's tears and the dead were dying again.

He just wants it all to be like it was used to...

In the end, Y/n fell from his exhaustion. Lost in a world of his own yet he wasn't happy as he used to be. Drowned by sorrow he lost his breath in misery. The people around him suddenly felt so fake. The family he dreamt of having was in the end just a dream. Nothing like happiness exists in Asgard.

He dreamt of many things those nights but his dreams were no longer satisfying for our fool of a God. He the one who has been looked down on for centuries and on, he who's been called the foolless God, has been fooled and betrayed by his own foolishness.

What were his siblings' names again? Why did he feel these emotions? Did he even have siblings?

Asgard never felt so cold as now. Raganarök wasn't as bad of an idea than have the God of dreams die in his foolish mind. His dreams spread like a weed infecting everything they touched with his mournful dreams.

Hela came to being infected as well. Without her consent, her heart started to tear. Every closer step she took toward her older brother the more her ice heart burned. Every breath she took felt like millennia. Every blink stung like a hornet's stinger. She had to wake her brother or kill him.

The two lost brothers fought their way to Asgard. They didn't expect to find it gray, deserted, sad. They stood on the Bifrost, slowly walking to their home. There, at the end, stood their dear older brother. With happiness to see their older brother again, Thor ran to him. Loki saw something in Y/n that didn't sit right. Despite Loki's warning, his brother, Thor, ran faster than before.

"Brother!"

Oh to be as foolish as our little brother Thor.

Without reaching Y/n completely he fell onto the ground with a stroke dream. He felt every muscle in him twist and turn like a clock gear and his biggest nightmares came to life.

Y/n stood in front of them, mighty and fearless. Body length shoulder cape adored his right shoulder. White cropped armor chest plate adorned his chest. Black shirt with belts strapped his stomach.

Loki backed away a few steps. He knew Y/n is not weak, he's the eldest, he never was weak. He was foolish enough to fool everyone around to let him be who he wants. His own person. His own idea. This. This was what Odin wanted. The prodigy.

They've been separated for too long.

Loki woke up from his fear and run to his blonde brother.

Y/n stood there watching as Freya dragged Odin away. "Mother?" His question rang like seven bells. Startled, his mother looked at him without uttering a word. "Why are you taking father away from me?" Y/n bare legs started to walk and Freya dragged Odin faster. "Why are you afraid, mother? You wanted this too. To end his tyranny. He would send Hela away." The goddess looked up at her son.

"Hela wants to rule Asgard in fear! Open your eyes Y/n and look behind you! Is this what you want? Do you really wish Asgard to suffer?" Loki almost yelled at his older brother. He feared maybe he wouldn't hear him.

"It's already suffering." Y/n raised a weapon Freya couldn't recognize. "Sorry mother-"

"I AM NOT OUR MOTHER, Y/N! I AM YOUR BROTHER!" Loki shouted. Overwhelmed by this bizarre situation and the fact that his brother can talk but talk such nonsense as he, Loki is their mother, and Thor, of all people, Odin.

Y/n, the foolless God, lowered his weapon. His eyes shined with recognition. His brothers are home. "Loki-"

"What's going on, dear brother?" Hela's strong voice dominated over the fool of a God's mind. He only has a sister.

"Nothing of importance, dear sister. You may go back to the throne room." Y/n slowly turned around to his sister with a slight bow in his statue. A sign of respect, not submission.

"That I can't do." Her walk was as strong as her power. Hela's palm pressed against her brother's cheek gently. "You're so naive."

"Sister?"

Cutting of flesh and a scream from Loki echoed around the hollow of bifrost.

Iron. Your mouth tasted like iron. The feeling of your body running cold made your head all dizzy. Your hand grasped at the source of your suffering. Everything around was silent by your aching and ringing ears. What's happening to you?

"Mother made a fool out of you so flawlessly!"

You've been forced to cough up blood by your own body. The pricing weapon in your stomach was quickly pulled out. The coldness in your bones ran like a river. Your blood spewing out of your gut.

"How unfortunate you won't get to live through it."

Your knees hit the floor. You lost your balance and fell to your side. With all your strength your eyes shifted and looked up at your sister. "Did you know...butterfly wings are transparent?..." You weakly said. "Our beauty is all very transparent." You chuckled before there was a pain and then...black.

Loki screamed Y/n's name till je couldn't feel his throat. He held Thor tighter. He had to decide. Let his bother go or run to his other.

Thor woke up to Loki's screams. Rage filled thunder decorated the distressed skies of Asgard. Thor's eyes laid up on your dying form. He ran towards you. Thor fierce with lightning, pushed Hela far far away from his siblings as he could.

And the war begins.

Y/n's body has been long forgotten. Stepped over by the dead. E/c eyes pry themselves to open but with much difficulty. They took their sweet time to look up on the grayish sky and even if, they watched it thru blood and dryness. Simply blinking it away won't work.

The body rolled over to its side. 'Where am I' it thought. Rising up, it could see the massacre in front of it. Its legs didn't work and its stomach ached.

Get up.

On shaky legs stood a child, confused, lost, forgotten. Forced to grow up fast, not being able to enjoy child's life.

"Mom?"

The child's legs moved forward. This is not the home it remembers. Sad, beaten to shreds it lost its glory.

"Dad?"

Small feet hit the cold floor. Looking around, the child felt abandoned.

It started to cry. Pathetic hick ups of sorrow left the child's mouth as it fell down to its knees and yelled out for his family.

Mother

...

Father

...

Sister

...

...

Brothers

.......

No one answered.

Long the fit lasted the little child stood up again. On wobbly legs moved forward but with sight blurred by the tears. It tripped.

Looking behind, a body lay limp below the child's feet. H/c hair stained by blood and noble dress fit for a God torn almost to shreds.

Moving closer the child brushed off the h/c locks. The person seemed familiar to it.

"M/n..."

Too bust inspecting the body the small chips haven't noticed the towering figure above it.

"It's time to go home."

A hand has been reaching out to the child. Awaiting attention.

"Father?" E/c innocent eyes looked up and grabbed the reaching hand of the no faced person.

"No, M/n. I'm your brother." A sad voice echoed around as the owner gently squeezed the little hand in his. "Let's go and meet with your other sibling."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

💫

[norhimorovine]

Regret: Howl Like The Wind

((Edit: Forgot to add song link. Now at bottom of post))

It had been late in the evening, or early in the night really, when Misah’to showed up in Norhi’s apothecary. He carried a tearful Bianca with him. She’d had a nightmare and wouldn’t go back to sleep. So, in a compromise, he’d taken her to Norhi, so she wouldn’t wake Annia. And this was how Norhi found herself carrying an eight year old child in her arms, slowly pacing the aisle of her space and singing to her.

“Life isn't easy. Love never lasts. You just carry on. And keep moving fast.”

The lyrics came easily to her. It was a song she was used to singing to Vhene. Or even Zuki. Her voice wasn’t something for performance. But it was enough for family. And there was something meditative in the pacing and the singing. Her thoughts turned to the moons that had passed since coming to this grey, cold country.

“I pulled off the highway. And rolled into town. I'm just fancy free babe. And I travel 'round.”

At first her hopes had been high. Things were hard. The Garleans were definitely not interested in their help. Even adverse to their presence to the point of violence. As expected, of course. The history between them all was never going to allow this to go smoothly. She’d had no few friends, family, and neighbors, all question her choice to come here. Norhi was one of many many people that had every reason to never forgive. Never forget. To honor her dead by refusing to build bridges. And yet, she’d come. She needed to see. She needed to understand and learn. But more than any of that, she had ached with a terrible anxiety and fear. She had dear friends here. Norhi could never forgive herself, much less anyone else, if she didn’t do her best to aid them.

“Sometimes I'm up. Sometimes down. Where can I run to? How have I sinned? When you cry like a rainstorm And you howl like the wind?”

And in coming with everyone, Norhi got to see the beginning of Alvarium. She got to feel those first odd signs of concern and displaced sense of something out of place. But more so than that, she chose to see hope and a path forward, instead of the storm looming on the horizon. Everything felt like it could be recovered from.

“And my thoughts are filled with memories. They won't let me be. But if all the stars are shining bright. Well they would not let me see.”

Duty had called her back to Camp Broken Glass. She was gone from Alvarium longer than she’d wanted. And then the sky turned red. And people began to turn. And her newly learned skill to heal the tempered felt completely useless. Everything she’d ever done or fought for, felt absolutely worthless, in the face of the End of the World. What peace was there to walk towards, if everything was gone?

“It's so cold and the rain keeps blowing. It's tearing through the town. But I'm still fancy free darling. And I travel 'round.”

Somehow they got through that first panic and surge of horror. Norhi found her feet again. She healed and she worked. And she got herself back to Alvarium. And things seemed to even out. She began to really, finally learn about the folks there. And then they learned of her hidden hope, that had tagged along with every other plan. The wish to find her cousin. The hope that Misah’to was alive and safe.

“Sometimes I'm up. Sometimes down. Oh where can I run to? How have I sinned?”

Arym was one of the first to express a specific offer to help. But quickly behind him were Rhua, Victoria, and Pollux. From there, word spread. Overseer was consulted. A map was marked to the point of near illegibility. And a plan was made.

“When you cry like a rainstorm? And you howl like the wind?”

And so Norhi found herself going out into the city with a much larger search party than she’d ever dared hope for. Bellworks friends and new Alvarium ones. For surely they were friends now. They combed that office of census and frumentarius information. They located a house and searched it. But a clue was found. And it pointed to a bar. A bar where they found Misah’to alive, safe, and whole. And with him two little girls - Annia and Bianca.

“Sometimes I'm up. Most times down.”

And for a time after that, things seemed to calm. Things seemed to come together. Healing folks of injury and illness, between bells of catching up with Misah’to and time with her friends. She even found herself feeling like Overseer was a friend. Fire came to the Bellworks and Brave had to leave. And for all that it made her worry, Norhi wished her friend well and safe journey.

“Oh where can I run to? Tell me how have I sinned?”

But then Rainer showed up. And N’s magic showed them a truth they weren’t ready for yet. They found the bunker. And the blood. And the files and chat logs. And some of them broken. One of them shattered. And Twelves was shackled, locked away from his own freedom.

“When you cry like a rainstorm? And you howl like the wind?”

One of their number disappeared, without word. N was comatose. Twelves nothing more than a servant. Norhi found herself turning to Rhua’s plans. She began teaching. She began making plans. They needed resources. People needed to learn how to survive without Overseer. They voted to free the AI. Of course this came with a cost. Many of their defenses were no longer held up by the AI. The town now needed to stand on its own feet. And so the lessons increased. And people learned every skill they had teachers for. And little by little, they began cobbling together a home that could manage what it needed.

“Who can I turn to? Tell me where to begin? When you cry like a rainstorm And you howl like the wind?”

But then Twelves found Arym. Mt. Katmai was a disaster. Unmitigated and demoralizing. Their friend was bleeding more from his soul than he was from his wounds. They lost both of the soldiers that August wanted to save. And after returning, Norhi once again added two more faces to the memory album of everyone she’d failed. All the while, her friends were working themselves to breaking points. And others were sinking into despair at their own failures and weaknesses. And Norhi had no idea how to help. Her magic and potions couldn’t heal broken hearts.

“When you cry like a rainstorm? And you howl like the wind?”

For now Norhi kept pacing and singing. She wanted to regret coming here. She wanted to wish she’d never seen this country. She wanted to say that all the heartache never happened. She wanted to cry. She wanted to howl.

Instead she sang.

And maybe her voice floated through the windows, into the town and homes of her friends and family.

((Song: Cry Like a Rainstorm by Linda Rondstadt))

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 68]

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

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Had an early doctor’s appointment today so I’m tired, and the tests done made things feel worse, so idk how long this is going to go, but I want to get at least a bit of my work done. Also brain is not running at full capacity... so if I just disappear it means I forgot I was doing something, laid down, and fell asleep and/or zoned out.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

 Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

 He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

 Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

 “I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

 He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

 “Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

 They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

 “That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

 Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

 He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

 There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

 The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

 After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

 He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

 He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

 He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

 The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

 He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

 Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

  Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

 He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

 He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

…

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

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She started up a calming purr as she moved to gently kneed his chest. “That sort of hurts,” he noted idly as she dug her little paws into his sternum. She responded by purring more. He moved his arm to scratch behind her ear.

Virgil still was feeling a little bit anxious about the fact that he was out in the open, though he very much did not want to leave the room with the nice fire, and Patton and Logan would be back soon anyway. He should find some way to distract himself, and, well, the best way to distract himself was to investigate his environment, and it had the added benefit of making him feel safer.

 He carefully turned to his side to gently deposit Princess Marisol on the rug. She gave an insulted ‘mew,’ but quickly forgot her ire to sprawl across the ground with her belly to the fireplace. Virgil got to his feet and eyed the room as a whole.

It was fancy, to be sure, but a lot more homely than he’d expect to be in the royal wing. Logan’s bedroom was much more extravagant than this. It was closer to what he’d expect in the home of a financially stable, but not well-off family’s home both in contents and décor.

 There was a nice, but older looking couch that was probably older than Logan, perhaps even older than the king. It was huge though and comfy looking. It had two chairs that weren’t quite matching but were close enough and a table in front of it that had slightly chipped wood. A seemingly random set of pillows was on it, none quite matching the rest, but all sort of earthy browns and greens. There were bookshelves stuffed with books of all different shapes and sizes, and a giant painting of a turkey of all things over the fireplace. The fireplace itself was probably the fanciest thing in the room.

 Most of the fireplace was made out of bricks, though it had a wooden outline a good distance from the fire, and there was an ornate iron grate in front of it with pretty little leaf designs. On top of the mantle were little figurines that grabbed Virgil’s attention. They were small little wooden things carved into animals. Some were painted and some left the wood to be exposed. There were a good number of horses, but there were also things like rabbits and birds. There was even a few creatures Virgil did not recognize himself. They ranged in size from only about as big as his thumb to about as big as his hand.

 He leaned closer to take a better look at them, careful to keep his legs away from the hot iron grate, though he could still feel the intense heat from how close he was. He did not dare touch them. The room may seem like it did not belong in a castle, but it still was in one, and who knows how expensive or important the little figures were.

He settled his chin on the edge of the mantel, getting as close to the decorations as he dared, his eyes locked on a little robin that had been painted orange and grey with a bright yellow beak and eyes that almost looked alive.

 He spent a good minute staring at the wooden creature, before finally drawing back.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” a voice asked, and Virgil just about jumped onto the ceiling, but there weren’t any good footholds, and the ceiling wasn’t very high besides and wouldn’t give much cover. “And that is why I waited until you stepped back,” the same voice said and perhaps it sounded a bit amused, but Virgil was not focusing on that.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, cringing back. Why did he always have to be screwing something up when the king came upon him. Why did the universe hate him?

 “Oh, it’s okay,” the king said. He was still by the door, having only paused outside of the room instead of coming in. “You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

He certainly had been doing something wrong even if he was allowed to get that close to little things that seemed so fragile (which he almost definitely wasn’t) or be in one of the royal rooms without Patton or Logan in sight. Virgil had come here to kill this man even if he didn’t know it. He was an assassin in one of the private royal chambers. If the king had any idea, Virgil would be dead

 He made as though to take a step into the room, but he paused when he saw Virgil take a step back and grimaced. “I’ll, uh, just be going,” he said. “You can stay. You can look at the figurines all you want.”

Virgil looked at the man’s feet and didn’t say anything. He hoped he didn’t take that as an insult.

“Okay,” the king said. “Goodbye.”

He walked off then, likely to his own private room. When the footsteps faded, Virgil bent down to pick up Princess Marisol, who meowed her complaints at being pulled from the fire. He snuck quietly back into Logan’s room.

Logan and Patton found him in the closet 10 minutes later.

  Chapter 38

It was a bad day for Virgil. Now, Virgil had been skittish for the past few days ever since Patton and Logan had left him half asleep on the sitting room rug and came back to him crammed into a closet with Princess Marisol for company. He hadn’t told them what had happened, but obviously something had, and he’d been jumpy ever since. However, today seemed even worse.

The snow outside had only gotten thicker in the last few days since the first snowfall, and it had put Virgil’s anxieties through the roof. Often literally.

This morning, Logan had a meeting with his Dad, and so it was Patton’s job to coax the boy out of his closet. He’d reportedly slept in Logan’s bed but had stalked off to huddle in on himself in the closet as soon as Logan had had to get up.

 Patton entered Logan’s bedroom to a greeting meow from Princess Marisol. She, at least, was still in bed, happily perched on Logan’s pillow. “Oh, sweetie,” Patton said. “You know Logan doesn’t like cat hair on his stuff. She just purred happily, and Patton didn’t bother to push the issue any further. Instead, he turned to the closet.

He tapped twice. “Hey, Virgil, honey. Are you in there?” he asked, though he already was fairly certain of the answer.

There was a pause and then Virgil called back. “Yeah.”

“Can I open the door?”

A longer pause.

“Can I open the door long enough to join you in there?”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Can i get a yandere steve or bucky "rescuing reader" from a family brunch? She doesn't know him, hes been stalking her.

Who loves the characters stalking their darlings?? Meeee 🙈🙈🙈

Thank you for your request, honey!

Secret relationship

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, implied stalking, kidnapping.

Words: 1729.

__________________

Although the encounters with your family grew a bit more hostile over the year, this family brunch was an utter nightmare to you: your mom decided you didn’t know how worried she were about you having no decent partner. Listening to her trying to force you meeting a son of her coworker - “a very sweet boy with a kind heart and a nice salary, Y/N!” - you did your best not to roll your eyes. She was being impossible. Why on Earth did your mother think she could invade your life this way? You weren’t a kid anymore, and you didn’t need her interfering in your affairs.

But even your dad was unable to stop her as she kept talking more and more about you finally settling down. Once again your mother reminded you that in your age she had already had children of her own while you still struggled to find a man. Of course, she didn’t listen to you saying you didn’t want to settle down just yet. 

Internally screaming, you drank your tea, unable to touch those amazing cinnamon buns right in front of you because your mom would definitely ask you whether you kept a healthy diet. She sent you such a look when you wanted to order some pasta.

“Mom, please.” You exhaled, barely holding on. “Every time you tried fixing me up with someone it never worked out. I know you’re doing it for me, but, ugh, we just have very different taste in men. Dad, no offense!”

He had to suppress a laugh under your mother’s icy glare and quickly snatched a bun, pretending he’s busy eating. You couldn’t blame him - sometimes you wandered how he was holding on all those years with your mom.

She wasn’t a bad parent, really. You loved her, and she was ready to give you everything she had to make you happy, but sometimes your mother just couldn’t see the line where she had to stop. Of course, her concern was genuine, yet she had no right to intrude into your personal life like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Dear, if you were able to find a nice man on your own, I wouldn’t have to do it for you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at you, and you felt like hiding behind your dad’s back.

“Well, maybe I have someone, but I just don’t tell you about him!” You protested, setting your cup back on the saucer and crossing your arms on your chest. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“And why would you refuse letting me know you date someone decent?” She chuckled, lowering her fork into heavenly smelling spaghetti Bolognese. “The answer is simple, isn’t it? Because even if he exists he’s not decent!”

You were really fighting your growing desire to just stand up, pay for the meal at the counter and leave because your mother was really insufferable today. You could never understand her concern with you not seeing anyone. if you were still happy, why did it matter? Why didn’t she ask you about your reasons? The last relationship you were in was suffocating, and you thought you were still recovering from it, enjoying your freedom.

God, now you were really thinking of asking your friend to pretend you were dating just to calm down your mom.

Exhaling loudly and squeezing your eyes shut when your dad tried talking to her, you wished for this family brunch to end as quickly as it could. Well, could you maybe message some of your friends to give you a call and then act like it was your boss? Last time it worked.

“Sweetheart, why do you never pick up your phone?”

Someone’s voice rang right behind you, and you jumped a little in your seat, turning away from your parents and looking at the man standing too close to your liking. 

Holy cow. He looked like Adonis. Or Apollo. You couldn’t really tell, gawking at his impressive biceps barely hidden by his t-shirt, his tight jeans hugging all the right places - he reminded you of a ancient Greek statue, so picture-perfect and absolutely hot.

But what did this breathtakingly handsome stranger want from you? You certainly didn’t remember befriending any Greek gods in this lifetime.

“I’m sorry if I scared you. I admit I was a little mad you didn’t answer my calls.” He smiled, disarming and charming, and you were almost chocking on air at his tender tone. 

Then he lifted the sunglasses he was wearing, and you realized he was winking at you. 

Oh. Ooooh.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, hurriedly taking out your phone from your bag hanging on the chair. “I put it on silent and forgot to check. Hi dear! How did you find me?”

“I’ve been secretly stalking you, of course.” He laughed it off, and the glasses kept going down on his nose until you saw who he really was. The next second you froze, happy you turned away from your parents as they would definitely see something wasn’t right.

Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, was staring back at you.

For a moment you forgot how to breathe, mentally kicking yourself to say something, anything at all to keep the conversation going. Captain America saw your miserable encounter with your mom and decided to give you a hand to escape this family brunch, and you weren’t even able to utter a single word. But who could blame you for that, right? How often did you see a superhero coming to rescue you from your own mom?

You needed to say something. You absolutely needed to say something.

“I will be more careful next time.” You managed to smile playfully at him, turning to face your parents and seeing they, too, had already realized who was standing in front of them. “Mom, dad, I’m sorry, but there’s a very good reason why I can’t meet that nice guy you were telling me about.”

“Please, forgive me my rudeness.” Steve hurriedly said as if he just saw people sitting at the same table with you, coming closer and extending his arm to your dad, then kissing the back of your mother’s hand. You were ready to laugh at her bedazzled expression, her mouth open a little. “My name is Steve. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Your father said in a quiet voice, unable to process who was standing close to him. 

It looked pretty surreal to you too, but you could hardly wish for a more perfect way to stop your mom from fixing you up with someone. Of course, you couldn’t tell her about your date because you were seeing Captain fucking America, alright? And no other sweet and nice boy could ever be compared to him, perfection of perfection.

You were so damn lucky Steve Rogers was willing to help you out here.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt your brunch, but I really need Y/N’s help with something and it's rather delicate. May I snatch her from you?” You could tell even your mother was absolutely abashed with his wide smile when Steve looked at her questioningly.

“O-of course, sir.” Your dad said, seeing his wife currently losing her ability to speak. “We perfectly understand. Thank you for taking care of her. Have a good day!”

With that you were finally free, standing up abruptly and clenching your bag in your hands as you bid your goodbye to your parents, now walking side by side with a national hero who had put his large arm around your waist like it was a usual thing. You still had a hard time accepting the fact it was Steve Rogers who had volunteered to save you. He was risking his privacy doing it - how did he know your mom or you wouldn’t run to paparazzi squad and claim you’re dating Captain America? It would surely bring him troubles.

Yet here you were, walking further and further from that little restaurant with him, unable to say a single word.

“Thank you so much, sir.” You barely whispered, and the man turned his head to you, smiling. “I don’t know what I’d do if you wouldn’t come.”

“Why are you calling me sir?” He laughed, shaking his head and rubbing your back affectionately. “I’m just Steve. Always happy to help a lady.”

Your cheeks were burning instantly, and you bit your lips, lowering your head and wondering how far did you have to walk together so your parents wouldn’t see you two parting ways. Hell, would your mom try to spy on you? It wouldn’t be surprising, actually.

So, you walked and walked until the restaurant became just a little spot somewhere far away.

“Thank you for your help.” You repeated, stopping in the middle of a street and making Steve frown, unable to understand why you weren’t willing to keep walking. “I’m so sorry I took so much of your time. You don’t have to accompany me any longer!”

“What?” He asked, looking at you with a slight concern. 

“I mean, I’m sure my parents had long lost us in the crowd. Besides, we’re so far from them, So, um, you don’t have to keep pretending.”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?”

Taking his sunglasses away, he gently drew you closer to him, and you watched him tilting his head to the side as he rubbed circles on the back of your hand. Steve’s smile was so tender it was able to make you melt, but the way his eyes lingered on you... You suddenly felt uneasy. Why was he reluctant to let you go?

“I’m saying I’m alright and I can continue on my own, si-” You got silent for a second as his gaze turned dark. “Steve.”

“Let’s not a make a scene, dear.” He smiled, giving you a kiss on the forehead while you froze on the spot. “I don’t want your mom to think things haven't been great between us. It’s gonna break her heart, you know?”

Before you had time to say something, confused and a little scared of the things Steve was talking about, he had forcefully dragged you along to a car parked out on the street and opened the door, quickly pushing you inside. He closed the door right when you decided it was time to scream for help.

_______________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @ninefuckingoneone  

[wickedscribbles]

Come What May, Chapter Four

Masterlist

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Original Female Character (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: brief description of panic attack -- there is a warning in the body of the chapter as well! Don’t worry. 

Tags: main character has social anxiety, teaching a class with Obi-Wan, sexual tension, lightsaber fights, Obi-Wan continues with the cute pet names, some teacher/student fantasizing, Obi-Wan is still a massive tease, fucking in a supply closet

Word Count: 6.9 K

It's infuriating to know that Obi-Wan is back in the Temple, but that he's too busy to see you. Between Council meetings that drag for hours, more private gatherings with members of the Senate to discuss what the next move in the war should be, and allowing the poor man time to rest, Obi-Wan has been home for more than a week. You've barely caught more than a glimpse of him. Still, it's nice to have him present in your mind.

You know he's still in the Temple every day you wake up to a glowing good morning, love, his happiness to be near you radiating like sunshine even if you haven't had the time to see one another. It’s not safe to talk back and forth, but sometimes if one of you is particularly bored, you’ll trade a few sentences.

Master Yoda is on a roll today. Send help. Starting to think backwards I am.

Pity you I do.

Very funny, petal.

Then he’d be gone again, fading out before anyone got suspicious. The sudden absence hurts, but not as much as having him gone from the Temple entirely. At least here, you can feel him. You know he's safe.

In contrast to Obi-Wan's breakneck schedule, you've had almost nothing to do. It's full-on spring on Coruscant now, the warmth driving cold and flu season away. You have no colicky little ones in the creche to fuss over, no sick Padawans. The most you might see are some old Masters who need their aching bones tended to, or a quick training accident that needs mended. You haven't shipped out to a war-stricken planet in a while, either. It's strange to have downtime. Strange and frustrating, knowing Obi-Wan is nearby but still not close enough. Having a spare moment between all the illness and injuries is a good thing, and you're grateful. If only you weren't so restless.

-----

It’s rare -- almost impossible -- that you get to take the entire day off, but that’s exactly what you’ve been told to do. The medbay sits empty except for a couple of droids, instructed to deep clean while there are no patients. Even Master Allie appears to be taking it easy; her Force is calm as she bids you goodbye. She insists that if anyone turns up in need of healing, she and Barriss Offee would be on call to take care of it. You bow to her and leave, excited about what possibilities this could open up.

The first thing you do is check for Obi-Wan. Of course, he’s preoccupied. You duck out after feeling the level of concentration he’s exerting at something-or-other; it’s mixed with frustration and you don’t want to distract him. Like you, he’s getting more and more impatient with how busy the Council has kept him. You try not to let yourself be disappointed; it would be too lucky for both of you to be free at the same time, on the same day. All you can do is hope that you can find the time to be together before he has to leave again.

With your schedule more open than ever, you head to your favorite courtyard. The least you can do is soak up some Coruscanti sunshine. But only a quarter of an hour passes before you’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps on cobblestones, headed fast in your direction. Around the corner, scattering the kiros birds, comes a youngling you recognize. It's Gil Graven, a spitfire of a youngling you see in the medbay far more than others his age. He drives his minders crazy with his recklessness, but he’s a sweetheart. Even if you swear you have him admitted once a month for sprains and cuts.

Even now he trips and topples, would have earned the Halls of Healing their first visitor of the day, if you hadn't righted him with a quick pull of the Force.

"Easy, Gil. Where's the fire?" You smile, watching the kid tug his too-large tunic back onto his shoulder.

"Fire? There's no fire, miss. I was looking for you!"

His eyes go round with confusion, cheeks red from running. You forgot how literal younglings could be.

"I meant -- wait, looking for me? What's wrong? Who's hurt?"

Kriff. You should've known taking a day off would backfire. Something had happened in the fifteen minutes you’d had your butt parked in the grass. You get to your feet, gripping the pouch of emergency bacta on your belt.

"Oh! It's not a healer thing." Gil bounces in place, thinking. "But you're needed in the training halls! And they told me to find you quick!"

"Gil, calm down for a minute, okay?" The training halls? Why on Ryloth were you wanted there? "Who told you?"

He shrugs, unhelpful. “I dunno. I’ve never met ‘im before. But he told me to go get the Knight from the Healing Halls ‘cause no one’s been admitted today, and you’d be able to help him.”

You’re still not sure if this is a healer problem, or a matter of simple confusion. Gil’s got a touch of what healers like to call bouncy brain. Sweet as he is, he talks at lightspeed and can’t seem to concentrate if he isn’t moving. There’s a real possibility that he’s got something mixed up here. Still, it’s not as if you’re doing anything else. The Force must have decided that you need to keep busy.

You decide to see what he’s going on about. “Okay, Gil. Lead the way.”

-----

Lingering outside one of the larger training rooms is Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, who smiles when he spots Gil leading you over by the hand.

“There you are!” He crouches down to greet your youngling escort, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Gil, I am so glad you found our friend. You may go now.”

Gil bows to him, his Force blooming under the praise. “Yes, Master.” You both watch as he takes off the way he came, speeding back up to a run.

“No running!” You scold after him. He barely slows before he’s out of sight.

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi chuckles. “That one reminds me of our own Anakin Skywalker.”

You nod, seeing the resemblance. Anakin is five years your junior, but he was still notorious when you were Padawans. Always turning up where he shouldn’t have been, Obi-Wan always three steps behind. Nothing’s changed, Obi-Wan often tells you.

“Master,” you say, hearing the low buzz of voices coming from the room you’re standing in front of. “Gil said you needed me? Is someone injured?”

“Hm? Oh! Oh stars, no.” Master Ki-Adi shakes his head, looking sheepish. “But I was rather hoping you’d be able to help me with a little problem I’ve run into.”

“Of course.” Okay, now I'm suspicious.

Ki-Adi tugs the end of his beard. “My squadron is being called out to fight on very short notice, I’m afraid. I was meant to teach today’s lesson, and was lucky enough to find a substitute for myself on short notice. But my instruction partner is leaving as well, and I haven’t yet found them a suitable replacement.”

“O-oh,” you hear yourself squeak.

Karabast. He wants you to teach? Your stomach drops somewhere near your ankles. This is so far from what you were expecting when Gil led you here. You can’t do this. You can’t.

Ki-Adi must feel your panic, because he continues quickly. “Don’t fret, my dear! My substitute is a very capable instructor. Follow his lead, and everything will be fine.” He claps a hand on your shoulder, turning away.

“Thank you again -- and now I really must be off.” And with that, he’s gone, walking at a brisk pace down the corridor.

CW starts here!

You’re so anxious that you feel like you’re about to be sick. You’ve done many things on behalf of the Council, often without knowing what they even were, but this? You can’t do this. There’s too many people. You lean against the doorframe, struggling for breath.

What’s the matter? Obi-Wan’s concern comes rushing in, and you’re grateful you have him to latch onto, to focus on.

Someone's asked a favor of me -- and I don’t think I can do it. You’re gripping your saber hilt too tight, the metal biting into your hand.

Please try to calm down. Find somewhere to sit and meditate, collect yourself --

Your anxiety is affecting him, making his own thoughts race even if he doesn’t know the cause. This sometimes happens. You’ve jolted awake in the middle of the night more than once with nightmares that weren’t your own, or had thoughts that didn’t make sense ‘til you realized they weren’t yours.

I can’t.

Why not?

You don’t reply. You have to go in there. Master Ki-Adi said that he was already late. Remembering your breathing, you focus on a count of four in through your nose, then hold the breath for a count of seven. When you exhale, you count to eight. After repeating the exercise several times, you can think straight. It’s not the more in-depth meditation Obi-Wan would have preferred, but it helps. All you can do is hope that the instructor carries much of the class, as Master Ki-Adi said he would.

When it feels like you’ve released much of your fear and uncertainty to the Force, you open the door and step in.

CW ends here!

Immediately, twenty pairs of curious Padawan eyes move to follow you, and you cringe. They all sit cross-legged on the padded floor. Three of the walls are lined with mirrors, the better for students to see fighting forms and sparring matches from every angle. On a side wall, a flimsi depicting each form of saber combat stretches the length of the room, cut off only by the supply closet where training accessories are stored. You’ve been in this room and its adjacent siblings dozens of times. But all that isn’t as important to you as the instructor, who’s turned to see why the room’s gone quiet.

It’s Obi-Wan.

Standing bare-foot on one of room-length training mats, in the middle of handing out sparring sticks to the class, he freezes when you lock eyes.

Oh, he says, equal parts shock and happiness.

Yeah.

I say this with the greatest respect, darling -- why did Master Ki-Adi send you?

Because the Healing Halls are completely empty. Also to torture me. You grimace, joining him at the front of the room. He nods to you in greeting, as if you aren’t having a mental conversation.

“Knight Courtee. Glad to see you could join us.”

“I apologize, Master. It was short notice for me, as well.” You bow to him.

Is this what you were so worked up about? They’re only Padawans. They don’t bite -- much.

Once the group realizes that you’re the other instructor that Obi-Wan’s been waiting for, the chatter resumes. They stop ogling you. From the looks of the group, they’re all in the late teens, and bubbling over with energy. Right in the middle of Padawan and Knight, but with all the arrogance to think they’re already the latter. Away from their Masters in a group like this, they tend to get far rowdier than they would otherwise. Each has a lightsaber strapped to their belt.

“Run me through the lesson?” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Quiet!” Obi-Wan demands over his shoulder, and you jump. The loudest cluster of Padawans instantly falls silent behind you.

Sorry, he thinks at you. I’m starting to see why Ki-Adi jumped on the first ship leaving the system.

“Amina, lose the gum. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Yes, now. Navo, do I have to move you to the other side of the room? Don’t think I won’t.”

Mumbles of yes, Master, break out before he turns back to you, satisfied. You don’t smile but know he feels your amusement.

“We’ll be running through some more advanced katas,” Obi-Wan says. “Then we’ll break them into pairs and focus on the saber technique of each pair. At the end of the lesson, you and I will give a demonstration on a chosen form. Perhaps more than one, if the class requests it.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit, thinking back to your own group Padawan lessons. You’d dreaded the paired sparring sessions, having your own form broken down and scrutinized. In the end, though, it had improved your skills. Being able to do the same for this group would be an honor. This is a big piece of being a Jedi, after all; skills passed down from Master to Knight to Padawan.

“It isn’t. Just don’t let them smell your fear,” he grins. “Let’s get started.”

As noisy as the group is, you can tell they’re genuinely excited to be in a session led by Master Kenobi. And Obi-Wan really knows how to lead the room. While you stand stiffly off to the side, nodding whenever he finishes saying something and hoping you don’t look like an idiot, he uses the space. He explains the lesson to them as he explained it to you, then asks if anyone has any questions.

The girl who’d been caught with gum earlier, Amina, raises her hand. Her other hand is busy twirling her long Padawan braid, like she can’t help but fidget with it. “Um, Master Kenobi, why are we using sparring sticks? We’ve had lightsabers for a while now.”

A murmur of agreement washes through the crowd, and Obi-Wan smirks.

“Good question, Padawan. Everyone, close your eyes and reach through the Force. Do you feel how tumultuous the energy in this room is? How excitable? If any one of you lit your saber in this room, I fear someone would lose a limb. And that’s something that Knight Courtee can’t fix for you. So we play it safe.”

Another hand punctuates the air, from the very front of the crowd. This Padawan seems younger than the rest, with hair that sticks up everywhere and eyes focused only on Obi-Wan. He starts speaking before he can be called on.

“All due respect, Master,” he says, in a way that makes you think that he’s used to sharing unorthodox opinions. The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth quirks up as he fights a smile, and you feel him think of Anakin.

“Why are we here? We’re fighting a war. Many of us have already seen combat alongside our Masters.” He lowers his eyes to the mat, afraid he’s gone too far. When his fellow Padawans start nodding and whispering, he tugs on the end of his nerf-tail, as if unsure of what to do.

Obi-Wan takes a moment to consider this question, hand going to his beard as it often does when he’s thinking.

“I appreciate your honesty, Caleb. And you’re correct. It might seem...redundant to spend your time here when even now fellow Jedi are fighting real battles.”

He pauses, thinking of how to continue. The Padawans are hanging onto his every word, the room silent. “But that’s why it’s so important to refine your technique when we can spare the time, in a secure environment. It will make you stronger when you face a real opponent. It might even save your life. Does that make sense?”

Wow, you think to yourself. He’d handled that beautifully. Even though Caleb had spoken out of turn, Obi-Wan hadn’t belittled him or made the teen feel bad about what was an honest and important question. He’d taken the time to consider the Padawan’s feelings, and had given him an equally honest answer, not something to pacify him. It takes you back to your own Padawan training, when Obi-Wan had been your instructor.

“Yes, Master,” Caleb ducks his head, looking relieved. “thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes search the room. “Anything else?”

After a pause, another hand goes up, toward the back.

“Millu?” You love that he knows everyone by name. Some Padawans turn around to reveal a burly Mon Calamari boy.

“Yeah.” His bright yellow eyes dart over to you. “Uh, speaking of Knight Courtee. Why are you teaching us? I thought you were just, like, a healer.” There’s no real malice in his tone, more like an off-handed curiosity, but Obi-wan stiffens.

Luckily you think of something to say before he can open his mouth. It wouldn’t look good for him to get upset defending you.

“That’s an excellent question, Millu, thank you.” You shoot him a smile, and you swear his scales darken with a blush.

“Being a Jedi with healing abilities does not mean that you get to neglect other aspects of your training. On the contrary, your connection with the Force must be powerful at all times. Healing will swamp you physically and emotionally, so you must keep both body and mind strong to withstand it.”

Your smile widens. “Of course, if you’re asking if you can best me in a fight, we’ll see how you match up during paired spars. Sound good?”

Laughter breaks out, and Millu blushes even darker before muttering, “Sure,” and looking away. Even if it seemed like he was questioning your ability to teach them (as you yourself are), you’re grateful the interaction’s lightened the mood.

Nicely done, says Obi-Wan.

“Very good,” he says aloud, clapping his hands together. “Now if we’re done heckling Knight Courtee, let’s begin with some stretches, please.”

------

Obi-Wan was right, you think, walking around the room. This...isn’t bad at all. You walk from pair to pair, taking in the angle of their weapon, how they hold their bodies, making minor corrections and leaving comments as you go. They look up when you come by, eager to see what you’re going to say to them. It’s much easier to interact with the Padawans on this smaller scale, and you find yourself joking with them, smiling. After a while, they even start asking for you, looking to see if you can demonstrate a move or if they’re holding the training stick the correct way. They aren’t scary at all -- just excitable kids who want to learn.

I’m sorry, Obi-Wan was what?

Looking up, you see Obi-Wan grinning across the room, demonstrating his own correction. In the middle of all this excitable teen Force energy, it’s easy for you to have a conversation and go unnoticed.

You were right. I like this.

And you’re good at it; they adore you. You’re going to make a wonderful Master. He shows you a brief image of a happy Padawan trailing behind you, eager to follow wherever you lead. It’s the best feeling, love.

Unexpected emotion rises in your chest at his pure sincerity. He knows how insecure you are about the fact that you’ll soon have your own Padawan to look after, but he doesn’t have a single doubt that you can do it. For the first time, you let yourself think of the situation in a hopeful light. It was a path you never pictured for yourself, but one that you know you have to follow. Obi-Wan makes it look so easy. Anakin, and even Anakin’s Padawan Ahsoka, look at him like he hung the stars. Of course, so do you.

“Last twenty minutes!” Obi-Wan calls over the noise of sparring sticks clacking together. “Take a seat, class.”

The Padawans rush to do as they’re told, everyone clamoring for the best spot to view your spar with Master Kenobi. They go completely silent, waiting for you to join him. A hush even falls over the Force energy in the room, like they’re all holding their breath.

Obi-Wan sinks into a bow when you’re opposite him, one hand on his saber. When you glance down in confusion, he sends a wave of amusement.

I said I didn’t trust the Padawans, darling. Not you.

Not sure if that’s wise. You bow in return, unclipping your saber also. He ignites his blade, the blue glow casting light over all the reflections of the mirrors. Taking a deep breath, trusting the familiar feeling of your own weapon, you ignite your lightsaber. The bright green light shimmers over your hands, crackling with your energy.

You’re surprised at how nervous you are. It’s one thing to watch him from across the room, to be taught by him as a Padawan yourself, but to spar with Obi-Wan as an equal? He’s going to wipe the floor with you.

“What form does Knight Courtee use?” You hear somebody whisper.

“Form five -- she told me.”

“Oooh, really? That’ll be fun to see against Master Kenobi.”

“Shhh!”

Obi-Wan waits until the group is quiet again to ask if you’re ready to start. Your saber hums hot in your hand, a little less controlled than you’d like it.

“Ready as I can be, Master.”

“Then let’s begin.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than he’s in your space, much closer than you want him with a lightsaber in hand. You strike out instinctively and he expected that, anticipated it. He was baiting you. Your blade bounces off of his far more harshly than you like, the zyoom echoing through the room. You take a step back, try to calculate an opening. He mirrors you, waiting to react. It takes you longer than it should to realize that he’s shielded the bond up tight, not giving anything away. The only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and the crackling of the sabers, each one fueled by its master’s adrenaline.

He keeps his blade held at eye level, and you lunge in for a mid-range attack. Obi-Wan blocks but you keep it coming, getting back into the groove of Djem So after spending so long out of combat. It feels good to have the saber be a part of you, to have it grow lighter as it remembers your touch.

Strike, block, strike, block. You’re working at a breakneck rhythm trying to get through his defenses, but Obi-Wan won’t give an inch. Sweat pours down your temple but still you press, using the Force to try and search for a weak point but finding none. He’s too kriffing fast.

There’s a reason they call him Master of this form. It’s infuriating, the almost lazy way he flicks your lightsaber aside every time, using your energy against you. There’s not a hair out of place on him. Every time you lower your blade, wondering what to do, he simply resets, content to wait again. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows you’re getting tired.

The Padawans are anything but quiet now -- some shouting Get her, Master Kenobi! while others insist that you can hold your own. Your eyes flick over to them once. Some lean forward towards the fight as far as they dare, a few are even on their feet in support.

When Obi-Wan finally tips his saber in retaliation, you barely manage to block, caught off guard at the change from defense to offense. He strikes again, again, again -- each blow more brutal than the last, each one so close to your skin that you can feel his blue saber’s sizzling heat. He’s driving you back against the wall. Despite your best effort, you’re losing ground where you’d previously held it. When you feel your back slam against the wall he was driving you toward, you gasp and fumble a block -- your last move. The blade of Obi-Wan’s saber hovers near your throat, a win.

“And that’s your head,” he says easily. You lower your saber and extinguish the blade, holding your hands up in a show of defeat.

The room erupts.

“Master Kenobi, that was so wizard --”

“Knight Courtee was letting him have it! Did you see --?”

“I wish I could have recorded that for the holo!”

“Settle down,” Obi-Wan says, but he’s smiling. “I’m glad that you all have found this lesson so illuminating.” He bows to you, signalling the end of the match, and you follow suit.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to the room. The declaration is met with mixed reactions; half are glad to be free, half don’t want the lesson to be over yet.

“No need to hang around and help tidy this time. You were such a good group that Knight Courtee and I are glad to take care of it.” It’s traditional for students to stick around after the lesson is done and help roll up the training mats, collect the sparring sticks, and clean the room in any other way that needs it.

That statement really gets them out the door, though several of them whine about him being far cooler than their regular teacher and why can't he teach them all the time?

Once everyone’s filed out, Obi-Wan locks the door behind them. He turns to you with a long sigh, relieved that the loudness of all those teenagers in one place has dispersed.

“Well,” you say. “That’s not how I expected my morning to go.”

“I’m glad,” Obi-Wan replies. “I was beginning to think that I wouldn’t see you at all in my time home, yet here we are.”

“Like the Force willed it.”

He beams at that, drawing you tight against him. “C’mere. My bright little instructor.”

You grumble, cheek pressed against his chest. “You flayed me within an inch of my life, Obi-Wan.”

All he does in response to your grumpiness is chuckle, placing warm kisses everywhere he can reach on your face. “Yes. I did.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“I couldn’t exactly go easy on you, could I?”

No, he couldn’t. Everyone knows the extent of Obi-Wan’s skill, and while you aren't untalented with a saber, winning or even overcoming him would be unlikely. You’d fought honestly, and so had he. Anything else would have invoked suspicion.

He takes your silence for the correct answer, then gently pries your cheek from his body.

“Would it help if you got kisses as a consolation prize?” He’s looking at you so fondly, like you’re his favorite thing in the galaxy. You nod, already leaning on your tiptoes to reach.

Obi-Wan hums against your lips, sinking against you like he’s been waiting for this -- because you both have. The kisses stay close-mouthed, but he’s pressing them onto you fast, his hands roaming you urgently. Your bond tells you that he wants to take his time with you, would have each moment stretch out for as long as possible, if he could. He wants to savor you. But arousal is winning out.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling back to brush his nose against yours. “Do you know how much restraint it took not to pin you against the wall and have you, at the end of our fight? To resist sending all the little Padawans away right then?”

You gasp, feeling heat stirring deep in your stomach. The honey-sweetness of his tone contrasts with his words, but he’s just getting started.

“There was such fire in your eyes when we sparred, kitten." Kitten. Yet another pet name to add to your already large collection. This one makes you blush, and you don't miss Obi-Wan's pleased grin. "I had to shut you out so that you wouldn’t get distracted by my, er, distraction.”

His distraction presses up against your leg now, thick and hot. Obi-Wan tugs the end of your braid hard, tilting your head back to expose your neck. You whimper against him, all but letting him hold you up at this point. He loves it -- going to work at once nipping and kissing everywhere he can get to. His breath is heavy on your skin as he ruts against your thigh, trying and failing to bite back his own ecstatic moans.

“We’re alone now,” you choke out, hardly aware enough to string the sentence together. “s-so you can -- do whatever you want with me.”

This makes him pause. “Is that so?” Obi-Wan’s tone is still so light, like you’re having a conversation about what they’re serving in the refectory today, not how badly you want him to fuck you.

“Yes,” you say, embarrassed at how desperate you sound, how easily you melt for him. You can see yourself over his shoulder in the mirrors, and you blush, burying your face.

He laughs a little at your reaction. “What if I want to take you into that supply closet and bend you over?” His hand roams down your body, landing on your crotch. Two fingers rub a strong circle through the material, and you lean into it. “What if I want to take you from behind, make up for all the time we haven’t been together?”

“I’d ask why -- aren’t we already there,” you huff, blinking up at him.

That’s all the answer he needs. In one motion, he grabs you round the middle and hauls you over his shoulder like a sack of meilooruns. Your breath whooshes out, surprise and a lack of air keeping you from forming a sentence as he marches you to the closet as promised. The ground bounces and sways in your vision as you’re jostled -- it’s a strange sensation, being carried. Thankfully, it only lasts a few seconds.

Obi-Wan opens the door and closes it just as quickly once you’re both inside, making you aware of how small, how dark, the space is. You find yourself deposited on the storage bin that the mats are kept in, your legs dangling high in the air. He leans in to kiss you, nothing but hot breath and hungry hands, and you fist your own in the front of his tunic. It spurs him on, and soon his tongue is pressing into your open mouth, exploring every corner.

You moan into him, your fingers going beyond clothes to scratch against his chest. Obi-Wan picks you up again and you lift your legs around his waist, rubbing tight against his cock. He bears your entire weight like it’s nothing, continuing to kiss you as if your legs are planted on the ground. Stars, the strength, the eagerness of him, is overwhelming. His arms are pillars, holding you steady, crossed firm around your back.

"I thought you said," you gasp out, shivering when his tongue flicks out to catch your earlobe, "something about -- bending me over --"

“So eager today,” he says, his voice a tantalizing purr.

“Can you blame me?” you blurt.

"And what does that mean, dearest?"

He already knows what you mean. It’s everywhere in your mind. You can’t hide how you feel when you’ve been this close to him for so long, forbidden to touch him, to even think about it until you’ve reached your breaking point.

Obi-Wan, hands behind his back, patiently watching the Padawans demonstrate their forms. Nodding and sometimes stepping in to correct, placing his hand casually on an arm or leg to shift the balance of their weight. Then the Padawan he’s correcting becomes you, and his touch is no longer innocent. The group is melting away, and his mouth is trailing down your neck, whispering things that have little to do with the kata you’re struggling through.

“Oh,” he chuckles. “I see.”

You bump your head into his shoulder, too embarrassed to answer. As if to reassure you, Obi-Wan sends you an image back.

Both of you in the same training room, but you stand among your fellow Padawans, now all Knights, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot. You don't look that much different from the way you do now, but for the traditional Padawan's hairstyle.

Though you're seeing things from his perspective, the mirrors give him away; Obi-Wan looks younger, too. There are no lines around his eyes here, he holds himself more loosely. Like there isn't a galaxy-wide war. And he's less certain as he flits from student to student, new at this.

"You were always a pleasure to speak to, you know," Obi-Wan tells you, low voice right in your ear. He knows that he's teasing you, knows exactly the effect it's having on your body. You squirm in his tight grip, unable to go anywhere to get away from the softness of his voice.

"Polite and passionate. Made your Master very proud. But…" he trails off, and you shiver, anticipating his next words.

"So anxious whenever you saw me, weren't you?" He muses, fingers flexing on the curve of your ass. "And now I finally understand why."

"Obi-Wan…" you protest, unsure of what you're going to say next but just knowing that you need the teasing to stop. Both mental and physical -- he's hard against your abdomen, almost painful with how tight you're wedged against him.

"Down, love," he says. With effort, you extract your legs from around his waist and plant your feet on the floor, with his hands to guide you. "Turn around."

For a moment, you get excited, thinking that he's done teasing you. Obi-Wan makes quick work of your belt, dropping it to the floor seconds before your pants and underwear. You step out of them, breathing heavily, feeling his chest against your back. There's a clink, and you realize that he's dropped his belt as well, one hand bracing on your shoulder as he fumbles out of his own bottoms.

There's nothing between you now. Obi-Wan's bare dick rubs against your tailbone, leaving a warm dribble of pre-come.

"Now bend forward for me, darling -- that's it --"

You lean on the storage bin, heart thumping a tattoo in your throat. Obi-Wan lines himself up behind you, breath ragged, and sinks inside you in one long push.

"Obi-Wan, oh," you cry out, not expecting how full you'd feel from this angle.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he says, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. His mind is a high buzz of pleasure, looking forward to taking you apart in this new, delicious way.

Then he moves. So, so deep and slow. You let out a broken whine, toes curling. He pauses, holds his breath. Then thrusts again, just as unhurried as the first time, and your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth material of the bin in front of you.

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Do you know, this reminds me of something.”

You groan, not out of pleasure, but because he’s stopped. How? Where and how did he find the restraint to torment you like this? You’re not sure which part of today’s interaction set him off, but you sorely wish that he’d get down to business and fuck you.

“What does it remind you of?” you ask tightly, figuring that playing along will get you where you want to be faster. As if rewarding you, Obi-Wan’s hands come around to find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the barest of touches. Gods if he doesn’t go faster --

He can hear your mind loud and clear, but says nothing, only sending a feeling of amusement back before answering your question.

"Watching you go through katas in this very room. Or, well, the room outside." Obi-Wan presses into your back, finally starting to push into you in a slow but satiating rhythm.

"Mmm," you manage, pressing your lips together hard to avoid reaching an inappropriate volume.

“Do you remember the criticism I had for you, little Padawan? You were so tense. Why was that?” All the while he’s languidly thrusting into you from behind. As if he expects you to form a coherent response.

“I l-liked you,” you stammer out, bracing yourself on the edge of the storage bin.

"Oh? Well, I liked you too. You were a wonderful student."

"That's not what I --" Thank the Maker that it's pitch black in this closet, because your face is burning.

"But for some reason," he continues, enjoying himself, "you always needed correction in solo practice. The other Masters told me, several times, that that was not an issue in their own lessons."

You can only whimper as he bears into you deeper. He knows exactly what he's doing to you. When you place a hand on your stomach, just above your belly button, you can feel him inside you.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Did you need my hands on your body, as desperately as you do now?"

"Yes, Master," you all but sob. "I need, I n-need --"

"Need me to fuck you?" Obi-Wan supplies, voice going rough and breathy. "Need me to wreck you, the way your mind is screaming for it?"

You slam the palm of your hand on the top of the bin, and it makes a hollow thud, sending pain shooting up your arm.

"Obi-Wan, yes! Please, please fuck me, I need it!" You're aware that your words border on incoherence, but not enough to care.

And he doesn't either.

Just as you've reached your limit, so does Obi-Wan. One of his hands grabs your wrist and pins it, hard, while the other squeezes your hip.

"Are you ready?" He pants in your ear, pausing only to nip at your shoulder blade. Already he's fucking you deeper, so good so thick inside you, that you're writhing under his every touch.

"Wanted to do this -- for s-so long --" Obi-Wan gasps out and so do you, the heat of orgasm reaching a crescendo in your thighs as you feel him come apart in your mind.

"Want to come so deep inside you, darling, oh please, please --"

You know that he's barely hanging on, waiting for your permission.

"Gods, Master, yes --" Like you could deny him this, when you want it so desperately too.

His forehead drops to your shoulder as he rams into you, shoving you against the bin. It takes everything you have not to scream his name when you come, gripping his arm -- the only part of him you can reach from this angle.

Obi-Wan isn't far behind, moaning loud behind you as your orgasm makes your pussy clamp down even tighter on him.

"Yes, yes, oh my Gods --"

The bond flares up sudden and white-hot between you, carrying the sensation of Obi-Wan's pleasure just as it had that night on Odryn.

"Kriff," you say weakly, clutching his arm like it's the only thing connecting you to the planet.

Sweetheart, I'm there, I'm right there

I know, and I'm -- me too --

Again?

Yes

Oh fuck, fuck -- I'm coming, stars, I'm coming, oh --

You come a second time when Obi-Wan starts to spurt inside you, tears spilling from the intensity of it all. With him this tight against your body, you swear you can feel every hot spurt of come shoot up inside you. Obi-Wan's teeth are caught in the material of your tunic, muffling his shout. It feels like you stand there, taking his come for minutes, as he shudders against you.

When it's over you whimper, leaning against his chest on aftershock-weak legs. Slowly, as if his head is one step behind, Obi-Wan puts his arms around you.

"Stars above, Obi-Wan," you mutter, every coherent thought fucked out of your head. Your brain feels like static, but your body's floating. Pulling out and turning you gently to face him again, Obi-Wan plants a line of soft kisses from your forehead to your mouth. His release runs heavy down your thighs, but there's not much you can do about it here.

"Not tense now, are you?" he says, tracing slow, wet circles over your sensitive clit.

You laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"No, I'm committed to a scene," Obi-Wan corrects, as if this was all an elaborate game.

You consider saying something along the lines of, I'm going to commit my boot to your rear end if you don't quit it, but think better of it.

Instead you re-dress, wincing at the mess you'll have to tolerate down your crotch and legs until you can get to the nearest fresher. This is the downfall of spontaneous sex. No easy cleanup.

"Next time, would you like to come with me?" Obi-Wan's asking. You snort, buckling your belt back into place.

"Pretty sure I just did. You didn't notice?"

He pauses, then opens the closet door, letting in a blinding slice of light. Though he's dressed, Obi-Wan looks disheveled and wide-eyed still in a way that you always adore.

"That's...no. That's not what I'm talking about, love," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"I mean, the next time I have to leave. Come with me. I think we've both come to realize that being apart is painful. And that being together isn't just a physical concept anymore."

His voice has dropped to a near-whisper, but you're hanging on to every word. Though you'd never admit it aloud, this is exactly what you want. To follow him instead of lying awake every night, worrying he won't come back from the last distant system he's shipped away to. You want to be beside him, no matter how rough things are.

You are a Jedi, not a housewife. And frankly, being kept in the Temple while he's away risking his neck, the bond blocked for days or weeks at a time, is torture.

Obi-Wan listens to all this, your outpouring of emotion through the bond you never meant to forge with him. He shows his understanding, his respect, his compassion for you, in return.

"Okay. Okay," he says, more to himself than you. "I'll speak to the Council. Knowing them, it may take some time to get an answer, but --"

You cut him off with a kiss. It doesn't matter. As long as you're together.

[novemberandmay]

After All

Chapter 3

 Chapter 1 Chapter 2

When Marinette woke up the next day, she did not feel refreshed. She doesn’t remember what she dreamt of, but it was likely a very

stressful

nightmare. She grumbled as she grabbed her phone and turned off the alarm. Why does she have an alarm set, again? Huh. I think it was because she had school in the morning? Ehh, whatever. Wait. School? SHE HAD SCHOOL!! OH NO! Marinette got up in a panic, grasping for her closet. She scrambled towards it and yanked the doors open. She looked through the pretty much empty closet, until she found what she was looking for. Her uniform. Hurriedly, she through it on, and raced down stairs.

“MAMAN! What time is it?!” She yelled, having smelt the fresh coffee coming from the kitchen.

“It’s 6:30 sweetie! Do you want some breakfast?” Her mother yelled back, busy making pancakes.

“No thanks Maman! I’ll just grab an apple on my way out!” Marinette answered, running back up stairs to grab her supplies.

After grabbing her bag and phone, she goes towards to kitchen to pick up her lunch money and an apple.

“Love you maman! I’ll see you when I get home! Take care of papa for me.” Marinette kissed Sabine’s cheek, before rushing off to the front entrance. While doing so, her maman giggled after her, hiding her phone that said 6:00 AM. It couldn’t hurt if Marinette arrived early, now could it?

“Love you too Dear! Have a great day!” Sabine shouted after her daughter, the door closing before she could get out her last word. She shrugged and went back to making food.

Marinette ran towards the subway, hoping to make it to school before the her tour at 7. As she did so, she bumped into someone full force.

“Oi! Whatcha thank ya’ doin’!?”

“AH! IM SO SORRY!! BUT IM GOING TO BE LATE!” She tried to run, but the man caught her arm. He yanked her small body towards him, making her stand on her tiptoes.

“Ya’ gonna hav’ to pay for it, lil’ lady. Maybe ya’ can pay usin’ ya’ body, if ya’ can’t pay cash!” His breath stung her nose, his actions hurting her.

“Please let go sir! I’m sorry! I can give you money! Just please let go! It hurts!” Marinette screamed, getting the attention of some passerby.

A clear, strong voice rang out, getting the attention of the man hurting her.

“Le’ go of ‘er! Pic’ on someon’ ya own size!” The passerby yelled, rushing towards the unarmed man. He raised his arm, revealing pepper spray, and aimed it right at the man. The man stepped back, letting go of Mari in favor of covering his eyes. The passerby grabbed Mari, yanking her along the rode. They ran for a bit, until they couldn’t hear the other man’s screams of rage.

“Oh thank YOU! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t interfere! I’m so sorry for the trouble! Oh kwami, I can’t believe that happened, oh-“ Marinette rambled on, panicking.

“Oi, no need ta’ thank me, but cha’ should be mor’ careful, don’t cha know Gotham ain’t a safe city? We’re da’ crime field one after all.” The man’s ascent was strong, but she understood what he said. After thanking him a bit more, she hurried off to catch the train waiting in subway. She found a seat surprisingly easy, so she just sat down with a sigh. Bringing out her phone, she looked at the time.

“6:15? But didn’t maman say it was 6:30 when I left the house?” Marinette thought, confused.

Not bothering on trying to figure it out, she looked through her emails and messages. Seeing nothing new, she just waited for the train to stop. When it eventually did, she rushed out of the now almost full “vehicle”. She grasped her purse to her chest while doing so, scared it would her caught on something.  She continued in this pose until she reached the school.

Looking up, she could only admire the building. How nice.

So this was it, she was really attending a new school. Hopefully it won’t end up like her old one. She could only hope.

Taglist:

@neakco 

@dood-space 

@jjmjjktth 

@animegirlweeb 

@nickristus-dreamer 

@talushi2002 

@miraculouslydumb 

@stellar-star 

@toodaloo-kangaroo 

@solangelo252 

@moonlightstar64 

@nyx-in-line 

Notes: The next chapter will canonly start with her tripping. I won’t accept her not doing such an action. But anyways, we’re at the school part now! Hopefully nothing bad happens~ (Unedited)

Sorry if I forgot to tag someone

Have a nice day y’all

-November

[eyayah-oya]

Oh What a Beautiful Morning

Cloneship Week Day 1 - No Order 66 - @cloneshipweek

Bacara/Neyo/Rex

Rating - G

Very vague references to past canonical violence

Ao3 link

           It wasn’t often that all three of them managed to still be in bed by the time the sun rose.  Nightmares frequently plagued all of them, horrors from the war and from Kamino. But it was nice when they were able to wake up in the morning and see that the other two were peacefully asleep.

           Rex watched as the light danced over the faces of his two husbands, catching on their lashes and making their skin glow.  Bacara had returned from a camping trip with some of his Marines late the night before, surprising both Neyo and Rex.  They’d thoroughly welcomed him home and fallen into a peaceful sleep all piled together on the bed.

           “Why the kark is the sun in my face?” Neyo grumbled before he turned and shoved his face in Bacara’s chest to help block out the light.

           “Someone forgot to close the curtains last night,” Rex snipped.  He draped himself against Bacara’s back and ran his fingers through Neyo’s delightfully messy bedhead.  Nighttime was the only time that they were able to see Neyo’s hair not slicked back, and it never ceased to thrill Rex that he got to see Neyo like that.  It was a sign of vulnerability for his husband that he refused to take lightly.  The second he took his husbands for granted was the second he no longer deserved them.

           “Incompetent,” Bacara rumbled pleasantly.  “Why are you waking me up so early?”

           “Because the karking sun is shining in my face.”

           Rex bit back a snicker as he nuzzled the back of Bacara’s neck.

           “Why don’t you just close the curtains?”

           “That requires me getting out of bed and that’s not a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Neyo snarked.  “Why don’t you make the CT get up?”

           “The CT can hear you and would like to say ‘kark you kindly’.”

           Neyo peeled his face away from Bacara’s pecs to gasp theatrically.  “Gasp! CTs aren’t allowed to say the big boy words!”

           “Did you just say gasp?” Bacara snorted.  “You’ve been spending too much time with Ponds.”

           “Correction, I’ve been spending too much time with Fox. Ponds is an unfortunate tag-along.”

           Rex leaned over Bacara and pressed a kiss to Neyo’s cheek. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said that,” he said with a grin.

           Neyo shuddered.  “Actually, I take that back.  I do not want to be his next target.”

           “Too late,” Rex sang as he pressed a kiss to the nape of Bacara’s neck and slid from the bed.  “I’m going to go tell him.”

           With a lunge over Bacara that resulted in an elbow to the kidney, Neyo grabbed Rex’s hand.  Whatever he was going to say, though, seemed to die on his lips as he realized exactly what he had done.  It was still difficult for Neyo to show vulnerability, even with Rex and Bacara, and more difficult still to ask for things.  Even something like asking Rex to stay in bed with them for a little longer.

           If there was one thing Rex had learned over the years, however, it was how to see what his people needed.  He always knew what Neyo wasn’t saying and gladly complied.  For the most part.

           “I’ll be right back.  I’m just going to go feed your tooka and let her outside,” Rex assured.

           “She’s not my tooka!” Neyo grumbled before reluctantly letting Rex go and cuddling up against Bacara once again.

           “Of course, dear,” Bacara placated patronizingly.

           Rex couldn’t help but snort at the murderous glare Neyo gave Bacara.  He dug a pair of pants out of the pile they’d made on the floor last night and stretched languidly.  He might have put on a bit more of a show than he usually would, simply because he knew both Bacara and Neyo were watching him closely.

           “While you’re up, do you want to close the curtains?” Neyo smirked as he leaned over Bacara to blatantly stare at Rex.  Bacara rolled his eyes and poked Neyo, even as he adjusted the both to better watch the rest of the room.  The corners of his eyes crinkled in that specific way that always made it seem like he was laughing at some hidden joke.

           With a cock of his hip, Rex let a sharp smile take over his face.  “No.  I don’t think I will.”  And with that, he left the room to Neyo’s loud curses and Bacara’s rumbling laugh.

           All three of them had been through so much during the war, and even long before the war ever started.  Kamino had not been easy for any of them, and Rex was so glad that he had Cody, Alpha-17, Wolffe, Fox, Ponds, Bly, and his squadmates to take care of him.  Neyo and Bacara only had each other on the rare occasion they were allowed near each other and went through hell when they were isolated.  During the war, they were even more isolated, with Bacara deployed constantly behind the Separatist blockade and Neyo running intelligence from the Core to Bacara and his Marines.

           To hear them comfortable enough to laugh and tease and lay in bed was a greater gift than any Rex had ever received in his life.  Since the end of the war, he had made it his goal to do everything he could to keep them happy and feeling safe.  If that meant teasing Neyo about his tooka or burying Bacara in soft blankets and cuddles, then Rex would gladly spend his days doing that.  Neyo and Bacara meant everything to Rex.

           Once Neyo’s tooka was fed and let out of the house, and the package left on their doorstep collected and brought inside, Rex meandered his way back into the bedroom with a tray full of goodies.  It didn’t surprise him in the slightest to see his husbands playfully wrestling on the bed, though they both stopped as soon as they smelled the caf.

           “You are my favorite,” Neyo moaned and eagerly reached for the cup of caf that would knock even Cody out with how black it was. Bacara sat back against the headboard and pulled Neyo into his side, while Rex settled the tray on their side table.

           “Here’s your sugary monstrosity,” Rex said and handed the caf topped with whipped cream and filled with cocoa syrup and all other kinds of goodies.  He took his simple, slightly sweetened caf and sat on Bacara’s other side.  “The twins left us a gift on the doorstep,” he said once he had gotten comfortable.

           Neyo perked up.  He could claim to be a cold-hearted bastard all he liked, but that didn’t change the fact that he loved all Littles with his whole heart.  Of the three of them, Neyo was the one most likely to get into trouble with other parents because he had helped their children with their shenanigans.  It had happened before, and Rex was sure Neyo would have to be marching on before he stopped.

           Rex grabbed the stack of flimsi and set them on Bacara’s lap so they could all look through them.  Luke and Leia had drawn pictures for each of them, and they were remarkably well-done for a pair of three-year-olds.

           The one on top was done by Leia, showing Neyo laying down with his tooka on his chest and Bacara and Leia aiming water pistols at him. Neyo attempted to scowl at the reminder of what had happened to him the week before, but the corners of his lips kept twitching up into a smile.

           The second was of Luke and Bacara knitting in Bacara’s enormous and ridiculously comfortable armchair.  Luke had taken to watching whenever his uncle pulled out his yarn and knitting needles and had recently asked if he could learn how to knit, too, despite being a little too young for the fine motor skills.

           Below that one came a picture of Rex with paint smeared over his face.  He’d taken the twins to the Wolfpack’s art event the other night, and the Littles present had all gleefully smeared paint all over Rex’s clothes and face.  Wolffe took holos and shared them with the rest of his batchmates, and was immediately tackled by Rex and covered with paint, too. Rex wasn’t sure who had gotten holos of the two of them laughing and wrestling, but he knew it was one of his Torrents that had managed.  Luke and Leia had asked that Rex take them to the next event.

           The last picture was of Bacara, Neyo, and Rex holding Luke and Leia between them, swinging them high in the air.  There wasn’t a specific day or memory that this picture represented, simply because it happened so often.  Every time Anakin dropped his children off at Rex’s house, he and his husbands took them on a walk and every time, Luke and Leia managed to convince them to swing them high in the air between them.  It was their favorite game, and Rex despaired over the thought of the two of them growing too big to do it in the future.

           “There’s a note,” Bacara rumbled and tugged a flimsi from between the first two pictures.  He had a small and gentle smile softening the edges of his face, and Rex couldn’t help but fall a little bit more in love with his husband.

           “Do you want to read it?” Neyo asked.

           Bacara cleared his throat and shifted so he could drink his caf unimpeded.  “Dear Ba’vode.  Me and Luke want to tell you how very much we love you!  Mommy helped us write the note, and she said that you’d like the pictures me and Luke drawed for you.  Member when Ba’Rex took us to that paint thing?  We can’t wait to go again.  And see Ba’Neyo’s Tooka!  Luke’s more excited for that.  Daddy says we’re gonna come eat at your house soon, and I wanna give you all a big hug. Ba’Cara’s hugs are the best.  He’s all warm and cuddly.  Like Ba’Neyo’s Tooka.  I love you the mostest.  From your favorite, Leia.”

           Rex couldn’t help but laugh at the note.  It was so heart-warmingly endearing.  He’d known that Leia would be a strong-willed woman from the moment she was born, and nothing she had done over the last three years of her life had changed that.

           “You’re all warm and cuddly,” Neyo snickered and poked Bacara’s side.

           “Yeah, but I have the best hugs while she likes you for your tooka,” Bacara snarked right back.

           “She’s not my tooka!”

           “Tell that to the twins.  They think she’s your tooka,” Rex said.  He couldn’t help but poke fun at his husband, just to rile him up.

           Neyo shot him a filthy look.  “You’re lucky I have caf right now, otherwise you’d be down on the ground with my knee in your solar plexus.”

           “You wish,” Rex snorted.

           “Ladies, if you’re done, Luke sent us a note, too,” Bacara cut in before their bantering could break out into an actual fight.

           “Well, read that one, too,” Neyo snorted and took a large gulp of his caf.

           “Hi Ba’vode!  Mama said that this letter is gonna be dropped at your house.  Do you wanna come over and play today?  Oh wait, Daddy says we’re gonna come later, so never mind.  I can’t wait to show you all the pictures I drewed for you and I knitted some yarn for you Ba’Cara.  Ba’Neyo, do you think you could show me how to make those cookies Ba’Wolffe brought to the fire last week?  Leia says that you don’t know how to make the cookies, but I believe in you. Oh, Daddy also says to tell Ba’Rex that we are gonna take him on a surprise camping trip but it’s supposed to be a surprise.  Shh, you can’t tell anyone.  So, I’ll see you later tonight!  Love you Ba’vode!  Love, Luke.”

           “Well, kark,” Neyo sighed.  “Who’s going to tell Luke that I can’t actually bake?”

           “I’m leaving that up to you, cyare,” Rex snorted.  He bet that Neyo would be over at Wolffe’s house by the end of the day tomorrow to ask for baking lessons.  “You get to deal with the sad eyes, not me.  I just need to act suitably surprised when Anakin tells me that he’s taking me on a camping trip.  He definitely spoiled the surprise on that one.”

           “When exactly are they coming over tonight?” Bacara asked as he reached around Rex and sat the pictures and notes on the tray next to the bed.

           “They’ll be here for latemeal, so around 1800 tonight,” Rex answered.  “Anakin and Padme talked to me about it last week.”

           “So, what you’re saying is that we have plenty of time to laze around in bed?” Neyo smirked before he drained his caf and set the mug on the ground.  He trailed a hand down Bacara’s chest and leaned in to steal a kiss from his husband.

           “Yup.  Plenty of time,” Rex agreed eagerly, before he grabbed the other two mugs to set to the side.  He pressed against both of his husbands and reveled in their warmth.  With the war over, they had all the time in the world. And a lazy morning was the perfect way to start their week.

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 7

Little bit of a filler, but we’ve got some fun shenanigans in store! >:)

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Chapter 7: Guys bein’ dudes indeed

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

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Marinette was up early again. She found herself some breakfast, then went to the stables. The Order had made it back late last night, so they didn’t have time to groom the horses. She entered the first stall and started to brush the first horse. The routine motion let her mind drift, and she thought back to the events of the past few weeks.

Marinette, Kagami, and Luka embarked on their daily ritual of collecting the morning paper from town. It was the day after they’d beaten the first boss, which they had reported anonymously. Marinette and Adrien had agreed that taking the credit would only serve to draw unwanted attention towards their group, which could put them and the rest of their friends in danger.

But it apparently had another unforeseen advantage. As Marinette paid for the newspaper that highlighted their victory, she heard comments from other players around her.

“Are you serious? Some party went rogue and beat the first dungeon on their own?”

“Selfish assholes, can’t believe they got all that loot to themselves.”

“Well I think it’s good that we’re making progress!”

“Yeah, if you ignore the fact that they didn’t tell us what it was like at all, so now we haven’t got a clue how to face the next one.”

She shook her head in disbelief and glanced at her companions, who looked similarly concerned. They hadn’t even considered that the other people might not want them to take up the battle alone. Or that last comment, that they were actually hurting the other players by not giving them the chance to fight too.

The three remained quiet until they returned to Chloe’s house, or the manor, as they’d taken to calling it. By then, Adrien and Chloe were awake, and followed without question as Marinette ushered the two to join her, Kagami, and Luka out by the well.

She told them what the people in town had said, Luka and Kagami jumping in with additional comments they’d heard from passersby, and they talked it over. Maybe it was worth fighting with other groups. It would certainly beat the first boss.

They decided to try working with others for the next dungeon, but to lead the battle so that the civilians would stay as safe as possible. There were already groups in town recruiting for it and people exploring the second level, so it couldn’t be too long before they found the next fight. They’d be ready this time, they thought.

Less than two weeks passed before they were ready to take on the second dungeon. The Order had spent the whole time training and leveling up. There was hardly a moment where they weren’t fighting monsters or sparring with each other. They became almost more adept with their new weapons than they were with their ones from the real world. Those days of miraculous encounters seemed a lifetime ago.

The Order made preparations with other groups of players, determining strategy and planning to play to each others’ strengths. All the parties assembled at the dungeon and set up to fight the boss.

All things considered, it could have gone much worse. The support teams kept all the fighters’ HP high, and they had whatever cover they needed whenever they needed it. The battle was significantly shorter with around forty players there. But when the other players got hit....

Marinette could still hear the screams of the civilians as they went down. The blood oozing from their wounds was so very lifelike, and there was no cure to sew them shut. Or bring them back if they fell.

Kagami and Adrien were focused on taking what would have been killing blows if the boss had struck anyone but them. Chloe and Marinette drew fire away from the other players, and Luka used his mace and shield to defend his fellow healers. But Marinette saw the pained look on his face at being separated from the rest. She relived the moment Kagami and Adrien went down while fighting the first boss in frequent nightmares, and she knew Luka did too. The two of them had shared a few too many late-night cups of tea while avoiding sleep.

They won the battle, but there were so many wounded, so many close calls. One look at her Order and she knew they felt as lost as she did. Was it worth it? The thought seemed to echo through each of their movements as they returned to the manor.

“Marinette?” Alya’s call shook her out of her daze. She looked down at her hands and saw that she’d finished brushing the last of the horses. Putting the brush away, she returned to the main space in the downstairs of their home.

Home. She supposed that’s what it was now, but it didn’t feel like it. The design of it was very cozy, there was no doubt about that. But she saw it as little more than a place to eat and sleep. There were far more important things she could be doing, sitting down to relax was out of the question.

“There you are,” Alya grinned from the kitchen. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in days!” She carried a simple charcuterie board into the living/dining area and placed it on the table. Nino, Adrien, Lila, Alix, Nathaniel, and Luka were already sitting in the various couches and chairs gathered around it.

“We were just about to have a snack and play some cards,” Alya said over her shoulder as she used a poker to encourage a small fire in the hearth. “You should join us, girl!”

Marinette’s gut response was to refuse, and she waved her hands and made excuses but Luka and Adrien got up and marched her over to sit next to them. “C’mon Buginette, you need this,” Adrien said quietly in her ear. Luka just gave her a meaningful look.

Over-protective mother hens.

She sighed and gave in. One afternoon of cards couldn’t hurt.

Nathaniel was on her other side. While Alya dealt out the cards, Marinette asked him, “How’s the garden coming along?”

His face lit up with a quiet joy. “It’s going great! I don’t know if the weather is going to change, but the onions are taking nicely!” She listened with a small smile on her face as he went on about the different crops he was planting in the garden. He’d really stepped up to grow the bulk of their food, and seemed to genuinely enjoy spending his days taking care of the plants.

She was glad that he could still talk freely to her, even in the game. They’d always been close and it was nice to see his artistic spirit was unbothered by... everything.

Adrien nudged her to play her turn, and she did so quickly. Across from her, Alix and Nino were laughing at something Lila had said, and Alya sat up proudly with a comment that made them laugh even harder.

On Adrien’s other side, Luka had his hands of cards facedown on his lap while he strummed a lute he’d bought the other day. The pleasant melody lifted her spirits and reminded her of happier times.

This is what she was fighting for, she realized. For Nathaniel to take pride in his art, for her dear friends to laugh, and for Luka to play his music. She blinked away the tears that rose in her eyes. This is what was worth fighting for.

Even if she couldn’t bring herself to sew, to create like she used to love doing. Here she just had to be Marinette the friend or Marinette the fighter. It was almost easier, having less to manage. And yet... she couldn’t feel that same joy for herself that she found so precious to her friends. Not until they were all home again. She couldn’t let herself.

* * *

Jason trudged into the base, pack digging into his shoulder with all the loot he’d recovered. He’d spent the past few days camping and level-grinding, which was apparently the correct term for it. He couldn’t even remember what Dick had said to set him off, but he needed to be on his own for a while. The woods were surprisingly peaceful, and he found the time spent by himself in nature to be refreshing.

“Hey.” Dick sounded pissed. The hell was his problem? Jason wasn’t even back long enough to do anything. Jason turned on his heel and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Dick thrust a newspaper into his hands in response. He folded his arms, clearly expecting Jason to read it right then and there. Jason sighed loudly and slung his pack off. He turned his attention to the paper in his hand.

“Coalition of over forty players defeats second dungeon,” he read aloud. Shit.

“Just thought you should know,” Dick said in his I told you so voice. “When you went on your little adventure, you missed the next boss fight.”

Oh, now he remembered why he left! Because his “brother” is an asshole. “My little adventure was to get experience and level up,” he glared at Dick. “Which is still doing something more productive than just sitting on my fuckin’ hands.”

Dick’s nostrils flared. Good, he was itching for this conversation. “We are not doing nothing. We need more time to practice with the gameplay. Hell, Gar still tries to shift when we spar!” He threw up his hands in frustration. “We’re nowhere near ready yet, Jay.”

“You know, there’s more to this game than fuckin’ sparring.” Jason retorted.

Dicks brows shot up. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who so desperately wants to get back to our lives that he runs off on his own.”

“I can’t stand being cooped up in this damn house all the time! Just because we’re stuck in this game doesn’t mean we have to stop living,” Jason shook his head. “We’ve already been in here for over a month, who’s to say how much longer it’ll be? We can’t just put our fuckin’ lives on hold the whole time.”

“Training to beat the game isn’t putting our lives on hold,” Dick rolled his eyes. “This place is a death trap in case you forgot. We need to train to get our lives back.”

This idiot just didn’t get it. “Oh sure, and in the meantime we can’t have any happiness or fun. Sounds pretty miserable to me.” He picked up his pack. “You can level up without training at all hours of the fuckin’ day, no matter what a certain black-haired, blue-eyed bastard says.”

Jason stormed out the door, bumping into Garfield on his way back outside. The kid stumbled backwards before pointing finger guns at him. “Nice alliteration!”

He ignored him and kept walking down the path that led into town.

“Hey, hey wait a minute!” Seriously kid? He heard that argument with Dick but still couldn’t take the fuckin’ hint.

Garfield caught up to him and said, “You know, for someone who was supposed to have a relaxing vacation, you sure look tense.”

“Fuckin’ excuse me?” Jason growled.

“Wh-what I mean is you’re probably looking for a way to burn off some steam!”

This was getting old. “Get to the point, kid.”

“On the third level, there’s a quest we can do to make our own guild!” Garfield bounced excitedly, keeping pace next to him. Well, a quest would certainly help get this new brotherly stress out of his system. “We want you to join us, pleeeeaaaase?”

“Hold up, who the hell is us?”

Garfield grinned at him. “Oh you know, just a couple of the guys.”

They’d reached a junction in the path that led to the main road. Waiting beneath the tree beside the signpost were Roy, Jaime, and Bart. The ex-speedster waved excitedly while Roy looked about as pleased to be here as Jason did. They got along swimmingly.

“Hey dudes, everyone cool if Jason joins us?” Garfield reached out to pat his back then hesitated as he thought better of it.

Jaime shrugged while Bart gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Roy gave him a pitying look, like he’d been dragged into it too.

“Fine.” Jason muttered to no one in particular. “Are we heading out now?”

The other four got their things together. Jaime sent out party invites to everyone to better keep track of each other, which Roy and Jason reluctantly accepted. Garfield pulled up a pamphlet and started leafing through it. Jason spied the title, The Good Adventurer’s Guide to Guilds. Lovely.

“Alright,” Garfield snapped the papers shut and started walking down the path into town. “Let’s go to level three and get this bread!”

Roy narrowed his eyes. “The quest is to retrieve some bread?” He asked incredulously.

“Well, no but yes! But no. Man, we gotta teach you slang,” Bart slung an arm around Roy’s shoulders. The latter pushed him off and Jaime sped up his pace to plant himself as a buffer in between them as they walked.

Dumbasses.

The walk into town was easy, and they used the teleportation kiosk in the town square to get to the third level without a hitch.

The third level had some more interesting terrain than the plains of the first and second levels. Cliffs and quarries dotted the landscape in front of them. The main town itself was built onto a cliff, a gaping valley splayed out before them with minute details.

“Oh wow,” Garfield said. “This reminds me of that one town in France where--”

“Don’t care. Let’s move.” Roy cut him off and stalked down the winding road that would take them down into the valley. Jason smirked and followed suit.

Garfield made a face, then followed them along with the others. He pulled out his pamphlet again, then pointed them in the direction of the quest. Some quarry worker NPC wanted help collecting materials. If they got him everything on his list, he would apparently grant them the rights to start a guild? It made less and less sense as Gar read aloud from the paper.

They trekked on for a few hours, easily hacking apart the common monsters they came across. Between Jason and Roy, the others hardly had time to draw their weapons before the threats were gone.

“What’s better than this?” Garfield put an arm around Jason and Bart’s shoulders. Jaime grinned and put his arms around Bart and Roy. “Guys bein’ dudes!” He finished.

Roy, Bart, and Jason exchanged mystified glances. Roy and Jason had been out of the loop for roughly the same period of time, and Bart had told them before that not much of contemporary pop culture had survived into his future.

Guys bein’ dudes indeed.

Between the five of them, gathering the listed materials and getting them to the worker by sundown was easy. Well, it was easy for most of them.

“You look like a mess, ese!” Jaime exclaimed, seeing a very sticky and scratched-up Garfield. He groaned and replied, “Had to get tree sap. Trees fought back....”

Well, that served the little shrimp right, Jason thought to himself. He and Roy had been collecting gemstones, which could be mined out from the caves littered throughout the floor... or the infinitely more fun way of killing giant gemstone monsters. Take a wild fuckin’ guess which one they chose.

Jason was actually pretty content with the levels he’d gained from the quest. Not to mention getting his excess anger out from talking to Dick. It seemed like whenever he went to the house, there was always some type of disagreement between the two.

Damn. Maybe he should start saving for his own house.

His party currently stood in line at the guild registration office, also located on the third level. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the valley, highlighting the small clusters of houses dotting the countryside.

“Oh crap,” Garfield suddenly said. He danced nervously on his feet. “We did the whole quest, but I forgot the most important thing!”

Roy looked at him sharply. “What’s wrong?”

“We need a name for our guild!” Garfield wailed, clutching his hands to his head.

Seriously? Roy scoffed, “Why not just Justice League?”

Jaime rounded on him. “Are you nuts, ese? We can’t go around calling ourselves the Justice League. Secret identities and all that.”

Garfield paced in line, clearly thinking hard. “Hmm, justice. Juuuuustice. Just-ice. Just ice! Hey, we could do something with that!” He exclaimed.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah that’s great,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “How about On the Rocks.”

Bart put a hand on his chin, looking thoughtful. “Well, we should add a little pizzazz to it, don’t you think?”

“I’ve got it! Rocky Road!” Garfield threw his hands in the air triumphantly. God this kid was excessive.

Jaime and Bart, after the former had explained it to him, voiced their approval. Roy and Jason looked at each other and silently commiserated over their unfortunate situation.

Rocky Road it was.

* * *

“Ugh, that was way harder than it needed to be.” Alya slumped over her battle axe.

Marinette giggled and offered her friend some water. “Well, a ton of other people are starting guilds too! So I guess there are limited resources for a while.”

Nino took the water from Alya after she’d finished with it. He drained it and looked heartbroken until Adrien handed him a new bottle.

The four of them had decided to team up and do the quest to establish a guild. Not everyone in the guild needed to attend the quest to establish one. So when Alya and Nino had approached Marinette and Adrien, asking if the original friend group could be the ones to do it, they couldn’t say no.

“Well, I just wish Marinette had told us about the quest sooner. Then we could have had an easier time!” Lila simpered, sweet as ever. Oh yeah, Lila had invited herself to come along too.

“Weren’t you also a beta tester?” Adrien frowned innocently.

Lila blinked, looking startled. “Oh yes! But you know about my memory issues. I really wish I could remember all these things to help us out,” she sighed dramatically. Typical.

“So!” Marinette decided to move that conversation right along. “We need a name for our guild. Got any ideas?”

Nino rubbed his arm. “Actually dudes, I’ve been thinking of a name for a while.”

“Oh? Let’s hear it!” Adrien smiled and nudged his best friend’s arm.

“Well, I was thinking we could be called Miracle Workers,” Nino began. Marinette traded a look of alarm with Adrien. “You know, because Alya and I used to be miraculous holders? And I thought it’d be kinda nice to honor Chat Noir, Ladybug, and the other heroes. We could use some of their strength right about now.” Oh, that was actually really sweet of him. Marinette offered Adrien a soft smile.

Alya looked at him fondly. Adrien, with a slight nod of approval from Marinette, gave him a side hug and said, “I think that’s a wonderful name.”

Lila tapped her chin. “I don’t know, workers seems a little odd to me. We’re more like leaders or executives.”

“Well, I think Miracle Workers is perfect, babe.” Alya leaned in to peck Nino on the cheek. “Let’s go with that.”

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[eloquent-vowel]

Part 6 "Burgled." Bucky x OFC (#043)

Description: Now that the Eris project was proven successful, #043 has taken the name Eris and is working in the field. Things move slowly in hazy fog until she is tasked to work along side the Winter Soldier. There she takes comfort in a kindred spirit.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, very much a slow burn. Bucky Barnes x OFC, Winter Soldier X OFC

Warnings: Canon typical violence and description of violence against children (its a dream)

Part 5

Thank you for reading this far! Enjoy this next part of the Winter Soldier and Eris' story!

It had been a month since Eris successfully defeated the Winter Soldier in combat. She was allowed to go by Eris now, she had completed her transformation in the eyes of Dr. Leeb and was permitted to complete missions, unhindered by The General.

It had been a month since Eris had woken up. She had spent the month floating around in a hazy delirium of apathy. Any anger she felt towards the Soldier had faded the moment he let her hid his head . Now she just sat still, staring at The Wall when she wasn't training. Her brain felt like it was under a heavy layer of fog, she didn't know why, but all she was capable of doing was following the orders of those above her.

She would kill without blinking, only registering the sensations of her knuckles cracking whenever she hit. She forgot the names and faces of her targets by the time she went back to her room. Dr.Leeb didn't care. As long as she was getting the results he wanted, he gave no care to her emotional state.

The only time she didn't feel the same haze was when she slept. When she slept she dreamed in full colour. She dreamt of Robins flying in a flock through freshly falling snow, she would fly with them above unfamiliar houses dusted with snow. She would follow them down as she flew down into the street towards a specific house. A house with a red door. She would always wake up just as the flock landed on the ground. She always woke up peacefully from these dreams.

The other dreams were not as peaceful, they were filled with violence. She couldn't decide if they were memories or just her mind playing cruel tricks on her. The worst dreams were an out of body experience. She would watch herself as she killed whoever was put in a room with her, these dreams would end with her standing on a pile of bodies, emotionless and dull.

It was one of those nights tonight. Eris shot up from her bed in a cold sweat gasping for breath, she jumped as there was a knock on the door.

"Eris. Dr. Leeb needs to see you."

She stood carefully out of bed and over to the open shower, she didn't hesitate to strip and rid herself of the second skin of sweat. She pulled on her usual vest and shorts and padded over to the door. She knocked twice and the guards by her door opened and began to escort her down the now familiar corridors, her metallic footsteps echoed every step and she jumped as the sound was louder than she expected. Eris always felt so skittish after her dreams, she thought about talking to Dr. Leeb about it but every time she considered it he sniffed and any comfort she had was broken.

He was sniffing now as he stared at her from his side of the desk. He looked up at her with a strangely proud smile as he said.

"We have had a brilliant opportunity land in our laps, my dear Eris." He stood up and handed a cream coloured file over to her. "A heist, just to steal some very very important schematics for new weapons. Now normally I wouldn't be quite to excited about you being used for stealth missions- as we know Hydra enjoys using Eris to make a statement but here is the special twist." Eris watched with a careful eye as Dr. Leeb almost jumped in excitement. "You get the honour of working with the Winter Solder."

Eris flinched. She was certain the Winter Soldier would either not remember her or hate her enough to remember. She didn't want to think about the consequences he faced. But Dr. Leeb was so excited she didn't have the heart to question him.

"The down side of this, Eris, is that you will have to move away from me. You are to spend time with the Winter Soldier and his handlers to learn how to work with him. Now, Eris," Dr. Leeb came to stand in front of her and placed his handkerchief covered hand around her face. He gripped her chin and pulled her down to his level, "Do not disappoint me. This is a big chance for me."

Eris nodded as well as she could, Dr. Leeb nodded back and gestured to the guards. She didn't get a chance to speak before she was whisked away to collect her weapons. With the promise of clothes and necessities being provided over there she was almost thrown into a helicopter and was on her way to meet the Winter Soldier.

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He wasn't there to greet her when she landed, Eris wasn't sure if she was happy or disappointed by this. After all, he must hate her for what she did but she had never seen someone with such similar eyes to hers. She was swiftly escorted into the new facility and deposited into a larger room than she was used to.

The room itself was much longer than it was wide and divided in half by a see through material. She knew from previous experience it wasn't normal glass. There sitting on the other side of the divide was him. The Winter Soldier. He was sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the door of his cell, completely still. He was dressed much like her, a pale black vest and simple trousers. His hair fell loosely down his head, it shielded his side profile and cast shadows over him, he was intimidating. The metallic arm he had, so similar to her own legs, only added to his rather terrifying image. She flinched as the door behind her shut violently.

"Play nice." A threat came from the other side of the door.

As the sound of footsteps walking away faded into dense silence she sat on the edge of her own bed. She stared at the Soldier, she couldn't help it, he was just so curious. She felt like she could understand him in some ways but in other ways he was an enigma. Eris could feel a familiarity with the Soldier.

The two sat in silence for a long time. Both sitting stock still, she was at facing the clear divide, he was facing parallel to it. If he was uncomfortable, he didn't show it in his body language. Eris was far too awkward to begin a conversation, for all her training she was yet to master the social skills she knew was expected of her. Apparently the Soldier felt much the same as they didn't talk, even when their dinner came, even when night came and sleep called to them both. They just silently went to their separate beds and settled in to sleep.

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

She was alone in the circular arena again. The familiar concrete where she had fought the Soldier. Adrenaline pumped through her as she waited for her opponent to show. He did. Like clockwork the Winter Soldier emerged and ran full throttle at her. She fought as well as she could, she would feel the bruises his metal arm left behind and the scratches of his dagger. It was always by a stroke of luck that she knocked him down.

She pounced, laying blow after blow to his face once she managed to knock him down. Her own knuckles crunched at the force of her blows. Only when she paused did she see the figure beneath her was not the Soldier but that of a young boy. The young, small boy who she had almost killed years before.

"Mummy? Daddy?"

His voice was so pained. She watched in horror as the boy rose, jaw broken and skull caved in, and begun to speak.

"Have you seen Mummy?"

"No." Eris whispered.

"What about Daddy?"

The boy was creeping closer, arms outstretched reaching for her.

"You aren't real."

She couldn't move, she was paralysed as small hands began to reach for her arms.

"Who are you?"

He was shaking her now, nails digging into her arm. Blood began to flow down her arms.

"Stop."

She couldn't move, she couldn't even close her eyes to stop seeing the mutilated child.

"Who are you!?"

"I said STOP."

"WHO ARE YOU?"

"I DON'T KNOW."

She shot up in bed with a gasp. She jumped out of bed, disorientated and almost screamed when there was a tapping at the divide. She turned around to see the Soldier looking at her with blank eyes. He must be mad that she disturbed her sleep. He cocked his head at her and gestured for her to come closer. She complied and mirrored him as he sat close to the divide. She couldn't meet his eyes, she felt shame at how she had acted, she was meant to be a perfect example of what Hydra could do. Yet she was crippled by figments of her imagination. So she rested her back against the divide, she felt him do the same and they sat there for a moment, almost perfectly back to back.

"I have them too." His voice was just as deep as she remembered but this time it held a gentler tone than during their fight.

"Have what too?" She was barely talking over a whisper but with their advanced hearing she was sure he could hear her.

"Nightmares."

"Oh..."

"Almost every night."

There was a moment where both of them held their breath before the Soldier continued on, he seemed hesitant.

"I dream of the past. What past I can remember and occasionally I get glimpses of the parts I don't."

"I dreams of the past too." She hugged her knees to her chest, resting her cheek against the cool metal before continuing. "I keep seeing moments that I know are mine and others that I feel like have been... stolen from me."

"Stolen?"

"Every time I meet an unknown face in the arena I know they are someone part of me has seen before. But the me that saw them has been taken, stolen."

"I see..."

They were silent once more. Eris was coming down from the adrenaline of her dream and was content to match breaths with the Soldier. He was oddly comforting.

"They've taken something from me as well." He too was only whispering.

"What?"

"My name. It's always on the tip of my tongue but I can't remember and when I do they... wipe me."

"The chair..."

"Yes."

They were silent again. Eris rested her head back against the divide and imagined that she could feel the warmth from the Soldier that came through the divide.

"What is your name?"

He didn't remember? "Eris."

"Eris." He was gentle with her name. It felt as if he gave it a new meaning.

"Maybe." She started hesitantly, "Maybe we could keep each other's belongings."

"Hmm?" The Soldier simply hummed in question.

"If we both remember a part of the other, we may remember it better. And remind the other of... what it is that was stolen."

The Soldier was silent for a while before he hummed in agreement. Perhaps if the two of them worked together they could both form their stolen identities.

"I'll wake you if you start panicking again."

Eris felt a blush come up her neck.

"Thank you."

With that she stood and returned to bed, purposefully avoiding the Soldier's eyes and curled up, comforted by the thought of someone there to pull her out of the arena.

Part 7

[lesetoilesfous]

did you have another nightmare? For Zev/Warden (could also be Zev/Alistair!)

Oh man I kind of forgot how much I love writing my OCs, thank you so so much!!!!!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Zevwarden

Characters: Zevran Arainai, F!Warden Tabris

Tags: Tabris and Zevran have enough baggage to block the Suez canal, hurt/comfort, angst, nothing explicit, something something intricate rituals

Rating: Mature

“Did you have another nightmare?”

The camp is quiet, tonight. The fire has long since been put out, and a cold wind winds about the tents, not quite strong enough to set them to rattling. Dog and Alistair snore, but they’re all accustomed enough to that to set their tents far enough away to take the edge off the volume, and not so far they won’t be handily equipped to handle any walking corpses. 

The forest is still: there are no wolves in this region that have not been handled by poison, traps, or the Grey Warden herself. Earlier, there were owls, but they too have grown silent, flitting on wings soft as snowdust through the echoing chapel of the trees. Overhead, the sky is clear, and the stars wink with distant promises, fickle and unspeaking. Zevran stares at them for a long moment before he answers her.

“Crows don’t have nightmares.” His back aches.

Kallian plays with her knife, rolling the blade between her knuckles so that it flashes like a fish in the dark. She doesn’t say anything. The trees sigh under the moon. Zevran adjusts his jaw, wincing at the click as he attempts to unclench it. The stars glitter. Alistair snores.

“It was nothing.”

Kallian remains silent. Zevran shifts, rolling onto his side under the heavy oilskin of his sleeping bag to stare up at the elvhen woman on the log beside where their fire had been. Her features are impassive in the dark, half hidden by the shadow, like a sculpture not yet finished. What little is revealed by the moonlight suggests a masterpiece. Like this, Zevran cannot see her scar, only the blunt cut of her thick hair as it rests against the nape of her neck, and the elegant arc of her ears, heavy with iron and silver piercings. 

“Do you never dream?” He asks, softly. Kallian shrugs, and keeps rolling her blade between her fingers. Zevran resists the urge to get up onto his knees, half struck by the image of praying to some old forgotten god. “Do you not have nightmares? Alistair complains of them. Often.”

The corner of Kallian’s lips that he can see in the moonlight tugs upward, and Zevran grins. She sighs, and tilts her head back, and her dark face is washed with light that rushes to fill the cranny of her scar like liquid silver. Her hair falls back from her head, and she shuts her eyes. She lets out a long, slow deep breath, and around her the sigh of the forest answers. Zevran bites his tongue.

Eventually, Kallian says, “I have nightmares, often.” She opens her eyes then, and looks down at Zevran, and in the dark her gaze is black and endless. “Not as often as you.”

Zevran shrugs, a little stiffly, and breathes a soft laugh. “It is a habit that I have struggled to break. Though many have tried to break it for me.”

Kallian’s impassive expression flickers a little at that, like a candle in a gale, darkening. The knife stops moving in her hand. Zevran hurries on, “not that it was not warranted. I am told that when the Crows first bought me, my screams were louder than all the tomcats in Antiva City. You haven’t been, so you might not realise what an achievement that is in itself, but -”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kallian’s question is as quick and efficient as her blade. Zevran stops, the breath falling out of him. She doesn’t meet his eyes, just looks back down at her lap and the flash of the knife she’s playing with there. Zevran opens his mouth, fingers curling minutely in his bedroll - more of a suggestion of movement than anything easily perceptible to a human eye. Kallian’s gaze shifts, anyway. Zevran moves his hand.

“I - no. Not tonight, my dear warden.”

Kallian nods, once, and then shifts on the log, slipping her blade into her belt in a movement too fast for Zevran to follow, and pats the rough bark beside her. “Join me?” 

When Zevran doesn’t move she adds, swallowing, “I could use the company.” Zevran cannot see her mouth in the dark, but the scar on her cheek twists. He stands, and pulls on his smalls, pants and boots. By the time he’s done, Kallian has pulled a flask of what smells like potato vodka from somewhere in her pack.

She passes the leather-bound bottle to him silently, and Zevran takes a long, burning drink of the stuff and wrinkles his nose. “You Fereldans know nothing about decent liquor.”

Kallian giggles, ducking her head as she does so and lifting a hand to her mouth. When she meets Zevran’s eyes, her smile falls a little, and she reaches up to take the bottle back, fingertips trailing over his knuckles. She drinks for a long moment, throat working as she breathes through her nose, eyes squeezed shut against the sting. Then she lowers the bottle, and screws it shut, dropping it back into her pack. She lifts a hand, and gestures up at the clouds of light and dust above them, glancing at Zevran.

“Tell me again about the constellations. What do you call them in Antiva?”

Zevran pulls on a smile like a new pair of shoes. “Well, there’s the Tripping Whore, and of course the Ridiculously Handsome Elf. Not to mention the Lonely Assassin, though that story is not for the faint of heart.”

Kallian laughs, and rests her head gently on his shoulder. Zevran doesn’t move, but when he glances down she is already looking up at him, brown eyes silver in the moonlight. “Start with that one.” From this angle, the scar that rips down the centre of her cheek looks like nothing so much as tear tracks, tattooed into her skin.

Zevran nods, and readjusts his smile. “As you wish.” It takes another heartbeat for him to turn away from her, and look back up at the sky. “Once upon a time, not so very long ago, in the beautiful Antiva city, there lived the son of a whore.”

[mrslittletall]

Title: Memory Lane Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Micolash Host of the Nightmare, Laurence the first Vicar Word Count: 4.384 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31841335

Summary: Micolash travels home from Byrgenwerth for summer vacation, but during the trip, he thinks about why he doesn't want to go back...

(Author's note: That actually is part of a trade for @popskipandajump @sketchygabz on tumblr. She wanted a story of Micolash's past of my version, which isn't a happy one...

Warnings for child abuse and child neglect. Also, Laurence is tagged there, but he isn't in this fic much, sorry Laurence!)

“Aren't you travelling home for the vacation, Laurence?”, Micolash asked his friend, a bit confused about why he wasn't entering one of the carriages that carted off students to the various places around Byrgenwerth since summer vacation had started this morning.

“My parents are dead, remember.”, Laurence replied, crossing his arms. “And I don't have any other relatives. Master Willem took me in, so I have to stay at the school. Don't you worry though, Gehrman promised to me that we would explore the woods together and play in the lake on hot days. Don't forget to write though, I will make sure to reply once I have your home address.”

Micolash smiled at Laurence as he entered the carriage. “I won't.”, he promised. Micolash waved to Laurence and sat down in the carriage, waiting for the other passengers to enter so that it could take off. Looking out of the window, he could still see Laurence standing there, waving to him. Micolash waved back, sighing as he thought that he would prefer to stay with Laurence and Gehrman for the summer. In truth, Micolash didn't want to go home.

It was something that Micolash hadn't told his now two close friends. Both Laurence and Gehrman always spoke so fondly about their parents, so he never had brought the subject of his own parents up... and he planned to keep it that way, this was something they didn't need to know.

Micolash stopped looking out of the window when Laurence decided to leave to make room for a few more passengers wanting to enter and looked at them instead. A small family entered last, a typical family, a mother, a father and a small child, maybe five or six years old.

The child happily sat themselves on their mother's lap once the family had settled in and Micolash could see how she carefully stroked over the hair of her child. As the carriage started to move, for they were the last passengers, Micolash asked himself if that was how Laurence' mother had treated him. Laurence always spoke with such great fondness of her...

Micolash's own mother on the other hand...

Micolash barely remembered his mother. He was aware that at some point during his life, a mother had been present. He remembered faint things, feelings, impressions. Like soft hands picking him up and gently rocking him, a voice singing to him, being hugged and comforted when he was upset.

What he couldn't remember was a face to the woman who must have been his mother. There was only one thing he remembered very clearly. The last words she ever spoke to him before vanishing forever.

“I can't take this anymore... Mico... I am so sorry... Please forgive me...”

The next thing that Micolash remembered was the shutting of a door and him having waddled over, confused about what just happened. He must have been only three or four back then, far too young to connect the dots, even younger than the child opposite of him, currently sitting on their mother's lap, not having a worry in the world. He did need a long time to understand what had happened. His mother had abandoned him, had left him alone, to never come back, and, Micolash had to admit this to himself, he didn't feel like forgiving her for it.

His gaze went from the child to the man who must be the father of the small family. He looked gentle and his gaze was full of fondness for his wife and child. It reminded Micolash of Gehrman's father, who, while a strict man who made sure that Gehrman didn't slack on his duties, always was there when his son needed him.

Micolash's own father on the other hand? Micolash couldn't remember a single day in his life where his father hadn't been drunk. Being drunk was pretty much his normal state. He always had some kind of bottle with him and would drink out of it, swaying from side to side, reeking of wine. He often ignored Micolash in his drunken state, though the days in which Micolash remained ignored could be considered the good days.

The days in which his father was hyper aware of Micolash's presence... were the worst ones...

On those days, Micolash couldn't even make a single peep without upsetting his father. Even when he just shifted around or went to fetch something and the gods forbid that Micolash dropped something or forgot to avoid the creaky floorboards on his way outside.

His father would be in front of him with such a speed that it frightened Micolash. When Micolash was lucky, he would simply get screamed at. That he shouldn't make such noise, that he should be lucky that he had a roof over his head and that he was allowed to go to school instead of dying outside in some ditch. Micolash was used to this kind of words. Sure, they stung, but it was nothing that he couldn't endure.

It hurt a lot more when his father decided to put his mother into the mix and told him that she didn't ever bother to take him with her and that meant how much she hated him and that he never had been loved by her, only having been bothered by his very existence and that it was him and his constant screaming and being fuzzy when he still had been a baby that drove her out. Micolash always had to suppress his tears when his father started with it... he even almost started to believe that he was at fault for his mother leaving.

However, simply being screamed at, even though it hurt a lot inside of him, was still better as when his father decided that he had enough of him making so much noise and silenced him with his fist.

The first time it had happened, Micolash had barely registered it. He just stared with wide eyes at his father, raising a hand to notice that his nose bled and then starting to sob uncontrollably, not understanding why it had happened or what he did wrong to get such a reaction, which had made... everything worse...

For when Micolash didn't want to calm down, his father dealt with him by shutting him into the closet. It was dark in there, narrow, far too warm and it smelled horrible, mostly of alcohol and vomit, and Micolash was sure he would have been able to see stains of dried up puke on the clothes if it wouldn't have been so dark.. and if he wouldn't have been so terrified of being locked in there.

Locking Micolash into the closet was his father's usual method when Micolash annoyed him, which was far more often than Micolash liked, and Micolash started to dread the closet so much. He was left in there for hours, sometimes his father even left their home without releasing him and Micolash had to sit in there, waiting, panicking, hoping that he would come back, hoping that he would get out before he would starve, trying his best to avoid making a mess when he was left in their for hours, only to be punished when it happened regardless, making the situation into nothing more but a vicious cycle for Micolash.

“Oh dear, are you feeling alright? You are awfully pale.”

Micolash got snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his arm and when he looked to his right, aware of how laboured his breathing had become, he spotted the face of an elderly woman, a kind smile, with her greyish hair being put into a bun on heir head, wearing a checkered dress. He didn't reply right away, because the sight in front of him stirred another memory and for a second he felt like had seen a ghost.

“Are you about to get sick maybe? Do you need for the carriage to stop?”

Micolash slowly shook his head, trying to force his face into a smile, which felt extremely difficult. He hoped he looked at least half convincing, though he knew his face wasn't exactly pretty (Laurence even called him a gremlin sometimes and Micolash couldn't deny it), though he hoped that he didn't look anymore like he was about to throw up.

“No, I am fine.”, he finally answered. “Just thought about... something unpleasant.”

“Well then, but don't hesitate to say something should you feel unwell.”, the old woman said and Micolash was aware that the rest of the passengers stared at him as well, he must have looked a lot more uncomfortable than he thought.

“I will. Sorry for worrying you.”, he said and felt how the old woman let go of his arm, but he still felt his gaze on her. Micolash decided to stop looking at the passengers from which a few still were staring at him and out of the window again.

The elderly woman sitting next to him... at first glance, she looked like the striking image of Micolash's neighbour. Micolash and his father lived in a small shack at the border of Hemwick Chapel Lane and this elderly woman had lived there too. Apparently, she was alone, either she never had married or her husband had died and her children and grandchildren were out of the house. It wasn't something Micolash bothered a lot with.

This woman had been a big reason why Micolash had survived after his mother had left.

“Mooom, I am hungry!”, the small child of the family suddenly complained, breaking Micolash briefly out of his thoughts when he saw their mother soothe them and find something for them to eat, which they eagerly took.

Food was something that wasn't a constant in Micolash's life and the reason why his elderly neighbour had been so important for him plus the fact that he could escape his father when he stayed at her place.

Micolash's father didn't have a steady job. No wonder, the drunkard he was. He worked wherever he would be needed and whoever found enough pity in themselves to employ him. Micolash's father probably thought that his son didn't know about this, but Micolash always listened when he walked through the village, he heard the rumours, the facts, he knew how disliked his father was in the village. He also heard the rumours about himself. That a child with such a father couldn't get right, that it was no wonder that his mother had left and that they feared the day when Micolash would grow up into a copy of his father. It didn't surprise him that the other children avoided him, sometimes even thought about bullying him. Micolash didn't bother, they got bored when he ignored them and his father did far more worse things than their words could do to him and their mean spirited pranks didn't hurt as much as being shut in the closet or being beaten until he bled.

But Micolash loathed it when he was compared to his father. He even loathed himself then. He never would become like his father, he swore to himself, though deep down inside of him, he very much feared that it would still happen...

Because of his many odd jobs, Micolash's father generally didn't bring a lot of coins home, and the coins he brought home, he normally used to buy more alcohol. It was rare that his father brought food home and if, then it often was just some old bread or leftovers, probably from a meal he had bought for himself and then brought back home some scraps when he remembered that Micolash existed and people probably would start to ask questions if they boy wouldn't be seen in the village or at school anymore.

During this time, the elderly neighbour took care of Micolash once she realized that he got thinner and thinner from malnourishment. Even though she didn't have much, she gladly shared the bit she had with him, pretty much saving Micolash from starvation. It had been shortly after his mother had left, when Micolash was still far too small to take care of himself. He couldn't remember too much, but he remembered how much more drunk his father had gotten after his mother left, and Micolash went largely ignored during that time... but in the bad way, in the way that he was basically non-existent for his father...

If not for his elderly neighbour having invited him into her shack and giving him food, Micolash probably would have died there sooner or later, for the bit of food that his father sometimes remembered to bring along, barely did anything to quell his hunger...

Micolash liked being at her house. She gave him food, she didn't get mad at him when he was a bit noisier while playing and he didn't have to fear getting punished when he messed up. He only could stay there though when his father was absent, because his father was very much against him staying at some random stranger's house and always would get him and get into a fight with his neighbour when Micolash wouldn't be back on time.

When Micolash was around six years old, his neighbour decided to teach him to prepare his own food. She started with raw food first, showing Micolash how to prepare a sandwich or a fruit bowl or a salad. However, Micolash was clever enough to figure out how the stove worked, so she switched over to teach him how to cook. They were all rather simple recipes, but it meant that Micolash didn't have to rely so much on his neighbour anymore and could prepare food in his own home... and sometimes it even put him into the favour of his father, when he came home and Micolash had prepared some food he enjoyed. Those were good days, where nothing bad happened to him... should Micolash fail the food however... He shuddered at the memory.

However, for a child of six years it was awfully difficult to chop firewood, so Micolash couldn't prepare cooked food too often. He was forbidden from taking any of the firewood his father might have chopped, probably because it was needed for the winter and his father would just chop enough that they would not freeze. Micolash was pretty sure that his father never had used the stove himself, in fact, he needed to clean the whole thing out when he started to use it. Without proper firewood, he couldn't use it very well though, so Micolash was often collecting branches and dry leaves to at least have something to burn and cook a warm meal once in a while.

While he heard of a fancy thing called a gas stove which they had in cities like Yharnam, Micolash was sure that they never would get it, especially because they never would have enough coins to pay for that gas that they needed for such a stove to function. He still was interested in how such a stove would function and secretly wished that one day he could try out a stove that didn't need to be fuelled with wood.

The coins they had, or more, the coins his father gave him once he realized that Micolash would cook for him, were barely enough to even organize the food. His father still put most of his coins into buying more wine and while the coins would be enough for food for one person, Micolash had to cook for himself too. He would have preferred not having to share the little bit of food he had at all, but he knew he had to give his father the bigger serving or he would get punished, and Micolash didn't want to get locked into the closet again...

That is why the elderly neighbour started to show Micolash how to scavenge for food as well as grow his own food. She had a little garden and showed him how to plow the ground, sow the seeds and raise vegetables on his own. There wasn't that much growing in Hemwick, but Micolash managed to grow a few vegetables, like carrots, cabbage and turnips.

Micolash also got shown how to gather wild herbs and mushrooms. He had to learn a lot, because a lot of these wild plants weren't edible, downright poisonous. Micolash documented them all on the blank pages of his school books, not having enough coins to buy a notebook for his own. His teacher once wanted to scold him for scribbling in his books, but didn't say anything when she saw what Micolash had written down.

He also got taught how to fish and how to set traps to catch small animals. Fishing often wasn't successful, for Micolash didn't have a good fishing rod and always had to craft one himself. At least looking for earthworms to use as bait was kind of entertaining, he kind of liked digging in the mud, even though it left him dirty and when he would make the shack dirty... Micolash often had to clean himself in the river before getting home.

Traps were a bit more effective, but it was hard for Micolash when he had his first catch and then had to realize that meat meant having to kill a small little animal. He pretty much refused to do it the first time and only slowly took to it... up until to a point where it became so natural for him that he didn't even think about it anymore. Everything he caught meant that he didn't have to go to bed without a full belly and also that he could get his father into a somewhat good mood.

During this time, his life managed to get almost pleasant... until his elderly neighbour died when he was eight years old.

From one day to the other, Micolash had lost his safe place. Now he had to spend all his time at home or wandering the village, which wasn't possible when it rained or snowed, and because the elderly neighbour had taught Micolash how to do household chores, and Micolash had started to clean around the shack, his father now had extraordinary high expectations of him.

If the shack wasn't clean enough, he would get mad. If a dish wasn't to his liking, he would get mad. If he didn't have any clean laundry, he would get mad. Micolash actually asked himself why he was allowed to go to school when all his free time was spent with household chores anyway. Because of that, Micolash would often stay up beyond bedtime and learn for school, for he vowed to himself that he would never end up like his father and learn something good. Luckily, learning came easily to him, very easily. He didn't need long to understand how something worked and managed to pass all his tests with flying colours.

One day Micolash figured that his father would always have something to criticize, so he stopped giving a damn. He would end up in the closet or with a black eye one way or another, so he decided to use his extra time for learning for school and food scavenging, for he hoped he could save a bit of coins to one day leave this place, when he grew up.

Unfortunately, his father found out that Micolash mostly scavenged for food and stopped giving him coins, leaving Micolash with his very small savings that were nowhere enough to get him anywhere. Micolash used his little stash to buy something that he never had dared to try before, for how expensive it was. It was a sweet, something called a chocolate bar and he had never tried something so exquisite and tasty. When he sat at the river, enjoying it, tears ran down his face when he thought that other children could enjoy this treat every single day.

Micolash's life pretty much continued like this and he almost came to terms with that he would either be forever stuck in Hemwick until his father died or had to run away with no coins whatsoever, when his teacher one day talked to him. His grades were so good, she wanted to recommend him to a school named Byrgenwerth, a school in which children and young adults with his skills could study. The best thing about it... the school was a bit off the road, in the middle of a forest, so that the students would stay there for the duration of the school year.

Micolash's face only fell when he heard about the sum he would have to pay to enter. That was impossible for him, especially because he barely got any coins anymore. He knew Father would never pay the tuition, for all their coins were used up for the wine he drank everyday.

That was when Micolash's teacher told him about a stipend. He would have to pass a certain test and then someone else would cover the tuition for him. Micolash, more than eager to get away from this place, as well as wanting to learn even more, accepted and managed to pass the test.

On the day he left, he didn't even tell his father about it. He wrote a letter and slipped it under the door when he went to sleep, then he quietly packed the few things he possessed and left for the carriage. Back then, he hadn't thought about ever going back. He hadn't taken into account that he would get sent home for vacation.

And now he was sitting in the carriage. The carriage that was getting him home. Where he had to face his father and explain to him where he went. Where he probably would get locked into the closet for three days if he was lucky. Micolash hadn't even noticed how he had started shuddering. He didn't, no, he couldn't get back to this place. He had worked so hard to get out of it, it wasn't fair that he had to go back, to this man that never loved him, to that shack that never had been a home, to a place where the only person helping him was long dead.

“Hemwick Chapel Lane. Everyone who wants to get off, please exit.” Micolash jerked up when he heard the name of his stop and got up in an instant, walking to the exit as if he was in a trance. He could feel the gazes of all the passengers on him, only now realizing how much he was shaking. If he would get out there... then his father would have control over him again, and Micolash didn't know if he had the strength to leave another time.

“What's the matter? Is this your station or not?”, the carriage driver asked as Micolash still didn't move.

“No, it isn't.”, Micolash finally said and sat back down. “I am sorry, I want to leave at Byrgenwerth Forest station.”

The carriage driver just gave him a deep look, for that was the station where Micolash had entered, but then shrugged. Micolash took a deep breath when he noticed all the other passengers staring at him, even the small child that had been the start of his trip down memory lane.

“Are you feeling alright?”, the mother of the family asked. “Aren't you a student of Byrgenwerth? Is there a place where you can... stay?”

Micolash didn't reply right away. He would even sleep in the woods if he had to, but... he would go back to Byrgenwerth and ask if he could stay there for the vacation. Laurence and Gehrman were also there, he wouldn't count much, and he could offer to cook. He just hoped that Master Willem didn't have a reason to send him away...

“I'll figure something out.”, he instead replied and the parents shared a look before getting their attention demanded by their offspring. Next to him, the old woman that reminded him so much of his elderly neighbour gave him a pat and said.

“There's no reason to stay at a place you feel unhappy in. Walking away was the best thing that ever happened to me... and I hope you find your place to stay as well.”

Micolash gave her a smile and then looked out of the window.

“Never again.”, he decided as the carriage started moving and left Hemwick Chapel Lane behind him. Never again would Micolash return to this place, from now on, he would build his own life. One day, he might have friends and even subordinates that would research with him and should he make enemies.. well, he would make sure to show them that they couldn't mess with him.

On the way back, Micolash relaxed gradually. The sun was already starting to set when the carriage was back at Byrgenwerth Forest, but Micolash didn't mind, crossing the forest to the school before it set completely and setting foot in the common room, where a pretty confused Laurence got up from the couch, abandoning the book he had read and came over to him.

“Micolash? Didn't you want to go home for the vacations?”, he asked.

“Laurence...”, Micolash said. “There's something I have to tell you...”

Micolash then confessed the whole deal about his upbringing to Laurence and once he was done, breathing heavily and tears staining his eyes, Laurence never once having left his side, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his friend said: “Let's go speak to Master Willem.”

Micolash was allowed to stay in the school during the vacations from now on, only sometimes having to leave to take a new test for his stipend, which Master Willem organized in Yharnam though, Laurence' hometown, so that Micolash didn't had to get back to Hemwick Chapel Lane anymore.

Micolash never went back to this place, instead, he started his own life, and his own school. And even though he broke ties with his old friends eventually, he never regretted his decision.

For in the Nightmare of Mensis was all the knowledge of the Great Ones and why should he ever want to leave the home he made for himself?

(Author's note: Not gonna lie, this feels a bit clunky to me. I practically rewrote the entire thing also from the first draft and only left like the last few paragraphs. I didn't give any names to the characters outside of Micolash and Laurence, because I didn't want to flesh them out too much.

I hope you enjoyed it and tell me what you thought in the comments.)

[wondersofdreaming]

Free Bird

Characters: Henry Cavill x female reader

Word count: 1.552

Warnings: Neglect. Hurt. Anger-ish. Sadness. Regret.

Author’s note: Originally a request for @littlefreya​, who asked if I wanted to write it. This is what I could come up with.

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

Tag: @katerka88​ @littlefreya​ @hell1129-blog​ @mitzwinchester​ @mary-ann84​ @valkavill​ @sciapod​ @henry-cavlll​ @luclittlepond​ @iloveyouyen​ @trippedmetaldetector​ @radaofrivia​ @omgkatinka​ @gothwhopper​ @fcgrizi​ @alyxkbrl​ @singeramg​ @onlyhenrys​ @henrythickcavill​ @madbaddic7ed​ @palaiasaurus64​ @queenslandlover-93​ @magdelen69​ @shellbilee​ @mis-lil-red @vania-marie

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list.

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

Your relationship had started out as romantic and wonderful, as most relationships did. He would send you flowers, chocolates, take you out for dinners, movies. After months of dating and being given a lot of attention, he gave you a key to his house. He asked you to come and go as you pleased, hoping you would eventually move permanently in with him. You were elated. To begin with, you left a spare toothbrush and some clothes, but you never needed those as you always wore his. Little by little did you move your things into his house and rented your place out through Airbnb.

Months passed with the two of you being like two peas in a pod. Love was blooming between you, and he was even thinking of proposing. His dog loved you, his family adored you, his friends were ecstatic to have you in their group.

Then he got that job, and everything changed.

At first, he called every single day while he was out of the country during the pre-production. You would video-chat at night before bed, just because he missed you so much and couldn’t sleep without hearing your voice or seeing your beautiful smile.

“I miss you, sweetheart,” he would whisper while you both lay in bed with the computer next to you. His face illuminated by the blueish light from the screen.

“I miss you too.”

You had planned to visit him on set, but your boss had squashed those plans. You had been burdened with a mountain of work, and not even the saved-up vacation days could save you. So, you stayed back to work. Disappointed.

The phone calls and video chats became further and further apart. Henry would tell you that he was too tired, that it had been a long day, that he had an early morning. The excuses kept piling up.

You didn’t mind it at first. You understood that his job came first, it was his dream. One day everything had gone bad. You had slept through your alarm, you had stumbled through the house, stubbed your toes, scraped your knees, and banged your head. You missed the train and had to run from the station to your office, barely making it on time. You had forgotten to charge your phone, so when you turned it on back home, you had missed a call from Henry. He had left a voice message saying that he couldn’t make the call that night, but he would call again the next day. Ending the voice mail with an ‘I miss you’, not his usual ‘I love you’.

You tried not to cry but ended up wailing and sobbing yourself to sleep in his large blue hoodie with the rose print on the front.

The next morning you felt a little bit better. After you had taken a quick shower you saw that it was about time for his mid-morning break, so you decided to call.

“Henry Cavill’s phone, how may I help you?” A female voice answered.

“Oh… Ehm… Hi, I’m his girlfriend, may I speak to Henry?”

“I’m sorry, you just missed him. He’s gone back to filming; can I pass a message to him?”

“Oh… No, no thank you. I’ll just wait for him to call back.”

But he didn’t. He forgot. He called the day after, telling you he fell asleep. He didn’t even apologize as he had to get back to work. He promised to call that evening, but you asked him not too if he was too busy. He said he wanted to. So, you waited, and waited, and waited some more before falling asleep with a saddened heart.

He stopped making an effort to call or chat, or anything after that. You didn’t do anything on your end as well, as work was keeping you too busy to miss him, except for when you stayed at his house, there you were reminded of him everywhere. Your heart broke every time you stepped through the door.

You ended up sleeping in your own flat for a time. You told yourself it was better not to be at his place, where his scent was everywhere, where his face was on the photos of him and his family, where he had kissed you senseless and made you feel like the most precious woman on the planet.

Now, you felt nothing walking through the doors. You hadn’t heard from him in over two weeks. Not even a single text saying good morning or good night. It was silence from his end. You decided to do the same.

You packed up the things you had at his house, wrote a short note explaining why, and left his key with the neighbour. You were going to be a free bird.

What you didn’t know was that he was on his way home.

The next day Henry walked through the doors. A big smile on his chiselled face, while Kal was hopping excited beside him, as he unlocked the door.

The moment he stepped through, he felt something was off. Kal barked at him for not moving further inside.

“Good evening, Henry. So wonderful that you’re home,” his elderly neighbour said over the neatly trimmed hedge. “Your lovely lady left her key with me, I didn’t catch why, she was in such a hurry that poor dear. I think she’s suffering from horrible nightmares. She’s been crying herself to sleep for the past few months…”

Henry walked into his house, searching every nook and cranny. All your things were gone. Your books, your fuzzy socks, your scented candles. He found your note.

“Dear Henry. I wish you all the best.”

That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Fuck!”

Henry crumbled the paper. He ran to his garage and started his motorcycle. It was past 8 pm. He knew you were home.

A few deep breaths later and he knocked on your door. He heard the lock being turned and your smiling face greeted him as you opened, but it quickly disappeared. It was replaced with a look of utter shock, and as tears started to form in your sorrowful eyes, he pulled you into his arms. The embrace was warm and familiar, something you had missed in all the months he had been gone.

You wanted to stay strong. To tell him to leave and never to come back. But instead, the only sound that came out of your mouth were sobs.

“I’m sorry,” his voice croaked as he himself was about to break down. “I’m so sorry.”

You tried to pry yourself out of his arms. Your mind and heart were fighting over your body. Mind wanting to throw him out, wanting to be left alone, never wanting to see him again. But your heart… your poor shattered heart wanted him, craved him and his soft touch.

In the end, your heart won.

Henry apologized profusely for the next week. He supported your decision to quit your job, as you weren’t happy there. He helped you find a new job, one that enabled you to travel with him anywhere in the world.

It took a long while before you could step back into his house. He had explained that the days on set had been gruelling as they were on a deadline. He had hardly gotten any sleep at all, as he kept on a tight schedule with little sleep and lots of training to keep his physique in top shape. He didn’t use it as an excuse, but rather as an example of what not to do in a relationship.

For filming the next season, he brought you with him. He would have been up for hours before you even would think of opening your eyes. There was always a red rose on his pillow with a small note attached to it with a quote telling you how much he loved you.

Some mornings he would still be in bed with you, holding you close to his chest, afraid you might be gone if he didn’t trap you in his muscular arms.

“Good morning, my love,” he would whisper in your ear. You would giggle and turn around to give him a gentle kiss on his soft lips. Sometimes he would become frisky and work you into a moaning mess, other times he would talk with you about everything between heaven and earth.

You would go with him to greet the horses, even ride with him on one of the gentle mares. Help him learn his lines while he’s in the makeup chair, having his face pulled and twisted for the wig.

Life became easier as you travelled the world with him. A day never went by without him telling you how beautiful you looked, didn’t matter if you had bedhead or were in a sexy black dress, nor would he forget to tell you that he loved you more than anything in the world. Every morning and every night.

At the end of filming season two, he had planned a special dinner for the two of you. The small square box had been sitting heavily in his pocket for a long time, and now was the time to give it to you. He prayed and hoped that you would say yes.

[benedictscanvas]

all the wrong places [3/7] - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: It only takes a moment for Spencer to realise that he doesn’t just want to marry you someday, he wants to marry you as soon as he possibly can. But since he can’t come up with a solid plan, he turns to his BAU family for help in planning the most important day of his life so far. Is that a mistake? Most definitely.

Warnings: Series probably aren’t meant to be exclusively fluffy, but this one practically is! I need some fluff in my life, damn it! There may be some mention of regular Criminal Minds things, some language but mostly just good ol’ Spence lovin’

a chapter every day for seven days! (20-26th July 2020) so please drop an ask if you’d like to be tagged <3

---

Chapter Three - Flash Failure

Third time’s a charm?

No, turns out third time’s a fucking nightmare.

Penelope? A complete liability. Whilst Spencer knew she was an amazing friend and he couldn’t imagine any of the team’s lives without her, he also now knew that allowing her to help him with the proposal plans was not his finest moment. Allowing her was too strong a word: he had simply not stopped her.

“You booked what?”

“A flash mob! And they’re coming over to the downstairs gym later today to practice with you, make sure you know your section of the dance.”

His section? Of the dance?

“I’m not sure about this, babygirl,” Derek’s voice was wary, and if Derek was worried about it, then it must really have been one of Penelope’s outlandish ideas. But she had been so excited about Spencer proposing ever since she’d found out against his will, and when she begged to at least help with the proposal somehow, it wasn’t as if Spencer had the heart to say no.

“And why would that be, my most delicious chocolate thunder? You don’t trust me now, huh?”

“You know I trust you in every way imaginable,” he said with a wink, because they could flirt even when Spencer was clearly breaking down in the corner of the batcave, “But Spencer has messed up two perfectly easy proposals now. You think he’ll nail this one?”

“I haven’t messed them up!” Spencer said defensively, his voice just a little too high pitched, “Okay, I messed one of them up, but the other one was a terrible idea provided by JJ.”

He half expected JJ to turn the corner right at that moment to scold him, but instead there was a very familiar knocking pattern at the door that caused Spencer’s heart to drop. He pushed Garcia’s shoulder until she closed all the proposal (and wedding) tabs on the computer. On all the computers.

“Can I join the top secret batcave meeting?” your voice rang out as just your head poked round the side of the door, and Spencer’s heart melted at the fact that you really weren’t going to come in unless you were told you could.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said encouragingly, as Derek and Penelope both flashed you a signature very-not-guilty, nothing-at-all-is-going-on-here, smiles. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention, smiling widely at Spencer with abandon as you entered the room.

“Hi,” you said brightly, and Derek and Penelope would be annoyed that you’d practically ignored their presence if they weren’t kind of used to it. When you and Spencer were in a room together, 90% of the time there was no one that could tear you away from each other. The other 10% was all on cases, where your attention was elsewhere, but there would still be times that the two of you bouncing theories around would completely miss something else that had been said.

“What brings you to my lair, my dear?” Penelope asked you from her chair, which she was lightly spinning around in. You managed to turn your attention to her, and bit your lip sheepishly.

“Actually, I’ve been looking for Spence here. Wondered if he might like to join me for a very romantic lunch?”

“You’ve got a consult you want my opinion on?” he asked instantly and you groaned, pouting.

“Why couldn’t I just want to spend lunchtime with my very special boyfriend?” you say wistfully, but when he gave you that look, you huffed and relented, “Fine, I’ve got a consult I could use your expert advice on. But, I did buy you takeout to sweeten the deal?”

He shook his head, his previous proposal anxieties almost forgotten as he walked up to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“You’re enough to sweeten any deal, sugar,” he said in his best Derek voice, the man himself scoffing behind him as Penelope laughed hysterically. You were giggling too under his arm, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth as Spencer led you out of the room, “Let’s go. See you later, guys.”

“Yes. 4pm in the gym for our session remember, Reid?”

“I’m not coming!” he shouted back at the two of them, already having left.

Penelope looked up at Derek as he sat on the desk above her.

“He’s definitely coming.”

“Oh yeah. He wouldn’t risk making you angry, babygirl.”

---

Actually, Spencer absolutely would risk making Garcia angry, if the other option was participating in a flash mob style dance to ‘Marry You’ by Bruno Mars before getting down on one knee in front of your chair and proposing as if what he’d just done wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

He returned to the batcave after assisting you on your consult, providing important information about a few chemical concoctions that had come into play on the case, and told Garcia on no uncertain terms that she was to cancel whatever she had planned and that he’d be doing this on his own. She reacted relatively well, even if she was a little bummed. When he promised to tell her whatever he decided to do ahead of time, she perked up a little.

So when she scurried up to his desk at the end of the day, heels clacking loudly on the floor, he never expected there to be a problem.

“We have a problem,” she said under her breath, glancing over at Hotch’s office in which you were currently sat, going over your recent performance in a routine appraisal. You’d be out in five minutes, at most. The glance she spared towards you worried Spencer more than anything.

“What kind of problem?”

“A huge one. One that I cannot explain, nor can I fix unless you and your genius brain can come up with something incredible because as it is, I’m freaking out right now.”

“Okay, Garcia, you’re going to have to try to explain it.”

“Well, maybe I can explain it,” she admitted, bobbing quietly in her place beside his desk, “But I’m not sure I want to.”

Her voice was small. Timid. She was never like this. Derek clearly noticed it too, as did Emily, since both of them came over quickly.

“Everything alright, babygirl?” Derek asked, a comforting hand on her shoulder and she reached up to put her hand over his, nuzzling into it a little. Spencer was getting more agitated by the second.

“No,” she said warily, then suddenly she ripped Derek’s hand away from her, “And I don’t deserve your comfort!”

Emily and Derek both looked dumbfounded, but Spencer stood up and took her by the elbows.

“Tell me what it is,” he said softly, but with a firm tone that she couldn’t argue against, “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

She took a deep breath.

“Iforgottocanceltheflashmobandthey’reoutsiderightnow.”

“What?” it was all three of the others who said it. She sighed.

“I forgot to cancel the flash mob-” she said slowly, “-because Derek sent me a text right after you left my cave earlier. So they’re outside right now, with a huge picture of Y/N, waiting for her to exit the building which will trigger the...dancing.”

A pause.

“This better be a joke.”

“Oh god, just look out the window,” Garcia said sadly, resigned to her fate of the resident genius being immeasurably annoyed with her for the foreseeable future.

All four of them rushed over to the windows, even though Emily was only just starting to get an idea of what was happening. Sure enough, there was the mob. It truly was a mob too, at least fifty of them, with a huge picture of you on posterboard in the middle, all in colourful clothing. And there was a speaker. A large speaker.

“Fuck,” Spencer said, all matter of fact, no attempt to hide his language or keep it down.

“Yeah,” Derek breathed, eyes still on the ground, “How did you forget to cancel, Penelope?”

She whined, probably at him using her first name.

“You’re the one who sent me that particularly sexy text! What was I supposed to do? Not reply straight away?”

“Yes, Garcia,” Spencer said, sitting back down at his desk and putting his head in his hands, “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do. You were supposed to cancel that group of dancing idiots so I wouldn’t make a complete fool of myself in front of the woman I want to marry and then - then you could reply to Derek’s text.”

His voice was defeated. He couldn’t believe it. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this? There were other exits out of the building, most of them emergency exits, but they were still in the way of the car park. There was no way of getting out of this building without you seeing the mob outside, without seeing the gigantic picture of you on the sidewalk.

“This will not be the most helpful comment,” Emily piped up suddenly, coming over and crouching in front of Spencer’s hunched over frame, “But I have to say - I’m so happy for you and Y/N, Reid. You should have told me you were going to propose!”

“Oh yes, so you could offer the same kind of stellar advice I’ve received so far.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have suggested a mob,” she mumbled, earning her a sharp glance from Derek. Penelope was already feeling bad enough.

“Right, come on,” Derek said, more enthusiastically, “We have to make a plan. Y/L/N will be out of her meeting in no time, and asking you if you want to head home. What are you going to do?”

“Me?”

“Okay, okay - what are we going to do?”

“Yeah, we can help,” Emily said encouragingly, “We’re all in this together Reid. Maybe you should just take the opportunity and propose?”

“I am not proposing to Y/N in a flash mob!” he said, suddenly animated as he looked up, “You know how much she hates too much fuss. She’d hate it, and then, as a byproduct of that, she would hate me too and-”

“Y/N could never hate you, Spencer,” Emily said kindly, interrupting his worried rambles, “But if this isn’t the way you pictured it, that’s fine. We just have to get Y/N to your car, that’s it. So how can we do it?”

“Couldn’t Penelope just go downstairs and tell them to go away first?” Derek asked and Garcia shook her head, woefully.

“They don’t let people put them off once they’re ‘on location’,” she said, “Otherwise people against the engagement can call it off.”

“Oh, well that’s a sensible policy!” Spencer announced sarcastically, throwing his hands in the air.

“Woah there, Spence, everything alright over here?”

The one time that your voice wasn’t able to calm him down. Instead, all four of them turned to face you with thinly veiled panic, until Emily was able to speak up with an explanation.

“I went to a deli for lunch, dropped my sandwich,” she said quickly, shaking her head at her own supposed clumsiness, “But apparently they have a policy of no replacements.”

She looked to Spencer, urging him to back her up.

“Yeah, what kind of policy is that? Just makes me so mad-” he was laying it on way too thick, because you were starting to look concerned, “-because you should have got another sandwich, Emily! Ridiculous.”

He threw his arms up in the air again to drive the point home. Derek was physically wincing. This was the worst. The absolute worst.

“I think maybe someone needs some sleep,” you chuckled, reaching for Spencer’s hand and taking it in your own, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand until you felt some of the tension leave his muscles, “You ready to go?”

He hesitated, just staring at you with wide eyes.

“That tired, huh? No more sad stories about sandwiches, Em, if this is what it does to him,” you laughed, but you were stepping up your soothing gestures by the second, comfort radiating from you as you let Spencer lean into you and rested a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. He could see the worry you held for him in your eyes, “We’ll see you guys tomorrow. Come on, you.”

You tugged him along beside you as you began to walk towards the door, picking up his satchel on your way and delicately looping it over his head until it was in his rightful place. Spencer was following, but he turned his head back to the others, flashing them a help me look that was as terrified as it was desperate.

“Wait for us!” Penelope called out, tottering after the two of you in her heels, grabbing Derek and Emily by the wrists to take them with her, “We’ll all walk out together, like a family.”

“Okay,” you chuckled, shaking your head fondly, “But be quick! I think this one’s falling asleep on me.”

Penelope nodded and hurriedly shooed the others to go get their stuff, or at least whatever they could grab quickly.

“I’ll just grab some of my stuff too then, Spence,” you said gently, taking your arm from his back as if you were worried he might fall over without the support, “You okay?”

“Tired,” he said bluntly, because now he had no idea what was going on and he couldn’t keep up. His brain was firing in every direction.

“I know, baby,” you pouted, kissing him on the cheek before you sauntered off, turning as you walked, “I’ll be two seconds.”

He counted. One, two. You were a good few seconds longer, but you really did try to be quick for him. Penelope was back at his side first, even though she’d had to run to her lair to get her stuff first. “I’ve got a plan,” she said confidently, with a nod, “I got you into this mess and I’m going to get you out, Reid, I promise.”

He smiled weakly. He felt as if he had resigned himself to whatever might happen now. It was as if he’d lost his agency, like his life was continuing around him but he’d lost all say in the narrative. Penelope placed a hand on his arm, a gesture, before you, Derek and Emily emerged from the office and the five of you stepped into the elevator.

There was little small talk on the ride down. Everyone was exhausted, after all. A couple of cases in a row would do that to you, especially when you finally had a day where the adrenaline had left you and you were left to catch up on all the sleep you had missed to replenish the energy lost. Penelope was buzzing beside you though, bobbing up and down on her heels in anticipation of something, and you wondered whether she had a date or something.

Spencer rested his head against the wall. You squeezed his hand again. He could tell you were beginning to worry there was actually something wrong, that he wasn’t just tired, so he squeezed in return. That seemed to do the trick.

You were just walking out of the building waving your ‘goodbye!’s and ‘see you tomorrow!’s when Garcia squealed. Actually squealed, loudly, right in your ear before screaming as she pointed into the distance.

“Bruno Mars!”

And then she was suddenly off, sprinting into a crowd of people that all had their backs turned, looking in the direction of Penelope’s pointing. You squinted. Where? Derek and Emily shared a look behind you and ran after Penelope, pushing through the crowd and shouting themselves. Suddenly, Spencer didn’t feel so tired as he full on grinned after his friends, particularly Penelope, who had definitely more than made up for her earlier slip. He’d make sure to text her later.

“Surely she can’t have seen Bruno Mars,” you mused aloud, still stuck in place from the shock of the squeal, “Although there is a crowd, I guess.”

You shrugged, still looking carefully. Suddenly, he was worried you were going to pull him into the crowd and everything would go wrong. But you looked at him to your side, his hand still in yours and reached up with your opposite hand to push some hair behind his ear.

“Let’s get you home, mister.”

He couldn’t stop himself, even if it ruined the whole plan.

“You don’t want to see Bruno Mars?”

“No,” you laughed simply, “Not when it’s probably fake and my favourite genius looks like he’s about to fall asleep on the sidewalk.”

You tugged him with you towards the car. He followed behind you with a spring in his step he tried to disguise, glancing back at the crowd to find Penelope grinning at him, two thumbs up in air. He nodded at her. She knew she was entirely forgiven. Not that she wouldn’t have been anyway.

It only really hit him later that night, with your head resting on his chest and your hands entwined on his stomach that you loved him enough to skip out on seeing Bruno Mars, just to take care of him.

As he looked down at your sleeping face, his dopey proposal eyes were back again. There was no getting rid of them now.

---

taglist (ily all <3)

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