#Yes he does lift his glasses up and pull a book/paper closer to his face to read something </3

[pink-link-lemonade]

|| Schoolmaster Sonic ☆

Age: 50

Height: 4’5”

Main Subject: Geography

Side subject(s) [Classes he occasionally appears in as assistance for the main teachers]: Workshop, Phys ed [Team]

He’s grown to be a pretty sweet old man, albeit still sassy and/or sarcastic on occasion. Using the knowledge he’s gained from traveling firsthand all around the globe, he teaches his young-adult students about different places and cultures, and how those lands have helped shape those very cultures (and so on).

As you can see, the oldie has a pair of glasses. He’s gained quite a bit of things as he’s aged, but—same with his youth—his vision is slowly starting to flee from him in the process. Near sighted; bifocal glasses.

[zweiginator]

can i request kendall taking your virginity and being obsessed w how innocent you are 😭😭 this may be too filthy of a request i fear

fear not …however it is very filthy i must say

NSFW 18+ or bust

meeting kendall in college and you’re very innocent, always studying at this little coffee shop he goes to whenever he has a big test or an important paper

you’re hunched over your book, sipping your latte as your glasses fall down the slope of your nose and kendall is immediately smitten

and now, whenever you’re there at the same time as him, he’ll sit next to you, close enough to where you can smell the rainwater musk of his cologne, soaked into the stubbly skin of his neck

of course you’ve noticed that kendall roy has been there most days you’ve had to study, chestnut eyes flitting over your eyes to your lips and back again

but you’re nervous. you know about kendall, how rich and powerful his family is

one day he has a political science textbook out and you can tell he’s struggling to write his paper; his pillowy lips are tugged between his teeth and hes utterly lost looking

“i’ve taken that class before.” you comment

“so she speaks,” kendall smiles, scooting closer to you

so you help him outline his essay, drawing notes in the margins of his paper until he grabs his pen from you, scrawling a little note beneath your own

can i get your number?

you write it down with a smiley face, heart pumping

he calls you a few hours later, telling you he needs help with the paper still; he can just tell you’re so much better at these kind of things

and he picks you up intent on doing just that. of course he wants you, but he wants you for the long run

but you sitting on his bed in your little cotton shorts and a hoodie, glasses low on your nose is making him fucking need you

you look up at him mid-explanation; he hadn’t said anything in awhile

“kendall?” you look up

he scoots closer to you and tucks your hair behind your ear, unfaltering as he asks, “can i kiss you?”

you nod, a little nervous

kendall tangles his hands in your hair, pushing your lips to meet his in a deep kiss that leaves you lightheaded and confused by the feeling deep in your tummy

and then you’re underneath him, his lips nipping at your neck and you’re so responsive

hips lifting to meet his, moaning when his hands graze against your waist

“so worked up, pretty girl.” he says against the shell of your ear

you pull his lips back to yours and kendall laughs at your eagerness

as his fingertips smooth the waistband of your little shorts, he pauses

“are you a virgin?”

you’re embarrassed that it’s that obvious

you nod, the simple yes knotted at the tip of your tongue too tight to unravel quite yet

“fuck,” he says “that makes me wanna corrupt you so bad”

and he does; you come to his house a lot now to help him ‘study’—at least it starts out that way

and then usually half an hour in, you’re beneath him, a subject for his corruption

the second time you came over he held your back against his chest as he kissed your neck and cooed into your ear, his fingers fucking into you as his thumb rubbed your clit until you were gushing, saying his name in the prettiest most pathetic little voice he’s ever heard

the third time you come over he’s immediate.

“let me eat your little cunt”

the words send a rush of blood to your cheeks

and he takes you right there on the living room couch, legs over his shoulders as he kneels on the floor, his tongue licking a fat stripe up, up, up until he reaches your throbbing little clit and then he sucks

and you’re so easy, cumming on his tongue in record time because you’re still so sensitive

and now it’s been weeks and kendall can’t stop thinking about how you’re a virgin and how badly he wants to fuck you

he knows your eyes will roll back and you’ll claw at him like a lost kitten and he gets so hard thinking about it that he has to jerk himself off in the shower when he thinks about how tight your cunt will be, hot ropes of cum wasted on the wall of the shower when they should be on your stomach

and you know he’s been wanting to take your virginity, it was obvious in the way he kissed you, like he couldn’t get close enough and there was only one way he could

the next time you came over, you wore a pretty dress, and a matching set underneath

and as soon as kendall saw the white lacy trim of your bra strap he needed to have you

“what is this little number for?” kendall leans into you. you’re on his bed, sat at the very edge as kendall stands at the foot, looking down at you

“what do you mean?” you ask innocently, eyes big and curious, chock full of scenarios of what could happen next

“you know what i mean, sweet girl.” his hands find your thighs and you open up for him, so easily

he bunches the skirt of your dress up around your hips, groaning at your little white thong, lacy and high on your hips

he kisses the hem. “mm,” he guns against you. “you want me to eat your pussy?”

you shake your head, growing red at how vulgar his words are.

“want my fingers?” he taunts, cocking his head

you shake your head again, faster this time

“then you’re gonna have to tell me what it is you want,”

you look up at him and palm his cock and that’s all it takes for him to lean forward and grab your hips, pushing you onto the bed all the way

your dress is around your hips, the straps of your bra fallen off the slopes of your shoulders

“you want me to fuck you?”

you nod, pulling him down to kiss you, but he grabs your chin

“answer me. i need to hear that you want me.”

“kendall, please fuck me. take my virginity.”

he groans. “i’ve wanted to for so fucking long. prettiest girl i’ve ever seen, i don’t know how you’re still so innocent.”

you shrug, and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen

“not gonna be so innocent pretty soon.” he nibbles on your ear, pushing your panties aside to slide a finger over your puffy slit

“soaked for me.” he rubs your clit slowly and you writhe beneath him, legs already shaking from the pleasure and anticipation

“please,” you beg

“look at you,” he caresses your cheek. “so desperate.”

he unbuttons his pants, shoving them down his legs, along with his boxers. you’ve never seen his cock before; all your exploring has been for your pleasure only—although he got off with your clit against his tongue

he was thick, his tip leaking and a dark, desperate red

he grabs a condom from his dresser and rolls it on, his other hand still playing with your pussy, not breaking eye contact with you

you’re writhing underneath him. nervous, but so ready; you trust him.

he teases your entrance with his cock; you can both hear how wet you are for him and it makes him chuckle

“are you ready, pretty girl?” he asks. “i’ll go as slow or fast as you want you just gotta tell me if it’s too much.”

you nod. “‘m ready for you.” you slur out.

he pushes inside you slowly, agonizingly slow. it hurts, but it’s the first time it’s a good kind of pain

“fuck,” kendall rests on his forearms, kissing your jaw. “you’re so fucking tight.”

he’s thrusting so slowly, moving in deep, languid motions that leave your legs shaking and you mewling, grasping at his arms

“that feel good?” his thumb rubs your bottom lip and you open up for him, allowing his digit to rest against your tongue as you suck.

you nod and he’s going faster now, his balls tightening as you swirl your tongue around his thumb

your legs instinctively wrap around his hips and he pulls his thumb out of your mouth, moving his hands to your waist before he pounds into you

“this good? still okay?” he asks, genuinely concerned

“y—yes. feels so good ken,”

“fuck you’re gonna make me cum with that pathetic little look in your eyes,”

and he does, soon after, hips sputtering, cock twitching as he spills into the condom, moaning almost animalistically while he thumbs your clit

you finish, his cock still buried inside you, hips bucking up as your cunt clenches around him

he pulls out, kissing your forehead before taking the condom off and grabbing you a towel

“i’m fucked.” he says

“why?” you look so concerned. it’s so cute to him.

“you’ve ruined me. cant be with anyone else ever again.”

sitting up on your elbows, you shrug. “i’ll be yours then.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Our Good Girl ~ KNJ & KSJ [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.4K

PAIRING: Seokjin x Fem!Reader x Namjoon 

WARNINGS: degradation, humiliation(maybe not so much), breeding kink, aftercare, swearing, smut, from fluff to hard smut. Dom Jin, Dom Namjoon, Sub Reader, unprotected sex [wrap it before you tap it] birth control, cum play, thigh riding, “good girl”, pet names, spanking/slapping of breasts and cheeks all consenual, 

GENRE: Non!Idol!AU, Poly, SMUT, established relationship, aftercare, rough.

DON’T READ IF YOU’RE UNDERAGE.

The restaurant you were sitting in was loud since it was packed full of people, luckily for you and your boyfriends, you were in a booth on your own secluded away from everyone. Also lucky for the boys, they weren't the best at controlling how jealous they got of people around you and tonight you looked especially good. A custom-fitted black dress that clung to your body perfectly, showing off all of your favourite aspects about yourself as well as the boys favourite parts about you as well without being too revealing. 

"I made sure to book months in advance," Namjoon chuckled as he poured you another glass of champagne while Jin anxiously bounced his leg up and down on the spot. This was your favourite place because of how pretty it was inside. The interior of it was decorated to look as though it was inside of a fairytale-like forest and there were fairy lights all over the ceiling to look like stars. The three of you had gone out for your birthday tonight despite your best efforts in telling them that you would have been fine staying at home with take-out food and a movie. They wanted to do something special for you, something that would be meaningful to you. It wasn't often that you got to get all dressed up like the way you were tonight and do what they were going to offer to you. The three of you had been together for almost four years and it had been one of the best relationships of your life, while many people didn't understand why you were with the both of them and not just one you ignored them. 

"We got you some presents princess," Jin said as he looked at you, he didn't want to give the presents here but Namjoon insisted that it would be more special to give the three presents here. Jin slid the bright pink bag over to you on the table and smiles, as anxious as he was he couldn't wait to see your eyes light up when you realised what would be happening later that night. 

"Start with the smaller box," Namjoon suggested as he could see you trying to process which of the boxes to open first as you looked inside the bag. It wasn't often that you would except gifts from either of them as you hated people spending money on you but it was a special occasion. 

"I told you that you didn't have to get me anything," You whined out as you took the smallest box from the bag and saw that it was from Jin, 

"Technically the third present is for all of us," Jin smirked as he watched you opening the smallest box, 

"What's the third present?" You questioned as you ripped the wrapping paper off from the small box to reveal a navy blue velvet box inside but Jin and Namjoon hummed at you wanting you to open the first ones before you thought about the last one. Sensing you weren't going to get told anything you opened the velvet box to see a silver bracelet laying on top of a black cushion, 

"Jin, " You gasped out as you released it was one of the bracelets you'd been admiring for weeks before this. Only there was an addition to it, along the chain there was a small silver heart with something inscribed onto it. 

"3 words, 8 letters, 1 meaning," You breathed out as you looked at it, staring at the small bracelet and back up to Jin as you let tears stream down your cheeks. 

"It's perfect," You choked out, inching closer to him so you could kiss him softly on the lips, grinning wildly as he began to blush from the small action. 

"Mine next," Namjoon chuckled as he pulled out the next box from the bag, sliding it over to you and letting you rip the wrapping paper off as you did with the previous one. Revealing yet another box similar to the previous but inside of this one was a silver necklace with his, Jin's and your initials engraved into a silver heart matching the one on the bracelet. 

"They're stunning," You breathed out as you stared at both of the items in their boxes, too scared to ever wear them with how pretty they looked but you knew the boys would want you to never take them off. 

"Guys, I don't know-"

"Open the last box kitten," Namjoon's voice was dark as he spoke to you giving a hint as to what was in the final large box in the bottom of the bag. Gulping to yourself you opened up the box, trying to ignore the fact that Jin and Namjoon were sitting close to you. Their hands were on either of your thighs as you shakily removed the box from the bag. 

"We've been thinking about this for a while princess," Jin told you as he watched you begin to rip the wrapping paper away from the box to reveal a black box behind in. 

"We know you like the thought of both of us at the same time," Namjoon whispered in your ear before biting down on your lobe making you let out a shaky moan as you lifted up the lid of the box. Inside was black lingerie set with a matching choker sitting on top, you slammed the box shut and stared at the boys with wide eyes. Your head flicking between the two of them and then around to make sure that no one had been passing your booth at the time and caught a glimpse. 

"Oh look, we made her all embarrassed," Jin smirked and you stared at him, wondering where the sudden darkness in his voice had come from. His eyes were darkened over and you could feel your body begin to heat up. 

"We know you want us both princess, we figured tonight should be the night you get what you want,"  Jin explained as you felt his hand raising higher on your thigh until it was under the skirt of your dress and just brushing against your clothes core. 

"Y-You mean-"

"A threesome, yes kitten." Namjoon finished for you as he raised his hand at the waiter so he could bring the bill over for him to pay for. The two of them hardly had a threesome with you, it wasn't that they didn't "like" it but they prefered having alone time with you but they knew how badly you wanted them together with you.

"C-Can we get home fast," You giggled as you bounced up and down in your set, biting down on your lip when Jin squeezed your thigh softly and smirked at you.

"So eager I see, you have to change into the lingerie when you're home, Princess. With the matching choker of course," Humming at him you nodded as you thought about everything that was going to happen that night. 

After rushing home and showering quickly you changed into the babydoll lingerie that they'd gotten you, it was lace with a v-neckline and a sheer dress half making the black thong that went along with it visible to the boys. 

"Doesn't she just look perfect," Namjoon chuckled darkly as he looked at you from the bedroom door, you'd been waiting for them in the main bedroom of the house when they came up to see you. Both of them wearing their boxers as they watched you sitting on the bed waiting for them, squirming a little with anticipation which didn't go unnoticed by the boys. 

"Look at her Jin, already squirming for our Hot cum," A shiver ran down your spine from Namjoon's tone, it was rough and dark as he stared at you. Licking his lips as he watched you clench your thighs together, 

"Rubbing her thighs together as if that would bring her any satisfaction," Jin chuckled this time making a pool drip into the thong you were wearing. They stepped closer to you and Namjoon ran his fingers on the leather choker admiring his handiwork. They'd had it made custom for you. 

"Did you like the presents that we got you, kitten?" You nodded at him, knowing not to speak unless told to use your words directly by him but with Jin it was different. He wanted you to speak whenever you wanted to speak as long as he could hear you. Without a second thought, Namjoon yanked you towards the edge of the bed and spreads your legs open for him and Jin to see you. 

"Stupid piece of fabric," Jin scoffed as he ripped the thong away from your body discarding it somewhere in the room so they could see what belonged to them.

"Now tell us, Princess, who does this pretty little pussy belong to?" Jin hummed as he ran his fingers through your wet folds, humming to himself in delight when he felt just how wet you were. 

"You," You answered him breathlessly, 

"We've barely started and already you're a breathless mess, what a little slut." Namjoon smirked as he ran two fingers over your clit rubbing softly as he kept his eyes locked with yours. 

"A clever little slut though, knowing just who she belongs to." Jin corrected as he looked at you, your eyes dancing between them as you let out a small whine. Desperate for them to touch you more than they were, you'd been needy from the moment you'd opened your present at the restaurant but you knew what they were like. They liked to take their time with you when they could but you were desperate for the pleasure you knew that they were both capable of.  Namjoon pressed hard against your clit as he began to rub vigorously, you covered your mouth to stop a loud moan from escaping and he growled at you, 

"Don't hide your moans from me whore," Degradation, and humiliation was nothing new when it came to your sex life with either of them so you giggled in response to the name he called you. Already high from what you knew you were going to experience for the night.  

"Oh? Does my little princess like when Namjoon calls her a whore?" Jin questioned, turning your face to look at him roughly as Namjoon continued to rub your clit roughly. You let out a weak moan as you nodded your head, your eyes never leaving Jin's for a second as he began to rub himself through the boxers he was wearing. 

"You could probably cum just from his fingers, couldn't you? Wouldn't even need something stuffed inside that tight cunt of yours," Jin hummed as he opened your mouth pushing two fingers into it and demanding you to suck on them. 

"Just like you suck my cock princess," You smirked at him around his fingers and began to suck softly, lapping your tongue in and around his fingers while letting out small moans as Namjoon continued to bring you close to your euphoria. Your breathing began to get out of control as the pleasure began building between your legs, your head rolled back making Jin's fingers all from your lips. 

"P-Please," You begged as you panted out, rolling up your hips. 

"Please, what?" Namjoon's voice came out stern as he continued to rub your clit for you, watching the way your face contorted as you fought back the urge to cum without his permission. 

"Please, may I cum!?" The words stumbled out of your mouth as your back arched up and Namjoon rubbed faster until his fingers were soaked. 

"You're going to ride my thigh first. Show us how badly you want our cocks," He ripped his hand away from your core as you switched positon. He sat on the bed as you straddled his thigh, he flexed his muscles making you moan out as you ground down against him. 

"Look at Jin while you cum," He ordered, so you did. Locking eyes with Jin who was already rubbing his cock through the thin material of his boxers. Groaning as he watched you riding someone else's thigh, moaning out as your mouth fell open. 

"Cum all over my thigh kitten," Namjoon whispered in your ear as you continued to rock your hips on him. 

"I said cum you little slut," He growled out and as if on cue you did. You came over his thigh as your legs shook, moaning out his name as you clenched around nothing. 

"Such a mess, lick it up," Jin smirked as he noticed our cum glistening over Namjoon's thigh. You slid down onto the floor as you looked at Joon's leg, biting down on your lip as you crawled over to him. Sticking out your tongue as you began to slowly lick your cum from his thigh, whing out as you looked at them both.

"There's a good girl," Jin smirked as he got down onto his knees in front of you, running his thumb along your bottom lip and smirking as you tried to suck on it. 

"Someone is getting might desperate," He chuckled, glancing up at Namjoon to see what their next move was going to be. Namjoon nodded at him and he raised up onto his feet once again, 

"Are you going to keep being a good little slut?" Jin asked this time as he looked at you, you nodded desperately and he stepped closer to you, pushing a finger into you making you whimper out. Digging your toes into the carpet as he continued to thrust one finger into you, 

"Words," He said in a stern voice not moving his eyes from yours as you continued to let out small whines as he curled his finger up to your g-spot. 

"Yes! Yes, I'll be your good slut," You cried out as you began to squirm against his tongue. 

"Just his? What about me kitten?" Namjoon sounded condescending as he rose from the bed and looked at you, reaching down t rub your clit while Jin thrust his fingers into you. Gasping loudly you braced yourself for another orgasm, 

"B-Both. I-I'll be a good slut for both of you," You whimpered out as you continued to buck your hips but Jin's finger was pulled out of you abruptly and he smirked as he saw your legs shake. 

"Such an obedient cock whore. Desperate for both of us at the same time." Jin said as he began to kiss down your body, kissing the exposed skin of your breast through the v-neckline of the babydoll dress. 

"This dress is in the way, Namjoon, remove it," He exhaled as he dropped to his knees. So close to your core you could feel his breath on your clit as he spoke to Namjoon. The dress was lifted off your body leaving you completely exposed while they were still in some clothing. 

"Such hard nipples," Namjoon approved as he took one of your breasts into his mouth and began sucking on it while his other hand rubbed and pulled on the other. 

"You're going to stand there and beg for us while we make you feel good princess. Understood?" Jin slapped your ass making you buck your hips towards him, he smirked as he looked at you. 

"Y-Yes Jin," You breathed out moaning out as he bit down on your outer labia gently while smirking at you. Jin dove his tongue between the lips of your pussy and you yelped out, bucking against him as he continued to eat you out where you stood. 

"Look at you, shaking when Jin has only just started." Namjoon chuckled as he switched from one breast to the other, biting you wherever he could. Your hands gripped Namjoon's biceps as you tried to keep your balance, your knees shaking as Jin continued to moan against your clit.

"Cheating skank," Namjoon slapped you across your left breast and you moaned out loudly. 

"W-Wasn't cheating," You whined out as you tried to straighten your legs, looking at Namjoon who was smirking at you. 

"Maybe I should stuff that little mouth, would you like that?" Namjoon questioned as he roughly pulled on your other nipple. Your eyes grew wide at the thought of it and you nodded your head desperately. 

"You heard the little hussy Jin," Jin chuckled deeply as he did the final lapping of your pussy before pulling away and patting the floor.

"On all fours like a good little bitch," Namjoon pushed you down roughly and smirked as you let out a whine from the carpet grazing your skin. 

"Beg," Namjoon smirked as he took his cock out from his boxers and knelt in front of you. Jin was behind you as he began to drag his tongue through your folds again and dragged it down the length of your slit moaning against you. 

"S-Stuff my mouth Namjoon, please, I want your cock in my mouth." You moaned out as your body began to shake as Jin continued his actions of lapping your pussy as though it was something he'd been deprived of for months. Namjoon smirked as he ran the tip of his cock along your lips, your tongue poking out as you tried to get a taste of his precum. 

"Such a pathetic little slut," He moaned out as you managed to lick his slit moaning out from Jin's actions. 

"You're going to cum all over his tongue while you suck on my dick," He told you as he gripped onto the choker around your neck and pushed his large length into your mouth not caring if you couldn't handle it yet. Now you understood why they'd gotten you the choker. You gasped for air around his cock as he continued to fill your mouth. 

"Does this make it hard to breathe?" Namjoon quizzed with a condescending tone as he continued to slowly thrust in and out of your mouth as you gagged around him. Struggling to answer him he pulled you off him and watched as a string of saliva connected your lips to his cock,

"Y-Yes," You moaned out still feeling weak from Jin as he continued to eat you out roughly. The building of your orgasm rushing over you as you whimpered at Namjoon. 

"I think someone wants to cum, doesn't she?" Namjoon smirked as he slapped you across the cheek waiting for you to answer him. Everything was purely for your pleasure and they knew if they went too far you had safewords or taps to use if they did something you weren't ready for. 

"Y-Yes! Please let me cum!" You cried out as Jin wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back against him. 

"Then cum all over his cum and you can make us both feel good with that mouth." Namjoon moaned out as he began to massage your saliva into his cock watching as you let out desperate moans for Jin. 

"Jin!" You mewled out as your head rolled back, filling the room with loud screams of his name until your cunt spasmed out of control. Your knees shaking as he continued to eat you out through your second orgasm of the night, humming against you as he licked you clean and then stood beside Namjoon.

Looking up at both of them you took Jin into your mouth first, gagging around him as he moaned out your name and thrust into you. 

"You do look awfully pretty when you're stuffed like this princess," Jin moaned out as he looked down at you, pulling out and pushing back into you as you gasped around his cock. Jin was the gentle one out of him and Namjoon which you felt glad for right now, it gave your throat a mini-break from Namjoons rough thrusting from before. Namjoon grunted as you reached up to begin pumping him while you took Jin in your mouth, staring into his eyes to let him know he wasn't left out during this.

"F-Fuck," Jin moaned out as he shook his head, stilling his thrusting as he pulled out of your mouth. 

"If I keep going I'll blow," He mumbled not wanting to cum in your mouth and you bit down on your lip. 

"Fill me up," You begged him shocking both Namjoon and Jin at the same time. The two of them knew of your breeding kink but they never would have expected you to bring it out while they were both here. 

"What did you say, whore?" Namjoon asked as he looked at you, stunned as he watched you lick your lips and stare at them both. 

"Want you both to fill me up," You whined as you nervously looked at them. Feeling a little vulnerable that they had this much control over you but you loved it at the same time. 

"Good girl, asking so nicely like that." Jin hummed as he walked behind you and slapped your ass cheek before grabbing onto your skin and moaning out. Jin teased your opening with the head of his cock while you tried to wiggle backwards earning another slap across the ass from him. 

"She's so desperate Jin. Pathetic little slut," Namjoon spat out as he made you look up at him, tapping the head of his cock along your bottom lip as he waited for you to part your lips for him. 

"You're going to suck his cock while I fuck my load into you darling," Jin praised as he pushed his hips forward sinking into you making you moan out loudly. Namjoon took advantage and pushed his cock into your mouth, grunting as you moaned around his length sending vibrations through him. 

"Fuck, you're not even moving and she's crying out around me," Namjoon laughed but Jin began to thrust into you roughly, putting his hands on your hips as he began to powerfully slam in and out of you. His cock sending your head into a mind-fog at how incredible it felt to feel him stretching you out. Namjoon gripped onto the chocker again and began pulling you around his cock, watching as you began drooling down yourself as you moaned out. Eyes filling up with tears as you did your best to please him to the extent that he loved so much. 

"Don't cry slut," He moaned out as he continued to push into you, pulling out for a couple of seconds to let you catch your breath. You moaned out breathlessly at the overwhelming sensations you were getting and Namjoon pushed back into your mouth, groaning loudly when you began sputtering and coughing trying to catch your breath.

Jin slammed into you as he slapped you across the ass, smirking as he watched what Namjoon was doing to you. The sight of it alone bringing him closer to his edge. 

"How does this feel, slut...Have two cocks in you at the same time. Filling up two of your holes." Jin chuckled deeply as he continued to fuck into you. Vigorously thrusting as he thought back his urge to cum in you right away. You were clenching around him so tightly it felt as though you had a vice around his cock, he could feel every inch of you. 

"So good!" You screamed out as you pulled Namjoon's cock out of your mouth to let out a high pitched whimper. 

"So good!" Namjoon mocked as he thrust back into your mouth while Jin laughed at your desperation. Slamming into you as he pushed his cock deeper inside of you, each of his thrusts getting stronger than the last one.

"J-Joon, I can't," Jin panted as he continued to slap into you, Namjoon nodded his head at Jin knowing that meant he was close to his release, 

"The little whore is going to get so filled with cum, she won't know what hit her." Namjoon chuckled as he pulled his cock out of your mouth and pumped himself. Wanting you to enjoy the feeling of Jin cumming into you while you cam around him. 

"You wanna cum for me princess?" Jin hummed as he reached under you to rub your clit roughly. Moaning out his name all you could do was nod as your eyes began to roll back. The pleasure building up inside of you as Namjoon watched the both of you fucking. 

"Squeeze nice and hard around my cock with that slutty pussy princess. Cum for me right now." He grunted as he continued to pound into you from behind, grunting loudly as his balls hit your skin. You cried out his name as you dug your nails into the carpet, roll your head back as your chest fell down against the carpeted floor. The feeling of Jin's cum spilling out of you made you whimper but not as much as when he pulled out of you. 

"Now, now slut. You won't be empty for long." Namjoon knelt down behind you and sat you back against him on his length. A loud scream leaving your throat at the sudden stretch of his cock throbbing inside of you. 

"N-Namjoon!" You mewled out as you began to slowly rise and fall on him. His breathing began to get heavier as he guided your hips up and down on him. You knew he wasn't going to last long from the way he'd been fucking your throat.

"Cum whenever you want baby," He breathed out as he continued to pull you onto him. You clenched around him squeezing him the way he like and whimpered as another orgasm ripped through you so soon after the previous one. You screamed out his name as you orgasm ran over you and you squirted around his cock. Crying out when you felt him cum into you and he held onto you tightly so you couldn't move. 

"We're right here baby," Jin whispered as he laid you down on the bed. Your breathing was erratic as you tried to come down from your highs, Namjoon snuggled behind you and pulled the sheets over your body. 

"Nice and slow, kitten. Take a deep breath." He whispered in your ear, taking your hands in his as you squeezed his fingers. Looking at Jin as you tried to bring yourself down, breathing in slowly and deeply as they told you too. 

"You were such a good girl today," Jin complimented as he cupped your face in his hands and made you look at him

"Our good girl," Namjoon whispered, kissing your skin softly as he began to hum to you, both of them waiting for you to cool down before they took you for a nice long bubble bath where they could give you the proper aftercare you deserved.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @fan-ati--c @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @bisexualmess007 @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​

[ladymercysletters]

The Moment I Knew// Anthony Bridgerton - Epilogue

Word Count : 1820

Warnings: childbirth

A/N: based on this request from @albeeox. As usual I have not beta’d this. I just hope it makes sense. 

You waddled into the breakfast room at Aubrey Hall, squeezing into a seat before letting out an exhausted huff. Anthony had been sat at the head of the table, nose deep in his morning paper as he waited on cook to bring breakfast. He didn’t hear you come in until the slow squeaky drag of the chair next to him drew him out of the pages.

“Y/N you should have called me” he said, setting down his paper instantly. “Did you take all of those stairs yourself? In your condition?” his voice getting higher with each question. You gave him a stern but ultimately buttery look at his worry.

“Yes dear. My waters have not yet broken, I am perfectly able to take the stairs.” You fixed him with a glare as he moved to push your chair in. “And I am famished.” Just as you said that several maids entered with trays of breakfast on gleaming silver trays.

“Just as I thought my love. Which is why I instructed cook to prepare one of everything… except kippers” he added, knowing the smell had turned your stomach even after your morning sickness had passed. Trays of eggs; and toast; and meats and fruits were all laid out in front of the two of you, just as they had been for the past month. Ever since the doctor had told you it would be any time soon.

After breakfast was finished and taken away you settled back to mull over your bump. Anthony picked up his newspaper again but you noted his eyes never left the rim of the pages. You looked at him watch you, to his mind surreptitiously before his eyes locked on yours.

“Yes darling.” He said immediately, pushing his paper to one side and drawing his chair and inch or two closer to yours.

“I didn’t say anything” you questioned, watching with curiosity as he pulled his chair up next to yours, arm finding its way around the back of your chair.

“You were looking at me, is everything alright?” his tone was sweet but almost frantic. He placed a somewhat shaky hand on top of yours.

“I’m fine my love” you smiled, watching as Anthony’s hand became steadier over your protruding stomach the more he held it there. “You know he settles when you’re near?” Anthony’s head shot up at your words, his deep brown eyes almost pleading for the truth. “I’m not lying. It’s like he can sense it. When he hears your voice or you touch me in any way, he settles”

“And how do you know it’s a He?” Anthony dopily smiled, kissing your cheek as he squidged closer.

“I have a feeling”

“Well, I’d be perfectly happy with either. We are in no rush for an heir and I would like an excuse to lavish you with as much affection as you desire.” The lopsided smirk on his face, evidence of his rakish youth but the love in his eyes held a more settled gentleman’s gaze. Anthony rested his head on your shoulder as he continued to caress your swollen stomach, nuzzling into your neck – contented to spend the rest of the day just like this.

You convinced Anthony to walk with you in the gardens after breakfast. He had mildly argued that he needed to prepare for a meeting with his steward later but your baby kicked under his hand and he melted into submission.

You stood amongst the autumn foliage, watching as the gardener’s little girl toddled over to her father holding a trowel.

“I can’t wait to be a father” Anthony murmured in your ear as he held you from behind. You smiled at his little slip of thought.

“You’ll be an excellent father.” You turned in his arms, belly pushing you further away from his face than you would have liked. Anthony reached across the distance between you to plant a loving kiss on your pouting lips.

“I must get back to work: Martin is coming at one and I have not so much as gazed at the books this month.” He whispered through a smirk before turning to leave.

It was a little while later; you had decided to take tea on the terrace, enjoying the afternoon sunshine whilst it lasted, and Anthony had been in his study, nursing an early brandy as he thought on crop rotations, when he heard it. A shrill scream followed by the crash of bone china on a stone floor; that could only mean one thing. Y/N! Anthony ran as fast as he could from his study, bolting down the hall and through the morning room to see you buckled over on the floor. He rushed to your side

By the time the doctors arrived Anthony was practically having a heart attack on the front steps. Since getting you up the many stairs of Aubrey Hall himself (He insisted everyone else would hurt you if they so much as touched you), Anthony had run from your rooms to the front steps every time he heard you whimper, or the distance sound of horses. He practically dragged the aged senior by the collar to your chamber, rushing to your side when he saw you panting and sweaty, and looking fully ready to birth his child.

You panted as your maid guided you, Anthony taking over the moping of your brow as the doctors began his examination. As the afternoon turned to evening, Anthony’s temper didn’t … well, temper – with every whimper or wail let from your mouth he argued with the doctors to do something. Despite numerous insistences of both nurse maids and doctors insisting Anthony leave the room as it ‘just was not seemly for a lord to see a lady this way!’, he stayed; gripping your hand as you squeezed with each contraction.

“Please, your Lordship, allow the doctors to worry for your wife’s condition. It is our profession.” He was chastised.

“MY WIFE IS IN PAIN AND I WILL BE WITH HER UNTIL SHE IS WELL AGAIN” Anthony snapped back, looking like he would be ready to bite the next hand that tried to see him to the door. The furrow in his brow deepened as the senior doctor announced it was time to push. Through each effort, Anthony only looked on more and more distressed, unable to take the pain away from you: with each scream his mind reeled with flashbacks to his youngest sister, Hyacinth’s, birth and how he’d almost lost his mother that day.

After an hour of intense pushing, both you and Anthony looking as sweaty and exhausted as each other your child was still no closer to being born. The doctors rushed around; one feeling your stomach for movement, the senior, with his notebook doing (in Anthony’s opinion) Sod All, and the last, between your legs, occasionally checking for further dilation. Suddenly the young doctor feeling your stomach snapped his head up and beckoned the senior over.

“The baby is in breech” the elder doctor mumbled with a stained sigh – moving as fast as Anthony had seen him as he rummaged in his medical bag for instruments. You let out a cry of pain as your tried in vain to push again. Anthony panicked at the doctor’s announcement.

“Breech? Breech? What does that mean?” Anthony stood, still holding your hand with both of his as he glared at trio.

“It means, Your Lordship” the small senior man said sighing “that the baby has decided to descend feet first and, as such” he took his glasses off to clean them “is stuck.” Anthony’s heart leapt to his throat and lodged there.

“Well do something. Now!” he choked out, trying to sound as intimidating as he had been. Your breaths came out in short pants as you tried not to panic and faint. Your lady’s maid had your other hand in her own, comforting you with soft words and the occasional dab of a damp cloth to your forehead as the men argued above you.

“We are preparing to turn the child. It is a difficult thing to do but she is not yet crowning so it may be possible.” The elderly man said smoothly.

“May be possible?”

“Yes. At this stage it is the only option.” He said lowly, just to Anthony, breaking the news as softly as possible as you were otherwise occupied.

The next thing you felt was a decisive clamp of hands around your protruding belly as the small, senior doctor guided the taller but decidedly younger one in moving your baby around in your stomach to turn it the right way. The movement was sharp and stinging but it was strange that you could actually feel the child moving. When the doctor gave the word, you began pushing again, the other doctor; who had, even at this stage, not said a word reached behind him to retrieve a large metal appendage. You felt a cold sensation at your opening as he inserted the instrument; as the baby began to appear, he clamped them around the crowning head and gently pulled. The force of the birth and the still odd angle they appeared to be at made you throw your head back with a scream. You faintly heard Anthony call your name but the rushing of blood in your ears drowned out everything but your own screams.

Over six hours since Anthony had first found you, collapsed on the patio, your baby was finally born. You let out an exhausted laugh as they were lifted over the linen shroud at your waist and passed to a nursemaid to clean and wrap. Anthony’s face was nearly split in two by a radiant grin; the look of complete and utter adoration in his eyes never left as he looked from you to your child and back again. You beckoned him to go and he let go of your hand for the first time all evening and walked over to the nursemaid on the opposite side of the room to watch his first-born being wrapped in a soft muslin cloth.

Anthony reached out to hold the child, cradling him in his arms as he walked back over to you. The baby let out a quiet scream as he yawned for the first time, a big pair of dark brown eyes staring back as Anthony as he welled up.

 Dearest Reader, It is with great pleasure that I can announce that the Viscountess Lady Y/N Bridgerton has born her child, a son named Edmund. Although the child appears to have arrived some months before due, I have been informed that both mother and child are in splendid health and that the Viscount is determined to keep both holed away at Aubrey Hall for the foreseeable season ahead, giving us all, even greater cause than usual, to hope that the annual Bridgerton musicale goes ahead as planned.

Lady Whistledown, 18 March 1813

[childish-ish]

Yoo! *hands you subway sandwich* I absolutely loved the soulmate AU with Micheal making choices for each other. And I was wondering (if you can/want) what would it be like for Billy Lenz.

hii *fucking devours subway sandwich* thank u so much i love u <3 i would love to write for him! sorry if hes ooc :<

sorry it took so long too, i thought it said lOOMIS AND I LOOK BACK AND IT SAYS LENZ LMFAAAOOOOOOOO then i procrastinated xd its super awkward and weird, im sorry!! i tried- i was on major fucking writers block!!

bro u made me eat a bug dont talk to me

soulmate au.. makin choices fo eachother..

billy lenz x reader

also, just imagine like. a party right before christmas and they dont call the police to help them rather do it themselves, but then 1 girl calls and they're on their way at the end.. ya dig? ALSO I KNOW ITS HIS HOME BUT I DIDNT HAVE AN IDEA SO xd

"Hello?" You answer the phone politely, looking over your notes before closing the book as you wait in silence for a reply on the other line. "Hellooo?" You drag out the 'o' in hello.

"Y/n? Hey, hows'it going. Listen i have this party goin' on and I know you don't have jack-shit to do, so, why don't you come on over?"

Barb! Ah, that bitch.. should i? You thought over the pros and cons as Barb waited impatiently on the other line.

soulmate chooses: go to party.

"Yeah, I'm coming. Streets?" You ask, opening your notebook back up, flipping to a blank page as Barb told you the address. You hang up on the girl and rip the piece of paper off, holding it between your teeth as you lift yourself from your cushioned chair, grabbing your coat that hung on the back and quickly stuffed the address in the pocket of your coat.

eat bug or do not eat bug.

You furrow your eyebrows at the choices. Before choosing 'do not eat the bug'. What the fuck?

Of course you would choose not to eat the fucking bug. You weren't a dick. But your fucking soulmate was. You were totally gonna beat their fucking ass for choosing such choices.

You sigh, grabbing your coat on the way out. Your necessities jingling in your pockets of said coat. You shove your hand in, dragging out your keys, turning around to lock your door. Sighing once more, as you enter your car and start the ignition. You pull out the address. "Can't be too hard, can it?" You mutter, finally pulling out of your driveway.

"Hello!" You wiggle your fingers as a small wave at the unrecognizable woman who opened the door. "Hello." Sge greeted back softly. "Are you a friend of Barbs'?"

"You betcha!"

"Well, I'm Jess! It's a pleasure to meet you.. come on in!" Jess opened the door wider. You see a few other girls chatting lively. A glass or a beer bottle in their hands. You follow Jess.

"Y/n! You made it! Good job." Barb greeted you, immediately handing you a beer you watched her pop open. You grab it, took a gulp, and thanked her.

You spot an ant crawling on the counter by you. Jess and Barb began to argue softly. Background noise.. You debate on whether to wipe it up and eat it. You shake your heads of the thoughts to rid of the possibility of your soulmate choosing-

eat the ant.

You growl under your breath, crushing the ant under your index finger and wiping it off on your tongue. You swallow it with your spit.

Im totally beating my soulmates fucking ass.. you thought angrily, chugging the rest of your piss-tasting beer. Chug, chug, chug! You cheer yourself on.

soulmate chooses: chug.

You chuckle before downing the rest of your cheap beer. Barb hands you another wordlessly. A smirk planted on her lips as she watches you down another.

"You should really slow down, Y/n."

"Eeh come on, Jess." Barb rolled her eyes, tossing an empty bottle into the trashcan. "Her soulmate probably made her chug." Barb defends poorly.

"I suppose.. how about you chug some water?"

"Yeah.. that'd be best. I'm already feeling a fucking buzz!" You laugh, being the lightweight you were.

Soon. You had awoke in a extremely comfortable bed with a small headache.

"It's so quiet.." You mutter to yourself. Dragging your hand over your face before quickly pulling away, realising you already had acne that was beginning to sprout. You stare at the ceiling, glancing at the window. Still night-time. You turn your head to the nightstand. The lamp was on. A small glass of water.

"Awh." You smile at the thought of one of the girls leaving a cup of water for you, quietly closing the door behind them. You immediately sit up and chug the water, tossing in the two pills that lied on a small napkin right next to it. You swallow, lathering the pills up in your spit.

You stretch your arms over your head, before falling back onto the plush mattress layered in bedding. You sigh, before finally deciding that it was time to get up and see what was going on downstairs. If you were even upstairs.. you cant tell. Maybe you were downstairs? You continued your train of thought as you closed the door behind you politely. Not bothering to take the glass with you.

You continue down the stairs, hand sliding down the railing as you slowly step down each step, before noticing the sticky, yet not sticky liquid your hand laid in. "The fuck? Strawberry syrup, L-O-L." You lift it up to your lips, licking. Clearly not thinking as the taste registered.

"Pennies. Blood? Oops." You wipe your fingers off on your shirt, quickly continuing down the stairs. "Baaarrrb?!" You call out, awkwardly. "Oh. Who's the shit-face drunk lying on the floor." You step closer towards the dining area. "Barb? You fucking drunk." You snicker.

soulmate chooses: kick her.

You do so. Not like you had any choice yourself. Kicking her lightly in the stomach, you step away. "What the fuck?!" You shriek, slapping the hand that was placed in your shoulder. You turn around to face a rugged man in a dark sweater and black pants. no shoes? Yet socks on his feet.. "Who are you?!"

The person before you didn't answer before lifting up a single hand thay held a.. glass unicorn? The tip of the horn was covered in a red substance. You could only assume strawberry syrup once more.

"Murderer!" You shriek, grabbing the lamp next to you and chucked it at the offending man who barely dodged it. He screamed back in response before lunging at you; successfully tackling you to the carpet rug.

"I can't believe you, are my soulmate.. well no, i can." You place your index finger on your chin in a thoughtful manner as you stare at the ceiling. "Are you?"

"billy made you eat an ant." he snickers horridly in your ear.

As, Billy, with the biggest cock known to man, squabbled and licked the shell of your ear, muttering about pigs and boobs and pussies, you nod to yourself.

"I can just hand you over to the police, no problem." You hug yourself. "But could I, really? My soulmate. Who has killed people.. Barb. God, you fucking cunt!" You screech, rolling away from him, just to jump back on the wide-eyed motherfucker, wrapping your hands around his neck and your cunt being right over his crotch. Haha.

He gasped for air, short, uneven nails scratch at your hands.

Tables were turned, and you were back on the floor with Billy over you, screaming out profanities.

"I'm sorry, Billy." You apologize falsely. Tears streaming down to your ears, since, you were on the floor.. gravity? "You killed my friend, man. I didn't even know her that long!"

Billy leans over and licks the tears away. You flinch away, before he pulls you into his lap awkwardly, his head dipped down into the crevice of your neck and sniffed loudly before giggling to himself.

"Billy's pretty little pig. Billy's. Pretty pig. Pretty cunt. Pretty, pretty, pretty." He mutters, an odd sense of nostalgia washed over you, catching an odd scent that activated said nostalgia.

"Move bitch. Let me get fucking comfortable." You snap, pulling out of his hold and turning your body around to face him. Crotch to crotch as you wrap your legs above his own.. does this make sense? You wrap your legs around his and he crosses his legs, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you fiddle with his hair.

"Man, you are such a fucking dick. Making me do all those fucking things while i chose nice things for you.." You lay your head on his shoulder. Very much stinky, yes.

"We should dip though. Didn't one of the girls call the police while yo' dumb-fucking-ass was suffocating one?" You pull away, getting a good look at his face.

You wouldn't say he was.. handsome.. but you certainly wouldn't say he was ugly. His skin was.. a sickly pale yellow. His.. fuckimg huge brown eyes stared at you. His cracked lips were curled into a unnerving smile.

soulmate chooses: leave.

"Yeah. Let's go." You stand, offering him a hand.

Billy's blood coated calloused hand makes contact with your own. You gag, covering your lips with your free-hand. "Fucking disgusting." You mutter in disgust, enduring it for the sake of your new partner.

You shove Billy in the back of your car, slamming the door shut and sprinting to the other side, just to slip right before you put your hand on the door.

You swing it open angrily, sitting down and starting the ignition, ignoring Billy's giggles and mutters as he peers out the window like a little kid looking at snow for the first time.

break the window or tap obnoxiously.

You roll your eyes, the hint of a smile plastered onto your lips.

tap obnoxiously.

[gohyuck]

teaser for the my fic that’s part of denise’s ( @hyucksie​ ) nct: almost collab and part of my interlude: neo zone series

pairing: journalist!serial killer!renjun x already dead!reader

genre: ...oh man. angst, quite a lot of it. all the fluff and smut between renjun and the reader occur in his dreams, as, in real life, he never met the reader prior to their murder and him getting assigned to report on their death

word count: tba (likely a minimum of 10k words)

warnings: alcohol, explicit sex, mentions of a dead animal, obsessive behaviors, stalking, characters with no concept of a moral compass, implications that characters may have been abused in their pasts, descriptions of jail that may be inaccurate or not fully true-to-form, serial killers/ serial killing

teaser continues under the cut, it’s 1.5k words long. please message me if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Renjun is eleven when he watches his across-the-street neighbor run over his next-door neighbor’s cat in broad daylight. The driver of the BMW does not stop, does not even slow down to assess the damage to the cat or the car, only speeds past as if they haven’t altered the state of the universe, made an unforgivable change to their neighborhood, taken an innocent life. He experiences it all through the floor-to-ceiling windows that expose the Huangs’ formal living room to the world. They’re not unlike the same windows that show off their formal dining room, their actual living room, and their actual dining room. 

As much as he can see out, others can see in just as easily. Just as equally.

At least the bedrooms have curtains.

He doesn’t really react, not even as he stares at the dark red stain, the blood-matted fur on the asphalt. It horrifies him, of course it does, but he’s more afraid of the repercussions that yelling or screaming would bring down on him. As long as he is in the house where nothing is hidden, he is meant to be seen but not heard. Renjun knows this well.

The image of the dead cat, of its blood and bones, its fur and flat, empty eyes, sears itself into Renjun’s brain. It preoccupies him from that moment, twisting itself uncomfortably into strings of his heart. That poor cat, only out for a short hunt or pursuing a curiosity, its life cut short in a tragic and terrible way. An unforgivable murder. He never forgets it, never escapes it. 

Death should have a purpose, Renjun thinks. 

Innocent lives should never be taken.

-

Metal sliding against metal might just be the most unpleasant sound in the world. 

Yangyang clutches his notebook to his chest, running his fingers absentmindedly against the unbinded side to make sure that all the folded papers he’d stuffed within its pages are still there. He does this just a little too fast, only registering this as the air hits his fresh papercut, causing him to wince at the new sting that buzzes against his fingertip. Without thinking, he wraps his other arm tighter around his book and raises the affronted finger - left ring - to his mouth.

It’s like this - holding onto his leatherbound notebook as a lifeline and nervously laving his tongue over his new cut - that Yangyang Liu, previously a reporter at The Daily and currently a biographer on a mission, enters the most secure federal prison in the country. The barred gates screech to a halt once they meet the ends of their rails, and the guard at Yangyang’s side nods to his colleague on the other side of the open gate. 

“The biographer?” The uniformed man calls from in front of Yangyang. 

“This is the one.” Yangyang’s own officer - what’s his name again? - replies, yelling a little louder than what could be deemed necessary. His coworker says nothing more, only stepping aside for the other two to walk in. They do so.

Yangyang registers little of the gray walls and cold air that are suddenly all that are within his line of sight, mind already trapped within the holding cell he’s about to visit. He’s heard all the stories, read all the news clippings, seen all the court tapes, and yet… and yet he suddenly feels as if he’s about to start studying this man - this character - anew. It’s as if he’s about to turn to the first page of a book nobody’s ever read before. A story just for himself. 

“Sit.” The officer is none-too-gentle as he pulls a steel chair out of what seems like thin air and hands it to Yangyang, gesturing lazily towards a spot in front of a section of the cell bars. Before he takes a seat, the biographer takes in the scene with which he’s just been presented: a cell empty save for a cot and a chair, with a tiny window high up, far too high for any mere mortal to reach even with the aid of a chair. The world is silent for one long, slow moment before a lump on the cot - one Yangyang hadn’t registered at first - shifts ever-so-slightly. 

The biographer holds his breath, drums his fingers against his notebook in anticipation, and clutches the curved top of the back of the cold steel chair just a little bit harder. He still does not sit. He waits, and watches, and waits, and watches instead. The officer - guard, Yangyang supposes - grumbles something lowly under his breath, his already thin patience wearing away by the second. 

“Get up, Huang,” The guard finally barks out, seemingly at the tail-end of his wit. “He doesn’t have all day.”

The cot lump shifts again, though by a far greater degree this time around. Yangyang suddenly feels far more nervous than before, which is saying something, considering he has fear in his heart. He wishes it was the fear of God, truly, he does, but he knows far too well that it’s the fear of humanity instead. One of the worst specimens, in his view, is only a few metal bars and a thin blanket away from him at the moment.

Yangyang lifts his hand off the chair and to his mouth again, sucking on the papercut as if it’s a decade long habit of his rather than a newly acquired fixation in the moment. It seems as if the lump has decided not to move again, and the biographer takes this as a sign to finally sit down. His heels are starting to ache, anyways. 

As if sensing his movement, the lump shifts, this time turning fully to face the wall rather than Yangyang. The biographer thinks that he can make out a tuft of salt-and-pepper hair. He can barely piece together any visual of the man he’s come to see, but, from what he can ascertain, Renjun Huang is a slight, delicate looking man, hardly terrifying to any eye. He would’ve been stronger, perhaps, at the time of his crimes, but he couldn't have been that much more imposing. 

“I will not get up,” Renjun Huang finally speaks, and once he does, his voice is raspy with what must be a lack of use. Yangyang winces out of sympathy. It must be lonely. The blanket is pulled up, and the tuft of visible hair disappears under blue wool. “I will not, but I can speak. Not long. You’re the biographer?”

The shift from Renjun speaking to the guard and speaking to Yangyang is so subtle that the latter almost does not notice it. Once he does, he hums an affirmative, finally releasing his tight hold on his notebook in order to lay it in his lap and open it. He pulls a pen - blue, pilot G2 - out of his front pocket and clicks it open with satisfaction. 

“Yes,” He reiterates, even though Renjun is definitely sure of his identity by now. “I’m Yangyang Liu. I was hoping we could begin with -”

“Everyone thinks it started with the article about (Name)’s murder,” He coughs mid-sentence. The rasp is clearing, slightly, slowly giving way to a quiet, but firm tone of speech. He does not seem to process that he’s interrupted Yangyang, and the biographer is too full of intrigue to stop him from speaking any more. “That’s what they all think, but it isn’t true.”

Renjun goes silent, then, but Yangyang knows that he has much more to say. He leans forward in his cold chair, face getting closer to the cold cell bars. 

“Where did it start, then? When?” He finally asks, blue pen poised over white paper. It’s as if his fingers are itching for a story, the way they’d always twitched in anticipation when he’d gotten good article assignments at The Daily. The novelty, the excitement had worn out over time. Yangyang had missed it until now. 

The guard is quiet, now, hardly even moving a muscle. Perhaps he’s tuned out entirely, lost in a world of his own. Maybe - though more or less likely than the former, Yangyang is unsure - he’s as fascinated as the biographer himself, watching and waiting for something to happen, for the first shoe to drop in order for the second to follow. The cell and its surroundings are so quiet that Renjun’s breathing is the only audible sound. It’s a little shallow, a little harried, as if he’s just finished a quick sprint and about to start another that he’s unprepared for.

Yangyang supposes that he has, in a way. He glances at the empty page beneath him to find that he’s accidentally placed a tiny dot in the corner of his open page. Fuck. 

Renjun intakes a shuddering breath, and Yangyang’s head snaps back up. He’ll worry about his organization later. He stares, intent, at the lump on the cot. It moves slightly, and Yangyang discerns that the decrepit man is about to speak again. 

He’s right.

“It began when I was raised…” Renjun Huang begins, licking his dry lips and swallowing his spit before he continues. “... I was raised in a glass house.”

[elliesguitarstrings]

Silence (Part 1/Prologue)

Peter Parker x stark!reader

Summary: You and Peter have been best friends ever since he stepped foot into the avengers compound. After a year of being friends you realize you’ve developed a crush on him, but he doesn’t feel the same way... at least, you don’t think he does.

A/N: This is my first ever post so idk how many people will see it but if you do feel free to send in any requests for Tom Holland or any of his characters and tell me if you like this story - part 2 coming soon!

Warnings: language, awkwardness, a little bit of fluff

italics mean flashbacks

~~~~~~~~

Today was a special day. Well, to you that is. To everyone else, it was just a normal Saturday. But to you, and hopefully to Peter too, it was special.

Today marks one year of you and Peter first meeting. One year since he walked through the glass elevator doors of the Avengers Compound. One year since you met your best friend. You remember it like it was yesterday.

Waking you up from a deep sleep, you hear a loud knock on your door, one you recognized only to be your dad’s.

He opens the door and peeks his head in.

“Hey, get up and come into the living room. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Barely awake, you respond, “No, let me sleep. It’s too early for this shit.”

“Watch your language young lady! Now get your ass out of bed and be out in ten minutes.”

He walks away, not even bothering to close the door.

You groan into your pillow and proceed to throw it across the room as you reluctantly get out of bed.

Lately you’ve been fed up with everyone in the compound, and you’re taking out all your anger on them. But what else are you supposed to do? Everyone treats you like a kid, but they still expect you to act like an adult. They don’t let you go on missions, but they still make you train. They don’t let you go to actual school, but they make you study twice as hard. Everyone is just so hard on you, especially your dad, and you’re fucking done with it.

You walk into the bathroom and pull your hair up into a quick ponytail, not bothering to brush your mess of hair. Hastily, you brush your teeth and splash some water on your face in an attempt to make yourself look somewhat alive, but the dark circles are still extremely noticeable. You walk back into your bedroom and think about changing out of your hoodie and shorts, but you decide against it. You look halfway decent, and whoever it is that your dad wants you to meet certainly can’t be so important that you have to change into something nice.

After a quick look in the mirror, you slowly make your way into the living room, dreading the coming interaction with another one of your dad’s boring co-workers.

However, when you look up and see a teenage boy sitting next to your dad on the sofa, your mood changes.

Your dad stands up and turns to you, gesturing at the boy.

“Y/N, this is Peter Parker, Spiderman, whatever you want to call him. He’s the newest addition to the team, and he’s moving into the compound in a few days. He’s the same age as you, so I thought you should show him around. So be nice.”

Peter blushes and smiles, giving you a small wave.

Suddenly you regret not changing.

He’s cute. So fucking cute. He has fluffy brown hair, brown puppy dog eyes, the cutest smile, and he’s your age. Your age. Everything about him is perfect.

Realizing that you have been staring for probably a little to long, you speak up.

“Um, hi Peter, I’m Y/N. Uh, it’s- it’s nice to have you here. Sorry I look like shit.”

“Oh, um, thanks.” Peter responds, just as awkwardly as you.

“You don’t look like shit by the way,” he adds, “you look pretty.”

You smile, about to say thank you when your dad interrupts.

“Well, that was really fucking awkward, but I think you two are going to get along just fine. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it then, see ya around.”

He winks at you as he leaves to go to his lab, and you roll your eyes in return, mentally hitting yourself at how embarrassing this whole interaction has been so far.

You turn to Peter, “So, uh, why don’t I show you around and you can meet everyone.”

“Sounds good to me!” he smiles.

You start in the kitchen and show him around the compound: the movie room, the game room, the pool, the sun room, the training room, the labs, and the bedrooms, introducing him to all of the Avengers along the way. Finally, you stop at the largest spare bedroom, which happens to be right across from yours.

“This is probably gonna be your room. No one really uses it right now but since it’s the biggest one I thought you might want it.”

“Oh, um, thanks, but even the smallest room here is like ten times bigger than my room, so I’d be happy with anything. But since it’s across from you, I’ll take it.”

You blush, not sure if he’s flirting with you or just trying to be nice. Either way, it’s not helping your already developing crush on him.

“So, um, that’s the tour I guess. What do you want to do now?” you ask, hoping he doesn’t want to leave so you can spend more time with him.

“Well Happy isn’t taking me back home until three, so we still have a few hours to do whatever. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Do you just want to hang out in my room? Maybe watch a movie?”

“Sure! Sounds great!”

The two of you walk across the hall to your room and you open the door, regretting again your poor choice to not clean up this morning. Your bed was a mess, your clothes were strewn everywhere, and your desk was piled high with papers and books.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, my room is such a mess.” you exclaim, rushing to push your clothes in the corner and hastily pull your covers up in a sad attempt to make the bed.

Peter smiles and laughs, “Don’t worry, if you think this is messy, you should see my room. This is nothing.”

You laugh as well, sitting down on your bed and grabbing the TV remote. You pat your bed, motioning for Peter to sit down next to you.

“Y- you want me to sit next to you? Like on your bed?” he asks, clearly shocked.

“Oh, um, yeah. But only if you want. You can sit on the beanbag chair over there instead, I guess. I just thought the bed would be more comfortable. And you would be able to see the TV better.”

“Oh, um, ok. That’s fine.”

He makes his way over to your bed and sits next to you, and you silently turn on the TV, starting to overthink everything.

There was a boy. On. Your. Bed. You weren’t doing anything, but still. You suddenly realized how little interaction you’ve had with people your age. Even girls. You didn’t go to school, so you only hung out with the Avengers. The closest person to your age was Wanda, and even she was a lot older than you.

‘Am I being too forward?’ you started to think to yourself. ‘Should I have not asked him to sit on my bed? What is he thinking right now? Oh my god, this is so bad. He probably thinks I’m so weird. He probably hates me. Fuck.’

When you see him looking in your direction, you decide to stuff the thoughts in the back of your head and try to act as normal as possible.

“So, what should we watch?” you ask.

“Um, do you, uh... do you like Star Wars?”

“Are you kidding me? I LOVE Star Wars!” you exclaim, the tension and awkwardness easing slightly.

“Really? My favorite is A New Hope.”

“No shit! Mine too!”

“Then A New Hope it is I guess!”

You turn on the movie, smiling, and you notice that he scoots a little closer to you, seemingly more comfortable.

A few minutes into the movie, Peter breaks the silence between you two and asks, “So what’s it like living with the Avengers?”

“Oh,” you look away from the TV, “it’s cool I guess. But after a while it’s gotten pretty boring. And really frustrating.”

“Frustrating? Why?”

“It’s just, well, they treat me like a kid all the time. And before you say it, yes, I know I am a kid, but it’s still annoying. There’s no one here even close to my age, I mean fuck, Thor’s like 1500 years old. And none of them know how to talk to me. They act like I’m a toddler even though I’m literally sixteen and they never let me go on missions with them, because they don’t think I’m ready even though I’ve been training since I was like ten – “

You cut yourself off, realizing you’ve been ranting for probably a little too long.

“Sorry about that,” you mumble. “It’s just that I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about this.”

“No! Don’t be sorry. That fucking sucks. Not gonna lie, you’re kinda making me regret moving here if that’s how everyone’s gonna treat me,” he laughs.

“They’re not gonna treat you like that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? I’m the same age as you.”

“Because. You’re a fucking superhero. They don’t give a fuck about your age if you can climb walls and shoot spider webs out of your hands.”

“Well, even if they don’t treat me like a kid then I’ll still back you up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and smiles. You blush and smile back.

“Thanks”

“Of course.”

He scoots even closer to you so that your shoulders are barely touching. If this had happened five minutes earlier, you would be freaking out. But now, something is different. You aren’t sure what, but you suddenly feel more calm and comfortable with him around.

You finish the rest of the movie in silence, and you realize you let your head fall onto his shoulder. You were scared he would push your head away, but he didn’t care.

“You awake?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I just didn’t get much sleep last night and my dad woke me up early, well, to meet you.”

He smiles down at you, and suddenly your dad bursts through the door. You scramble to sit up, lifting your head off Peter’s shoulder.

“Hey kid, Happy’s here to – oh?” He stares at the two of you sitting next to each other in your bed, both blushing. “Jesus, you’ve only just met and you already slept together? At least tell me you used protection.”

“DAD, OH MY GOD, NO!” you exclaim, blushing even harder now.

“Mr. Stark, I promise. We- we were just watching a movie. Nothing happened!” Peter assures him.

“Sure, sure,” your dad winks at the two of you.

“Dad, seriously. Nothing happened!” you groan in frustration.

“Whatever. Anyways, Happy’s here to take you back to Queens Pete. Be down in five.” He leaves the room.

“God, that was fucking embarrassing,” Peter laughs getting up from the bed.

“That’s my dad for you.”

You both walk to the door, and before you leave the room, you give him a small hug.

“I’m glad you’re moving in, Peter.”

“Me too,” he smiles, “Friends?”

“Definitely.”

You smile thinking back on the memory. After that day, you and Peter have spent almost every hour of every day together. You’re rarely ever apart, even at night. You sleep with him in his bed, and he sleeps with you in yours. The rest of the team bugs the two of you to get together, but you both agree that you are just friends.  Best friends cuddle with each other and kiss each other’s foreheads and play with each other’s hair, right?

[epicfangirl01]

Random HCs of The Bois™️ Finding Out About AFAB!MC's Period

Honestly, I'm only writing this because of Mammon's reaction that popped into my head, and I wanted to see how the others would react. Also, these are on the basis that you and the brother are dating a couple months after your arrival.

TW: 18+ because some of the brothers are needy af

Lucifer

You knock on Lucifer's door shortly after school, feeling anxious. Your period came in the middle of your final class, when you realized you were out of pads and tampons. As you were in the Devildom, there isn't a stock of supplies for your already miserable week. And the only way to go to the human world was through Lucifer or Diavolo. As much as you love the gentle giant, you would rather talk about the situation with your boyfriend.

Lucifer tells you to come in, and the eldest brother's eyes soften as he glances up at you. His gaze doesn't linger, however, turning back to his stack of paperwork.

"Do you miss me already, MC? The academy bells have just finished ringing." You shift nervously, your period making you feel uncomfortable, before speaking up.

"I do, but that's actually not why I'm here... I need to go to the human world to pick some things u-" Lucifer sighs, scratching the paper with his pen.

"Darling, I'm sorry, but I am very busy. Besides, you just got home from school. You can wait to go on a shopping spree with Mammon and Asmodeus." You step closer, frowning, and you try to explain.

"No, Lucifer, that's not-" Lucifer's eyes narrow in irritation, still glancing at his paperwork, but his words become a firm warning.

"MC, you must finish your homework. You can go shopping this weekend." Your lower stomach twists in pain, cramps rapidly increasing, and you snap.

"Lucifer, my vagina is FUCKING BLEEDING, DAMMIT!!! I need to go to the store!" The demon's eyes widen as he drops his pen, and he looks up at you, surprised.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say...?" Frustration overwhelms you, until you catch the confusion and concern in his eyes.

"In all your years of existence, you haven't heard of a period before???" Lucifer doesn't say anything, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"I really am overworking myself, aren't I? I suppose it's been a while since I've been to the surface...." You shake your head, chuckling, and you relax when Lucifer is finally ready to listen. You take a couple minutes to explain what is happening, and what you need to take care of yourself. When you're finished, Lucifer nods, glad that you will be okay.

"I apologize for my behavior. I will be more supportive in the future. Here, have some money for your errands. Will $100 dollars be sufficient?" (Yes, Luci, yes it is.)

Mammon

You sit down on Mammon's leather couch, shifting to a semi-comfortable position, and enjoying a movie night with your lovable boyfriend. Mammon grabs some blankets for you, before plopping onto the couch. He smiles at you, and holds you close, making sure that you are settled. You watch the movie for a while, enjoying the movie, when you catch a mischievous glint in your boyfriend's eyes.

"Mammon, wha-"

He smiles and pulls you into his lap, gently kissing you neck. You sigh a bit, uncomfortable with sitting in general, but loving his kisses and nips. You didn't expect Mammon's hand to cup your crotch, but you especially didn't expect him to scream in your ear.

"WHERE THE FUCK DID IT GO?!?"

The pissed off side of your brain fumes for a moment, until your eyes meet Mammon's. You burst out laughing at the panic on Mammon's face, realizing that he felt your pad. The demon of greed doesn't appreciate your laughing, feeling genuinely worried for his beloved human. When you calm down, you turn back to him.

"Mammon, I'm fine. It's still there. I'm just.... kinda on my period..."

He looks at you like you grew three heads, and it quickly becomes apparent he has no idea what you're talking about. You take a few minutes to explain, and he listens patiently, but he still continues to panic.

"You're saying you can bleed FOR A WEEK and be fine?!? And you constantly have cramps and migraines? And this happens once a month??? Why the hell didn't you say anything? How can I help my human when you don't say you need me?!"

He carefully sets you down, before bolting of of the couch and out the door. You gape at the doorway for a moment, wondering what Mammon is up to. He returns for a moment, his arms holding a pile of pillows, medicine, pajamas, and snacks.

"Does this help? I got the pillows and pjs from your room, medicine from the bathroom, and I kinda took snacks from Beel's stash under his bed.... But it's fine! I made a note that you'll buy more later."

You shake your head, smiling, and you thank him as he walks over to help you. Once Mammon knows you are comfortable, he sits down beside you. You gently kiss Mammon on the lips, before you lay on your side, resting your head on his lap. The demon blushes, and he pulls the blanket over you. His hands gently stroke your hair, and you watch the movie together until you both fall asleep.

Leviathan

The third born invites you into his room for anime night (every night, lol), and you walk into the room with snacks in you arms. Levi welcomes you in as you set the bags onto his coffee table, before grabbing a couple drinks from his mini fridge.

"Good, you're early! The pilot is about to start!"

You chuckle, happy to spend time with him, and you bend down to place everything on the table. As you do so, your shirt lifts just enough to show a small stain on the back of your pants. Levi's eyes accidentally catch sight of it, resulting in a blush.

"Uh, MC? You have a s-stain on your pants..." You turn and look down at your legs, turning to try to find what he's talking about, but you can't see it.

"I can't find it. I'll just wash it off when I get back to my room." The demon tenses and shakes his head, trying to think of the least awkward words to say.

"No, no! I-I mean, you have a blood stain. Y-your period kinda started...."

Your eyes widen at his words, and you look in the reflection of his glass aquarium, cursing at the stain. You hadn't noticed this time, the monthly curse being subtle throughout your busy afternoon. You start to apologize to Levi, when he shakes his head.

"It's not your fault. I-it's fine. I just... I know it might be weird that I know about it. I found out from a high school anime. In the episode, the protagonist goes on their way to school, getting bullied by the leader of the popular girls, and the bully turns away but the protagonist stops her because of a stain, and despite being enemies, the protagonist is kind and knows how she feels, so they take her to the bathroom and helps her clean up... And I- I know it probably sounds weird or creepy for someone to watch anime like that, but I thought it was kind and empowering, an-" You stop Levi mid rant, smiling at his anxiousness, and you give him a small hug.

"Thanks, Levi. I appreciate it. It's part of the unspoken period code, ya know? It can be awkward and embarrassing enough, so even just a discreet heads up can be very helpful. Don't worry about it, okay?"

He nods, glad you understand, and he gently hugs you back.

"O-okay. I'll be back, alright? I remember seeing in the episode that it helps to have a hot shower sometimes to ease the cramps and feel less uncomfortable, and that blankets and pjs can help. I guess if you don't mind a loser like me, you could use any blankets or hoodies I have if it makes you feel better..."

You smile and nod, grateful for the demon of envy. He shyly smiles back, and he spends the rest of the night making sure that you're comfortable during the show.

Satan

The library is quiet and warm as you sit at a table with Satan, working on your assignments. You struggle and struggle through a complex spell for your potions class, irritation and fatigue clouding your brain. You are already sore and pissed off from the beginning of your period, but now stress and anger bubbles beneath the surface.

"MC, you have to say it calml-"

You huff, throwing up your hands, and you scowl at the unaffected spell dummy in front of you.

"I know, Satan! I've been calm for the past half hour, and it's still not right! Can you just actually give me some fucking advice for once so I can get this shit over with?!?"

The middle brother looks at you for a moment, stunned, before chuckling.

"I didn't know you could hold so much anger, MC. I'm almost impressed, although, it is very out of character for you... Are you alright?"

A sigh escapes your lips as you awkwardly cross your arms, looking away. You explain that you are just tired, but Satan can hear the hesitation in your voice. The demon of wrath doesn't speak for a moment, thinking about your recent behavior, and everything snaps into place. Satan has read enough books to last an eternity, including ones about human biology. He knows exactly what is happening, and he generally understands how you are feeling. And through his readings, Satan knows not to ask you directly, should your anger grow.

"Ah, I understand. Well, why didn't you say that you needed a break, kitten? I could have helped you unwind a little."

With that, Satan pulls you away from the table to rest on the couch, grabbing a book from his bag. Once you are both settled, Satan pulls a blanket over you both and opens his book while you rest your head on his lap.

With his human in his arms, Satan calmly reads to you, his voice silky as you eventually drift off to sleep.

Asmodeus

The demon of lust practically barges into your room, Majolish bags in tow as he squeals with excitement.

"MC! Look, Majolish's exclusive swimwear line came out! I found this ADORABLE swimsuit for you to try! It was the last in your size." He pulls out the swimsuit from a bag, showing it to you.

You look up at Asmo, gasping at the swimsuit.

"That looks perfect! Thank you, Asmo. I'll try it on later. I'm not fe-"

Asmo pouts, tossing the swimsuit to you, and reaching for another outfit from his bag.

"Come on!!! I have so much stuff for us to try on! And then we could maybe go to the beach tomor-"

You shake your head, sighing.

"No, Asmo. I'm not up to swimming this week", you lie, shifting in your seat uncomfortably.

Asmo notices, and immediately drops the subject.

"Are you alright, hun? Is it a rough cycle this time?"

Your eyes widen in surprise before you look up at him. His eyes are filled with concern, before you nod.

"Yeah, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. I'll be fine. Let's go swimming next week, okay?"

The avatar of lust smiles, before carefully pulling you out of the chair.

"Come on. Let's have a spa day instead. I'll make sure you feel stunning and comfortable."

Beelzebub

You look through the kitchen in your pjs, craving all of your favorite foods, when you hear the door quietly squeak open. Your head turns back, and you see the sheepish gaze of the 6th born.

"Do you need a midnight snack, Beel? I was about to make something myself. I can make some for you."

Beel nods, smiling, before coming into the room.

"I smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen, so I came to check. That's strange, though. You haven't made anything yet?" Beel takes in the large amount of food on the table, much more than you normally eat. Maybe the gluttonous demon was rubbing off on you, he wondered.

You shake your head, just as confused as he is.

"Maybe you were so hungry that you started imagining it. You've done that a few times before."

Beel sniffs the air, before walking up behind you.

"You smell different today... MC, you smell so good..... Can I have a taste?"

You choke on air, trying to understand what he just said.

"Beel! You can't just ask that! That's perverted!" He looks at you with confused, innocent eyes, like a kicked puppy.

"What do you mean? I just wanted to kiss your head. Oh.... You thought I meant or-"

A small screech of panic escapes your lips, and you stop Beel mid-sentence, telling him not to spend too much time with Asmo.

"Right. Sorry, MC... Can I ask a question? Why do you smell different today? You're not as sweet and salty as usual. And you're a lot hungrier today.... Are you okay?"

Realization punches the wind out of you as you understand what Beel has been smelling. He was attracted to your blood, without knowing what it was. An awkward laugh fills the air, and you look away from the red head's gaze.

You spend the next few minutes explaining what was going on, and Beel listens intently as you go on.

"Okay. I'm sorry for being rude... I didn't mean to. To make up for it, I can make you whatever you want. Sit down, and I'll get you some water. You'll lose a lot of hydration for the next few days. Then when food is done, we can go watch Devilish Desserts in my room. Belphie is in the attic tonight."

You smile, pulling Beel into a hug before spending a relaxing evening together.

Belphegor

The sound of your DDD alarm fills the cozy attic, waking you and Belphie up from your after school nap. The youngest brother groans before pulling you closer.

"Did you really have to wake me up? I was having such a nice dream..."

You push yourself off Belphie and the bed, feeling as if you were hit by a truck. Why did you have to feel awful now, when you made plans to see the angels?

Your body aches as you stand, attempting to wake up enough to get ready. Belphie mumbles with irritation, rolling onto his side.

"What's more important tha- Huh? Is that blood?"

Your eyes widen, and you look back to the bed, and your eyes find the red stain on the bedsheets. You look at Belphie in horror, and he sits up, now wide awake.

"MC, are you okay? That's where you were sleeping."

You want to die. You want to shrivel up into a ball and die because how are you going to explain to your boyfriend that it came out of your vagina, and that it's NORMAL?!? Blood coming from anywhere brings some sense of concern anyway, no matter what realm you are from.

"Haha- Yeah, um, about that, I kinda need to tell you something...."

Belphie stays surprisingly alert as you explain, only relaxing when you state that it's normal and frequent.

"Ah. Okay. Tell Simeon to fuck off. You're sick, and you're staying here. Go get a spare hoodie and sweatpants. I'll get you meds, a heating pad, and some spare pillows. Tell the others you're with me tonight."

You smile, glad he understands, and Belphie gets you a couple of things while you get comfortable. When you walk back into the attic, Belphie is fast asleep with his limbs curled around a log of blankets, waiting for you to return.

[imherongraystairstrash]

Defender of Men

Alex Lightwood birth storyyy!! I’m finally publishing it because someone sent me an ask on it, but it became too long, so here’s part one:

“Cecily, are sure you’ll be alright?” Gabriel asked. 

“Jiw jiw, for the millionth time, I’ll be fine.” she said, pushing Gabriel out the door. “Now go do something useful.”

Anna was already outside, leaning against a tree, frowning down at her dress. 

“Anna, gwnewch yn siŵr bod eich tad yn stopio poeni.” Cecily said.

Gabriel looked at her, annoyed. “I speak Welsh, Cecy.”

Cecily kissed his cheek, “Then make sure you do well on what I said.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and hugged her with one of his arms.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“No, Gabriel.” She said, putting a hand on his chest. “Just have fun sledding with Anna, your nieces and Gideon. Sophie is right next door, if I need anything—which, I won’t—I’ll just call her.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not made of glass, love. I’ll be fine. Now go before our poor Anna gets stuck frozen to that tree.” 

Gabriel dropped a kiss on the top of her head before letting her go.

Cecily watched as he walked to Anna, who made a show of pretending to be asleep. He ruffled her hair, stealing her hat in the process and running down the street. Anna laughed and chased after him.

…

“Kit, bach, are you sure you don’t want to go sledding with Anna and your father? I’m sure it will be loads of fun,” Cecily said, once she was back inside. 

Kit furrowed his eyebrows and cast a hesitant look outside. “I think I’d rather stay with you, Mam.”

Cecily smiled, knowing perfectly well Kit didn��t like the cold. “Alright then, fy ngalon bapur i.” (A/N: my paper heart)

Cecily walked to the kitchen and pulled out two mugs from the cupboard and filled them with tea. Before she picked them up, she grabbed a pocket watch that was on the counter and hung it on her neck so she could time her contractions.

When she got back to the drawing room, she tried to set the mugs on the table, but she couldn’t bend down that far. Christopher shot to his feet and helped her put them down, and lowered her to the couch.

“Thank you, darling.” Cecily said, bracing a hand of her belly. She felt like she was at the verge of giving birth, which is never a good thing, as a mother’s instinct is rarely wrong. The first stage of labour takes around fourteen hours, hence Gabriel’s hesitation to leave her at home. Cecily had thought he was being dramatic, but that was before she realized that she was maybe closer to birth than she had thought. Had fourteen hours already gone by?

“What book are you reading?” Cecily said, looking over her son’s shoulder, distracting herself. 

“The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

Cecily scrunched up her nose. She had never read the book herself, but from what she’d heard of, it didn’t seem like a book Christopher would be interested in.

“What a peculiar choice of literature, cyw.”

“Matthew recently read it and said it was at utmost importance I read it as well. I don’t understand much of it, though. I’m also not very fond of the characters. I’d prefer your company over that of this book.” 

Cecily smiled. “As do I, bach.”

Having children was a strange experience for Cecily. She was apprehensive at first, afraid she wouldn’t be a good mother and her children would end up resenting her. When she got pregnant with her first child, she was so happy. 

And when she lost it, she had been so incredibly grief-stricken.

She had felt like she’d already failed as a mother, even though the Silent Brothers confirmed there was nothing that there was nothing that could have been done differently to have saved it, that it wasn’t uncommon to lose a child in the early stages of pregnancy.

That was the cruel irony, wasn’t it? To feel so much regret, to have your child die inside of you, and not know what went wrong. 

They’d tried again, and then she was pregnant with Anna. The whole time she had been so horribly sick, she was terrified of losing another child. This time, however, she’d been pregnant long enough that she’d have to give birth to the child, whether it was alive or dead.

Those months had been the worst in Cecily’s entire life. Not even when her father had gambled away their home in Wales, the one she had memories of running with Will and Ella down valleys, had she felt such despair.

“Mam?”

Cecily shook her head, bringing herself back to the drawing room sofa, beside Kit.

“What is it, bach?”

“Does the baby have a name yet?”

Cecily rubbed her belly. “Not yet. Why do you ask?”

Kit shrugged. 

Cecily suddenly felt a contraction. She started the pocket watch timer and sat forward and breathed deeply to try to relieve the pain. This one felt longer than the rest had been. 

Kit looked at her from over his book, his eyebrows together. 

Once it had passed, Cecily stopped the timer. After a couple of seconds of recovering from the contraction, she looked at the time, and swallowed.

“Kit,” she said as calmly as she could. “Bach, I need you to ring for the Silent Brothers.”

…

Brother Enoch, Zachariah and another brother Cecily couldn’t remember were preparing for the birth. Christopher had helped her up the stairs, before the brothers had come, and was now standing in a far corner of the room, at loss for what he should do.

“Christopher.” She said, motioning for him to come.

“You needn’t be here. I’ll be fine and your father will soon be here. I already asked Sophie to send him here once he stops by after sledding. You can wait outside until then.” 

“But Mam, I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I’m with the Silent Brothers.”

Christopher looked over his shoulder at the Brothers.

Cecily put a hand under his chin and turned his face to face her own. She smiled at him.

“Go, Kit. It’s alright. I’ve done this before.” She said with a smile.

“I want to stay here. With you.”

Cecily tried to rub away a smudge on Christopher’s face, perhaps something to do with his most recent experiment.

“I don’t think you do, bach. When people say birth is a natural process, it’s because they’re trying to glorify a process that’s ghastly.” 

Cecily looked deep into his lavender eyes and smiled. “Now go, before I start crowning. Trust me when I say you’ll wish you’d have gone.”

Christopher made to move, but didn’t get up.

“I want to help you. I want to stay with you the way you stayed when I got my first rune.”

Cecily wanted to argue that this was different but she suddenly got a contraction that was long enough she knew she’d have to push at any moment.

Sure enough, Brother Enoch said, you must begin pushing soon, Cecily Lightwood.

“You have to be sure, Christopher.” She said through her teeth. “One-hundred percent sure. And you must stay on this side of the bed, because I don’t want you to see the birthing process. I’ll only let you stay because if not I’m afraid you’ll ‘stress experiment’ and blow up the house.”

Kit nodded quickly.

“Alright then.” She said.

Are you ready to push?

“Yes. Let’s finish what we started, Enoch.” Cecily said, taking Christopher’s hand in her own and bracing herself for the birth. 

…

Congratulations, Cecily Lightwood, it’s a boy. Enoch said in her head, less than half an hour later.

Cecily fell back on the pillows, exhausted. Birth never really got easier over the years. 

Jem came around with the baby in his arms and gave him to Cecily. She swore she saw him stroke the baby’s hair as he walked to her. She smiled up at him. 

“Thank you, Jem.” She said, quietly.

He inclined his head at her and walked away. 

Cecily looked down at her youngest son for the first time. She’d helped other women give birth when she was younger, and had always thought newborn babies ugly, but whenever she looked down at her own, they were the most beautiful and perfect little things in the entire world. She smiled and offered the little baby her finger to hold. 

Like with all of her other children, she felt her eyes sting. There was something about holding her child for the first time that always brought chills to Cecily’s body. It’s not like when she held Anna for the first time, the feeling she felt that her life would forever be changed, but it was more like when Christopher was born; she didn’t feel any fear, just happiness. She kissed the baby’s forehead.

“I wish you could have met your grandparents.” She whispered.

Edmund and Linette had passed away four months ago, and it had been difficult for Cecily not having been able to visit them when they were still alive. Since she was pregnant, she and the baby would be at high risk of death, if she caught the influenza disease. 

She tried to shake off the memory. Right now, she only wanted to focus on the good things in life, not the bad.

She looked up and saw Christopher a distance away from where she was. He must have moved away from her once the baby was out and the Silent Brothers began moving about, preparing the child to be held and checking to make sure everything was alright. Christopher looked at the baby in wonder, one of the first babies he’d ever seen. 

“Come meet your brother, Kit.” She said, holding a hand out.

She motioned for Christopher to sit next to her on the bed and, resting the baby on her chest momentarily, demonstrated how to position his arms.

“That’s right, bach.” She said, lifting the baby to put in Kit's arms.

“Mam,” he said nervously. “What if I drop him?”

Cecily smiled. “You won’t. I have faith in you.” 

She gently placed the baby in his brother’s arms, Christopher looking like he was holding his breath.

“Breathe, darling. It’s just your brother. Look at how much he likes you. He’s already reaching out to you.” The baby’s hands were indeed opening and closing slowly. Cecily helped Christopher adjust his arms, so that he was supporting the baby’s head better, and when she sat back, she felt a pang in her chest at seeing her two sons together. Christopher had a soft smile on his lips, the smile that many people had told her is the same as her own. 

Sometime after she’d put the baby in Kit’s arms, a Silent Brother told her she needed to push out the placenta, so that they could begin healing the tears induced by the birth. She nodded and when she began pushing again, Kit looked up, confused. 

“Is there another one?” He asked, surprised, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Heavens, no. Thank the Angel. It’s just the placenta.” 

Christopher still looked confused. 

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, bach.” She reassured him.

…

The Silent Brothers were gone by the time Gabriel and Anna got home.

Cecily had been feeding the baby, and Christopher was reading a book on his back, keeping her company. He’d given up on reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, had switched it for a book on science. Cecily had tried to read a couple of sentences, but was deeply confused by them, not being able to understand a thing. 

“I don’t know how you can read that, Christopher. I can’t follow a single sentence, much less the entire book.”

Kit looked up at her. “It’s not that hard, it’s just that Biology is interconnected, so you have to understand the previous concepts to understand this one.”

Cecily laughed. “You put a lot of faith in me, Kit.” 

Christopher tilted his head to the side. 

“What are you reading about now?”

“Genetics. Why children come out looking like their parents.”

“There’s an explanation behind that?” She asked.

“Yes! We all inherit half of our genes from our mother and half from our father.”

“Are you sure? I can’t imagine your father inheriting anything from Benedict.”

“It’s more so to do with physical traits.” Kit explained. “Like blue eyes or green eyes.”

“That’s quite interesting, bach.” she said.

And that’s how Cecily got a lesson on genetics. She was happy to listen to her son talk happily about science and to have her new baby in her arms and be able to kiss his tiny, soft nose and occasionally ruffle Christopher’s hair.

…

“By the Angel, Cecy.” Gabriel said, coming inside, worried. Both Anna and Gabriel had a lot of snow on their coats. They must have come home running after hearing the news. “Are you alright? Is the baby?”

“Yes, yes. Stop worrying.” Cecily said, holding up the bundle of blankets they’d hidden the baby inside of.

Anna’s eyes widened as her eyes landed on the bundle in Cecily’s arms. “Is that the baby? It’s so small.”

Cecily nodded and Anna walked quickly to kneel beside the bed and smiled at the baby. 

“Hello.” She whispered, touching his cheek lightly.

“This is your new brother,” Cecily said, smiling at Anna.

Gabriel leaned in over Cecily’s shoulder, close enough that she could see his face as he smiled down at his youngest child. He put a hand on her shoulder, and kissed her temple lightly while Anna cooed at the baby. 

…

A few moments later, Anna was sitting on the armchair across the room, holding the baby for the first time, Christopher standing to the side, letting the baby hold his finger.

Gabriel leaned close to her and whispered, “what do you think about Alexander?”

Cecily turned to look at him and smiled. “Alexander?”

Gabriel shrugged, brushing her hair away from her face. “I was thinking about names while I took Anna sledding. I tried to come up with names for each letter of the alphabet and I got to ‘Maxwell’ before I thought of Alexander.”

Cecily looked back at her children, interlacing her hand with Gabriel’s. “What made you think of Alexander?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Maybe the letter ‘X’ that they have in common.” 

Cecily felt her smile grow wider. “I love it. Alexander.”

She felt Gabriel put his arms around her and she rested her head on his warm chest. 

“The birth wasn’t that bad, was it?” Gabriel said, his voice lightly amused.

“Go to hell.” Cecily mumbled against his shirt.

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir @youngreckless @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @fictionally-fantastic @stxr-thxif @writeforjordelia @itsdaughterofthemoon @jordeliasupremacy @cordelia-cardale @will-effing-herondale @axoloteca @heronstairs2014 @ilovemanicures 

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[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (33) || atz

“Eleuthera?” Your captain repeats, as he sits down at his desk. You need to get to this island and figure out who this man is, the one with the answer to your missing memories. You nod frantically, clutching the book to your chest.

“Yes, captain.”

Hongjoong stills in reorganizing the papers on his desk and gives you a side glare, as if waiting for you to notice something. You frown, a little confused by what he wants from you, but then you see Yeosang mouthing a word over his shoulder.

“Hongjoong!”

Yes, of course that’s the name of your captain. What your captain wants is what you don’t understand.

“What?”

Captain groans and puts his head in his hands. “Call me Hongjoong.” He sounds almost whiny, like a child not getting his way, and you stare at your captain a little incredulously. Seriously, why is this the most important thing on his mind now?

“Captain gets whiny after he drinks.” Yeosang supplies helpfully from behind his captain’s back. You make a small noise of understanding.

“Yes, captain.” The words slip out of your mouth by force of habit and you immediately clap a hand over your mouth, a sheepish smile on your face. Your captain knocks his head against the desk in exasperation and a groan escapes his mouth as you and Yeosang exchange looks.

“Ugh.” Hongjoong reaches for a map at his side, opening it. You sidle up to his side as he searches the map for Eleuthera, Yeosang joining you in looking for the location.

“Why do you suddenly need to go to Eleuthera, though?” The navigator asks you curiously as your captain flips the map around. “Captain, it’s near the Bahamas Islands.”

“Thanks.” Hongjoong replies as he leans over the map, squinting to read the tiny handwritten scrawls on the yellowed vellum. “Chin Hae, why do you want to go to Eleuthera?”

You pause for a moment and the two men turn to look at you, waiting for an answer. Thinking about it now, you realise how strange it is to say that the reason you want them to travel all the way to a foreign island is all on a whim that you hope to find the man who had given you this necklace, a person you who may not even have your memories.

All based on the words written on the back of this book, which had been given to you by a shopkeeper out of nowhere.

What if it’s mere coincidence that the same words inscribed on your necklace are written on the book as well?

You bite your bottom lip, chewing nervously as you try to make up your mind.

What if you just end up burdening your crew for nothing?

Then you remember what Hongjoong had told Seonghwa, back that time when he had locked himself in the ship galley.

“I want you to tell me all your problems, burden me with everything, share life with me and the crew. We’re a family.”

The last time you had kept secrets from the rest of the crew, massive disasters had happened one after the other and you are not excited to repeat the experience all over again. So you clench your fist and look your captain in the eye.

I’m going to be honest this time.

“Remember that time I was healing Yeosang and fell unconscious for a week?” You say and the two flinch back as if you’ve struck them in the face with a whip. Okay, maybe it was a bad idea to start with something so depressing. “I had a… dream… of sorts… I mean, it didn’t feel like a dream, more like an old memory, but-”

“You don’t need to explain things, just tell us, we’ll listen.” Hongjoong cuts you off and you realise that you’re rambling. You shut your mouth, thinking about how to phrase it a little more eloquently. “So, I had a dream about meeting a man with really, really green eyes on a beach. And he told me that he would be with me every step of the way and touched my necklace. I don’t know how, but he somehow carved the words into the metal with his thumb.”

Hongjoong stares at you owlishly for a moment and you realise how stupid that sounds.

“Ahh, the necklace you woke up with?” Yeosang pipes up curiously and you turn to look at him in surprise.

“How did you know? I’ve never told you before.” You don’t recall ever bringing up your necklace in a conversation with him, but Yeosang shakes his head.

“San told me.” He explains dryly. “That man can’t keep a secret to save his life. Honestly I’m not sure how he even managed to hide the fact that you were a woman for more than a day.”

You shrug. “That sounds like Master. Anyway, my necklace really does have that inscription on it, so I’m sure it must be something important. And then this book,” you lift it up so that the two of them can see it clearly, “had the exact same words on them, with a message telling me to go to Eleuthera.”

Hongjoong is silent for a moment, resting his chin on his fingers as he thinks about what you have just said. A bead of nervous sweat slides down your temple, and for a moment you’re afraid that he might not believe you or call you foolish, but he simply nods.

Excitement bubbles up in you.

“We’ll go.”

“Thank you, captain!” You gush happily and lean across the desk to wrap your captain in a grateful hug. You’re finally going to be one step closer to finding out about who you once were! Then you hear a choking noise coming from Hongjoong and you lean back to glance at your captain, only to be shocked to see his entire face a bright red.

You realise what you’ve just done.

“Sorry, captain!” You yelp, jumping back as if your captain is on fire. You hear a snort escaping Yeosang as he covers his mouth with his hand, attempting quite unsuccessfully to hide his laughter from the two of you.

“I’m fine. I’m not dead.” Hongjoong wheezes, looking as if you’d just slapped him in the face. “I just… Just warn me next time, alright?”

“Yes, captain!” You shout breathlessly and Hongjoong winces at the volume of your declaration.

“Call me Hongjoong-”

“Actually, didn’t you go with Jongho to visit some fortune teller who told you about a sea witch who likely made you?” Yeosang interrupts the two of you and suddenly you hear something clatter to the ground behind you.

You almost jump out of your skin in fright, whipping around to see Mingi there, staring at you with his mouth hanging open, a tray with bread and cheese on the floor. Yeosang yelps ‘the food!’ and runs to pick it up, but the quartermaster simply continues staring at you in horror.

Hongjoong frowns. “Mingi, are you okay?”

The quartermaster lets out a terrified, squeaky sound that you would have never thought he could make. His face is completely white and drained of all colour as he stares at Yeosang, knees shaking. Did something happen?

“Witch?”

At that, Hongjoong snorts, rolling his eyes. “No, Mingi. They’re just talking about the time Chin Hae went to a fortune teller. It’s nothing scary.”

If that was supposed to relieve Mingi, it didn’t work, because Mingi continues shivering in fear. “But… witches…”

“Mingi’s afraid of these kind of things.” Yeosang mouths to you through a mouthful of bread and you nod in realisation.

“I don’t really believe in this kind of things, most of them are nothing but myths and legends anyway.” Your captain shrugs, setting the map down and circling something with his quill. Yeosang glances at Hongjoong for a moment as he puts another piece of cheese into his mouth.

“Don’t you have that magical knot?”

Hongjoong pauses for a moment, fingering a rope necklace around his neck. It is then you see the same short length of rope you had seen before dangling at its end, only one knot left in it. The final knot that would summon a hurricane of the seas.

“How did you get that though, captain?” You ask and Hongjoong touches it briefly, lips pulling into a frown. Yeosang passes you a piece of bread and you chew it slowly. Seonghwa’s cooking is always the best.

“Once when I was young, I was abandoned on an island and got shot in the right eye.” His fingers trace the stitching of his eye patch absentmindedly as he recalls what had happened to him years ago. Your own eyes go wide, you’d never known that had happened to your captain before. “I thought I would have died… but then I woke up to find that the bleeding had stopped and I had this rope in my hand. I don’t remember how I got it, but I simply knew how to use it.”

“Witch.” Mingi whispers as he rubs his arms nervously. You can see goosebumps on the back of his forearms. Is he really that afraid of the arcane? “And there’s a ghost on the ship-”

“What?” You choke on your bread and Yeosang rushes to you in alarm, slapping you on the back. You wave his concern off, thumping your chest as you stare at the quartermaster in alarm. “There’s a ghost on board?”

“Don’t be silly. There aren’t any ghosts on board-” Hongjoong tries desperately to reassure the two of you, but Mingi nods furiously.

“Yeah! One time Seonghwa-hyung brought back this really creepy doll from a raid and put it in captain’s cabin! It had those big glass eyes and it was made of porcelain.” Mingi shivers at the thought of it. “But Seonghwa-hyung thought it was really cute and kept it with him. He even cleaned it every day.”

You swallow nervously, hanging onto Mingi’s every word with bated breath. “And then?”

Mingi meets your eyes with grim finality. You can see the terror that lingers in his eyes after so long as his voice drops to a whisper.

“Then one day, it suddenly went missing, and till this day no one knows where it is.”

Terror creeps up in you. “Missing?” You repeat, unsure if you heard him right. “Like… missing out of nowhere?”

“Yes.” Mingi nods seriously, not an ounce of a smile on his face. He looks so grim about this that you’re actually a little frightened. “Seonghwa-hyung searched the whole cabin for it, but he couldn’t find it. Not even Hongjoong-hyung knows where it went.”

Hongjoong coughs into his hand. “Now now, it probably just rolled somewhere-”

“That’s scary.” Yeosang nods, shuddering a little as he glances around the cabin, eyes flitting from corner to corner as if he’s trying to find the ghost for himself. “From what I heard, quite a few of Seonghwa-hyung’s things have gone missing from the cabin, haven’t they? My books also tend to shift location sometimes, even when I’m very sure I didn’t touch them.”

You see your captain blanch slightly out of the corner of your eye as he coughs again. Is Captain sick? He looks a little pale.

“That sounds like something paranormal happening.” You mutter, and the quartermaster nods

“Exactly!” Mingi points at Yeosang as if the navigator is all the evidence he needs. “Even Yeosangie knows something is up! Seonghwa-hyung is really careful with his things, so they can’t have just disappeared into the air!”

“Seriously, everyone, you can’t just think there’s a ghost on board because a few things went missing from the cabin-” Hongjoong tries to calm all of you down, but he’s interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open.

You and Yeosang grab each other’s hands instinctively, while Mingi jumps behind the desk in fright, knocking over a chair in the process.

“I heard my name. Is there something all of you needed?” Seonghwa steps into the cabin with a confused frown on his face, until he sees the too tall quartermaster crouched under Hongjoong’s table. “Uh… Mingi-ah, what are you doing?”

“Oh, it’s just Seonghwa-hyung.” Mingi heaves a sigh of relief and starts to climb out from beneath the table. Seonghwa’s concerned face goes flat at those words.

“I do not know whether to be insulted-”

The door creaks open again and you and Yeosang grab at each other in fright. But Mingi jumps and knocks his head hard on the table, sending a few books sliding off onto the table and crashing to the ground. The sound must obviously be pretty loud, because the two people entering the room start in surprise as well.

It’s Wooyoung and Jongho, who both look very confused. “Did we come at a bad time?” Jongho turns to stare at Mingi, who is lying on the ground with his head in his hands, groaning and surrounded by books.

“They think there’s a ghost on board.” Yeosang supplies unhelpfully and Wooyoung glances at the two of you with your arms wrapped around each other. Something flashes in his green eyes for a moment, but then his grin returns so fast you’re unsure whether you were just seeing things. The gunner steps to bend over Mingi.

“Boo!”

Mingi shrieks and jumps into the air, bolting for the door but runs straight into the doorjamb. The poor quartermaster staggers back as Wooyoung cries tears of laughter, wheezing for air. A snort escapes Jongho, but at least the maknae goes to help Mingi up from the floor. Unfortunately for him, that was a bad choice, because Mingi is immediately clings to the shorter man like a leech, unwilling to let go.

“Hyung! Get a hold of yourself! Literally!”

“But it is true. Some of my things from earlier raids do keep going missing.” Seonghwa ponders this thoughtfully and Mingi wails in fright, long arms wrapping around Jongho’s neck as the younger battlemaster tries to fight him off.

“Heuk! Hyung, I’m choking-”

“I heard strange groaning noises once when I went into the cabin before.” Wooyoung adds with a little grin.

“Now, everyone-” Hongjoong tries to calm everyone down, but at this point, no one is listening to him anymore.

The quartermaster screeches right into Jongho’s ear and the maknae instinctively raises his hands to cover his ears.

And in doing so, he punches Mingi in the jaw.

“Ow!” The tall man stumbles backwards and you see a dark bruise starting to form on his cheek. Then the door opens once again and Mingi is clutching onto his captain like a man possessed. The poor quartermaster must be on the verge of a heart attack at this point by all these false alarms.

“Does anyone want tea?” San pokes his head in with Yunho trailing behind him like a lost puppy and Mingi screams at the number of times he’s been scared by people simply walking into the cabin.

“I don’t want your damn leaf water!” Mingi shrieks and Hongjoong finally has had enough.

“Everybody keep quiet!”

For once, the cabin actually falls silent. Wooyoung must be as surprised as you are, because he turns to his captain with an awestruck look on his face.

“Captain… people actually listen to you.”

“Shut up!”

Hongjoong takes several deep breaths to calm himself down, cheeks red from all the shouting he has been doing. “Seonghwa… I’m sorry to say this, but your doll didn’t go missing out of nowhere.”

The cook pauses, turning to stare at his captain with wide eyes. “Captain… you-”

“I threw it into the sea, alright?” The truth spills out of Hongjoong and Seonghwa steps back, stunned as if he’s been shot in the chest, his face one of utter betrayal. Then he laughs in disbelief and shock, eyeing his captain incredulously.

“You threw Pom Pom into the sea?”

Pom Pom?

“He actually named that thing?” Yeosang mumbles under his breath. From how Mingi described the doll, it must have looked rather hideous and not quite deserving of such a cute sounding name. Seonghwa-hyung must have weird taste.

“I’ve never seen Seonghwa-hyung and Hongjoong-hyung argue before, and this is seriously what they’re fighting about?” Jongho scratches head in disapproval. San shrugs, passing you a mug of tea.

“The two of them always got on so well that I’ve never seen them fight either.”

“Yes, I did.” Hongjoong tries to explain himself, but Seonghwa waves him off.

“If I had known this I would have just stayed on Nassau-”

“It was very scary to have it in the cabin though.” You hear Yeosang say and for a moment you’re grateful that the strangest things that San brings into your shared bedroom are mostly deformed sticks and herbs.

“I can’t believe you did that to Pom Pom! All she wanted was a happy life on board this ship, and you cruelly threw her away-”

They’re seriously having this argument right now. For a moment, you wonder if the two of them are still drunk from last night.

“Anyone wants some apples from the storage hold while Seonghwa-hyung is distracted?” Jongho calls and Yunho nods excitedly in agreement.

Then all of you file out of the cabin, leaving your captain to explain himself all alone.

In the end, Seonghwa does forgive your captain and the two of them make up with a hug, but you catch him religiously counting his dolls every night before bed and giving Hongjoong the evil eye when the captain steps too close.

It’s not long before you wish a ghost was the biggest problem you had.

[ghostdrew22]

One Of Those Days || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No

Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Warnings: Some police detective talk(not good but something) and a few mentions of murder and whatnot. But it’s quite fluffy in my opinion.

Summary: Draco and Y/N work as detectives in a muggle police department and she has a really rough day after it looks like one of her cases is about to fall through. Draco can sense that she’s had a bad day and offers to help her get her work done.

WORDS : 2001

~

Draco prided himself in knowing as much about you as possible- it was his hobby in fact. Draco could tell your silhouette through stained glass windows, he could tell your laugh from three storey’s above you, he could sense your footsteps from kilometers away and he could pinpoint whatever emotion you were feeling with just a single sound from you. Some people would find it creepy- the way he focused so intently on every detail of you like he needed to commit your entire existence to memory- but you loved it, relished it in fact, especially on days when it felt like the entire world was against you and all you needed was for him to comfort you.

That’s why when you’d come by his office to get him for dinner that night he’d known that you weren’t up for it. You were trying very hard to hold it together- it was date night with Blaise and Pansy after all- but he just knew that today had been one of those days, and he made quick work of getting you comfortable on the little couch in his office. It was in the heavy steps you took when you came in- like you couldn’t bare to carry the weight of your own body even though your own office was barely a few paces away from his- and the fake smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked once he’d finally got you seated comfortably- pulling your feet into his lap so he could start massaging them- and you tried your best to feign stability with a nod.

“Yes, just a long day.”

“There’s no need to lie, love.” He persisted and moved one hand below your chin so he could lift your head to look at him. “I know something’s up.”

And he was right, as usual, something was up and it had been bothering you all day. One of your cases just didn’t make sense, no matter how hard you looked there didn’t seem to be the missing string that would tie it all together. You knew who the murderer was, it was textbook really, but you just couldn’t find any evidence tying him to the murder no matter how hard you tried.

“Is it the case?” He asked- referring to the homicide case you’d been working at relentlessly for three weeks now- and you merely nodded meekly in response, feeling too hopeless and tired to manage more.

Both you and Draco had wanted to pursue law enforcement for as long as you could remember- particularly homicide investigation- but after the war neither of you could bare the idea of being aurors- the trauma deterring you both from wanting anything to do with fighting the dark arts- and so you decided that working as muggle detectives was the next best thing. And you loved your jobs, really, but it was a hard job to do when every other aspect of your lives benefitted from the use of magic. I mean, how would you explain to a jury that magic helped you track down a suspect in record time? It was absolutely outrageous and it made sure that you both stuck by the book. But it could be immeasurably exhausting despite your love for it, and today was one of those days.

“He’s going to walk.” You said before a sob escaped your lips and Draco was quick to grab you by the shoulders gently and pull you into his chest for soothing- knowing that all you really wanted was for him to listen to you complain and hold you tightly. So you began to explain your situation to him and he listened intently- absorbing every single detail that he could and running his hand up and down your arm to keep you at bay.

“Do you want help going over the files?” He asked once you’d finished explaining. The truth was that you did want help- particularly his help because he was the only person in the entire homicide department with an eye better than your own when it came to this kind of stuff- but you didn’t want to ask for it in fear of adding to his workload, and so you bit your lip and shook your head softly.

“It’s okay Drac, don’t worry about it.” You tried to brush it off, but Draco knew you too well to fall for your antics and he shook his head back at you.

“Nonsense love, I’ll help.” You opened your mouth to protest- already feeling guilty at making him help you- but he was quick to interrupt you, already knowing what you were going to say. “You’e not adding onto my workload Y/N, I’ve always got time to help you and you know that.”

You sighed in defeat- knowing that you weren’t going to win- and looked up at him with a pout, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Hey! Who’s ready to get-“ Blaise had barged into the office excitedly but stopped his speech immediately upon the sight of you and your husband on the couch. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t think we can do tonight mate, Y/N’s case has hit a standstill and I’ve offered her to help her go over the case files to find something that’ll help.” Draco answered his best friend with a solemn expression and Blaise nodded in understanding.

“Is it the Yarvis case?” Blaise asked and you nodded faintly with a sigh, “I could help too if you need an extra set of eyes.” Blaise had also decided to join you and Draco in the muggle detective business, but where you and Draco were homicide detectives, Blaise was focused on Narcotics. Ironic for someone who had been the biggest stoner in your year group.

“Blaise, you really don’t have to. I know you and Pansy have been looking forwa-“ You started but Blaise was already shaking his head and dropping his coat onto the hanger by the door before you could finish.

“That’s absolute nonsense Y/N, we’ve been looking forward to spending time with the two of you and this would count. Think about it, we can order Chinese food and crack into those files around the table like one of those cheesy muggle movies you love?” Blaise offered with a soft smile and eyebrow raise and you had to resist the urge to cry on the spot.

“That would actually be great, thank you Blaise.”

“Anything for a friend. Let me go ring Pansy and tell her to bring Chinese on the way.”

“Okay.” Draco replied to his best friend with a thankful smile.

“The usual?”

“Yes please!” You shouted back as Blaise made his way out of the office with a chuckle at your excitement.

And that is how date night turned into the four of you laid out on the floor around a little table in Draco’s office, eating chow mien and going over your case files- trying to find any inkling of evidence that could tie the suspect to the murder.

“Hey Y/N?” Pansy calls from across you as she strains her eyes at an image from one of the folders- although Pansy is an auror, she has a particular knack for muggle crime as well.

“Yes?” You hum as you slowly bring your eyes up to meet hers.

“What’s this in the corner?” She passes the image to you for you to see what she’s referring to.

“It’s just a photograph in a frame, I think it’s the parents and their children.”

“Okay, now look at this.” She passes you a second, almost identical, image of the scene and the photo frame is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s it gone?” You ask in disbelief.

“I think it disappeared while you were on the scene of the crime, I think it was magic.”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows at her as you look back down at the images.

“A delayed protection spell perhaps?”

Draco doesn’t say anything but moves closer so that he can also see the two images.


“Why magic? It could’ve been bagged as evidence.”

“No, there are no photo frames in this evidence log.” Blaise pipes up as he passes you the log to inspect yourself.

“Hmm.” You huff and narrow your eyebrows at everything you’ve been handed. “But I’m pretty sure that they’re a muggle family, what could magic have to do with this?”

Pansy shrugs with a thin smile and you sigh- realising that you’ve hit yet another stumbling block- as a silence encapsulates the room.

“Shit.” Draco mumbles as he drops the images onto the ground and quickly jumps off the ground to walk toward his desk his desk.

“Shit?” You ask as you observe his suddenly frantic state as he tries to find something- feeling excitement bubble up inside you at the prospect of him having a lead.

“Yes, shit.” He pulls out two large files from one of his desk drawers and drops them onto the surface, “That- that picture, look at what’s behind the family.”

You narrow your eyes at frame that’s in the evidence shot. “The park?”

“The man that’s on the bench in the park.” Draco responds as he shuffles through papers, “A few months ago I had a case to this where we couldn’t pin the murder to our prime suspect because it all fit so perfectly together but none of the evidence was sufficient enough to withstand trial.”

“Was that the-“ Blaise starts.

“The Hunter Street case? Yes.” Draco answers, “Then right before it looked like she was going to walk, some random evidence perfectly matched up and tied her to the entire thing. It was almost too good to be true.”

“Oh yeah, I remember how confused you were about that.”

“Now I remember why I was so unsettled by it, she wasn’t the culprit.”

“She’s been in jail three months now, a bit too late to be pointing fingers.” Blaise adds with an awkward chuckle and Draco’s lips draw upward slightly at the comment.

“Who did it then?”

“There was a neighbor, a man, who came out as a witness and claimed to have seen her on the night of the crime. I didn’t interview him but I caught a glimpse of him and he is that man in the photograph.”

“How can you be so sure?” Pansy furrows her eyebrows.

“I never forget a face.” Draco utters sternly as he looks Pansy dead in the eyes and you smile proudly.

“So how does he connect to everything?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“He’s the missing puzzle piece, but I think he’s working with someone on the inside.”

“So you think someone discarded the frame for him? On the scene of the crime?”

“Yes! But it definitely wasn’t the photographer, and it means whoever did that arrived after everyone else.” Draco continues and you nod- digesting the information.

“Okay...” You agree with him- feeling a sense of relief wash over you at the fact that finally something is starting to make sense.

Yes, it had been one of those days but everything felt like it was worth it when you could watch your husband in action. You stared at him in awe as he rummaged through the pile of papers in front of him- already connecting the millions of dots that had started forming in his head- and you had to resist the urge to pull him into a kiss of adoration.

“Found it!” Draco explains as he pulls out a small piece of paper and squints to read what’s written on it. Without a second of hesitation he strides toward the door and pulls both of your coats off the hook then stands against the door frame and waits for you.

“Are you coming? We’ve got a murderer to catch.” He asks as he waits for you by the door and you quickly nod and hop off the ground to join him- feeling warmth consume you at the sight of the excited glint in his eyes.

Yes, it had been one of those days… But those days would always be easy to take in stride when you had Draco with you.

<~>

 I feel like I kind of half-assed this toward the end just because I needed to get it done before I lost the love for it, but I still love the general concept either way. I wrote this because I can see Draco wanting to solve crimes and be a detective but I can’t see him wanting to be an auror after the war because he’d be fighting the very same people he ‘worked’ with once and working with the very same people he ‘fought’ against once, and the trauma from the entire situation would be too much to handle and make him hate his job- so muggle detective Draco is born! :)

anyway, love you all,

jean <3

[theinkyisles]

haunting figures

this is for my @ts-storytime​ ‘s submission! my artist is @ravenclawicecream and it was awesome working together for this piece. word count: 15001 tags: discussion of war, slight internalized ableism, arranged marriages, familial death, awful parents, open/ambiguous ending author’s notes: im never writing anything like this again.  it was an experience im glad for !! but i never wanna do this again salkjfdal

The meeting had lasted centuries, it seemed.

In all reality, it had only been a few hours, but he felt like he could see the hairs at his temple graying.  The aching joints had been a painful companion all his life, so it seemed that being an old man at age thirty-one was simply his life now.  The books surrounding him and the crutches leaning on the side of the desk agreed.

Logan sighed and let his head drop onto the stack of his papers.  His eyes threatened to shut but it was only three o’clock in the afternoon and the number of advisors clamoring for his attention was unbelievable.  He was only the king, not God Herself.  Honestly, if he was a power-hungry noble wishing to be in the king’s good graces, he wouldn’t try and get an appointment with him.  Appointments never solved anything; any good court member knew that. 

There weren’t many good court members, as you could tell.

Lifting his head from the inked parchments, he rubbed his brow with the palm of his hand.  The court member problem was an on-going one, left over from his mother’s reign.  Her partner’s death shocked everyone and the queen scrambled to recover the pieces of what she discovered to be a shattered kingdom.  She couldn’t fix everything, and so that’s what Logan grew up learning how to do.

The king pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair.  “Fix everything” he murmured to himself. “What a useless task.”

A knock came at the door and Logan called for whoever was at the door to come in.  “Hello, your majesty,” his steward bowed. “I was told to fetch you.” Logan lifted his eyes to peer over the top of his glasses.

“Am I not the one who is supposed to request others to be fetched?” he asked. The steward’s eyes glittered with amusement as he straightened.

“We both know that that’s no fun,” Emile said, placing his arms behind his back. “Besides you’re going to like who’s come to visit.” Logan exhaled deeply.

“Well, if you are here to fetch me, let me be fetched.” Logan pressed both his hands to the desk and slowly raised.  His knees creaked in protest, but he kept going until he was upright.  Grabbing the crutches, he swiftly made his way to his steward.  Together, they walked the ornate halls until they reached the throne room, where the courtier opened the door and Logan marched inside.

“Your majesty!” a voice boomed.  A man clad in black and green stood in the middle of the room, his hand resting on his decorative scabbard. “How is that every time I visit, you seem to become more and more the old man you are inside?”  The servants around the room tensed, but Logan just grinned.

“Remus, how is it every time you visit, you can never find a better joke to greet me with?” Logan countered.  Remus threw his head back, a loud laugh filling the room.  Servants around the room winced at the loud display, but Logan merely smiled.

“Never change, my friend.” Remus smiled, his eyes crinkling.  Logan’s heart grew fond at the sight. 

“Well, let me sit, and then we may discuss why you are here.”

“What, a prince can’t come to visit his old friend?” Logan scoffed as he sat down in the throne, removing the crutches from his arms.

“Not when said prince has been shifting his weight from foot to foot like a nervous wreck since I stepped foot into here.” The anxious look in his eyes grew more apparent, but Remus’ smile never dropped.  His hand began shaking back and forth at his side.

“I wanted to wait for a bit longer before bringing it up.”

“Nonsense.  This is the world we live in, your highness. We’d be fools to forget our responsibilities for a moment.” Remus nodded.

“There has been…a complication in the plan we drafted last summer.” Logan straightened in his seat.

“The one for the fields of the volcanoes in your kingdom?”

“Exactly, my dear friend.”

“What complication could come from that? It was a routine signing, everyone agreed to it and- “

 “-and there shouldn’t be another meeting for several more years?” Remus finished. “Yes, but the kingdom of Xious has found that the terms of the contract that has been in place for a millennia before the current monarch is not suitable and wishes to make some changes.”

“What changes could they possibly want? They get forty percent of the crops and pay an incredibly low rent, even after adjusting for inflation!”

“Your anger matches that of my own,” Remus agrees and steps closer, “but they are willing to go to war over it, and, as interesting as I find that, it turns out that death and destruction is not good for kingdoms, so we need to find a solution.”

“War?” Logan exclaimed uncharacteristically. “Over a treaty about wheat?”

“It would definitely be quite the bloodbath.  Your army is no match for Xious’.”

“War is quite a rash move, especially if his country is suffering famine.” Remus shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t pretend to know what goes through the child’s mind.  My brother believes he’s scared and he sees that war is the only way to protect his country’s dignity. I say that he has been pushing off help from his advisors in some vain attempt to prove himself.”

“Have you done due diligence? There is no reason for the Xiousians to be acting in this manner.” Logan said, leaning his chin into his hand. Roman scoffed, crossing his arms.

“My father would not approve that, not with how the king is acting.”

“Remus, please, your father has little influence in the court anymore, especially in his old age.” Roman gave the Cygnan king a look.

“Please, Logan, you’ve met my father.” Logan rolled his eyes. “You act as if you didn’t know that.”

“Forgive me for still finding it ridiculous.”

“You are forgiven,” Remus jested.  Logan huffed a laugh and let his head drop into his hands.

Without saying anything, Logan picked up his crutches, slipping his arms in. He stood up and Remus straightened on instinct.  Logan made his way down the steps and walked over to the doors leading out of the throne room.  He looked behind him to where Remus was staring at him quizzically in the middle of the room.

“Well, what on Earth are you waiting for?” Logan laughed and kept moving towards the doors.  Remus chuckled and hurried after his friends.  The guards at the doors moved to follow them, but Logan shook his head. “Leave me with my friend.  I certainly won’t die between here and my chambers.”

“But sire-”one of the guards started.

“I am well aware of the protocol, my parent was the one who wrote it,” Logan snapped back. “I will be fine.”  Logan saw the guard hesitate for a moment and took his change to keep walking down the hallways.

“You are so rude to them,” Remus mused.

“I’m the king and I can take care of myself.  They know to respect me at this point, I’ve more than proven myself.”

“I wonder how many times you could be assassinated between now and then,” Remus thought out loud after a moment.  The same guard stiffened and Remus smiled widely in his direction. Logan barely withheld a snort and Remus turned the smile onto the king.

“Are you going to try and find out?” Logan asked rhetorically, beginning to make his way down the hall.

“You mean to tell me that you haven’t taken every chance to find out the exact about of time it would take for any number of assassinations to take place in this exact hallway? That’s so very unlike you,” Remus laughed as Logan smacked his shin with the crutch. “Watch it, Logey, lest I report back to my father that I was assaulted by the king of Cygnas.”

“Oh, shut it,” Logan rolled his eyes.

“Hm,” Remus preened, “I don’t think I will.”

“You and your brother will be the death of me, I swear,” Logan muttered.

“Speaking of my brother…” Remus trailed off.  Logan wrinkled his nose at the sound of the prince Roman. “He wasn’t able to accompany me, but we might be returning in a few weeks’ time in case of war, especially since he is the new crown prince.” Logan’s embarrassment shifted into shock.

“What? I thought that-“

“Father has also decided which son will take the throne.”  Remus stopped in the middle of the hallway.  Logan followed suit.

“Why I haven’t I heard about this sooner? Has he declared this officially?” Logan asked incredulously.  Remus shook his head.

“The position is brand new.  I heard about it myself while in transit coming here.  We both knew that this was coming, Logan.”  Remus gave the other king a look and Logan turned away to stare at the ground.

“Yes, but-” Logan cut himself off, frustrated.  He turned back to Remus. “Send my congratulations to your brother.  He will be a fine king.

“I hope you know that resenting me is an acceptable course of action.” Remus said knowingly.

“I just-”

“You wanted me to be king.  I know.”  Remus stepped closer to Logan, resting a hand against Logan’s cheek. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“What kind of talk is that?”  Roman looked away, allowing himself to shove his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Remus.”

“Logan,” Remus mocked slightly. “Just yell at me already, won’t you?”

Logan scowled. “Have you no faith in me? Good heavens.” Logan slipped his arms out of his crutches and leaned them against the wall.  He pressed up close to Remus and hugged him, making his two inches over Remus known.  He cupped the back of his friend’s head, pressing it against his shoulder.  Remus slumped forward. “You will be a fine king.  Do I wish your father had given Remus more of a chance? Yes, but that does not mean you are anywhere near unqualified for the position.”

“You’re just saying that.” Logan pulled back to look Remus in the eyes.

“Have I ever lied to you?” They stared at each other a moment.  Remus searched for something in Logan’s face, but whatever dishonesty he was looking for, he couldn’t find.  The air was thick with hidden messages passed between the two members of royalty.  Finally, Remus let his head fall against his friend’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Logan’s torso.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice muffled by the fabric of Logan’s jacket.

“You know it’s serious when you start thanking me for things.” Remus snorted.

They stood there for a few more minutes before pulling away.  Logan pressed a kiss to his lover’s forehead and Remus leaned into it.

“You know me too well, fiend.” Logan smiled softly as he picked his crutches back up from against the wall.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

    -

  Weeks had passed since Remus left Cygnas to return to his own kingdom.  Despite promises from both twins and the king of Ticevas, the pair of princes were still in transit.  Logan was antsy and worried.  The threat of war from the Xious kingdom was getting more and more real, with reports of soldiers being seen at the border, and if Remus had to set off to take care of the admittedly powerful army, Logan wouldn’t see him for several months, if not years.  He needed to sort this out between Xious and Ticevas, even if it was for purely selfish reasons.

Selfish can be described as practical.  That was his story and he was sticking to it.

In their own private letters, passed through business letters addressed to Roman who handed them to his twin, Remus reassured his lover that his brother would be there soon. Yet, Logan’s anxieties still were not soothed.

My bleeding heart,

What do you think of the new introduction? Roman keeps suggesting these ridiculously sappy names for me to call you, but this was the only one I liked, even if I had to modify it a bit. Tell me if you enjoy it.

The Xiousian king visited this past week to try and negotiate with Roman about the contract.  They didn’t really get anywhere, which normally wouldn’t bother my brother, but I had to try even less to piss him off at dinner.  He stormed out and everything.  Quite the dramatic one he is, I have no idea what you see in him.

Speaking of seeing, he plams to be in Cygnas within the next fortnight.  I know you’ve been worried about the war with Xious, but Father is slowly becoming more lenient in his old age.  With our treaty with you and Limora, I think he’s seeing that handing over the food and money this once won’t be an issue (which is what I’ve been telling him from the beginning, but of course, he only listens when Roman says something).

Enough of business.  I miss you, quill.  Kill a flower for me and stare out the window like I’m your husband gone to war.

Yours,

Remus

Logan smiled as he thumbed over the indents in the paper, the spritz of the cologne Remus wore wafting up from the page.  It was a shorter letter than usual, much shorter, but any word was better than none at all, in Logan’s opinion.

It was barely dawn when the letter had been given to him, the poor messenger looking dead on his feet.  It had been difficult to conceal his excitement and relief, but he knew that getting a letter from what everyone thought to be Roman was no cause to be filled with such joy.  Only Roman and the two of them knew of Logan and Remus’ relationship, though he had no doubt that their father knew as well, and turned a blind eye.  As the general of the army and now officially second-in-command to Crown Prince Roman, any upstanding royal or noble family knew how valuable having that connection would be.

Unfortunately, it meant Logan and Remus would never marry.  With the current treaty in place, there was no need to strengthen it with a marriage and Remus’ father, and Roman, after the king died, would need Remus elsewhere for political maneuvers.    

Back in his early days as crown prince, Logan had foolishly hoped that marrying Remus would be an option. Roman was an obvious shoe-in to be announced king even then, (no matter if Logan secretly hoped that his lover would be awarded the honor) and Logan continuously badgered his mother about the potential ways they could fortify the alliance with Ticevas.  The king was sure that his mother knew of his relationship with the prince and both resented her and was grateful for her saying nothing of the matter.  They might have secured a betrothal while Remus’ father was younger and more easily persuaded, but Logan was unsure of his and Remus’ ability to maintain both a burgeoning personal relationship and permanent political relationship in their youth.

 And yet, there was almost nothing Logan wanted more than to fall asleep each night with Remus in his arms.

Logan exhaled and carefully folded the letter back up.  He slid it under the false bottom in one of his desk drawers, relishing in the smell of Remus’ cologne that rose from the letters before shutting it firmly.  Today was too busy for him to be distracted, even if Remus was a wonderful distraction indeed.

He shifted his attention to the documents in front of him and wrinkled his nose.  Taxes were important to his kingdom’s economy, but even he found them dreadfully boring.  The advisors always insisted that they needed to raise taxes on the lower class almost exponentially in order to pay for better cities, but Logan kept them on a tight leash.  The last thing he wanted to do was rob the majority of his kingdom blind.  Not to mention the fact that the taxes were still outrageously high and no one deigned to put the money to good use.  He found it absolutely disgusting how all the nobles in his court refused to pay their own taxes, yet insisted that those who were living paycheck to paycheck deserved to be burgled by their own government.

He had opinions on the matter, not that he was ever that passionate in court.  That would lead to a scandal that he did not want nor need to deal with.  He was fixing things slowly but surely. 

A knock came at the door and Logan called out to permit them entry.  He straightened his posture as his personal steward stepped into the room.  Emile bowed and Logan nodded his head in return, remaining sitting at his desk.

“Good morning, Emile.  I trust you have a reason to be interrupting me at five o’clock in the morning?” Emile smiled at his boss, not put off by the seemingly dismissive greeting.

“Do you how do, Your Majesty?” Emile said instead of answering, a cheeky grin on his face.  Logan’s face dropped into a confused scowl.

“Emile, that phrase is utterly nonsensical, I have no idea why you use it so often,” the king said, looking back down at his papers. Emile laughed.

“It’s simply a fun turn of phrase, Your Majesty, nothing nonsensical about it.” Logan opened his mouth to retort but Emile kept going. “Besides, I have some important information for you.”

“Really? Do share, Emile.” Logan motioned for the steward to continue, still not looking up from his papers.  He heard Emile shift nervously.

“The Xiousian king is here and has requested an audience.” Logan’s head shot up, the quill dropping with a clatter to the desk. 

“The Xiousian king? When did he arrive?” Logan demanded, pressing his weight to the desk and rising from his seat.  Emile grabbed the crutches by the door and swiftly walked over, setting them against the desk for Logan to use if he so wished.

“He arrived mere moments ago, it appears that they rode through the night to get here.”

“Good heavens,” Logan muttered, paling considerably.  It was a quiet for a moment as Logan stared down at the ground, trying to decide what to do. “Alright, you go speak with the king while I ready myself.  Tell him I will be there shortly.” Emile stared at Logan for a few moments, not moving to comply to Logan’s orders.

“Logan,” Emile started, his voice soft, “you don’t have to go and greet him.  I can do so myself and you can take your time.” Logan kept his head down, avoiding making contact with the steward.  “Valerie wouldn’t want you to force yourself to-”

“Don’t speak her name,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm.  “As far as I am aware, I do not know Virgil and Virgil does not know me.  There is no reason for me to hide from him.” Emile opened his mouth to speak, but Logan shook his head. “I’m not having this argument today.”  Emile hesitated before nodding and moving to leave the room.

“I’ll inform His Majesty that you will be arriving shortly,” Emile said softly, before shutting the door behind him.  Logan sighed as the final click was heard, raising one hand to massage at his constricting chest. 

To the world, he was Logan, King of Cygnas, the only child of Monarch Ranal and Queen Leona. 

Valerie couldn’t be a factor in his decisions anymore.

-

Logan threw the doors of the throne room open as he strode in, his ornamental cloak fluttering behind him.  He took advantage of the low pain that day to try and be as dramatic as possible (Roman’s points about theatrics and intimidation had some merit), but he saw Emile standing by the throne, crutches in hand.  Something in him shriveled at the idea that not even his steward thought he could make it through this meeting without buckling beneath the pressure and aching, but he cast it aside.  This was not the time for pride.

He regretted the powerful move when he saw the tiny boy in the middle of the room.  He knew that the Xiousian king was young, having kept track of any news coming from the Xiousian front, but the boy looked so small.  Logan took one look at the kid’s trembling shoulders and stopped in his tracks. No sudden movements, he decided.

“King Virgil,” Logan greeted. “Your presence in my court is highly unexpected, especially at this hour in the morning.”  The boy attempted to straighten up, but the crown on his head tilted to the side. It was almost comical.

“King Logan,” the other king bowed his head. “I have travelled a long time to be here.”      

“And yet that does not answer the real question,” Logan threw back.  He started walking towards the boy, taking note of how the other king winced as Logan drew nearer.  The older king passed by the boy, noting how he didn’t relax until he reached the throne. Logan tucked his cloak beneath him as he sat down. “Why are you here?”

“Well, you must know about how your ally Ticevas and how they have been refusing aide to my hungry people.” Virgil took a few short, yet decisive steps closer to the throne.  Logan had to give it to him; he might be scared, but he was handling it well. Logan cocked his head to the side.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, but that is not the information I was given by the Crown Prince of Ticevas.” The boy glowered and he furrowed his brow.

“I do not know what information the Crown Prince has given you, but I can assure you that if it is anything close to what I believe Prince-General Remus has said to his superiors, it is unequivocally false.”  Logan quirked an eyebrow, but the rest of his facial expression remained peacefully blank.

“You cannot blame me for trusting what has been told to me by the Crown Prince and Prince-General of Ticevas themselves,” Logan lifted his hands from the arms of his throne, folding them into his lap. “I do not intend on changing my opinion on what is true and what is false on unsupported hearsay and beliefs.” Virgil scoffed and he crossed his arms, the movement made slightly difficult by the heavy furs he had draped around his shoulders.

“Do you believe everything the Ticevans tell you?” the boy asked, no hesitance in his voice. “They are known for their dramatics and story-telling, Your Majesty, not every word that comes from their mouths is sure to be true.”  Logan blinked in shock a few times, caught slightly off-guard.  No one had dared question his trust in the Ticevan twins before.

He’d have to do better.

“I’m not sure the Ticevan royal family would entirely appreciate you implying that they are liars, Your Majesty,” Logan said as-matter-of-factly. Virgil scowled, taking impulsive steps towards the throne.  The soldiers flanking the throne dropped into a defensive stance, holding out their spears.  The young king froze and the guards that were with him when Logan entered pulled their swords from their scabbards. “Remigius,” Logan scolded, turning towards his head guard at his right. “Please, show some decorum.” He turned back to Virgil. “My apologies, my liege, as king I am sure you aware of the heightened security.” 

The silver-haired captain-of-the-guard let out a soft scoff as he resumed his stationary position.  Logan shot the man a stern glance but Remy refused to turn towards him.  “Yes, I am aware,” Virgil said warily, and Logan saw him make a soft hand motion out of the corner of his eye.  The guards stood down, their swords back in their scabbard.  One guard, his braids pulled back into a tight bun, left his hand on the hilt. “If I have to ask,” Virgil said snidely, “may I approach, Your Majesty?” Logan gave him a deadpan look but the thirteen-year-old held his ground.

Logan broke first, surprisingly, sighing and waving his hand in a motion for Virgil to step forward. “You may approach, King Virgil.” Virgil didn’t move, instead resting his weight on his heels, a smug smirk on his face.   A ‘well, now that I have permission, I don’t want to do it’ move.  Incredibly immature, Logan noted, but then again, no matter what status Virgil might have, a teenager is still a teenager. “Very funny,” Logan said wryly. 

“Why, King Logan, I have no idea what you mean!” Virgil said in a high-pitched innocent voice.  Logan held in a chuckle.  A few beats passed as Logan stared down at the young boy.

“Why are you here, King Virgil?” Logan said, slightly bored. “You come in with bravado and accusations and you still have not answered my very first question.”  Virgil stuck his nose up.

“We are here to offer a chance of your kingdom surviving the crossfire.” Logan furrowed his brow and sat up slightly in his throne.

“What crossfire.”

“Ticevas has disrespected our sovereignty and threatened us tenfold over.  Xious will not stand for it.”

“And your solution is to kill everything on sight?” Virgil scoffed.

“You have no tact, Your Majesty.” Logan raised an eyebrow and Virgil turned red. “Apologies, that-that was uncalled for.” Logan hummed, amused.

“Join me for dinner,” he said suddenly and he placed his hands against the arms of the throne. “You and your entourage are welcome to stay in the castle for the next week and we can discuss matters in a more private setting.” Confusion flashed across Virgil’s face and he looked towards the guard to his left, a question of whether or not he should accept floating between them.

“I accept your invitation,” Virgil responded a moment later, his eyes still locked with that of his guard. He turned back towards Logan with a polite, sardonic smile. “It was an honor to meet you, King Logan of Cygnas.” Logan raised his eyebrows but did not smile back.

“And it was certainly interesting to meet you, King Virgil of Xious.” Logan pushed himself off the throne, sliding his right arm into the crutch someone in his periphery offered him.  He stepped down the stairs until he was face to face with the Xiousian king.

Virgil was a lot shorter so up close.

Logan offered his hand and Virgil stared at it a moment.  The room held its breath as the Xiousian processed the gesture.  Hesitantly, Virgil uncrossed his arms and gripped Logan’s admittedly much larger hand.  Logan shook once, a firm yet gentle motion, before releasing and walking right past the young king towards the door of the throne room.

At the very least, he had an excuse to write Remus.

-

Remus,

I’m afraid I write to you not with personal anecdotes but with political news.

 T’is dreadful, I’m aware.

The young boy king of Xious dropped by this evening, though it will be a few days past by the time this letter reaches you.  He is small, but skilled with his language.  His father very obviously groomed this boy for the throne at a young age.  He stutters, though.  It reminds me slightly of myself at his age.

I have invited him to stay at the palace for a few days, provided he have dinner with me.  I will write you after the dinner; hopefully I will have more information for you then.  Your brother told me that he threatened war over the treaty, but he seemed quite offended at this accusation, lending me to believe that there has been a miscommunication.  You were there for this exchange? I need both sides here.

Just so you are aware, and please relay this to Roman but do not tell your father, he has given me an offer to avoid crossfires of war.  I don’t pretend to understand why he would offer to have me fight alongside his kingdom or die and then turn around and be offended at me saying that he is planning war.  I fear there are other factors at play, not simply a confused child at the reins of a job that no individual can truly succeed at. 

I hope you are well, my love. 

Sincerely,

His Majesty, King Logan

-

       Preparing for the dinner on such late notice made everyone on the castle on edge.  Logan rarely had visitors as it was and as such, unused guest wings weren’t cleaned with the frequency that was kept throughout the more populated sections of the castle.  If worries of war breaking out over a scared teenager weren’t plaguing Logan with every waking moment, he might’ve taken a moment to thank each staff member that passed him by.

He made a note to up their pay for the month.

“You know I’m not one to question your decisions,” Remigius, Logan’s head guard, said as the king and him walked down the hallway, “but enemy Xious here? In your castle?”

“If I turn them away, I will not gain any information that could actually be of use to our allies.  The Ticevan princes would not lie to me and so I am eager to understand exactly why I’m being told two different stories.” Remigius scowled.

“You’re ignoring all the potential security concerns, babes, we don’t have the manpower to guard all the guestrooms, even if they only have ten in the security detail.”

“It’s thirteen,” the king said offhandedly as they turned a corner. “The person dressed in the steward colors had a knife hidden up their sleeve.  Some type of holster, I presume.” Remigius paused, gaping at Logan – who kept moving down the hall at a rapid pace – before jogging slightly to catch up.

“I don’t wanna even ask how you caught that.” Logan smiled wryly.

“I’m doing everyone’s job at once,” Logan began, his voice vaguely humorous as if he were starting the beginning of joke. “I have to pretend to do yours at one point.” Remigius scoffed and Logan knew he would cross his arms if he wasn’t holding onto his spear. They made their way down the rest of the hall, their voices in a hushed chatter and Remy complained about what an awkward position Logan put him in and Logan shooting back that this is exactly what he hired Remy for.  When they arrived at the door, Logan sighed heavily.  “This isn’t something I want to be doing, Remigius,” Logan said softly. “Preventing a war from happening is just as taxing as fighting the war itself.”

“I agree,” Remy said, “but you have to remember our limits.”  Logan sighed again, before pushing open the door into the small conference room. 

Originally, Logan had a council of advisors and early on in the last day’s of his mother’s reign and the beginning stages of his own, he met with them frequently.  Every book on ruling and being fair that Logan could get his hands on emphasized the importance on seeking others’ outlooks on each decision a ruler made for their country and when he was nineteen and fresh from his mother’s funeral, Logan dove straight into that.  Looking back on it, it was a poor decision.

For many reasons.

Years later, Logan was still stuck weeding out nobleman who gained their positions through willful missights by both his parents or a generous donation of money towards the upkeep of the castle.  The budget for the upkeep of the castle was woefully tight and it had always been that way, so he was sure that his parents squirreled away the money somewhere or maybe wasted it away. 

Presently, Logan still stuck by the idea that a stable king had stable council, but it was increasingly difficult to find said steady council when all the councilors seemed keen on starting wars at every given opportunity.  The only nobles or advisors or councilors Logan allowed in his presence anymore were handpicked himself, regardless of status.

Or attitude for that matter.

Dominic Dormis, known colloquially as “The Critic” and called Dice by everyone who was just out of enough common sense to have a conversation with him, sat in the middle of a long wooden meeting table, papers spread artfully around him.  He was the brother to Remigius, though ironically, it was Remigius who insisted that Logan not hire Dominic.  Logan ignored his head guard’s advice and it was the best decision he had ever made.

“Tell me, Dice,” Logan started, walking over to look over the advisor’s shoulder at the papers sitting in front of him, “how urgently do I need to try and fix this all?” Dice laughed humorlessly as he threw his pen down and leaned back in the chair.

“You’ve made a right mess of this, darling!” Dice exclaimed, tilting his head back to look Logan in the eye. “No matter how often they run the numbers, nothing looks favorable.” Logan sighed deeply, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Are we really that low on manpower?” Logan asked, his voice bordering on desperate, and screwed his eyes shut. Dice tutted his tongue, motioning towards the papers.

“I haven’t been here all morning trying to spread our defenses across the Xiousian border for nothing, darling,” Dice snarked.  Logan opened his eyes slightly to glare at him.

“We’re aiming for peace, Dice,” Logan snapped, “not to antagonize the same kingdom threatening war by placing our entire military on the border.” Dice just shrugging, looking down at the papers.

“It was the only way I felt we had a chance,” Dice said defensively.

Oh, damn it all,” Logan swore under his breath. “What are your thoughts on Ticevas lying?” Dice just scoffed.

“Please, the boy had a point.  We Ticevans have a tendency for the dramatics.”  Logan scrunched his nose.

“So am I to march up to the Crown Prince and his general brother and tell them to their face that they’re lying? Were they even at that meeting?” Dice shrugged, picking up his quill to dip it into ink and scribble a note into the blank space of one of the pages. “Why is it that when I am listing all the things going wrong, you jump right in, but when I try to figure out a solution, you just sit there nodding?”

“You hired me for a reason,” Dice replied in a singsong voice. “I tell you what you need to hear, Logan, not what you want to hear.”  Logan crossed his arms, his face pinched.

“What do we do then?” Dice sighed and moved his head back down, searching through the sheets of paper.

“You either side with Xious or you get them to back down,” Dice says, reciting the words from a piece of paper held close to his face.  Logan narrowed his eyes and swiped the paper from Dice’s hands, much to his advisor’s indignance.

“Dice, this just says ‘you’re screwed’.  That’s not entirely professional.  I do have to present these papers to the princes of Ticevas.” Dice scoffed, pushing his chair back and kicking his feet up on top of the desk. “And now your feet are on the table.”

“You’re very good at observations,” Dice said wryly. “Look, you have that dinner with the Xiousian king.  Make it count.  Make yourself likable.” Logan moved to open his mouth but Dice cut him off. “Diplomacy and facts might work with more stable-minded individuals, but this is a kid, Your Majesty.  You need to charm him.” Logan tossed the papers back on the table.

“Fantastic.”

“It’s not all bad, Your Majesty.  Emile said that he’s your-”

“No.”

“What?” Dice asked innocently.  He blinked up at Logan. “It’s a good strategy, my lord, it will work, especially on a boy his age.”

“I will not be using my dead sister’s name in war talks, Dice.” The advisor scrunched up his nose.

“Well, yes, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound all that wonderful.” Logan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Dice shuffled through his papers and Logan could hear him scribbling down notes and calculations.  “A right mess you’ve made of this, Logan.”

“Don’t pin this on me,” the king hissed. Dice snorted. A knock came at the door. “Enter!”

“Well, hello there, Dice! It’s been a while,” Emile said as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him.  Logan looked up to see Dice waving slightly, leaning forward against the table onto his elbows.

“Hello, dear brother-in-law,” Dice said amusingly. “It’s a shame you are so busy these days, we’ve hardly had a chance to speak one-on-one.” Emile’s eyes crinkled and he laughed.

“That’s what family dinners on Sundays are for, Dice, it’s not my fault you never show up.”

-

“Your Majesty,” Logan greeted coolly, rising up from his seat in order to bow slightly.  His knuckles were braced against the edge of the table, allowing his body weight to distribute. “How kind of you to join me this evening.” 

Virgil stood in the doorway, classic Xiousian furs piled up around his shoulders and wrapped around his head.  His eyes swept across the room, as if admiring each piece of furniture and morsel of food.  His face was shadowed by a thin wrap covering the tops of his head and draped across and around his neck, but Logan could still the stringy black hair that reminded Logan of himself when he was a teenager. The way Virgil held himself reminded Logan even of his parent, which was not necessarily a reminder that he was looking for. If he were superstitious, it would feel like a bad omen.

Logan felt the weight of what this dinner meant settling across his shoulders like a physical presence.  Ever since the meeting with Dice, several other nobleman came up to him, trying to play up the might of Cygnan army.  They acted incredibly patriotic but Dice’s intel (and also that of his brother, Remigius) showed him what their true intentions were.  Deals with investors and black markets across both Cygnas, Ticevas, and Limora could make them rich if Logan decided to follow through with the war. 

None of them seemed to take into consideration quite exactly war would mean for absolutely everyone else.  Sometimes it felt like everyone thought him as naïve as a dog running after a phantom stick.  He was the King of Cygnas, the kingdom associated with all things knowledge.  He had some common sense.

“Come sit,” he invited, motioning to the seat beside him. “My kitchen staff has slaved over this food all day and it would be a shame to let it all go to waste.” Logan busied himself with tucking his coattails beneath him and shuffling his chair closer to the table, but he kept track of the careful steps Virgil took towards the table.  He eyed the guards at the door. 

Virgil’s personal guard followed his charge to the chair, inspecting it before allowing the boy king to take a seat.  Gently, the boy unwrapped the fur shawl from around his shoulders and the guard took it from him, draping it against the high back of the chair.  “It is custom to wear wraps that cover our heads,” Virgil says, his voice tiny in the giant room.  “I hope this does not offend you.” Logan waved his hand in dismissal.

“I hope you are not offended that I am not wearing one myself,” Logan says, motioning for a servant to pour them drinks. “In Cygnas, it’s typical to wear less clothing in the presence of guests, though,” Logan gestured at himself wryly, “the same does not usually apply to the royal household.” Virgil gave a small, but genuine smile.

“My father was a…lover of our culture,” Virgil responded, “as am I.”  He paused for a moment to lift up his wine glass to his guard, who took a small sip.  Whatever the guard was looking for, he didn’t find and he handed the cup back to the teen. “However, I understand that you have your own customs.” Logan nodded, beginning to pick up his cutlery to start eating.

“In Ticevas,” Logan started, “it is customary to bow in a particular fashion before approaching the monarch.”  He gave Virgil a humorous look.  “Of course, when my mother passed, may her soul rest among the stars, I had many things to worry about and I stormed into a meeting with the King before bowing.”  He took a sip of his wine.  “I don’t believe the Crown Prince or his brother have ever let me live that one down.”  Virgil gave him a curious glance.

“Are you close with the Crown Prince and the Prince-General?” he asked innocently.  Logan held back a deadpan look.

“As close as life-long allies can be,” Logan said, a hint of a smile creeping into his voice. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

Logan heard a small, exasperated huff as he looked down to his meal and resisted the urge to chuckle.  The boy was smart, but he had little tact. 

He was doing better than Logan would have done at this age, regardless.

The clinking of ornate cutlery against fine china filled the room as the two began to eat.  Logan could see the young boy struggle to use the wares that were just a tad too big for his hands and wondered how such a boy could threaten war but not know how to handle utensils.

Maybe he simply used swords to eat. 

Logan banished the thought from his mind.  The past was the past, as his mother would say every time the Xiousian king would extend an invitation to his castle.  

Damned Xious.

“How are you finding the meal, Your Majesty?” Logan asked coolly. He didn’t look up from his plate, but he heard Virgil fumbling with the fork and knife.  He ought to stop playing mind games with children. 

“It is suitable,” Virgil replied, his words slightly muffled by what seemed like a mouth full of food.  Logan looked up to see Virgil swallow harshly and washing down the ball of food with a gulp of wine.  “I appreciate your hospitality, King Logan.”  Logan tilted his head to the side.

“I accept your thanks.”  Logan cut a piece of meat, and held it up to his lips. “Your father was a frequent guest at this castle and I hope you will be as well, as you grow into your role as monarch of Xious.”  Virgil nodded nervously, fiddling with his silverware instead of responding. “Speaking of which,” Logan continued, “my condolences to you and your family.  Losing family is something I am woefully familiar with.”  Virgil nodded again; his eyes were downcast.

“May his soul rest among the stars,” the young king murmured. Virgil straightened his back, having slouched slightly, “He was good father to me.  He taught me well.”  He paused for a moment, looking down at his plate. “Though, there is no other family to console.  I am his only heir and my mother died young.” Virgil looked at him inquisitively. “You would have known her, no?” Logan resisted the urge to try and swallow down the lump that had grown in his throat.  He hadn’t thought about Virgil’s mother in a long time.  It was a shock to try and remember it all.  Realizing he hadn’t responded, Logan cleared his throat, busying his hands with cutting a slice of the meat on his plate.

“Yes, I was good friends with your mother,” Logan said, his voice on the edge of trembling. “I simply…forget she is not here with us, from time to time.”  Virgil hummed in response. “Your father was a strong king,” Logan said, instead of continuing down the previous path of conversation, “Do you plan to follow in his footsteps?” the Cygnan inquired after a moment. “He was quite focused on the military, but this is a time of peace, as you must know.”  Virgil froze slightly and Logan resisted the urge to smile.  Finally, he’d pushed a button.  Virgil began to look up towards his guard, presumably for guidance, but he aborted the movement, tightening his grip on his wine cup that he’d reached out for as Logan was asking his question.

“It is quite a…” Virgil paused, quirking his lips as he brought the wine cup up to his mouth, “bold statement to claim peace, considering what your allies in Ticevas have accused of me.” His hands were shaking.  Logan bowed his head in agreement.

“Though, if what you say is true, there is no reason to fear, is there?” Logan tilted his head. “After all, if there is war to be had between you Ticevas, there is little reason for you to be here, at the castle of a Ticevan ally.”  Virgil gulped down his wine nervously and the guard behind him gripped his spear threateningly.

“Peace is a lot harder to defend than a home front, Your Majesty,” Virgil said at last, setting down his glass with a clumsy hand. “It is best to be prepared for the worst, as my father always said.”  Logan raised his eyebrows and Virgil’s shoulders seem to shrink slightly.

“We simply have different tactics then,” Logan shrugged artfully, careful not to become too casual.  The Xiousian guard glared. Virgil shifted slightly in his seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

“Uh-” Virgil went red at the noise, busying himself with cutting another piece of meat. “What-What tactics do you employ, then?” Logan looked up from his plate, smiling slightly.

“Cygnans pride ourselves on our practicality.  The budgeting reflects that,” Logan explained, taking a sip from his glass. “We have dedicated numbers for each individual aspect of the government, numbers that are reviewed daily by our famed scholars.” Virgil leaned in closer, his eyes wide. “And what of you? You said that your father always liked to be prepared.”  Virgil blinked a couple times before shrinking back into his seat.

“Well, my father, as you said, was a very strong man and he-he wanted that reflected in his kingdom, I suppose.”  Logan raised an eyebrow.

“You suppose?” Virgil fumbled to correct himself.

“No- not that I suppose, I know that is what he wanted.  He taught me that himself,” Virgil rushed out.  “He always said to me that being overcautious meant two things. One,” Virgil lifted up his index finger; Logan marveled at how small the child’s hands were, “you are prepared for what comes, or option number two,” Virgil lifted up a second finger, “you are pleasantly surprised.”  Taken slightly by surprise, Logan huffed out a small laugh.  Virgil beamed, his smile almost glowing.

It was times like these that Logan had to fight himself to see a burgeoning king, instead of an unsteady young boy.  Logan was lucky he had his mother when his parent died when he was but being the tender age of twelve years old was not a fact that prepared himself for the death of someone so influential.  If not for the queen, he would have been forced to take on the harrowing task of being responsible for millions of people’s lives, something that haunts him in his dreams even at his older age.

“You are quite the comedic guest,” Logan said amusingly. “It’s difficult to catch me by surprise.” Virgil went shy, ducking his head.

“I must give credit to my father then, may his soul rest among the stars,” Virgil blushed. “It was he who said it.”  Logan tutted good-naturedly.

“But it was not your father who made me laugh, was it?”  A glimmer danced in Virgil’s eyes and a fierce protectiveness came over Logan.

“No, I suppose it was not.”

-

They moved to Logan’s official office, not the throne room nor the desk in his room where Logan kept most of his paperwork.  He hated the ornate decoration of the space, the gold-plated wood, and curtains of the that never ran out of dust no matter how often you beat them.  He hated the paintings of the wall, memories of his mother and his parent and his sister.  They were all gone, were they not? What was the point on dwelling on it?

Roman called it unhealthy.  Remus called it remembering the dead how they deserved to be remembered.  Logan called it practicality.

Virgil and his guard followed him inside.  Reluctantly, Logan motioned for his head of security to follow him into the room. Before he shut the door, he motioned for Remigius to come close. “You do not touch a hair on that boy’s head,” Logan threatened, his voice calm and soft despite his words.  “I will not be the one who starts this war.”  Remy gave him an odd look.

“And if he attacks?” Logan sighed, eyeing Janus who had his hand on his charge’s shoulder.  They seemed to be speaking words, but Logan could hear nothing from where he is. 

“If the boy attacks, you go for his guard.” Logan stared Remigius right in the eye. “I meant what I said.” Logan bowed his head, bracing his hands against his waist. “Send word to Dice that this meeting is not to be interrupted under penalty of treason. No one but you, me, and King Virgil and his guard will know what transpires here tonight.” Remy nodded, saluting, before whistling over another soldier to relay the message.  Logan straightened his shoulders, holding his hands behind his back, and turned to face Virgil and Janus.

“Feel free to sit down, we might be here a while.”

-

The room was silent.  You could drop a pin and the sound would ring out through the hall.

“I’m not sure I quite understand,” Logan said quietly, his left hand flat against the desk.  Virgil shifted nervously in his seat, no longer hiding his glances to his guard on his right. 

“I wasn’t at that meeting with the diplomats,” Virgil repeated, before shutting his eyes tightly. “Didn’t- wouldn’t your contacts that were at the meeting have told you this?” Logan looked down at the papers scattered artfully across his public desk.  His memory flashed to the stack of letters hidden beneath a false bottom drawer in his room and the distant feeling of being wrapped around his lover.

“No, they had not,” Logan muttered under his breath.  He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes briefly. “This changes many things, Virgil, I hope you understand.” He jumped at the sound of a thump against the ground, looking up to find Remy in an attack position and the Xiousian guard with a deadly stare.

“That is Your Majesty to you, King Logan,” the guard gritted out.  Virgil averted his eyes from the scene, staring at the carpeted designs on the wall.  Logan blinked a few times before clearing his throat.

“But of course,” he amended. “Please accept my apologies, Your Majesty.”  Virgil nodded sheepishly and the guard nodded approvingly.  Logan motioned towards Remy. “Remigius, stand down.  It was a simple correction on my manners, one that is sorely needed.” Remy reluctantly stood down, casting a wary glance towards the guard. Virgil sighed, burying his head into his hands.

Logan looked at the clock on his desk.  It was getting late.

“How,” Virgil asked, his voice bordering on a whine, “does this change things, your so-called allies refused to give my people aid after we practically kissed their boots asking so.”  Logan shook his head, exhaling.

“No, Your Majesty, that is not what I have been told and that’s what becomes the problem.” Virgil peeked through his hands and Logan’s harsh expression softened and his shoulders dropped. “Your Majesty, I have been told by the Head General and Prince of Ticevas himself that your diplomats promised war if they did not lower the rent and heighten the amount of food Xious could take from the crops.  There was no talk of famine or aid and King Romulus does not take kindly to threats, whether they be true or false.”  Virgil sighed, sinking forward so that his elbows were against his knees.

“What would you have me do then?” Virgil asked. “Call my own advisors and agents liars?  Do you know what that kind of position that would put me in? And let’s not forget the fact that those same advisors were put there by my father and removing them would be an affront to his legacy.”  Logan gritted his teeth and clenched his hand into a fist.

“And what am I to do?” Logan asked, holding a tone of incredulity. “Write to my allies in the South and tell them that it was all a misunderstanding?” Virgil sighed deeply. “Your Majesty, I do not want war.  My people are thriving and bloodshed would stunt that, I know it goes the same way for you.” Virgil shook his head and straightened up in his seat, his face gaunt in the flickering candlelight that brightened the room.

“I would do anything to prove Xious is a force to be reckoned with,” Virgil muttered, rising to his feet. “You would do well to remember that, King Logan, or I will be forced to show it to you.” Logan glared, bracing his hands against the desk as if he were about to stand.

“Does what I just said mean nothing to you?” Logan seethed, leaning closer to Virgil. “If your people are truly facing a famine—”

“-are you doubting the word of a king-”

“-then they cannot handle an invasion!” Logan slammed his palm against the desk.  Virgil’s eyes were wide and angry and Logan’s chest heaved.

“You know nothing about my people,” Virgil seethed.  “Janus, we are to leave immediately.  His Majesty has shown us that we are not respected here.”  Virgil stood up from his chair, but Logan held out a hand, bowing his head towards the wood of his desk.

“Wait.  Please,” Logan breathed. “I don’t want this to escalate.  I lost myself.” Virgil glanced at him with disdain but did not make to move towards the door. “I take your word as truth, Your Majesty, just as I take the Ticevan princes’ words as truth.”

“Then what do you propose, King Logan?” Virgil sneered. “You cannot believe a truth and a lie at the same time.” Logan nodded, setting his hand down.

“Please take my words with a grain of salt, King Virgil,” Logan said softly, looking the young king in the eye. “Have you ever considered that, maybe, your diplomats and advisors are looking for war?” Virgil’s nostrils flared. “No, please, listen.  I am also forced to re-examine my alliance with Ticevas here, this is not just you who is put into a compromising position.”

“Your Majesty, please listen to what you’re saying,” Virgil said after a beat of silence. “You’re accusing my trusted advisors and diplomats of treason.  Of lying to the crown.  That comes at the penalty of death in my country.” Logan nodded understandingly, breathing in deeply.

“Please, stay a few more days,” Logan offered. “Think about this.  Talk with your people and I will talk with mine.  The Crown-Prince is due to arrive as soon as tomorrow and perhaps, we can clear things then.” Virgil glanced at his guard – Janus, he’d called the man – who merely stared back.  Whatever passed between them solidified Virgil’s decision and he turned back towards Logan.

“So be it.”

-

Roman and Remus arrived two days later and Logan felt like he was about to collapse.  Virgil and him had been going back and forth for days, letters arriving by the sack-full, no doubt several angry diplomats coming after Virgil for even thinking that they could potentially be treasonous to the crown. 

Logan himself was dreading such letters coming in from his own advisors, whenever he finally found a way to prune them out, but he pushed that aside.  He had to worry about one thing at a time.  His advisors could wait.

When the Royal Carriage for Ticevas finally arrived, it was like weights measuring a ton were lifted from Logan’s shoulders.  The worry and the anxiety soothed itself and it was like the answer to all his problems rested inside the gilded coach.

“Crown Prince Roman, General Remus.” Logan greeted cordially, a playful smile on his lips. “It is a pleasure to see you so soon after your previous visit.” Logan held out his hand and Remus stepped up, bowing and pressing a kiss to the ring on Logan’s finger. Roman merely smiled, bemused by his brother and best friend.

“King Logan, the pleasure is all mine,” Remus returned, nothing in his voice hiding the utter glee in his eyes. 

“My steward will take you to your quarters and then, perhaps, you could join me in my office to discuss a few things before dinner.”  Remus’ smile grew, nearly splitting his face in half. Logan’s eyes crinkled in pleasure.

“But of course, Your Majesty, your hospitality is most gracious.”  Roman accepted, not-so-subtly bumping his elbow into Remus’ stomach.  Remus scrunched his nose and moved to step on Roman’s foot with his heeled boot, but Roman skillfully avoided the maneuver, following Emile who was beckoning the twins to follow him.  Remus scoffed under his breath as he moved to follow his brother and Logan had to resist a smile.  As Remus passed by, the prince reached out his fingers, the action so subtle, no one but Logan saw it coming.  Logan reached his own hand out, under the guise of adjusting his lace cloak, to brush skin against skin.  He breathed in deeply and it was like the sun had just peeked through the clouds at the end of a horrid winter.

A few, long minutes later, Remus finally entered Logan’s room, shutting the door behind him. “So,” Remus said playfully, “what matters of business are we to discuss?”  Logan laughed and something in his chest loosened.  He unclasped the ceremonial lace around his shoulders, letting it flutter to the ground as he strode across the room and wrapped his arms around his lover’s shoulders.

“I’ve missed you, Remus,” Logan said reverently, digging his nose into Remus’ neck.  He felt Remus lean against him, wrapping his thick arms around Logan’s lithe frame.

“I’ve missed you too, quill,” Remus said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come alone to see you.  It’s been far too long since we’ve just existed, you and I.” Logan sighed, stepping back but not letting go of Remus.

“I know,” the king said apologetically, moving to brush Remus’ bangs from his eyes. “Maybe that will change one day, but I can live with this.  At least I get to have you in arms once again.”  Remus’ ears went red, but his smile merely grew and he jutted out his chin in pride.

“I’ll go down in history as the one to make the stern Logan of Cygnas crack,” Remus teased, digging his fingers into Logan’s sides, where he knew the king was ticklish.  Immediately, Logan tensed, giggling.  “Aha! I’ve discovered your weakness.”  Logan slapped at his lover’s hands childishly, giggling even when Remus pulled his hands away.

“You menace,” Logan said softly, grabbing Remus’s face between his two hands and pulling him in for a long overdue kiss. “You will be the death of me, I swear it.”  Remus smiled and leaned back in for another kiss.

Eventually, they made their way to Logan’s bed, kicking off extraneous pieces of ceremonial garb and their shoes, determined to be as comfortable as possible without making it difficult to leave the room in a rush.  “Why do we actually have to do things,” Remus whined, shoving his face into Logan’s chest.  Logan chuckled, the sound rumbling more through his diaphragm than an actual noise.  He ran his fingers through the soft hairs at the nape of Remus’ neck.

“We’re royalty, Remus,” Logan said humorously, with the tone of someone whose had this conversation with the other prince many times. “If we don’t do things, other things don’t work.” Remus groaned.

“The other things should be able to figure it out on their own,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna leave yet.”  Logan pursed his lips, a sorrowful expression taking over his face.

“I know,” he said wistfully, letting his head fall against the headboard. “I don’t want to leave either.” Remus gripped Logan’s waist tightly and Logan lifted his head slightly to look down at the prince. “Is something the matter?”  Remus looked up at Logan, a frenzy in his eyes.

“We should run away,” Remus whispered, careful of anyone sitting outside the bedroom doors. “You and me, we could run away and never come back and they’ll think we died a bloody death and all of our problems would be solved.” Logan smiled softly and brought up his hand to brush Remus’ white bangs from his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be a bloody death if there was no blood,” he critiqued good-naturedly.  “We’d have to find a decent substitute and leave quite a few red herrings for them to follow.  They wouldn’t just see us gone and give up.”  Remus stuck out his tongue, blowing a raspberry, and Logan just scrunched his nose.

“You’re no fun,” Remus grumbled, shoving his face into Logan’s stomach.  “Always making plans make sense and be rational.” Logan chuckled.

“You certainly thought I was fun when we dissected that deer together,” Logan said. “I was so sure my mother was going to barricade me in my room after she saw the mess we made in the dining room.” Remus scoffed and Logan huffed lightheartedly.

“Your mom just didn’t like that we ruined the wood of the table with all the blood.”

“To be fair, that table had been in the castle for over two centuries.”

“Then it was obviously due for a remodeling.  We did her a favor.”  Logan let out an uncharacteristic snort  and he could feel Remus’ smile pressed against his torso.

“Maybe so,” he said, carding his fingers through his lover’s hair. “I wonder what she would think of me now.”

“You are doing a much better job than she ever did.  Not to mention how much better you’re doing than your parent.” Logan sighed, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes, I would hope the bar would be higher than my parent, but I suppose as the next monarch, that is exactly where the kingdom’s standards are at.”

They fell quiet, the only sounds filling the room were that of the steady rise and fall of their breathing.  The sun gradually set in the sky as they spent hours wrapped up in each other, too afraid to let go as if they would be dragged apart as soon as they did.  It had been too long, Logan thought, his head bowed of Remus’ as the prince dozed against him.  He didn’t know if he could do this again.

Eventually, Logan moved Remus’ head to the pillow beside him, waking up the prince from his gentle nap. “Where do you think you’re going,” Remus grumbled, shooting out his arm to trap Logan’s hips against the bed.  Logan smiled softly, but removed the arm from his body, tucking it gently against the prince. 

“Your brother and I need to talk about what’s been going with Xious and King Virgil,” Logan said, swinging his legs slowly over the edge of his bed. “It’s gotten infinitely more complicated than I would have hoped.”

“What’s the way to fix it?” Remus asked, stretching out like a spider across the bed.  Logan pushed himself up off the bed, holding his nightstand as a support.

“At this point, I’m not sure,” Logan admitted, shuffling to his dresser. “I need Xious to agree to not fighting if everything doesn’t go their way and I need Ticevas to agree to providing aid.  They’re in the midst of a famine and Roman has a short temper so high stakes plus-”

“High stakes plus my dumbass twin does not equal peace,” Remus finished for him and Logan snorted. 

“Exactly.”

“What do you plan to do about it?” Remus said.  The king draped his ceremonial cloak around his shoulders and paused.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Logan said hesitantly. “I’m hoping that-” he cut himself off, before glancing at Remus. “I’m hoping Virgil will be a little bit like me.” Remus’ eyes widened and he rolled onto his side facing Logan.

“I’ve got to say, beating heart, that’s quite a tall order.” Logan looked away, avoiding Remus’ cutting gaze.

“Well, it’s my only hope that the boy has a minute amount of common sense in his bones.” He chuckled. “It’s either hope for that or pretend that Roman has all the common sense and I somehow doubt that.”  Remus gave full-body smile and Logan smiled as he stared down at the floor. “I don’t want to leave, Remus,” he said quietly. 

“Come here,” Remus said, his voice holding a sensual lilt.  Logan turned his head back up. His lover had a hand stretched out and a wicked smile spread across his face.

“Remus,” Logan said warningly. Remus scoffed.

“Oh please, we won’t get messy unless you really want to,” Remus teased. “I just- you need a distraction and I can give you that.” Logan swallowed nervously, trailing his eyes up and down Remus’ body.

“Can you?” Logan said at last.  Remus closed his fist in a “come hither” gesture and Logan couldn’t stop himself from indulging, at least one last time.

-

Logan woke up that morning with the feeling of someone slamming a hammer into the inside of his temple repeatedly. 

Now, there are several things to unpack in this statement.  For starters, there is no such thing as a hammer being present inside his skull.  It is impossible and Logan wasn’t sure if a hammer so small with such power could even exist. 

And although Logan continuously prided himself on not believing in the superstitious, his mother’s upbringing had instilled certain fears in him and his inability to even handle the sound of his skin against his bedsheets did not sit well with him.

Pain in his head such as this was usually only cured by drinking ridiculous amounts of water and resting for hours on end.  Logan grabbed the glass of water sitting on his bedside table, drinking it as if his life depended on it, and then slammed it back onto the wood surface as he threw his legs over the side of his bed.

As soon as the cold air hit his knees, he recoiled and tightened his fist in the blankets.  Although Cygnas was in its spring prime, thunderstorms still found their way into the season, as if to plague the king himself. 

Today would not be a good day.

Dressing was a struggle.  He pretended not to see Emile wince as he battled his way into the immense amounts of garb considered necessary at diplomatic conventions.  Navigating his room brought tears to his eyes and frequently, he found himself gripping onto the nearest surface and taking heaving breaths as he waited for the pain in his legs to subside enough for him to keep going.  He knew he was in for it when Emile presented his crutches and he didn’t even think twice before slipping his arms in and resting his entire weight against the mobility aid. 

Logan must have looked as haggard as he felt because every worker of the castle who crossed his path as he dragged himself to the throne room immediately scuttled away, for fear that his temper might cut short with them.

He couldn’t blame them.

Sinking into the plush chair that awaited him in the giant dining room he insisted on eating in each morning was a relief.  The ache in his knees lessened as he stretched his legs out, but every so often, a twitch or a jolt of his body would cause the throbbing to pound in time to the hammer in his head.

Emile set the platter of food in front of him and did not even hesitate before patting the king on the shoulder. “I’ve requested that Remus join you this morning and I’ve given the others orders not to disturb you until you call for me.” Logan looked up at his steward with alarm, but Emile just smiled. “I’m a sucker for romance, Your Majesty, and I’ve known for far too long to not notice the signs.” 

“I didn’t realize we were so conspicuous,” Logan murmured, leaning against the back of the chair. Emile just shrugged.

“You remind me of my husband and me is all.” Emile pat him again, this time on the head, and let a small chuckle loose when the king blinked rapidly in surprise. “Have a good meal, Logan.” 

Emile left the room, skipping slightly, and opened the large doors to run face-to-face with Remus, who smiled so widely at the sight of the steward that even Emile seemed a bit taken aback.  Logan hid his smile behind his hand as Remus lunged forward to wrap his arms around Emile’s waist and pick him up, squeezing the shocked steward. 

When Remus set him back down, Emile wobbled slightly, though the laughing Logan heard from across the large dining hall soothed his worries that Remus hadn’t been gentle enough with his steward.  Emile patted Remus on the cheek gently and the prince beamed as Emile slipped past and shut the door behind him.

Remus’ smile seemed to spread even more at the sight of Logan, however tired and disheveled he looked to the rest of the world.  Whereas Emile’s skip outside of the room was small and barely noticeable, the Ticevan seemed to leap into the air as he wiggled his way to Logan’s side. “Hello, my dear,” Logan greeted softly, careful not to jostle his legs as he reached a hand to grasp at Remus.

“Hey, Logie,” Remus said just as quietly, gripping Logan’s hand to his chest and he sunk to one knee so that he could rest his forehead against Logan. “Emmy told me that you weren’t feeling so spic-and-span.” Logan huffed through his nose in amusement.

“Since when are you on such good terms with my steward?” he asked rhetorically and Remus didn’t so much as laugh as jostle his shoulders. “Are you two conspiring against me?”

“And what if we were?” Remus asked. “Maybe it’s my job to seduce you and then Emile’s gonna, I don’t know, take over the kingdom.”  Logan chuckled out-loud.

“I’m not sure how seduced I can be in this state, but I have no doubt the kingdom would do well in Emile’s hands.” Remus pouted.

“No, Logie,” he whined, “you’re supposed to be a tyrant, not a reasonable human being.” Logan smiled and shrugged his shoulders lightly.

“My apologies,” he whispered as Remus closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together.  Logan breathed in deeply through his nose and shuffled closer, reaching his other hand to grip at Remus’ neck.  They broke apart and Logan sighed happily, shoving his nose into the strip of bare skin at Remus’ neck.

“You really must be going through it if you’re this cuddly,” Remus mused, releasing Logan’s hand so he could card a free hand through soft hairs the base of the king’s scalp.

“All the evidence points towards today not being a good day.” Remus made a sympathetic noise.  Logan pulled back and Remus let him rest against the chair backing.

“Don’t you have that meeting with my brother and the little pip squeak?” Logan snorted.

“I don’t know if the volatile King of Xious would be amenable to being called a pip squeak, but yes, I do.  In approximately an hour and a half, I’ll be trying to stop the leaders of two kingdoms from killing each other.”

“Sounds funky fresh.”

“Where do you even come up with these sayings?”  Remus shrugged.

“I sneak around here and there.  Father is...quite preoccupied with preparations for the coronation so there’s little else he notices, especially regarding my whereabouts.”  Logan tried to make eye contact with Remus, but the prince ducked his head. “I’m truly fine with it, I think I just miss...I miss making an impact,” Remus paused before snorting, “good or bad.”

“Trust me,” Logan said, a bit more sentimentally than intended, “you always make an impact.” Remus gave Logan a smile on the teary side.

“You’re biased, Logan, isn’t that against your whole thing about logic and true verdicts?” Logan made an offended noise.

“It’s an objectively true fact,” Logan insisted. “Nearly everyone would agree with me.” Remus just gave a shrug, still seemingly disbelieving of the king’s statements, but he stopped refuting them, so Logan counted it as a win. 

Eventually, Remus moved to the chair beside Logan and they made their way through the food platter, obviously stocked with some Ticevan delights that few knew were the prince-general's favorites.  Laughing too hard made Logan’s legs ache with the movement and his head continuously throbbed, but the stack of rocks that had built up on his chest seemed to fall over at each joke or hidden barb at his brother that Remus made. The sun slowly rose up in the sky, highlighting the two lovers, whispering and giggling as if they were teenagers all over again.

“It’s been two hours,” Logan remarked at one point, recovering from a bout of laughter that nearly sent him to the floor. Remus shrugged, his trademark rebellious smile playing at his lips.

“And?” Logan gave him a deadpan look.

“I have responsibilities, Remus.” The prince waved a hand in dismissal.

“Responsibilities, shmesponsibilities,” he leaned in closely, shuffling his chair so that he could touch their noses together, “let’s burn this place to the ground.”  Logan smiled, his heart full in his chest.

“So long as my library stays intact, there’s no reason why this place doesn’t need a renovation,” Logan teased.” Remus bit his lip, trying not to laugh, and Logan saw him pump his fist in celebration underneath the table. “Of course, I’m joking, dear Remus, I quite like my home.” Remus ceased his excitement to feign disappointment.

“Oh, you’re no fun, Logie,” he moaned, throwing himself back into his chair.  Logan merely grinned and raised his cup to his mouth, sipping as Remus thrashed about.

The doors to the dining hall creaked open.  It was like a switch had been flipped.  While Remus maintained his strewn about position, he pulled his chair away and spun the food platter so that it was sitting directly in front of Logan.  The king swept a hand through his hair and gingerly lifted his legs from their spot against an ottoman set underneath the table so that he could sit with his back straight.  His hand was clenched around his glass and Logan felt like his heart was in his throat.  Remus, though he mastered looking casual in tricky situations, had a nervous air about him that Logan could feel from where he was sitting.

The guest stepped into the room without much fanfare and turned to make sure the door was shut behind them.  Their white tunic shone brightly in the morning light.  They turned around and the gleaming smile and red curly hair instantly relaxed the entire room.

“You bastard,” Remus groaned, sinking down into his seat. “You fucking bastard.”  Roman merely smiled innocently as he approached the table.  Even Logan slumped slightly, taking a few deep breaths as he lifted his aching limbs back onto the ottoman to stretch out.

“You caused an immense amount of anxiety, I do agree.” Logan said, trying to take another sip of his glass to calm down.

“Not my fault you guys haven’t gone public yet,” Roman teased as he took the seat next to Remus. Remus groaned theatrically and Logan shook his head.

“We’ve been over this, Roman, there are many reasons why Remus and I cannot be out of the metaphorical closet and-” Roman raised a hand.

“I know, Pocket Protector,” he said, “I was just teasing.” Logan rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to cross his arms in a petulant manner. “Are you ready for the meeting?”

It felt like an avalanche had just toppled over his body, the way Logan felt like he couldn’t breathe.  Chills filled with heat raced up and down his back and he let go of his glass to discreetly wipe his hands against his cloth napkin. “I- I suppose that I am, I have all the documents prepared in the primary office.”  Remus must’ve noticed how he was fidgeting with the napkin because his brow furrowed and he opened up his mouth.  Logan all but threw the napkin back to the table and made quick work of setting his legs back down on the ground, cutting off whatever Remus wanted to say to him.

“Wonderful!” Roman cheered, not noticing the exchange going on between the two lovers, or the immense glare Remus was now sending his way. “I can escort you to the meeting place?”

Logan waved him off. “You go on ahead, Roman, I will have to take my time this morning,” he said as he stood up and slipped his arms into the crutches leaned up against the table.  Now it was Roman’s turn to furrow his brow and grow concerned and Logan cursed the day he became friends with the two princes. “I will be fine.”

Remus huffed through his nose, muttering something under his breath that Logan knew to be calling him out as a liar, but he refused to acknowledge it, only bending slightly for Remus to kiss him on the cheek as Roman stood from his seat.

Roman trailed the way, throwing the heavy oak doors open and all but marched down the hallway to Logan’s office, where the meeting would take place.  Logan struggled to find his footing, the dull throbbing in his head and knees expanded tenfold as he tried to walk to the door.  He felt Remus’ gaze on him, but he refused to turn back, afraid that he would just melt to the ground if he made eye contact.  He walked past the threshold of the dining hall and the guards swung the door shut behind him.

-

Walking to the meeting felt like it took another three hours, though logically, Logan knew it had only been twenty minutes.  Walking without his aids would’ve taken another forty at this rate and quite honestly, he was proud of the pace he was making.   

What was admittedly awful about said twenty minutes was the amount of time it gave him to think.

Logan enjoyed thinking; it was practically his job to think.  Cygnas remained the kingdom with the region’s largest library and it brought him never-ending joy to contribute to that collection.  Studying and researching was a favorite pastime and the only thing he enjoyed about hosting events and having guests was the knowledge they would bring him about their homes and countries.

But this felt like something entirely different than the thinking he had come to enjoy and take pleasure in.  This felt like a worry after worry compounding into itself, growing bigger and bigger until he felt like a small child in the middle of the eye of a storm.

His office door loomed in front of him and the pressure of thousands upon thousands of souls rested heavy on his shoulders.  Memories of his sister and parents swirled around him, ghosts long since dead risen again for the sole sake of reminding him what lay before him should he fail.  His vision swam and had he not been resting steady against his aids, he would have surely toppled over from the weight of his ancestors and their collective duty to protect his people placing itself on to him.

He motioned for the guard standing by the door to open it for him.  There was no ominous creak as it opened, but Logan’s mind filled in the blanks. 

Roman and Virgil sat across from each other in front of the fireplace, an antique tea set sitting between them.  As Logan stepped inside, they both rose to their feet to greet him. “Good morning, King Virgil, Crown Prince Roman.  I am glad to see you both here.”

Virgil bowed, a symbol of respect in Xious.  Logan felt an odd lump developing in his throat, but he swallowed it down.  Based on the growing look of offense on Roman’s face, Virgil had not given the crown prince the same honor.  Roman simply shook his hand and preformed a rune in the air, with a motion to push it towards Logan, a standard Ticevan greeting of monarchs in a formal setting such as this.

Logan nodded his head towards the seats and motioned for Emile, who he just noticed was standing in the corner of the room, to gather the papers at his desk and bring them to where they were sitting. “Let us begin, shall we?”

Virgil and Roman resumed their original positions, while Logan took up the seat that was not usually there at the head of the coffee table.  Emile poured him tea as Logan spread the documents across the table, handing each party a copy of the details they were there to discuss.

“Thank you for hosting this meeting and acting as a mediator, Your Majesty.  It is quite the honor,” Roman said, glaring daggers at Virgil over the tops of the papers he was skimming.  Virgil nodded in agreement, setting the papers to down to pick up his cup.

“I agree with Ticevas, and that is quite the thing to say, seeing as I don’t agree with Ticevas on much of anything at all.” Roman went red in the face and Logan saw the grip on the papers tighten as Virgil innocently sipped at his tea.

“It is my pleasure,” Logan said. “I simply want the best for my people and I have strong evidence to believe that this meeting will be fruitful for all parties involved.” Roman wrinkled his nose.  Logan almost kicked him in the shin.

“I, for one, want this to be resolved.  My advisors grow restless with me having been away for so long,” Virgil said.  Logan furrowed his brow at the mention of the advisors.  He was unsure of how much of the previous conversations between him and Virgil he wanted to bring up with Roman present, but he might ask if Virgil would be willing to discuss more in private.

That is, if everything went well today.

“If it is amenable to the both of you, I would like to begin with the meeting that took place two months ago, as of today.”  Virgil went tense and Roman scowled. “It is to my understanding that neither of you were there at that meeting.”

“That is correct,” Roman said. “However, my brother was there and I trust his word.”

“Your Highness, we are not here to discuss the alleged threatening on either side,” Logan cut in. “If I wanted to do that, I would have let your two kingdoms go to war already.” Virgil snickered, hiding his laughter behind another sip of tea when Roman glared at him.

“I am simply stating my matter on the opinion,” the prince harumphed, crossing his arms.

“I was hoping-”

“I don’t think hope will get you much of anywhere,” Virgil snarked, still holding the cup to his mouth. Logan sighed, his headache beginning to spread to the middle of his head.

“Please, let me speak.” Virgil shrugged, but Logan could see him chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“The Ticevan land has been rented out to the kingdom of Xious for centuries.  The rates of rent have always remained the same.  Why are you asking for the rates to be changed, King Virgil?”

“My kingdom is in famine,” the boy said primly, jutting out his chin.  “We need food and Ticevas has plenty to share.”

“Ticevas has been plenty generous with the land we’ve offered to you, we have no obligation to give more.��

“Xious offered for you to have the largest military this side of Capemin at your disposal in exchange for lowering the rates for five years, you cannot look me in the eye and say that we did not give you reason to accept our proposal.” Roman looked taken aback.  Logan averted his eyes to the papers on the desk.

“I know Xiousians are a lot of things, but I didn’t know they were liars,” Roman said, almost conversationally.  Virgil startled, looking slightly like an agitated feline.

“Your Highness,” Logan said warningly. Roman waved him off.

“No, no, this is bullshit-”

“Roman-”

“There was never such an offer and I am offended at the mere idea that we would even accept such a savage exchange.” Virgil’s eyes seemed to flash red.

“Savage? If I remember correctly, that land was ours in the first place, but you pushed my people out and forced them to run into the mountains where they barely survived-”

“-I resent this accusation-”

“I didn’t mean for you to enjoy being called a murderer, Crown-Prince Roman, that would be pretty savage if you did.”

“Logan, throw him out.” Roman turned suddenly to the older king.  Logan looked at him over the top of his glasses, flitting back to Virgil who now had his arms crossed and looked five seconds away from storming out.

“No,” Logan said calmly. He saw Virgil blink in surprise. “I invited you both here for a civil conversation and so far, you are being anything but civil-”

“He started it-”

“-and you’re not even letting me finish my sentences.” Roman’s nostrils flared and his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Is Cygnas not a Ticevan ally?” Logan looked nervously at Virgil, but the younger king avoided his gaze.

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing, Logan, you should be supporting me and tossing this riffraff out with the rest of his kind.”

“Your Highness, I will do no such thing.” Roman paused in his motions, unnervingly still.

“Fine.” Roman stood up.  Virgil shrunk back and Logan became viscerally aware that this was not a private conversation between him and a friend about his temperament, but rather a political discussion over whether or not war would break out between their three countries. He had forgotten himself and now everything hung in the balance. “Ticevas officially removes herself from this meeting.”

“Roman, sit down,” Logan demanded, his voice calm even if his hands began to shake. “You don’t want this to go where you’re thinking.”

“Just because you have a soft spot for the boy doesn’t mean I do, Logan,” Roman seethed.  “I don’t have to listen to you and I never have.  I should have ignored you from day one, Logan.  Valerie is dead. Deal with it.”  Roman stalked out of the office, his sleek boots hitting the stone ground sounding like the din of a thousand soldiers marching on the city gates as the noise echoed around the room.

“Valerie?” a questioning voice came.  Logan’s tunnel vision receeded slightly to accompany Virgil in his periphery. “That is my mother.  You were friends- is that why I am here? Because you pity me?”

“No,” Logan ducked his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You- you don’t respect my country or my people, do you?” Logan’s shoulders scrunched forwards, the sheer anger in the child’s voice making even him panicky. It was all falling apart, all the diligent planning, all because he couldn’t handle the pressure of his sacred duty as king.

“If you would let me explain-”

“No! No, I don’t think I will, because you lied to me!” Virgil shouted, his chest heaving.  Logan felt his anxiety crawl into his throat, squeezing his vocal folds shut.

“I never lied to you,” the older king croaked. “And none of this is about you being Valerie’s child, I assure you.” Virgil narrowed his eyes at him, any hint of the camaraderie they had developed over the past few days gone.

“You can’t prove that.” Logan swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

“When you showed up, my steward told me that I had the right not to speak with you, but you know, I know-” Logan cut himself off, trying to stave off panicked tears. “It was either speak to you or let my country burn to the ground, I had heard what Ticevas was warning me over and it wasn’t about manipulation, it was about protecting my people.” Virgil stared at him.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then how do I make you believe me?” Logan exclaimed. “How do I prove what is intangible? That just because Valerie is my sister does not mean that I wanted to control you and your kingdom?” Virgil paused.

“My mother was your sister?” he asked, the quiet room coming to a standstill.  Logan’s face crumpled.

“Virgil-”

“My mother was your sister?” Virgil shouted, cutting Logan off. The older king sighed, his hands clenching around his knees.

“Yes, but-”

“If I die, you have a claim to the throne! You could take over!” Virgil said incredulously.  Logan’s heartrate went through the roof. “Is there poison in my cup? An assassin laying just outside the room? Were the Ticevan disagreements just a ruse to get me here and kill me in my sleep?!” Logan shook his head.

“No, of course not, that would only harm my people, I want peace, Virgil-”

“No, I will not hear it, Xious will not hear it.”  Virgil stalked over to the door, throwing it open.  He looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Logan. The burning hatred in his eyes made the older king feel faint. “This is war, Cygnas.  You will have my kingdom over my dead body and I don’t intend on living this realm anytime soon.”

The door slamming shut behind Logan’s nephew sounded like an arrow from a firing squad hitting its mark, right in the center of his chest.

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lie To Me - 11

AO3 :: Previously

Jamie thinks his uncles might have kept closer tabs on him if he hadn’t acted so compliant in the last few years. Agreeing to marry Laoghaire, staying on at Leoch, keeping his head down. All the while, they’d let the cuckoo in the nest and he hopes he is preparing the massive downfall of the MacKenzie empire—with Claire’s help.

This is how he is able to create a fictitious acquisition meeting in London, regarding an up and coming author. The author is real, but the meeting is not. He has Louise, his executive assistant, register his schedule into the system, and book his lodgings for two days.

Claire books a room at the same hotel.

Laoghaire bids him farewell at their shared flat, glad to see him go; he knows she’ll spend these days with Joseph. He is happy for her. Now, Jamie boards the train taking him and Claire to London, sitting side by side, surreptitiously holding hands. He had tucked copies of the most basic documents pertaining to the investigation into Leoch’s business into his duffel bag.

“What do you mean, you’ve never toured London properly?” Claire leans back from her position tucked into Jamie’s shoulder to look at him in surprise.

“Aye, well, Mam and Da took Jenny and me when we were weans. We went to the Tower, the British Museum, the V&A and such, but I dinna really remember it.”

“Very culturally inclined, your parents.”

“My mam studied art history at uni. She was very much into art and history and culture and wanted her children to appreciate it too.” Jamie smiles. “Now, what made ye decide to be a doctor?”

Her answer is immediate. “Helping out at dig sites with my Uncle Lamb. I was always one of the few women there and I suppose caring for the people came naturally to me.”

“I admire ye, Sassenach. ‘Tis a noble calling.” Jamie lifts Claire’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to her fingers.

“It’s a hard one too. I’m afraid it takes up a lot of my time, days and nights, conferences, emergencies…” She wants Jamie to be aware that, no matter how much she cares for him, her calling to heal often consumes her. It’s something that Frank never understood.

“I dinna mind. I’ll take ye any way I can, Claire.”

X-x-X

They check into the Park Grand separately; their rooms are on different floors. Jamie lingers for a few minutes in the lobby while Claire goes up with her small suitcase. He wishes things were different—Jamie, unattached, a regular lad with a normal job, visiting London with his girlfriend, spending their nights in the same room.

Claire, for her part, closes the door to her own room, resting her palm against the wood, and wishes Jamie had followed her there. Their acquaintance and budding relationship are fraught with so many obstacles and complications, but she is determined to make something of it, to emerge victorious, to help the man she has come to love.

Frank has agreed to meet Claire at the bar in the Royal Lancaster Hotel. Jamie meets her in the lobby and together ride the metro as unobtrusively as possible to the designated location. Claire is nervous; it’s the first time in nearly a year that she’s seeing Frank, but the fluttering is tempered by Jamie at her side.

Claire recognizes Frank by the sharp cut of his hair; he’s sitting at a table in the middle of the bar, his back to them. With a deep, shaky breath, and a squeeze of Jamie’s hand in hers, she approaches and briefly startles her ex-husband with a quiet, “Hello, Frank.”

Jamie notes the way Randall’s neck stiffens and turns slowly to greet Claire. He does a double take when he sees Jamie beside her, holding her hand. He keeps an impassive face while Frank gives Claire a brief peck on the cheek and then gestures to Jamie.

“And who is this? I had the notion we would be meeting alone.” He has a good poker face, but Jamie’s is better.

“James Fraser.” He extends his hand and Randall grasps it out of courtesy, evidently trying to intimidate with the strength of his grip. Jamie matches it and is gratified to see him wince.

“Actually, Frank, he is the reason I’m here.” Claire sits at the table and plasters a smile when the server comes to take their drink order. “Two whiskies, please. Neat.” Left alone once more, Claire lowers her voice and says, “I hadn’t mentioned him before because I thought you might not want to see me.”

“I just didn’t think you would be that… quick,” Frank says, raising both eyebrows.

Claire’s cheeks color slightly, and Jamie suppresses the urge to punch Frank in the face. But his Sassenach is more than equal to the task. “You were quicker, I think, since we were still married.”

Frank offers a tight-lipped smile. “Touché.”

“Mr. Randall, the reason we’re here is that we need yer help with a delicate matter. It’s something that will benefit us both.”

“What is it you think you can do for me?”

“I work for Leoch Holdings.” Jamie senses Frank’s curiosity peak at the name. “My uncles own the business, and I have been made aware of many dealings that are less than… legal.”

“If it’s your uncles’ own company, why are you working against them?” Frank sips casually from a glass of white wine, but it is evident he’s interested.

“They are blackmailing me with false murder charges.” Jamie doesn’t blink even as Frank flinches and he sees Claire clutch her whisky glass tighter at the words. “There is corruption, crime, extorsion, ye name it. My godfather is working within the Glasgow police force to help me, and is in touch with Chief John Grey at the SCD.”

“If you have their assistance, why come to me?” Frank glances between Claire and Jamie, prompting her to reach for Jamie’s hand again and lay them on the table; their connection is evident, as is their support of each other.

“There are a great many people implicated, and there are precious few we can trust wi’ this information. Ye have access to certain resources we do not.”

“Do you have any documentation to go on? Something solid?”

Jamie pulls out papers from his coat inside pocket. “I brought these to get you started. I shouldna have to mention that it’s sensitive information, and the less eyes that see it, the better.”

Randall peruses the documents, rifling through the pages; his eyes widen as he reads the names Jamie has seen time and time again, almost unable to believe the scope of Leoch’s shady operations.

“This is quite an undertaking. Some of these people… the scandal would rock the nation.” Frank’s tone is noncommittal, and Jamie feels his stomach sinking.

“So ye dinna think it’s possible then,” he says dejectedly.

“I didn’t say that.” Frank is quiet for a few minutes, going over the papers once more. “From what I can gather, a key element is finding out where the money is going, all these names and payments… If we can find the accounts, we’d be in business.”

Claire tosses back her whisky. “It’s massive, Frank,” she says quietly, leaning in and he imitates her unconsciously. “There’s politicians, judges, police officers, money, extorsion… if you were to help Jamie—help us—and put an end to this, it will no doubt aid in your efforts to solidify yourself as a model MP. Maybe even PM someday.” She knows the prospect is like dangling a carrot in front of a horse. She recognizes the old gleam of a challenge in Frank’s eyes, and a small swell of relief takes hold inside her. If anyone can help them, it’s this man; despite the crumbled marriage between them, she can trust him with this. Frank seems to read her mind, and asks:

“Why trust me with this, Claire? After what I did to you?”

“Not only is your name not in the documents—and I didn’t think it would be—but I know exactly how important your political career is to you. Much more important than I ever was.” Claire’s voice is steadfast and Frank does not dispute her statement. “So, you’ll do it?”

“I will.” Frank tucks the papers into his own coat pocket, drinking the dregs of wine. “I believe I owe it to you.”

“You bloody well do, Francis Randall.” Claire and Jamie both feel that spark of hope ignite within, a way out of the dark tunnel Jamie has been in for years and that Claire has also chosen to walk.

As they prepare to leave, Frank remains sitting; Claire can feel his scrutiny, appraising them, judging, drawing his own conclusions about what Jamie means to her.

“Is it worth it?” Frank asks suddenly, his parting shot. Claire feels Jamie stiffen next to her and she is tempted to let him thump Frank, but doesn’t want to undermine their efforts quite yet. Claire holds Frank’s gaze and responds simply.

“He is.”

[jobean12-blog]

Reader, nat and Wanda dishing about their sex lives trying to top each other’s experiences (reader obvi wins cuz beefy Bucky, no other reason needed) and Bucky hears her gushing about how great he is to her and he’s walking around a lil extra cocky and reader is so embarrassed he heard. Maybe he does the same thing but with the guys after.

Girl Talk

Pairing: Bucky (beefy) x reader

Word Count: 1,572

Summary: After a really fun night with the girls, dishing about the boys, you go home to Bucky...who may or may not have heard you gals. 

Author’s Note: This was fun to write, especially the girls gossiping about the boys and I took it in a little different direction at the end because I couldn’t help it and it worked for another request I got. I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading :)

Warnings: fluff, girls night fun, SMUT, light choking, metal arm kink, oral, vaginal sex...the whole nine yards. Bucky (he should always come with a warning) (18+ eyes only please ;)

Friday night was almost here. You were very excited that you would be getting some much-needed girl time. Nat and Wanda had set up an evening filled with snacks, drinks and romcoms, the perfect girl’s night.

You mentioned it to Bucky early in the week, “I’m spending Friday night with the girls, we are going to get drunk and watch movies and eat.” “That sounds like fun, doll, are you going to come home to me drunk like last time?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. You merely smile in his direction, giving him a wink and sauntering off.

Friday finally arrives and you can barely contain your excitement, the texts flying back and forth between you and the girls in preparation. Wanda has made all sorts of sweet and salty snacks and Nat got everything you could possibly need to make drinks. You’re in charge of the movie list and it was easy enough with all the online streaming devices.

You decide to have your girl’s night in Nat’s room since Clint is away on a mission and you won’t be interrupted. “First things first, ladies, drinks!” Nat squeals, preparing something potent yet delicious. It goes down easy, too easy. “This is really great, Nat, what’s in it?” you ask as you eye her over your glass.

“All the good stuff, don’t ask questions, just enjoy.” You giggle, downing half the glass easily. You decide to start off by watching ‘Clueless,’ a classic that you have all seen but love so much. Just when they get to the part where Dionne, Cher and Tai are talking about ‘sizes,’ Nat grabs the remote and pauses it in between her laughter.

“Ok, y/n, time to dish. How big is it?” You stare at Nat and Wanda, eyes wide and mouth hung open in shock. “Are you asking me how big Bucky is?” “YES!” they both screech in unison. “I, uh, well…” you stutter, red faced as you try to think of what to say. “Well??” Wanda whispers, “he is a super solider, is everything about him…super?”

You burst into a fit of laughter, holding your stomach as you try to catch your breath, “I can’t believe you two! You’re ridiculous! But if you really need to know…it’s definitely super…in every way.” You let out a sigh at the thought of him and now it’s the girls turn to burst into high pitched laughter. “I KNEW IT!” yells Nat, smacking you in the face with a pillow.

You grab the pillow, holding it over your face before asking, “ok, now it’s your turn, what about Clint and Vis? Spill!” You three continue to share notes between fits of cackles, completely unaware that both Bucky and Vision have been listening on the other side of the door.

“Phasing through the wall would be easier,” Vision states plainly, finding this behavior strange. “No, no, Vis, you can’t let them see you or else it ruins all the fun!” Bucky whispers harshly. “I can remain unseen,” Vision says, a small smile on his lips. “Just be quiet and listen, they are getting to the good part!”

Bucky and Vision heard the whole conversation, the two of them grinning like idiots as they head back down the hallway after you start the movie back up. “I really can’t wait until y/n comes home, I have to tease her about this,” Bucky says, standing a little taller with a haughty smile. “Wanda will know what we did,” Vision states, but Bucky can tell he is happy after hearing her confession.

The rest of your night goes by in a flash, watching one more movie in between drinks and lots of snacking. It’s after 1am by the time you all decide to call it a night, cleaning up quickly and saying your goodbyes. “This was so fun and just what I needed ladies, thank you so much,” you mumble into their hair during your group hug. “Me too,” they both say, squeezing you tighter.

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” Nat says to you and Wanda, giving you her best ‘I know what you’re both going to do tonight’ look. “Thanks Nat,” you say with a giggle. “Don’t you wish Clint was going to be home?” you ask, smirking. “Actually, he text me about half hour ago. He’ll be home by 2!” she says excitedly, grabbing her bag and running out the door. You wave goodbye to Wanda and head down the hall to your room, hoping Bucky is still awake.

There is no light shining from beneath the door, so you open it quietly, tiptoeing in and closing it soundlessly. You go into the small kitchen and grab a large glass of water, heading toward your bedroom to see if Bucky is asleep. You peek in and notice the bed is empty but there is a small piece of paper on Bucky’s pillow. You grab it and read, “Sweetheart, I had to go down to the conference room to debrief with Steve and Clint, they just got back from the mission. I should be back in about thirty minutes, hope you’re still awake…Love you.”

Laying your head on the pillow you take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of Bucky and sighing in happiness. You decide to take a bath before getting in bed. Shedding your clothes, you head to the bathroom, running the water and adding some of your favorite bath bubbles.

The water is so warm and you’re so relaxed that you barely register Bucky returning and entering the bathroom. “There you are beautiful.” You nearly empty the tub when you jump, “holy shit, Buck, way to ruin my relaxing bath,” you half joke, half scold.

He just smiles, his eyes wandering over your naked body that is now more visible below the water, “want some company?” You turn the hot water back on, adding some more bubbles, “definitely.” He takes off his clothes as you watch, the heat of the water suddenly insignificant compared to how hot he makes you feel.

His cock is already half hard as he gets in the tub behind you, pulling you flush against his solid chest. He rubs your shoulders, working his hands down to your breasts as he massages the soft tissue. Your head falls back to his shoulder as he dips his metal hand between your legs.

“So wet for me already, baby, were you thinking about me all night?” he whispers against your ear as he runs a metal finger through your folds. You manage a small ‘mmmhmmm” lost in the pleasure of his hand as he inserts two fingers inside you.

His lips trail over your neck leaving soft and wet kisses wherever he can reach. His flesh hand continues kneading your breast, occasionally rolling the nipple between his fingers, “fuck, baby, I’m so close.” He brings his other hand down, gently rubbing it over your clit as he adds a third finger, his cock now hard and resting against your lower back.

You cum in a rush of curses, body writhing in the water as he draws out your orgasm. “Do you want my cock now baby, I know how much you love it.” Your eyes fly open at the cockiness in his voice, turning your body around to straddle his lap, “is that so, babe?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

He doesn’t answer you, grabbing your hips and rocking you back and forth along his length. You can’t help the moan that falls past your lips, “Bucky,” you warn, leaning down to kiss him. You can feel the smirk on his lips as he pulls you closer, lining himself up before slowly brining you down on his cock.

The water in the tub sloshes over the sides as your ride him, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter with every thrust. Bucky nips at your neck, his metal hand reaching up to lightly wrap around the delicate column. Your hands fly to his wrist, a silent request for him to squeeze harder.

He does as you ask, the added pressure causing your walls to clench around him as you soak his cock, “that’s it baby, cum for me” he praises. He follows you only moments later, his loud grunts echoing through the bathroom.

You lean against his chest, steadying your breathing as the water calms. “Wrap your legs around me,” he says, lifting you up and getting out of the tub. He pulls out and sets you down on the plush rug, grabbing the fluffiest towel and wrapping it around you.

Bucky wraps himself in a towel before picking you up once again and carrying you to bed. He lays you down on your back, discarding his towel and crawling over you, “I think I need a snack, doll. I worked up quite the appetite.”

“There are some snacks left over from tonight, we have popcorn, some chocolate chip cookies…,” you continue thinking as Bucky slowly unwraps your towel, kissing down your stomach. “Oh, and there are the brownies that Wanda made, they are so…ohhhhh,” you cry out at the first swipe of his tongue.

He looks up from between your legs, “those all sound great baby, but I think I found something much more delicious,” he says before his tongue flicks over your clit. Your hands grab his hair, pulling his face closer as you rock your hips into him, thinking aloud, “super soldier indeed.”

 @book-dragon-13 @collinsstanharbour @cchellacat @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @itsunclebucky @jewels2876 @jhangelface0523 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @lollypop-lam @ikaris-whore @marvelgirl7 @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @sebastiansloserclub

[bosspigeon]

Adam versus that most evil of foes...the office printer?

two glass houses, twenty stones

Pairing: M!Detective/Adam du Mortain Word Count: 1711 Summary: Having recently learned that he is the target of a power-hungry vampire who wants to experiment on him because of his “special blood” (oh, yeah, and vampires are real, apparently), Detective Arlo Priestley deals with the aftermath. The aftermath, of course, including one Adam du Mortain and his sparkling personality.

So... I don’t even know what to say anymore. I get completely innocuous prompts and they become something COMPLETELY different than what i had in mind. so, uh, hope you enjoy an Arlo Character Study with a side of Printer Shenanigans! This takes place in Book 1, shortly after the detective finds out about, uh, everything. I had fun playing the unreliable narrator with Arlo! And I have a fun idea for a sequel that’s Adam’s POV! Title is from Type O Negative’s “I Don’t Wanna Be Me.”

“You can, uh, sit down if you’d like,” Arlo offers, picking at the chipped polish on his thumb.

Adam hardly glances at him, keeping his attention on the window that overlooks the rest of the police department. “I am fine standing,” he says shortly. It almost seems like he’s determined to not look directly at the detective at all.

Arlo winces a bit, blowing a loose strand of hair out of his face. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine too,” he mumbles, looking down at his pile of reports. He brushes the accumulated black paint chips he’s shed in his anxious fidgeting aside. He’ll have to paint his nails again soon, they’re looking rather ragged, almost to the point he can bite them again. He’s been trying to stop, he knows it’s sort of gross, but still…

He furrows his brow and starts thumbing through reports, absently flicking through his color-coded tabs that help keep him marginally organized even when his “system” doesn’t really work for anyone but him. He calls it improvisational. Verda calls it “slapdash.”

 He frowns, chewing on his lower lip and clicking his tongue when he notes his color system is out of order, and that one of the red tabs is missing. His eyes flicker up when he hears Adam shift slightly, but the vampire still isn’t looking at him, so he focuses back in, counting through reports again. He sighs and rolls his eyes, turning to his computer and pulling up his group chat with Tina and Verda.

big-depeche-mood: Tina, did you take my copy of Mrs. Holt’s police report?

big-depeche-mood:  And why did you change my display name again?

BubblegumB!tch: how do u know i did it? why do u always blame me? 😥

big-depeche-mood: Because Verda has no reason to care about Mrs. Holt claiming her ex kidnapped the dog when they separated.

big-depeche-mood: And if you mean the display name, you’re the only one with admin privilege, because you made this chat.

BubblegumB!tch: i am being unfairly targeted 😭😭😭

BubblegumB!tch: im taking this to HR

DoctorDILF: HR has found no evidence to support this claim.

DoctorDILF: Really, Tina?

big-depeche-mood: Just tell me if I need to print another copy, please.

BubblegumB!tch: 👉👈

Arlo rolls his eyes and minimizes the window so he can start the task of going through his backlog to find the digital copy of the original report. Once he’s found it and sent it to the printer, he pushes himself upright, groaning as his spine pops in several places

Adam finally, finally turns to look at him. “Where are you going?” he snaps.

Arlo flinches, clenching his jaw to bite back the nasty retort burning on his tongue like acid. “To the printer,” he grits out, jerking his hand towards the window. “Literally twenty feet away. So unless you plan to go get that report for me, let’s just hope the megalomaniacal vampire that wants to use me as a lab rat doesn’t decide to snatch me from a police station in broad daylight.”

Seems he didn’t bite it back hard enough after all.

Adam recoils, like he always seems to when he realizes he's stepped directly on Arlo's nerves. He feels a little guilty for snapping, but he’s had more than enough of being treated like an unruly toddler. He wants to snidely suggest Adam see about requisitioning a bloody leash for him, but he snatches up a pen and starts furiously clicking it until he can calm himself down instead. Adam’s lip twitches, and Arlo clicks faster.

Adam turns sharply on heel and stalks out the door, slamming it behind him so hard the window rattles. Arlo is just grateful it hasn’t broken.

He sinks back into his chair and rolls his eyes skyward, dragging his hands down his face and wondering what the hell he’s done to deserve this whole situation. It’s bad enough he knows there’s some mad scientist vampire wanting to experiment with his freakish blood, but being shut in the same room as Adam for multiple hours a day when the man won’t even look at him, much less talk to him, makes nerves squirm under his skin and sets his whole body on edge. Unfortunately for the both of them, when Arlo gets nervy, it gets much harder for him to temper what comes out of his mouth.

He melts into his chair a little more, ignoring the pings from his computer that are probably Verda trying to convince Tina to change his display name back, and Tina reacting by changing it to increasingly ridiculous things. He just closes his eyes and focuses on breathing for a bit, trying to remember a single thing from his anger management classes from years ago when his brain is still buzzing with a squirming twist of irritation and guilt, a desperate need to apologize warring with the urge to snap and unload every frustration this whole thing has got knotted up inside him.

It's some sort of cosmic joke that Adam occupies so much of his attention, when Adam seems like he can't wait until he can get as far away from Arlo as possible.

He's just pretty, Arlo tells himself. Remember the last time you let someone pretty get you all stupid? Maybe remember what you learned from that.

He almost falls out of his chair when he opens his eyes to see Adam in the doorway, his shoulders so taut they're making Arlo's hurt just looking at them.

Maybe stop looking at them, idiot.

He forces his eyes up and is confronted with perhaps one of the most bewildering things he's ever seen.

Adam du Mortain, stoic, no-nonsense, terminally brooding Adam du Mortain, is standing just outside Arlo’s office, looking almost... sheepish. Arlo has to blink a few times to make sure he’s not seeing things. He’d almost say he’s imagining things, but at this point he’s so familiar with Adam’s general stone-faced demeanor that any sort of change to it is almost glaringly obvious. The scrunch of his eyebrows, the twist of his mouth, the almost painful stiffness of his posture, as if he’s pointedly trying to look as unaffected as possible and failing spectacularly. Arlo’s a detective, and while he doesn’t consider himself an expert at reading people, he’s still fairly decent at it. Adam, from time to time, can be pretty easy to read, but especially when he’s trying not to be.

Maybe Arlo’s been watching him a bit too closely.

“Uh,” he starts, already cringing internally at himself, “what’s up?”

Adam is silent for a moment, and then he exhales sharply through his nose, as if he is trying to calm himself down. Arlo’s nerves immediately ratchet up a few notches. “There is an issue with your printer,” he says.

Arlo blinks. “Oh. Um, I didn’t think you’d actually—” He bites his tongue when Adam’s brows furrow harder. “Let’s go have a look, shall we?” he offers instead, standing up. He hesitates to approach the door until Adam takes a step back to allow him through unimpeded. He lets Arlo lead the way and Arlo tugs his braid over his shoulder so he can twist it between his hands, because there is something a bit unnerving about Adam behind him, silent but radiating a tension Arlo can almost feel. It’s likely his imagination, considering his annoying awareness of the man, but still.

Arlo sees the problem almost immediately upon arriving at the little alcove that houses the station’s printer. The top cover for the document feeder seems to have been pulled off entirely. He turns to give Adam a bewildered look.

“The paper jammed,” Adam says stiffly.

“Yeah,” Arlo replies, “it does that sometimes.” He lifts the cover and turns it over in his hands, to see that, yes, the little plastic hinges that attach the feeder to the tray are entirely broken off. He frowns a little. Adam is so tense next to him, so still, Arlo wonders if he’s even breathing. “I can just ask Verda if I can send it to his, then see about calling someone for repairs.” He snags a sharpie from Tina’s desk and pops open one of the other trays to pull out a blank sheet of paper so he can write a quick “Out of Order” sign and slap it on top.

Adam still hasn’t moved, staring at the printer as if it has somehow personally offended him.

“It’s fine, Adam,” Arlo insists quietly, stepping a bit closer with his hands raised, though he doesn’t dare to touch. “Really. It’s a shitty old printer. I bet the second I let Tina know, she’ll go pester Doug until he calls his dad about it. We’ll have a shiny new one in no time.” He offers a wry little smile. “Say what you like about nepotism, but it has its perks.”

That doesn’t seem to help in the way Arlo hoped it would, because Adam raises an eyebrow and gives him a sharp look that has him shrinking back. “I am surprised you have that attitude, Detective.” He doesn’t have to say he’s disappointed, Arlo can hear it loud and clear and hates that it bothers him so much.

He steps back and turns away so Adam doesn’t see the look on his face before he can smooth it over. “Well, it’s the reason I’m here, isn’t it?” he can’t help but snark. “And it’s the only reason you’re here too. Explains a lot about your attitude, I suppose.” No wonder Adam’s been so bloody sour about all this. Must be a pain to have to babysit your boss’s kid because she said so. His silence on the subject speaks more than he could hope to.

More than anything Arlo wishes Rebecca could just go back to ignoring him. Things were a lot less complicated then.

Shoulders tight enough to rival Adam’s, Arlo heads towards the stairs to the basement. “I’m going to get that report,” he tosses over his shoulder, trying and failing to sound casual as Adam’s eerily quiet footsteps begin to follow him. “I’ll try not to get kidnapped on the way,” he adds under his breath.

The way Adam’s footsteps falter tell him he wasn’t quiet enough.

[blubberingmess]

Magnet fishing (Bucky x reader)

Summary: you have a hobby and that is magnet fishing, always expecting a few metal scraps and weird, random thingies but one thing you didn't expect at all is a man with a metal arm.

Word count: 1787

Note: I don't doubt a person with a single neodymium magnet disk could lift someone like Bucky out of a lake... possible but tough.(just an opinion)

*check out my masterlist for more shits :)*

You finally have a place you could call yours, a bit far out from the nearest village but it's fine, you like the serene atmosphere this small secluded place gives.

The said place you are talking about is just a small cabin, old but still livable. Plus, it's warm and still sturdy after years of abandonment. You got the cabin for less than what you've expected which is quite a steal.

When you decided to buy the place, the seller's eyes almost roll out from their sockets at how wide his eyes went. It got you confused and asked why, and the answer is kinda weird and also downright ridiculous.

An organization called "Hydra" once scouted the area for years a few decades ago, looking for something rather important. Up until now, rumors spreads around that what this Hydra organization were looking for is still out there.

No one dared to go anywhere near the location, not even the bravest of souls. it's a ghost story the adults tells the children whenever they got curious about the said place, that a monster is resting beneath the waters of the frozen lake-- exactly where the cabin is just a few meters away--, ready to attack the person who is stupid enough to trespass it's sanctuary.

"--Who is stupid enough to trespass it's sanctuary," the old man finished, eyes narrowing at you as he emphasized the word 'stupid'. You just nodded your head and thanked the man, grabbed the keys to the cabin and walked away.

It's not just the solitude from civilization that got you interested in this so called 'sanctuary of the unknown', it's becasue of the frozen lake - You're a magnet fisherman--woman--, a hobby of yours. It's illegal on some places so you don't do it quite often despite having a permit, also, you have your own business back in your hometown - winery.

Magnet fishing is a dirty work and most of the time leaves you with just metal scraps, nails, and a few rocks. But the satisfaction you felt is oh so great when you got something more valuable; some lost things and some antiques that values a hefty amount of cash.

So when you heard about the lake, the cabin; both a mile and a half away from the nearest village, you immediately packed all your things and bid your family and friends goodbye back in your hometown.

"Let's check this baby out!" You grinned, pulling out your newly bought neodymium magnet disk from your bag and a long nylon rope. Thankfully, some part of the lake is already melted so you don't have to break the ice yourself.

(Fun fact: neodymium magnet is the most widely used type of rare-earth magnets, also used as jewelry clasps. But they do not significantly attract gold, aluminium, and silver. Which I didn't know until I made this fic. *shrugs*)

It's been a good ten minutes and your magnet still haven't caught anything. Huffing in slight frustration, you hauled your magnet back from the water and changed your position to the other side of the lake.

Once again, throwing the magnet as far as you can and mentally pat yourself in back when it submerged quite far off from where you are standing.

It didn't took you long before you felt something stick to your magnet, a slight pull of the rope indicates it. As you tried to haul the magnet back up, you were shocked at the weight. It's almost unrelenting that you feared it'll slip off from the magnet and with a lake like this, there's a little chance your magnet will find it again.

"Easy, easy," you whispered to yourself, calming your nerves before giving a firm yet strong tug. It works as you felt the mystery metal goes unstuck to wherever it was. Carefully pulling the disk back to the surface with much more effort than you would've though, you finally caught a glimpse of metal - a bit rusty but still shiny looking.

Slowly, you took a step forward all while still gathering the rope and almost stumble down on the thick snow when you noticed what the metal is; a hand. It didn't stop you as you kept on pulling, to the point where the hand finally hits the snow and realized that it's not just a hand.

It's okay, you thought to yourself. It's just an arm shaped metal, must be from a statue.

But you are wrong. As you cautiously walked towards it, you catch sight of something that makes your heart jumps out from your chest and it's definitely not in a good way.

The metal arm that you thought was just from a statue is actually connected to a person; a man - a dead, frozen man

"Holy shit!"

You gulped, staring down at the frozen corpse in front of you. From his chest down still submerged in the cold, icy water. The cold air seeping through your thick clothes yet your palms are sweating as you stand there not knowing what to do, hands tightly wrapped on the nylon rope, just staring at a dead man with a metal for an arm.

This is terrifying, you need to call the police. You mentally groaned remembering that there's no signal around here, but you have your snowmobile so you could use that instead.

Contemplating if you should make a run for it and call the cops from the village or just kick the corpse back in the lake and walk away like nothing happened; maybe even book the next flight back home.

Sadly, you can't do the latter... corpse float.

The magnet is still attached to the metal arm so you gave a strong tug hoping it would separate from the corpse, but sadly, it wouldn't budge.

A small curse and another pull.

A loud curse and another stronger pull.

Frustrated, you were about to scream-- maybe even cry-- when you suddenly saw movements coming from the metal arm, precisely, the fingers. It twitched and so does his body, you grew terrified when his head slightly turned to the side, his back slowly rising and falling, breathing weakly.

"Holy... shit."

.

.

.

"Hi officer, yes, he's alive. I saw- I mean, caught the man from the lake with a magnet disk..." You groaned and shake your head, downing the rest of you wine.

You can't just mention a magnet disk, you don't know if magnet fishing is legal in this part of country - or should you say area.

Fuck me. Forgot to ask permission.

It's been four days since you hauled the man from frozen lake, changed him from his wet, heavy looking of what seems to be his tactical gear to something comfortable; an oversize shirt(on you, it is) and a baggy pair of sweatpants. Not an easy task but you managed to do it.

The man, he isn't some normal fellow you'd see anywhere. There's something more, maybe he's the "something" Hydra is looking for? Is he the ghost? Impossible, it's been decades since that happened. The organization stopped looking for him decades ago.

Who is he? Why does he have a metal arm?

Questions began running around inside your head, different kinds of possibilities that mostly lead you if not in jail; six feet under. Just the thought of it makes you want to vomit and choke on it until you pass out - maybe you could receive some kind of pity and let you off the hook.

You felt yourself slightly gag at the thought of choking on your own vomit.

"The only things I'll ever be choking on is pizza and my future husband's dick," you grumbled to yourself, glaring down at the empty glass in your hand before sighing and turning around.

You suddenly come face to face the man you called 'corspe' multiple times in your head four days ago for twenty minutes, standing strong and tall, an aura that practically screams "touch me and I'll break your neck."

He watch you watch him in fear and curiosity, body rigid and alert for what's about to happen.

What's about to happen?

.

Ten years later...

.

"And that's how I met your father," you finished the story, grinning down at the little girl in front of you.

She 'oh'ed, staring up at you with her big sea blue eyes, full of curiosity and amazement. "So he's the ghost?" She asked with her squeaky voice, grabbing the last cookie from the paper plate between the two of you and began munching on it.

You chuckled. "I would say 'a really clumsy man who fell from a flying helicopter while running away from the bad guys' but yeah, sure."

"Awesome," she whispered-yelled making you laugh at her cuteness, scooting closer towards your daughter to wipe off the crumbs from her cheek.

"So this is where my girls are hiding." A familiar voice sounded from the small entrance of the tree house. Looking over, you saw your husband climbing up the ladder.

"We're not hiding, daddy!"

"Of course you're not, princess." He sat himself beside your daughter and raised a brow at you, a smile on his face. "But your mother here is."

"I'm not hiding, daddy," you repeated your daughter's words, fluttering your eyelashes at him with a grin on your face, biting your lips to prevent yourself from laughing.

His eyes darkens but he kept the smile on his face, pretending he didn't caught the look on your face he know all too well. "Yes you are, honey. Anyways, what are you two talking about?"

"The day you first met!" Your daughter beamed.

"Really?" Buck's eyes flickered at you for a moment as he spoke.

The little girl nodded her head enthusiastically. "Yup! It's so romantic," she sighed dreamily but she frowned when she pat the paper plate and found it clear from those delicious cookies Wanda baked for her.

"Oh, the cookies are gone, can I get some more, mommy?"

"Okay, sweetie. Be careful on your way down."

The two of you watched your daughter climbs down the ladder with ease, already familiar of the steps and the safe places to put her feet on.

After a moment of silence, Bucky speaks up. "You didn't told her about me frozen under the lake for three decades, did you?"

"Nah. Told her I saved you from drowning while I'm fishing at a random lake; miraculously woken you up with a kiss."

"That sounds ridiculous."

"Also, don't worry, I didn't tell her I jumped your bones on the fifth day of knowing you."

@jasondean1972 I saw you reblogging and liking my posts while I'm editing this, and I love it 💛 don't worry, I think I'll be making my android!Bucky one-shot a series.