#anyways anyways. just remembered the encounter and am grumpy about it again

[whippetcrimes]

When Misty came to work with me last weekend, a man came in to collect the money for a local dog rescue. And he asked me if she was a rescue then continued the conversation into older people should adopt old rescue dogs because if they get a young dog from a breeder, the dog will have nowhere to go if they pass before the dog and the family can't take the dog/doesn't want it... And I was just like. If I weren't on the clock right now, I'd at the very least have said that any good breeder would take the dog back... He even directly asked me, "what would happen to your beautiful designer dog if something happened to you and your partner?" I had to bite my tongue so hard.

[boxingcleverrr]

one thing I've tried to do the last few years is REALLY pick apart WHY certain, mainly harmless fun things don't jive with me, or even downright annoy me. Like, just shutting my mouth and not being a hater is good, no reason to yuck other people's yum and all.

But often times when you actually dig in and figure out the root of shit, it tends to annoy you a bit less. And in my case with many things they just become background static I ignore, as opposed to a glaring annoyance that stabs my brain every time I encounter it.

Lately both the Abbies on my dash reminded me how oh, so many harmless things that annoy me can be boiled down to infantilization.

Like, "No Talk Me I Angy" was super cute the first time I saw it, like yeah! A grumpy lil kitten the size of a pea would say it like that, how correct!

Then a few months later I saw it on a sticker on someone's travel mug, marking it as a thing that resonated with their personality, and internally I eye-rolled so hard I saw the back of my skull. Which is my same reaction to "choccy milk" and adults unironically saying "my tummy hurts D:" and yeah, SQUIDGE.

These are harmless fun things people enjoy and say. And I am an adult woman whose desk is covered in pre-FIM My Little Ponies.

But I was also infantilized a LOT growing up. I was bright for my age (now I know, also undiagnosed), buuuuut my intelligence and fact-retaining were kinda seen as a party trick, esp as I was the only person my age at family gatherings (big age gap between my nearest youngest and oldest siblings). My ideas and solutions were rarely taken seriously, and oh boy that lasted in my family uh, until I came back to Vermont as a 30 year old woman, lol.

My mother STILL has times of catching herself going "that can't be ri-..." before remembering hi, it's me, AND I'm almost 40 now. I'm not always right, but I usually am. Cause I got that brain that drives her crazy cause it remembers EVERYTHING.

My first serious conversation about boundaries with a coworker was with a woman in her 60s who baby-talked at EVERYONE (customers loved her, go figure). And while 90% of my coworkers were annoyed by it too, they just shrugged it off. But it seriously affected my mood, and ability to work really, as her desk was right next to mine.

So one day during lunch when she said something along the lines of "Awwww you're still a kid! You have lots of time to worry about ---!"

And I politely but firmly said, "I know you mean it kindly, but when you say things like 'I'm a kid' and so on, it kind of gives the impression that you don't see me as a peer, or mature enough for this job." And it was fine, she apologized, and shared HER point of view which was basically, she WISHES she were still a kid, cause she associated that time of her life with being carefree, and oh man.

Lots of annoyances in life can also be traced to a touch of envy: I envy people that find solace in not just childhood things (again, see: ponies and barbies all over my desk rn), but a childhood mindset. That going there is a way a lot of us are processing a world that is so, so impossibly tiring and expensive and yeah good god it'd feel nice to get tucked in and read Laura Ingalls before sleeps.

Buuuuut a childhood mindset for me was full of anxiety, lol. It was not being taken seriously, and wishing for challenges, or a portal to open up and swallow me and take me to my home planet where I'm a scholar-princess. So yeah naw, no thanks, there was lots of great fun stuff in my childhood, I had a loving home and all, but the anxiety and 'tism have been there too, making me the weird kid who knew stuff.

So yeah anyway. Knowing it and typing it out really DOES make me have less of an asshole reaction in the day to day. I might have a little envy for choccy milk people, but I do prefer being the 10 Obnoxious Facts About Chocolate You Didn't Ask For person.

[chickenscript]

Sandman (ROTTMNT Raph x Reader)

Anon: here is a cute request for you, ROTTMNT Raph x reader. they have an horrible nightmare and cant fall back asleep. like there is a sleepover at the lair and they go see raph for comfort. he would help them fall back asleep. i hope it is ok. thanks you and have a wonderful day.

A/N: this just sounded too adorable to pass up! And like a good way to get me back into the swing of writing for the turts (╯✧▽✧)╯

I wasn't sure whether to make this a oneshot or headcanons, so I hope this format is okay!

PS, this is pre the events of the movie!

It was a great night before this.

The turtles had invited you over for a rad sleepover chock full of pizza, cheesy horror flicks and well, more pizza. It was all good fun that lasted far into the AM of the humid summer night, and a fantastic way to kick off your break from school with your best friends.

Well, it was anyway. The moment you'd fallen into a deep, pizza driven itis, a night terror crept right up into your dreams. The kind that made you cold sweat even though the lair had a decent cooling system going.

After you caught your breath and shook off the icy grip grappling your shoulders, you debated on what to do about the tingle of fear lingering in your stomach. Eventually, you decided on going up to the one turtle you could think of that would be able to help you feel better,

Raph.

You hated to pester him, especially seeing as he had to deal with so much in a day as the turtles' leader. It always sounded like exhausting work to you when he'd recant whatever they encountered or the bumps in the road they ran into during a mission.

You padded over to where he was situated and the big guy was all but dead to the world on a mound of pillows and mattresses that weren't big enough for him on their own. It's not surprising the last thing he was expecting was you prodding at his cheek.

He jolted awake- an immediate grumpy curl to his snout before he saw you standing there, his gaze making you feel like a little kid. His ready to chew out Leo for waking him up again face quickly switched into a warm smile as he asked you what was up.

Raph picked up right away that you were clearly very hesitant to say with the way you held the bend of your arm and weren't quite able to admit to him why you were here. Instead of pressing you further, he patted the spot next to him invitingly with a big hand.

While you did feel bad for waking him, you'd feel worse if you didn't accept the offer. So, you climbed onto the plush hill of bedding and got comfy next to him. Something that wasn't hard to do at all.

You heard him sigh deeply and he told you he remembered whenever he had a bad dream, his first instinct was to run to Master Splinter.

He'd tell Splinter all about the things that scared him from his nightmare and his dad would remind him every time that our dreams are just our worries in disguise, trying to hide the fact that they aren't as strong as the strength we have in ourselves.

And if something did come to pass, we are never alone to face it.

You thought the comforting words he imparted to you were very wise as you stared at Raph, whose features were thoughtfully creased. No doubt from reminiscing about those childhood moments that shone through all the rest.

The hulking turtle suddenly removed his gaze from the ceiling and looked at you, smiling again.

He told you that if there was ever a time you needed him like that, he'd be there. Especially a time like this.

Because even if the nightmares weren't real, it didn't make them any less scary to face all on your own.

The smile on your face from that made Raph's own widen and you reached forward to bear hug his arm that was easily almost as big as you.

You squeezed it, face smashed up against his massive bicep as you thanked him softly.

He blushed and looked away, scratching the side of his head as he launched into a stutter about how it was no problem.

You gently yawned, having not even realized how heavy your eyelids felt until now.

Apparently Raph hadn't noticed your fatigue either until he looked over at you again, caught up in some sentence that had to do with him knowing you'd do the same for him when it came to the nightmares, or anything else for that matter.

Instead of the rapt expression you had earlier after his story, you were out cold, koala strangling his arm like a body pillow.

It made Raph's face soften, still pink as yawned too, snaggle tooth and all. He took the initiative to settle down a second time for the night just like you had, resting his free arm across his plastron.

As he closed his eyes, he couldn't help but think this was a pretty nice way to fall back asleep.

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 2

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The aftermath of matching with your boss on Tinder.

Word Count: 3,344

Warnings: FILTHY SMUT, boss x employee affair, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected office sex 🤷🏻‍♀️

A/N: Hmmm yes, part 2 of The Match is finally out and I hope this did not disappoint 😂

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

“Am I really doing this?”

You asked yourself in the mirror before making a face, “Of course I am.” You huffed out and adjusted your breasts inside your bra.

After your brief yet tension-filled encounter with James, you sprinted to the bathroom as soon as you reached your floor. And mind you, you did that while wearing a tight pencil skirt and a pair of heels. It really surprised you how your thirst made you do that with ease.

If there was an olympics dedicated for thirsty bitches trying to get some, you’d probably bring home the gold with how fast you moved.

You checked your watch for the time, you still had ten minutes left so you made sure to fix yourself up. Of course, the logical part of your brain was screaming for you to get a grip because really? You were going to let your boss fuck you? In his office? During work hours? You were at a damn risk here; you could get caught or even worse, lose your job. But was that going to stop you?

Hell fucking no.

Checking yourself out in the mirror one last time, you let out a deep breath and walked out. Maybe you were just being hyper aware given that you were headed to your boss’ office to get fucked, but you felt uncomfortable as you passed by your colleagues. You offered them polite smiles and tried to act normal. Thank god the elevator was just a few steps away.

“Oh thank goodness, there you are.” Your manager immediately blocked your way and handed you a couple of folders.

“I need you to make a report out of these. I have a presentation before lunch.” She explained.

You frowned, “I’m sorry but aren’t you supposed to do these, not me? Besides, Ja— Mister Barnes called requested me to see him in his office.”

Your manager used to be on the same level as you were but was promoted a couple of months ago. Why? You absolutely have no idea. She wasn’t the best at her job, in fact, you felt like the promotion should’ve been yours. Since she became your manager, she had been passing some of her tasks to you and snatching away the credit like a fucking bitch.

Your managed narrowed her eyes at you, “The James Barnes requested for you? Why?” She asked suspiciously, hands on her hips.

Of course she would be suspicious, you never worked with James before. But the fact that you were going there for a completely different reason made you sweat.

You breathed out through your nose, shaking your head and avoiding your manager’s gaze. “I...who knows? I mean, I have no idea why. He just told me to see him in his office and that’s about it. I really don’t know the reason, why would he even ask for me? Probably not a big deal, it’s very normal to ask a subordinate into your office, right? Do you know why he asked for me?” You were a blabbering mess at this point.

Your manager scoffed, “If I did, I wouldn’t ask you.” She responded before waving a hand. “Anyway, I’ll take care of him. Go and work on the reports now. Before lunch, remember.” She commanded, pointing a finger at you before walking away.

“Wait! But I...” you trailed, looking at the folders in your hand before checking your watch. Five minutes left. “...I was gonna get fucked...” you whispered in disappointment before stomping your way back to your cubicle.

The tantrums you made when you reached your desk didn’t go unnoticed. Who wouldn’t be grumpy anyway? Your manager just cockblocked you on your way to get some D, and it’s not even some regular D. James would probably be balls-deep in you now but instead, you were getting fucked by a report that wasn’t even supposed to be your responsibility.

You were typing away on your computer when you noticed the office chatter start to die down, the loud conversations transforming into hushed whispers. The HR probably paid your floor a visit, you thought and continued to work on the report.

“Any reason why you’re here and not in my office?”

Shit.

Your whole body froze at the sound of James’ voice. No wonder the entire floor grew silent, he was always in his office or out for a meeting. He wasn’t one to visit his subordinates but here he was, standing by your cubicle and looking down at you with dark eyes.

You stood up and noticed that your colleagues were watching, whispering to each other and most definitely wondering why James paid you a little visit.

“I’m sorry, I uhh there was a—“

“Mister Barnes!” Your manager greeted, a little too chirpy, when she saw James. “I was just about to head to your office to tell you that she’s working on an important report. She’ll come to your office when she’s done. I’ll make sure of it.” She said, offering James a huge smile that made you want to gag.

James kept his eyes on you, completely ignoring your manager. You licked your lips and tried your best not to break eye contact.

“And when was it okay to bypass your boss’ orders?” James asked your manager, his eyes still trained on yours.

You bit back a smirk when your manager ended up sputtering out an apology while you and James continued eye fucking each other. While being surrounded by your colleagues. This should worry you actually, the attention you were getting from everyone else seeing that the James Barnes went out of his way to see you. You couldn’t care less at the moment though, not when James was undressing you with his gaze.

“She’s not doing any report this morning. I need her in my office.” James said and tipping his head, asking you to follow him.

You were out of your cubicle in a second and quietly trailed behind James on his way to the elevator, ignoring the curious looks from every colleague you passed by. As soon as the both of you stepped inside the elevator, the torture began yet again.

Standing beside James, a little bit closer now than before, you could feel your skin prickle with goosebumps. The thought of him being all over you in a few minutes was driving you insane. Shit, you were really down to fuck him.

“You know, I don’t like waiting.” He said, turning to you.

“I’m sorry, James. I really—“

“Ah ah ah.” James tutted, backing you up against the corner of the lift— a blind spot, to keep the both you away from the CCTV inside. “That’s not how you called me earlier. Why stop now?” He asked, resting an elbow against the wall caging you with his body.

You let out a tiny whimper, your eyes landing on James’ lips as he bit them. “I’m sorry, sir.” You whispered.

He hummed, leaning forward until his nose touched your cheekbone. “Good girl.” He whispered roughly into your ear.

Your hands found their way onto James’ necktie, tugging him down when you were unable to hold back your desire. But then the elevator dinged and the both of you scrambled away from each other when the doors slid open, revealing a few employees coming from a different floor.

A chorus of greetings for James echoed as they slowly filed into the elevator, pushing you and your boss into the very back. You let out a soft gasp when you felt James’ hands on your waist as he moved behind you, feeling his erection press against your back.

“Can’t wait to have you to myself.” He whispered, sliding a hand down to you ass, giving it a firm squeeze that almost had you keening if not for the company.

-

Just a few hours earlier you were worrying about crossing paths with your boss whom you matched with on Tinder. Now, you were still worried but only about whether you and James would get caught while his face was in between your legs as you sat on his desk.

“Oh my god, right there...fuck...” you breathed out, head thrown back when James’ tongue circled your sensitive clit.

The moment you James’ office door slammed shut, he was immediately all over you. Pinning you to the wall as he hungrily kissed you, hands wandering all over your body, gripping whatever he could.

James was desperate to have a taste of you, his eyes showed it all. But surprisingly, he managed to make you even more desperate for him than he was for you. He pulled away from the bruising kiss, made you stand still as he walked over to his desk, plopping down on his seat.

His eyes scanned you hungrily as he removed his coat, followed by his tie and then unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling it up to his elbows.

“Take your panties off.” James had ordered.

Your breath hitched at the roughness of his voice. Following his orders, you reached beneath your pencil skirt and slipped off your underwear and letting it fall to your ankles before stepping out of them.

“C’mere.” James said and his voice was so tender it made you feel soft.

It’s amazing how James could go from sounding soft to almost feral, now that he was lapping up your cunt like a starved man while his subordinates went on about their work just outside.

“Let me see those tits. Been wanting to see them since I saw that bikini photo you had on your profile.” James growled, reaching up to pull down the cups of your bra, setting your breasts free.

Okay, maybe you sort of overdid your Tinder profile for someone who wasn’t really interested to hook-up. It was only one beach photo though, but now you weren’t regretting uploading it, not even a bit.

You keened when James pinched a nipple at the same time he started tongue-fucking your cunt. The entire scene was straight out of a porno, like one of those Naughty America skits minus the bad acting and terrible monologue between a CEO and his secretary.

“Keep it down, will ya? Gotta stay quiet, else we might get caught.” James warned, pulling back to watch your wetness drip down from your cunt to your asshole.

You blinked your eyes as you panted, watching James as he inserted two fingers into your sopping pussy. “Fuuuuck, James...” you whimpered.

“That’s not my name, baby.” James said, stilling his fingers and chuckling when you began wiggling your hips to get some friction.

“Sir, please...” you pleaded.

“You’ve always been an obedient one, aren’t you?” James cooed, bending down to lick a stripe against your folds while pumping his fingers in and out.

“Even doing a report that isn’t even yours, so fucking obedient.” He grunted.

Your moan was cut short when James’ phone began to ring, your eyes widening in panic when he answered it with nonchalance as if his fingers weren’t knuckle deep in your pussy.

“Hi, about time you called. You have any updates about the deal? He asked casually as he stood up from his seat.

James went on to discuss business with whoever it was on the other line. And this was all the while you sat on his desk with your skirt bunched up to your waist and legs wide open. You were about to close your legs, thinking that this rendezvous needed to be put on hold, but James was quick to grab your thigh to stop you from doing so.

You made a face at him, incredulous that he didn’t seem to have any plans of stopping. In fact, he started unbuckling his belt while keeping his eyes on you.

“Excuse me, can you hold for a sec?” James spoke into the phone before putting his mic on mute.

“Not a damn sound.” He told you and raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

Your mouth parted and you weren’t sure anymore whether you were nervous or aroused that your boss was about to fuck you while having a conversation over the phone. James pinched the inside of your thigh when you failed to respond.

“Yes, sir.” You quickly breathed out with a nod.

“Hi, sorry about that. Where were we?” James asked as he unzipped his pants.

Tinder never really piqued your interest that much. It was truly boredom that made you download it. There have been times when you felt like the app had its favorites; hearing your friends gush about this amazing guy they met through the app and all that shit. You almost gave up on the app that Friday night but thank goodness James appeared right before you called it quits.

If your friends were lucky for bagging an amazing guy on Tinder, it was safe to say that you hit the fucking jackpot because not only was James an amazing guy in general, but he had a very, very impressive cock as well.

You felt your pussy throb at the sight of his cock, springing free from the confines of his Calvin Kleins. It was thick and the vein on the underside of his shaft was so prominent you might as well give it a standing ovation.

James ran a tongue over his bottom lip, taking it in between his teeth when he stepped in between your legs to slide his cock along your folds. That gesture alone made your eyes roll to the back of your skull as you threw your head back from the pleasure.

James casually talked on the phone as he lined the tip of his cock to your entrance. Placing a finger on his lips to remind you to stay quiet, he watched your face as he slowly slid inside. You choked on your moan when you felt a slight sting from how his cock was stretching you out. Inch by inch, James pushed himself inside of you until he was fully sheathed.

He stretched you out so fucking good that you suddenly clenched around him, making James cough into the phone to mask the grunt that escaped his lips.

“Fuck.” He breathed out. “That sounds like a tight plan, Sam.” James said through gritted teeth, looking at you pointedly as if warning you to stay put.

James started off with slow, languid thrusts, gauging for your reaction to ensure that you wouldn’t make any noise. Unfortunately for you though, James was hitting all the right spots and it would only be a matter of time that you’d end up whimpering as he fucked you onto his desk.

He sped up his thrusts, pushing into you with more force making you slide up onto his desk every time he slammed back in. Your elbows were aching from how you were leaning your entire weight against them but fuck, you wanted to remain in that position to watch James’ cock disappear into your cunt.

James appeared to be struggling from holding back as well, seeing how his face was turning red and how the veins on his neck were starting to show up. His free hand gripped your thigh tightly, keeping your legs open as he began to speed up his pace.

One particular thrust made you see stars and unconsciously, you let out a moan that immediately turned into a gasp when James wrapped his free hand around your throat.

“That sounds great, Sam. When are you free to meet to further discuss the details?” James asked, his eyes glued onto yours as he pounded into you mercilessly.

His grip around your throat tightened each time you squeaked out the tiniest noise. You were so out of it now; James was fucking you so good that it slipped your mind that you were at work and that James was, well, your boss— the CEO of the company actually.

James could feel your pussy flutter around his cock and quickly put his phone on mute before grunting, “C’mon, baby. Cum for me, make a mess on my cock.”

His command spurred you on and your climax hit you with no warning at all. The coil in your abdomen simply snapped, reducing you into a trembling mess as you came around James’ cock the same time he let go of your throat, only to cover your mouth with his hand as you let out a long, muffled whimper.

“Great, I’ll have my secretary schedule the meeting then. It was great talking to you, Sam.” James literally let his phone slip from his hand as soon as the call ended.

He held your waist with both hands as he chased his own orgasm, fucking you harder until he slipped out and came on your mound.

“Fuck...” he panted as he jerked off his cock, milking it until your folds were covered in his release.

Holy fucking shit, your boss was truly down to fuck. And it was one hell of a fuck too.

-

You had just finished cleaning up yourself when you somewhat regained your consciousness. Now what? This was what you were worried about, the aftermath of fucking the CEO.

“You good?” James asked as he sat down on his chair.

You nodded and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, “Yes, sir.”

“Bucky.” James corrected.

“I’m sorry?” Wait, what?

James shrugged, “If we’re going to start working closely, I prefer if you called me by my nickname.” He explained.

You frowned, “I don’t understand?”

What the hell was going on? James sorted through the stack of his papers on his desk (most of which were crumpled when you ended up grabbing them as he fucked you) and handed one over to you.

“You’re promoted as the head of your department.” He announced with a small smile.

Now you were offended. Did he promote you for letting him fuck you? Was this his plan all along? You couldn’t understand a single thing that was going on and James was attentive enough to figure out what you were thinking. You stared at the formal letter discussing your promotion and then back up at James.

“The promotion has nothing to do with us fucking.” He reassured. “Do you think I don’t pay attention to my employees? I know each and everyone in this company, their performance and how they do their jobs. And you...” James said, standing up and walking around his desk until he stood in front of you.

“I’ve been watching you for quite a while now. You have impressive skills. Your reports are exquisite, you know how to manage a team, you’re very smart. Quite the entire package.” He explained with a shrug.

“I’m not sure how my manager will take this given that—“

“That promotion was supposed to be yours but I asked the HR to give it to her instead. You deserve being more than just becoming a manager so now you’re a department head. You’re required to directly report to me moving forward.” James bit his lip as he tipped your chin.

You were at a loss for words. All this time, you thought that your hardwork and efforts haven’t been paying off.

“What do you say?” He asked, tilting his head. “And just so we’re clear, the promotion has been decided before I even stumbled upon your Tinder profile.” He explained.

You let out a chuckle, still unable to believe what had just happened. Your boss fucked you, gave you one of the best orgasms in your entire life and also gave you a promotion. Talk about good fucking luck, all thanks to Tinder.

“Uh I...yes...I’m accepting the promotion.” You said excitedly.

“Good.” James said, taking a step back from you giving you your space back.

“The announcement of the promotion will be e-mailed in a few. Congratulations and I’ll see you tonight.” James said with a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Tonight?”

“Yeah, we’ll celebrate your promotion. You’re not just the head of your department, baby. You’re mine now.”

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar  @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2​ @unmagically​ @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes​ @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr​ @asemistablehundredyearoldman​ @reidbuck​ @lizzarooni​ @girlfriday007​ @5-seconds-of-mendes​ @whoth3hellisbucky​​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @twinerd14 @bluehour-553​

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag​ @weird-mumbling​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @mostly-marvel-musings​ @squishybabies​ @megzdoodle​ @little-baby-vixen​ @annathesillyfriend​ @xhollycowx​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @5-seconds-of-mendes​ @gogolucky13​ @countonthesun​ 

[seventfics]

Autumn Birds

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: We fell in love, but your previous lover reappeared/returned Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier (w/ past!Geralt/Eskel and past!Geralt/Jaskier) Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: They’d met just as the leaves were turning yellow. 

Read on AO3

* * *

They’d met just as the leaves were turning yellow.

Jaskier had heard of a witcher staying in town and, as was his prerogative since his acquaintance with a certain White Wolf, he’d ventured to see what the man was all about. It was not so often one got to meet someone of their caste. Why not have a little courage to break the ice himself?

The whispers spoke of a witcher with a terribly scarred face. Two swords strapped over his back, their pommels shaped into wolf heads. The women said he had a voice like a dog’s growl, so grave that when he spoke, it made children cry.

He thought that last bit was rather mean, and followed the trail of curses into a grimy tavern where a fight was about to break out.

“You promised fifty.”

“The best I can do is half.”

Jaskier’s hand freezes on the door. Whatever he’s come to doesn’t look good. The witcher’s back is to him, his padded shoulders raised with tension. The village’s alderman paces in front of him, fuming over a contract’s fee. There’s a few antsy people in the crowd too. The anger written on their faces makes him nervous.

He’s seen how this ends a dozen times. It’s gotten his own arse kicked butting into the middle of a witcher’s bargaining, actually.

“Now, now, gentlemen,” Jaskier interjects boisterously from the doorframe anyway. “This is no mood for drink and cheer. Calm your spirits with a little of the former—”

The alderman grumbles under his breath about merry idiots meddling in what they shouldn’t. “Shut up, bard. This here’s serious business. And I’m not about to be robbed by a witcher’s ridiculous high prize.”

“It’s not ridiculous. The contract says fifty, and,” the witcher stops to lift the bloody stump of a water hag’s head, “it’s already done.”

“That contract was up weeks ago. The reward’s gone down. You’re lucky half’s on the table at all.”

The witcher grunts—a familiar sound to Jaskier’s ears which translates to wordless annoyance—and drops the head on the floor. “You’re lucky the hag didn’t move closer into the village in that time.”

“Is that a threat?”

At the rising outrage in his tone, Jaskier slips closer to stare at the alderman over the witcher’s swordless shoulder. “Ah, I believe the witcher means more of your people would have died, had he not taken care of the problem so promptly. The reward hardly sounds like an unreasonable amount. I could get twice as much on a profitable eve of singing. In fact,” he flips to the witcher, who does not yet deign to look back at his unforeseen defender, “I could turn this place around and earn us both a decent share in one night. I’m no fop on the job!”

It’s then that the witcher looks towards him, but the bard only manages a quick glimpse of an incredulous set of eyebrows before the alderman starts shouting.

“Get out! Both of you! Out of my town or I’ll have the dogs chase you out!”

They both take that as their leave, Jaskier with a bit more speed in his jog.

At the outskirts the witcher turns fully, and at the sight of his whole face Jaskier almost gasps out loud. A long scar runs through his cheek, from eyebrow to jaw, and over his lips. It puckers the skin all around it, disfiguring half of his face.

Whatever caused that scar must have hurt a lot.

The witcher shifts in place, quiet for a long second as Jaskier does his best to hide his nerves. “I’m sorry to have involved you.”

“Oh, please, don’t be. I involved myself. Jaskier’s the name, by the way,” he introduces himself, hand extended in greeting.

The witcher scratches the back of his head. His lips twist to one side, bashful. One of his teeth peeks through the scarred tissue over his mouth. “Uh. Eskel.” He takes the offered hand and shakes it.

It’s the firmest handshake Jaskier has ever received.

“Well, Eskel. Are you short on coin? Because so am I.”

The snort he gets is—soft. Not at all like the gruff from before, with the alderman.

“I’m not doing too bad, I’d say. Just currently fifty short of what I expected to have at the end of the day.”

"How about I help with that? I wasn't lying when I said I could earn both a decent share, given the right crowd."

It's the sunset hour, and the leaves were falling on top of them. Everything is gold. The sky, the trees. Eskel’s eyes when they blink at him and he breaks into a genuine laugh.

Jaskier knows he’s a romantic. His heart flutters every odd day over strangers with pretty smiles. He’s just never seen such a shy, sweet smile on someone with such an intimidating facade.

Making him smile again became a personal quest.

* * *

At the next town over, Eskel speaks to the alderman there. This one is more reasonable at least, and up front about the sort of beast that lurks in the northern farms. Which brings up a whole new conversation as Jaskier doesn’t part from Eskel’s side despite the obvious danger.

Eskel grunts and sits him down, not unlike the times Geralt tried—and failed—to convince him to stay put. Jaskier just blinks his pretty blue eyes and says, “and how will I write a song of your prowess in battle if I am not there to witness it?”

“This is a dangerous contract, bard. It would be best if you let me handle it alone.”

“Oh no. No, no, I’ve heard that before a dozen times.”

Eskel pauses at that. “What?”

“I am perfectly capable of staying out of your way.”

The wyvern they encounter says otherwise.

To be fair, he had done a good job of staying out of the witcher’s way for most of the fight. It is only when the beast slams its tail into Eskel’s side on a backswing that Jaskier shouts in worry from his hiding place and brings undue attention to himself.

Wind whips around him for a split second, scattering dust into his eyes. It takes a moment to wipe them clean so of course he doesn’t see the great shadow flying at him. Doesn't realize the immediate need to hide or flee for his life until a giant claw snatches him by the bunched fabric on his back.

Jaskier's stomach plummets as he soars up. The ground recedes. His clothes start to rip. This is it, he panic-screams in his mind, this is his final day. Either as monster food or a blood splatter on a rock, his time has come.

A severe overreaction, and his own mistake for not trusting in a witcher's skill. He doesn't realize it in all, what with all his flailing about, but Eskel fires a crossbow bolt perfectly at the wyvern’s eye.

The beast screeches terribly loud in his ears. It flaps its wings once, twice, before twisting midair and letting him go.

They both fall, but Eskel catches him.

By the silence that follows after an earth-shaking crunch, he knows the witcher's won. Victory is not immediately on his mind, though. The way his sight spins and the sun paints a halo behind Eskel's hair, Jaskier dumbly thinks, oh—I've quite literally fallen in love.

“See?” he says instead, breathless with terror at almost having died, “I’m perfectly fine.”

Eskel raises a thick brow at him. And he's smiling too, the bard thinks. Could just be the scar making it look like a lopsided smile, but he wants to believe that he's made the witcher smile again with his foolish sense of humor.

“Are you alright? The tail,” Jaskier frets once his vision settles. Some of these monsters have poisoned stingers on the end of their tails. Are wyverns one of them?

But Eskel waves him down before he can consider the worst. “Relax. I cast Quen in time.”

“That’s a, uh, magic shield, right?”

Surprise colors Eskel's features. So it seems he's right. A point of pride on Jaskier's belt for remembering witcher signs.

Getting proof of a contract well done takes the witcher a good minute to collect. Wyvern skin is tough. The head would normally satisfy as proof, but it's too heavy to be lugging around town. He will have to make do with the wing tips. Should they question him, the remains aren't going anywhere.

“Come on, bard. Time to get our day's work done. And after that, we're going west.”

“'We'?” Something about the proclamation has his heart beating fast.

“'Course. I'm not letting you out of my sight now.”

He makes a show of bowing dramatically. “I wouldn’t want to be elsewhere.”

* * *

“You’re a friend of Geralt’s.”

Jaskier looks up from his notes.

Traveling with someone is always interesting—with a witcher even more so. So far he's learned that Eskel has far more routines than Geralt ever did, like counting his coin at the end of every week, and making sure he has two of every potion ready.

Jaskier quirks a half-smile. “I am. How did you figure? I never said his name.”

“Your song.” He points to the scribbled mess on his lap. “Or, I guess your work in progress. I see an expression he uses a lot, that he learned from me.”

“Oh?”

Eskel sits by him and nods, as if finally understanding Jaskier’s odd ease partnering with a witcher, and starts the story of where the expression in his handwriting originated from.

It’s funny at first, imagining a much younger, somehow more foolish Geralt together with this huge, frightening man who is not frightening at all to talk to. Eskel speaks so softly, so tenderhearted about the old memory—two boys, witchers-to-be, practically joined at the hip, making crude jokes. So he reciprocates with a tale of where he comes from, as destiny deigned to put them in each other’s paths.

As it happens, a lot of their first stories aren’t even their own, but Geralt’s.

And Eskel has many more over his. He’s more than happy to share them over camp.

Some of it leaves Jaskier’s throat aching. This is someone who clearly cares about his big grumpy friend. It's someone he can understand.

Then Eskel claps a bare hand on his back, his thumb and forefinger a hot press just under his nape, and oh, he’s more than a little foolishly in love actually, as his head is emptied of all reason at the small touch.

“Am I to become your travel bard,” Jaskier quips with an airy giggle. “I’m excellent entertainment at parties.”

“Not for long. It’s almost winter. Soon I’ll have to head north to meet my brothers.”

His heart sinks. “Oh.”

Eskel squeezes his shoulder with careful strength. “You better keep out of trouble while I’m gone, you hear?”

“Of course. I don’t go looking for trouble.”

“No, trouble just finds you.”

Well, if ‘trouble’ is a scarred, smirking witcher, he sure hopes that to be true.

* * *

They meet again when the trees are just beginning to color with spring blooms.

There is also a griffin tearing through the town's cattle, but that’s besides the point. Easily dealt with. Which is good, seeing as Jaskier had been near the scene and probably next on the menu. No one had told him about the griffin, so really. He's just as surprised to find Eskel as he is about the beast.

“You alright, bard?”

“I am now.”

Matter resolved, Jaskier walks in step next to Eskel. The town opens before them, welcoming the witcher not with smiles, but grudging gratitude.

“You sure? Trouble didn’t come knocking while I was gone?”

“Only a man with a lover’s grudge come to kick my ass out of a wonderfully luxurious establishment. Didn’t even get to enjoy the hot bath I paid for, which is such a terrible waste of hot water.”

A deep hum comes out of the witcher. “A lover’s grudge?”

“Just a past dalliance that won’t forget me.”

Eskel stops and shifts on his feet, like he wants to say something but he doesn’t know how to start.

Oh, witchers and their awkward conversation skills.

“You know what, I’m starving. I think a good, hearty meal is owed between us. What do you say we go collect your reward and we break fast at the alderman’s recommendation?”

“We don’t have to get the coin right now. I could go for some food.”

“First tavern we see then. Come on.”

Right as he says it, he wraps his arm around Eskel’s, and maybe he’s just being too obvious, too hopeful, but Eskel doesn’t shrug him off. They make their way to a large and welcoming tavern, him talking his head off about the barn smell that permeates the whole town and ignoring the dark looks people give them down the street, as Eskel listens, not a word coming from his mouth. It worries Jaskier a minute that he’s becoming more annoyance than the teasing meddler he wants to be. But Eskel is just scratching his chin, looking down and letting Jaskier lead.

When it becomes clear that Eskel doesn’t have any rented lodgings yet, Jaskier offers his own. “I’m sure the innkeeper won’t mind us bunking if we pay for two, at the end of our stay.”

Eskel doesn't say no. He also doesn't say yes. It takes them finally being settled in a table of their own, full of fruits, cheese and bread, neither of them taking the first bite to eat, for Jaskier to nervously ask, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” comes the too-quick response.

“If I overstepped in some way, please tell me.”

“It’s nothing like that, I—uh.” Eskel shakes his head, his expression scrunched up unpleasantly.

“Whatever it is, I won’t be offended.”

He's already writing a million apologies in his head for any of his imagined offenses, that he's not quite prepared for what Eskel says instead.

“You are...different from what I expected.”

Jaskier blinks. “How so?”

“I don’t know. You’re just. Human. You’re normal.” He makes a point of gesturing at the table, the people keeping their distance. “I don’t get why you do all this for me.”

It's slow-creeping, but once the pieces align, Jaskier starts to understand what he means. That confusion, he’s known it with Geralt. Why do you stick with me? What does a witcher have to offer a human that isn’t the service of a silver sword? What does a human want with a mutant when there are plenty of other ordinary, uncomplicated folk in the world to have for company?

“Because you’re a good man,” he tells the witcher gently. “Because you saved my life and I want to repay you in kind. Most reasonably of all, because we’re friends, and friends take care of each other.”

Of course there’s more to it than that, but if a friend is all Eskel wants, then a friend he shall be.

The rumble of the tavern fills the air as Eskel stares at him a little wide-eyed. Jaskier gives him a slight smile. As a close, he pushes the platter of cheese forward with an encouraging, “now eat your fill, my friend.”

Once Eskel returns his smile, he thinks that, well, that everything will turn out alright.

And they’re happy eating their food when Geralt shows up for the griffin that’s already dead.

At his distinct silhouette, Eskel stands up. “White Wolf.”

“Eskel,” Geralt calls back gravely.

They clasp arms and pat each other’s shoulders in sync. It might not seem like much to outsiders, but what a rare sight to behold—two witchers, two mirrored grins on both their faces.

Eskel is the first to part from the hug with a chiding, “You didn’t come for winter.”

“I know. I had a lot going on. Saw your handiwork hooked to your horse’s saddle.” Then he looks down, and spots Eskel's table company. “Jaskier?”

“Geralt.”

Their held eye-contact feels longer than it is. Looking away, Jaskier half expects the whole tavern to be staring at them, but as it turns out, no one cares to pay the witchers and their odd bard any attention now that the monster's been dealt with. It's just him, imagining his heart hanging out of his sleeve for everyone to judge.

And maybe Eskel senses something's up between them, because he leaves them with the excuse to collect his coin.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jaskier says after Geralt takes Eskel's abandoned seat. “Have you really been so busy that you couldn’t let your friends know you were alive?”

Geralt's silence is its own answer—a little shame, a little remorse. He remembers how Eskel had said that as time went on, Geralt just, lost touch. There had been something heavy in Eskel’s eyes when he said it, and Jaskier had felt it in his soul. Now he understands why. Him and Eskel, they'd both gone through the same impossible task of loving someone who doesn’t believe he can be loved.

By gods, he still loves Geralt, but Geralt's heart is a rusty cage, and neither of them can coax the old bird that lives in it anymore. Soft words and gentle promises have run their course.

“So,” the witcher starts, “you and Eskel? Didn't know you knew each other.”

“Maybe if you’d met either of us during winter you would have heard.” The phrasing's rough, but there's no resentment in his voice. He would have liked to know that Geralt had been safe in his wintering home, with Eskel.

“Yeah. I’m...surprised.” Jaskier raises his brow at him. Which just earns a quick shake of Geralt’s head. “He doesn’t make friends easily.”

“Neither do you, and yet look at us.”

“Look at us,” he echoes, staring at the empty plates.

“We missed a lot of opportunities together, didn’t we?” It doesn't make the truth any easier to swallow, but acknowledging the what-could-have-beens has always made him feel better afterward. Like closing a book, and getting ready to open a new one. He hopes Geralt knows that there's no bridges destroyed between them. Only those missed moments.

He still very much cares for Geralt, and he knows that Geralt does as well. They just have to come to terms with what's over—and what might come next.

“I won’t lie to you,” Jaskier adds more seriously. “I don’t want to miss any opportunities with him.”

The 'him' in question is unmistakable. Geralt nods. He looks down, one end of his mouth drawing up to dimple his cheek.

He says, like an olive branch offering, “His favorite flower is yarrow. Not because they’re pretty, but because they’re useful in the most surprising ways.”

* * * 

They spend the day catching up, all three of them, before Geralt is on the road again, taking his own path. Jaskier sees how it brightens Eskel’s spirits to have seen him off, and cheers up twofold. 

“I’ve known him practically my whole life,” Eskel tells him.

“I’ve known him half of mine.”

“So you understand.”

“That he’s a prat? Oh yes. Good at heart, backwards about verbalizing it. Cheeky when he wants to be. Oh by the way, here.”

From out of his little travel bag, Jaskier pulls a swathe of yarrows.

“Saw some at market street,” he explains, presenting them. “Thought you might find use in them for your potions.”

Eskel turns to him, his bright witcher eyes bouncing between him and the yarrows. Jaskier feels his heart climb up his throat, wondering what runs through Eskel's mind that makes him pause for so long.

Then Eskel takes them with one hand and with the other, he touches Jaskier’s face. It's big, warm, calloused against his skin. And sudden.

“‘Cheeky when he wants to be’, right?”

Jaskier stutters to say, “Well, yes, I mean, but this isn’t about him—”

He forgets how to speak after Eskel kisses him. It’s the lightest peck on the corner of his lips, so light that once he draws back, he wonders if he's not still dreaming back in their rented room.

“Thank you. I know just what to use them for.”

The yarrow gets tucked away with the other herbs in Eskel's saddlebag. A few glasses clink together as he moves things around so they don’t get crushed. And then, as Jaskier stands there, stupefied and slack-jawed, Eskel mounts his steed, a soot-black beauty that neighs softly at Jaskier’s face.

“Where are you headed for now?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere.” Wherever you’ll go, he thinks to himself. Wherever you'll have me.

Eskel grins wide at him, and it's the most beautiful sight, his smile, with all his teeth gleaming.

“That sounds like trouble.”

[kayr0ss]

Sunday Candy

[Diakko, Fluff, Easy going Fic, Grumpy Diana, Established Relationship, Diana POV - Thinking] AO3

Summary: Diana's having a bad day. But Akko lets her know that "I'll be there in twenty!" Everything gets better as she's counting down the minutes.

--

Today was not a good day.

Diana walked briskly through campus, expression perfectly neutral save for the grip she had along the strap of her shoulder bag. It was the only outward manifestation of her temperament that she would allow, and so she poured out all her frustration into the action—so much so that her knuckles were nearly going white.

A frustrating Anatomy class followed by an equally disastrous practical test in Pharmacology. Splendid combination, if one were on a quest to discover the recipe for a medical student’s bad day.

It felt like there were thorns to her chest.

She glowered at the shrubbery of the open spaces between the buildings, finding them dull under the dreary London weather. She set her jaw while staring right into the backs of freshmen who traveled in packs of five and above, walking at the pace of snails. If only her eyes could shoot lasers beams—oh if only. Was it even legal to talk as loudly as their walking was slow? She didn’t need to hear about whatever film it was their social sciences professor imposed on them to watch. 

But she wasn’t as petty as to engage them in conversation (even if it was a reminder to uphold proper student decorum), so instead she had side-stepped along the walkway and walked faster so as to out-pace them. She scanned her eyes along campus, observing students huddled together and playing music along the benches. A dance group went over their routine at the opposite end by the grass. Funnily enough, there was a group of younger students sitting in a circle studying, comically mimicking snapshots from college websites and brochures.

It was kind of annoying. If only because her dour mood was enough to paint any sort of stimulus as unpleasant to absorb. She continued her pace towards the western end of the campus, where she was due to meet Akko for coffee at the library café. It was a passable café at best, she supposed.

Just as she was about to go on mental tirade on how distracting and unnecessary all the campus activities were, her phone vibrated along with a ‘beep.’

16:47 Akko Kagari: ‘I’ll be there in twenty! 😊’

Five words and a smiley.

Five words—looking up at her through the glass screen of her cellular phone—were enough to wash away the weariness that had settled on her shoulders. Her hand relaxed, releasing the leather strap of her bag from her death grip and she only realized after the fact that it was beginning to grow sore.

She took a deep breath, slipping her phone back into her pocket, and continued to walk.

Perhaps she was being a bit mean? She looked over her shoulder, seeing that the group of students who were walking looked lost and weren’t sure where to go. They seemed to find security in their number, excited to deepen what looked like a freshly-blossoming friendship. Perhaps wishing ocular lasers upon them was a bit too much.

Ah but they were so loud!

Diana huffed through her nose, turning back towards the direction of the library. A cup of coffee, a slice of cake, and the presence of her girlfriend were sorely needed if her temper was anything to go by.

Ah. Her girlfriend.

By the time she had crossed through the open spaces along the center of campus it was only fifteen-minutes-to-Akko.

And, okay—maybe she was being overly dramatic about the plants and the weather. While she walked, she put effort into watching the gardens and shrubbery—she noticed they were about to bloom. The milder weather meant their flowers didn’t wilt away, and she fondly recalled many afternoons spent hand-in-hand with the brunette through this very walkway, taking their time to notice how deeply red the petals were.

Like her eyes.

Diana smiled at herself without realizing it. Now that was cheesy.

It was the first smile she had pulled for that entire afternoon and she almost shook her head. “Right.” She mumbled, mostly to herself. “I was in the middle of being grumpy, I believe.”

It would take several minutes to walk from the medical wing to the library. In the journey in-between she had encountered more groups of students practicing in the open spaces. Some danced, like the earlier group, while others had huddled together with their instruments to practice for some sort of performance.

“You gotta slow down to listen to the music!”

Her girlfriend had told her this once. Diana let urgent pace of her footfalls slow into an easier pace. They were singing a song she’d heard Akko sing before—something uplifting that sounded like it had a lot of love to give.

Like Akko.

‘You gotta move slolwy’—they sang.

And then her easy walking fell to a full stop, even for just a minute, and then she smiled. It was from a mixture of the anticipation of seeing Akko, and remembering the sound of her voice.

‘Take in my body like it’s holy’

Perhaps she’d take back what she said about the how unnecessary campus activities were. Especially when they could be as pleasant as this—so effective at pacifying the embers of her temper that were threatening to smother her only minutes before.

Which reminded her—as pleasant as the song was, she had a café library go to.

At ten-minutes-to-Akko, she had forgotten all about the woes of her earlier Anatomy class.

The weather felt much more agreeable now, a pleasant chill against her skin that encouraged the need to hold or be held. It was overcast. How could she have missed this as she walked out of the medical building earlier? Perhaps, after coffee, she’d invite Akko for a walk. The notion of it excited her, and she was surprised to find a spring in her step that would have felt foreign to Diana of a little less than fifteen minutes ago.

She finally walked up the steps to the library entrance, pushing through the double-doors to find a picturesque scene of students milling about the grand central common area, speaking in hushed tones while they buried their noses in either books or computers. Once again, it looked right out of a brochure—but instead of irritation she found it was… wonderous.

It’s as though she could watch and see the essence of ‘learning’ come to life right in front of her; that mood websites and photobooks tried so hard to convey except… alive.

She checked her watch and saw that Akko should be arriving in about five minutes tops.

And that made her feel alive.

The café was at the back of the library, a relaxed environment that was much quieter than the cafes around and within campus—but it smelled just as lovely. It was tastefully furnished and never crowded, and their coffee and pastries were actually better than most. ‘Passable at best’ suddenly felt like a lapse of judgement, and she bemoaned her past self for ever having thought of this place as such.

There were butterflies her stomach, and they chased away the remnants of frustration Pharmacology had left her.

Three minutes before Akko’s arrival, she was reminded of how pleasant the ambience was—with colors that were vibrant but easy on the eyes. There was a little bit of white noise, a clink of the glass here and there, along with the steady, low rumble of chatter. But somehow it added character.

For all her overthinking, she supposed she was a simple woman. She tried to hold in a smile, sitting in her favorite café, wondering what could have upset her so much earlier?

Diana couldn’t remember anymore, nor could she care.

Five words, a smiley—and the reminder that she was going to be here soon had helped her forget.

The first thing she felt were a pair of hands settling on her shoulders along with the weight of a chin setting on top of her head. It was followed by a voice so familiar that her tense shoulders relaxed the moment she could hear it.

“Hey.”

There was soft kiss to her temple. A hand that reached for hers. The moment they had threaded their fingers together, she realized there were no thorns left to pluck out of her chest.

She saw a smile and flash of dazzling red eyes. Diana smiled back, feeling easy.

“’Hey’ to you, too”

At zero minutes to Akko’s arrival, she realized that everything would be okay.

And that today was a good day.

--

You gotta move it slowly

Take it in my body like it's holy

I've been waiting for you for the whole week

I've been praying for you, you're my Sunday candy

--

fin

--

A/N: I was (and am) in such a good mood because of this song. You guys have no idea - dancing in my room and just vibing kind of good mood. I felt like, for Diana, Akko would be someone who'd have that kind of effect on her. All the bad just kinda... goes away! Anyway this was a silly little idea and I hope it works out.

Gifting it to @shmehua1 who I remember through this song because we both like it, she is awesome, and well, she's one of my best buddies out here in the LWA fandom! Love you bro - you know this to be true!

[themoonandhersun]

if jun didn’t come on zuko’s ship on accident, zuko would have had katara’s necklace for longer in book one. i would even go as far as to say that zuko would have it all the way to end of book two.

why?

because jun is the reason zuko found them.

if jun didn’t come on the ship, zuko and iroh wouldn’t have ended up at the village where they get paralyzed by nyla, jun’s animal. if jun didn’t come on the ship, and didn’t lead zuko and iroh to that village, then aang would not have had the chance to get katara’s necklace back. i believe that, even without jun & nyla, zuko would have found the gaang, but it wold have taken him longer, and he wouldn’t have found them in the village where bato was. (i googled it just to be sure—katara got her necklace back in bato of the water tribe.) (it’s also where we get this funny gem —> zuko: “just how stupid do you think i am?” sokka: “pretty stupid. run!”)

so—in short, zuko ends up having the necklace for longer. and he gets used to being around his wrist, because we, as humans, gets used to things wrapped around our wrists if its there for long enough. (he knows he’ll have to hide it sometimes, though. especially when zhao comes around and suspects him being the blue spirit. also, it’s worth saying that the blue spirit is in fact... a water tribe spirit. hm. interesting.)

and he wonders, from to time, “why am i keeping this thing?” because in this hypothetical scenario, he doesn’t know jun or encounter her, so he doesn’t know he can track the gaang with the necklace. he knows that he can’t keep it forever, though, because if he captures the avatar, then he’s sure that his water tribe girl friend will want nothing to do with him, even if it means that she doesn’t getting the necklace back. but he understands how painful it would be to lose something of his mother’s, so he keeps it anyway.

zuko figures, he’ll encounter the gaang, so he could probably give it back at some point. (since trying to get information out of katara with the necklace didn’t work. and katara might think it’s just a trick of his to get information on the avatar, so... even then—would she accept it? would she want it back?)

in book two, when he’s in the earth kingdom, separated from his uncle and starving, he might consider/think about selling the necklace around his wrist for some cash so he can feed himself. but zuko reminds himself of how he would hate to find out that an enemy sold a possession of his mother’s for money—so he doesn’t do it. even if he’s noticeably thinner and has lost muscle mass, he doesn’t do it. he’s stubborn—he can find another way to find food. (imo, it would be similar to when he almost robbed that couple, but how he stopped when he realized the woman was pregnant. there are things even book two, before-redemption zuko is not willing to do.)

also, while he’s in the earth kingdom by himself, he probably gets questions about the necklace. i mean, it’s a water tribe bethoral necklace. people in the earth kingdom most likely don’t see water tribe things a lot, so they ask questions. “is that your wife’s necklace? are you traveling to see her so you can propose? did something happen to her?”...etc etc. or maybe i’m just overthinking and they wouldn’t ask about it. but they would probably think it’s strange to see a scarred, grumpy young man traveling with a water tribe bethoral necklace around his wrist.

(zuko would not give it back to her during the chase or at any other time when they’re fighting during book two...or book one, for that matter. the necklace could get damaged that way, and it’s not he can just stop their fight just to give something back to her. nobody does that.)

then, times passes by, and... low and behold, in the crystal catacombs. he and katara make a connection and he realizes: her necklace! he can finally give it back to her now! but then he pauses, and thinks: wait, how will he give it back to her? he can’t just be like, “hey remember your mom’s necklace? here ya go!”

so when they reach a commons ground, about losing their mothers to the fire nation, that’s when he unties the necklace from around his wrist and walks over awkwardly to give it to her.

i think katara would be really shocked and she would ask, “you kept it for this long? why?” she would examine the necklace and see how it’s not damanged or anything. and this is katara we’re talking about—she might cry when she gets the necklace back. because she never thought she was gonna see it again. she thought she had lost a part of her mother forever.

and who knows? maybe she’ll give zuko a hug for returning it back to her in such good condition.

then, when zuko betrays her later on, it just adds another layer of hurt. because this boy kept her mother’s necklace for so long, and he kept it in good condition, and he gave it back to her... yet he still betrayed her. it just makes things so much more complicated in a way i don’t know how to explain.

but... when she hugs/forgives zuko at the end of the southern raiders, it adds another layer of intimacy and trust. because at that point, not only did zuko give her her mother’s necklace back, but he helped give her closure about her mother, too. he gave her back a piece of her mother and he helped her feel peace about her mother’s death, as well. i would definitely feel a strong connection to a cute boy who did both of these things for me, by the way.

of course, though, this is all hypothetical. who knows what would happen if jun didn’t end up on the ship? we will never know, but it’s fun to think about. :D

[welcometothemxdhouse]

Lectures (pt2)

Pat two babyyyyyyy! I’ve never written a part two for anything before i hope it’s okay...i put a tiny Beauty and the Beast reference in cause it’s my favourite film idk it seemed cute...

I’m gonna write a part three, I promise :) 

Tags for the people who asked for part 2: @prurientpuddlejumper​ @charlottegrice @feedthemadness-sweetie​

Warnings: none except, again, don’t get into irresponsible relationships lmao.

Not my gif, thank you to the person who made it :)

You knocked lightly on the large wooden door in front of you. Your last seminar had felt like it lasted a lifetime but finally you were stood, shifting nervously, in the corridor which held the offices of the psychology department. You ran your hands through your hair and debated knocking again before a small but assured voice shouted “Come in”.

You pushed open the door by its fancy gold handle and stepped into Doctor Chilton’s office. “Yeah...seems about right” you laughed to yourself as you looked around at the office that was bigger than your whole apartment. The high ceilings and white walls made the room feel cold and, despite the large wooden desk and matching dark chair, they crowded the man sat in the middle. The walls were lined with old, worn books and you thought that some of them were probably worth more money than you’d ever had in your bank account. Everything about your professor screamed over-compensation and superiority, but as your mind flashed back to the defeated look he gave you in the lecture hall when you stepped away from him, you knew there was a lot to uncover about Doctor Frederick Chilton. You wondered if he even knew himself under this charade.

“Have you read all of those?” You asked, awkwardly gesturing towards the books and, subsequently, breaking the silence as you suddenly became aware he had been watching you gawk at his belongings like a child. 

“The books?”, he chuckled to himself, “Definitely not. Some of them are in Latin.” 

You stared at the man in front of you for a few seconds, slightly dumbfounded at the personality change he had seemingly undertaken while you were in your seminar.

“...Did you just make a joke?” 

“I am not incapable of human emotion” He scoffed, making you worry you had offended him before you had even been in his presence for a minute.

“No I - I didn’t mea-” You stammered before he cut you off,

“It’s okay, I know. Is there something I can help you with, Y/N?” 

You felt the mood in the room shift when he spoke your name, his voice dropping as he pronounced every syllable. You stepped forward, expecting him to make a move, or at least stand up. He didn’t. He just sat there, behind the desk that was almost as big as his tiny-ass self, watching you with a self-assured smirk. You would have been offended at his nonchalance if you weren’t so goddamn horny-sitting through a two hour seminar with the lingering feeling of your professor’s lips on yours was satisfying some fantasy you didn’t even realise you had. Not until you had encountered Doctor Chilton anyway. Fine! If he wanted to play a game then he would meet his match with you.

“Yes actually. I wanted to talk about the finals.” 

You walked over to the chair on the opposite side of his desk, dropped your bag, sat down and relished the confused look on the poor doctor’s adorable face.

“I wanted to ask if there were any specific topics I should be focusing on. I realise you can’t tell me about the exam itself but you mark my work-is there anything I should work on, sir?” You continued, watching his smirk drop as you reached the last word. Doctor Chilton shifted uncomfortably in his seat and you giggled to yourself as you remembered all the times you had done the same action while half-listening, half-daydreaming during his lectures. He didn’t say anything but just looked at you, sceptical, almost unsure as to whether you were actually here for innocent reasons. Both of you were acutely aware of the fact that he was still actually your professor, and would be for a while yet. The thought of it sent a shiver down your spine. You stood up and walked around to his side of the desk-mimicking what he had done just a few hours prior-and perched on the edge, opening your legs slightly to leave him in no doubt as to your intentions. He shifted his chair forward so he was positioned between your legs before looking up and locking his eyes with yours. As you took in each other’s presence for a few seconds, you caught the smallest hint of something flash behind the green of his eyes, causing you to surge forward and capture his lips with yours for the second time that day. You ran your hand across his shoulder and tangled your fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as you slid off the desk and straddled his lap. Despite being older than you, (meaning you had wrongly assumed more experienced), he wasn’t the best kisser but fuck did he make up for it in enthusiasm. His tongue explored your mouth with a desperation you had never experienced with anyone else before, and the shameless moans he was coaxing out of you as his hands grabbed at every part of you he could was proof enough to both of you that you were enjoying it. Your hands made their way to his stubble and you felt your underwear dampen even more at the small groans and whimpers he made when you began to kiss down his neck and over his adam’s apple. 

You had just begun to reach down and unbuckle his belt when the sound of a heavy knock on the office door made Doctor Chilton practically jump out of his skin. You grabbed onto the sides of the chair before you fell off his lap. 

“Doctor Chilton?” A voice asked from behind the door. You and said doctor stared at each other for a few seconds, partially terrified the owner of the voice would discover the two of you in this position and partially trying to hold in laughter at the ironic and irritating timing (although the latter was entirely on your part-you had locked the door when you walked in-you knew you were safe). It seemed the universe didn’t want you to fuck your professor today and you were incredibly annoyed about that.

“It’s Doctor Bloom”, he whispered, “she won’t go away.”

You sighed and lifted yourself off the doctor’s lap, grabbing your bag and walking towards the door. You waited until he had finished buckling his belt before flicking the lock and opening the door to a rather grumpy-looking Doctor Bloom. You turned around as you stepped out of the office, glancing at Doctor Bloom to make sure she was listening:

“Thank you for the advice, Doctor Chilton. See you next week.” 

As you walked back to your apartment you couldn’t shake the look he gave you before you kissed him. There was something in it. Or maybe, more significantly, there was nothing in it. Maybe, you thought, for the first time someone had seen behind his arrogance, his ego, his fancy suits and the fake gold door handles. Doctor Chilton was a broken man, and dear god you wanted nothing more than to pick up the pieces and put him back together again.

[lunaraen]

A Jesse Surprise

Written for Spirit, who requested Aiden/Jesse/Lukas, as part of the 2020 mcsm discord secret santa

Some uncharitable mornings, when Aiden is deep within the warm and dark embrace of slumber, he thinks he preferred the early dawn stirrings in New Sky City (he also personally prefers its unofficial name, Ground City, but it’s not like he’s winning these battles).

Even though sleeping on his cot, and then later his bed, was like sleeping on gravel, even though the guards who woke him had no interest in letting him have a smidgen of comfort they could steal and were themselves likely culprits who chucked bricks through the windows of the Blaze Rods’ shack of a home, even though his waking mind and the crash of reality remind him of how grateful and lucky he is to have the love and comfort he does now, the security and safety he could never count on in a city full of people he’d almost killed.

After all, back there and back then, he didn’t have Jesse and Lukas coaxing him out of sleep, sweetly and gently tearing him from that slumber, with sweet kisses and soft prodding.

He loves them with all his heart, but he’s not a morning person and they make it hard to scurry back into the cover of unconsciousness the way he wants to.

(Living in the Order’s temple has its ups and downs, even if it’s mostly ups with few downs.

Sappy wakeup calls on his days off fit into both categories.)

So, eloquently, he tells them exactly what he thinks about their loving plotting.

“Mmf. Stoppit.”

And alright, maybe it’s halfway muffled by the pillow his cheek is currently smushed against, but it’s not a whine.

“Ooh, somebody’s grumpy.” And he can hear Jesse’s grin, feels it a second later when they kiss his not-smushed-into-a-pillow cheek while Lukas nudges at Aiden’s ribs again with his cold fingers. Jesse’s eyelashes flutter against his skin. “I thought you didn’t want to sleep until noon again.”

Winter days may be shorter and generally darker, thick cloud cover and snow more often than not working as a dense curtain to block out the sun, but there’s no way it’s noon.

A little past nine, maybe. Ten, tops.

“Changed- grhg, changed my mind.” His groggy, groggy mind, which is more than happy to latch onto the luxury of sleeping in as much as he wants on days like today, days when he isn’t working and gets to stay snuggled up inside as much as he wants. His prodded body, crying out for mercy, has other ideas, and Aiden slaps at Lukas’s wrist, only halfway missing as he bats Lukas’s hand away and twists himself upright. “Ghk- Lukas, if you poke me one more time, so help me-!”

(He’s generally much better with his temper now than he used to be, taking a number of cues from Lukas, but sleepy-Aiden still needs to work on it.)

“Oh, good, you’re up!” The dual smirks he’s getting are utterly shameless, and Aiden groans as he slumps against the headboard, bitter taste of defeat impossible to ignore.

How do they manage it?

He’s not sure, but they always do.

(Maybe he should’ve just crashed with Maya and Gill at their place.)

“Yeah, yeah- alright, I’m up, I’m up.” Despite himself, Aiden can’t hold back the beginnings of a toothy and tilted smile. “What is it?”

“Jesse’s got something to show us.”

Aiden snorts, elbowing Lukas’s side as he slips out of bed onto the regrettably chilly floor.

“Like you don’t already know what it is.”

“He doesn’t! I made sure of that- it wasn’t hard, when I just had to get him focused on messing with you.” Jesse, still sitting on the bed, kisses Lukas on the cheek and smiles so sweetly, like honey in tea and a field of flowers on a sunny day and the inviting glitter of an enormous rainbow, and Aiden’s grumpy heart melts just a bit more.

Oh, they’re not innocent- far from it.

Jesse’s crafty and sneaky and absolutely pleased with themselves for how snugly they’ve got Aiden wrapped around their finger, but it’s always hard to stay mad at Jesse even when he knows all of that so well.

“Thanks for that, by the way.” Aiden saves his toes from the frigid floor, putting on his slippers as he brushes his bedhead back with still-sleepy fingers. “You know, there have got to be better ways to wake somebody up- shove some snow down my back next time, maybe, or just get me with a bucket of water.”

“Aw, but then I don’t get to let you know how much I love you!” Jesse’s tone is outright teasing before it drops into something more mischievous, practically cheeky. “And besides, we already know you’re a total sap.”

“I am not-”

“Aiden, I’ve known you for just about forever.” Lukas plays with the silver comb from Aiden’s nightstand, touching up his already-perfect hair as he gives Aiden a far too knowing look and wry smile. The wind continues its steady beat against the window as flurries flutter past. “I’ve seen you at your best and at your worst. Yeah, you totally are.”

That’s a bit of an understatement, all things considered- Aiden’s willing to make the argument that Jesse and Lukas bring out the best in him, and his worst was pretty bad, given that in involved chucking them into the void.

They’re willing to make the argument that Aiden, far more humble and reasonable as well as just smarter now than he was back then, is even more of a sap than words can say.

“And you’re totally letting me fix my hair before you drag me to gods know where.” Aiden’s not giving up on the tatters of his thrashed dignity, though, and he’s not admitting it any time soon. He snatches the comb out of Lukas’s fingers, already aware that there’s no way they’re going to wait and let him gel his hair the way he likes to after already waiting for him to wake up and then deciding to do the job themselves.

Is he bitter Lukas has clearly had the time to go through his own hair care routine? Maybe, but it’s Aiden’s own fault for sleeping in.

(He’s grouchy and anything but happy to greet the morning, but he can recognize that.)

“Nope!”

“Yeah, definitely not happening.”

“I love you.” Aiden tosses the comb back onto the nightstand as he yanks his jacket off the bedpost he last threw it onto, rolling his eyes as he shoves his arms through and shrugs it up on his shoulders. His cozy sleepwear doesn’t quite match with his jacket the way his usual outfits do, but it’ll work for a Jesse-trip. “So much.”

“We know!”

“Cool.” His fingers are clumsy, from sleep and cold alike, as he attempts to yank up the zipper before deciding to forgo it altogether. He doesn’t need to hide his nightshirt. They’ve seen him in far worse conditions, far crueler and horrendous states, than in his sleepwear. “Can’t wait to bump into somebody in the hall and have an awkward conversation about how I look like I just rolled out of bed.”

(They’d be right.)

Lukas laughs, light and loud, and it captures Aiden’s attention instantly, enthralling as ever.

(What’d Petra say- stupid, perfect Lukas? Fitting.)

“Trust me, we’ve all seen worse- everybody’s bumped into Ivor in the middle of the night.” Aiden winces. The less said about his sleepwear and how it ‘breathes wonderfully’, the better.

Half the time, Ivor’s wearing his robes during those chance encounters.

The other half of the time, not so much.

“Yeah, okay, fair enough.” He adjusts his jacket, and not for the first time since moving in wishes it had a hood he could flip up to hide his not-yet-right hair. “Is it in the backyard, or are we going further than that? Because if I need to get my boots, they should just be by the door.”

His coat should too, and it would be plenty warmer than his jacket.

“If Petra hasn’t stolen them.” Aiden has, rather unfortunately, ended up on the wrong side of the latest prank war, something Jesse’s endlessly amused by. They’re kind enough to help him out when he begs- if Petra has taken his boots, he’ll just beg Jesse to have a talk with Petra about forgetting the chorus fruit incident.

“Oh, she definitely did.” Lukas waves off his look of alarm. “You’re good- apparently Jesse’s surprise isn’t even outside.”

Better Petra than Axel, anyway, and if she didn’t, he would’ve.

“I can try something snow-related next time.” Jesse’s eyes just about sparkle as they toy with one of Aiden’s errant bangs, calloused fingers brushing against his skin as their other hand cups his cheek. “Remember that deal I struck? For that room in the basement?”

“Barely.” He leans into Jesse’s touch before leaning back, not deterring Jesse or their mischief in the slightest. His bangs don’t usually get the chance to be in the way like this, rather than neatly slicked back, and Jesse’s milking it for all its worth. “It wasn’t like you let us know a whole lot about it, other than that Cassie’s good at negotiating.”

Cassie Rose, a different sort of enemy Jesse and the others have helped and taken in even when most people would never consider it, spends much of her time in the sprawling and labyrinthine basement.

“Shrewd. I believe I said shrewd.” Jesse gives the bang one last flick before their expression softens. Aiden doesn’t know exactly what they traded or had to promise Cassie, but Jesse’s more than decent at negotiating themselves. “But yeah, she’s pretty good. Anyway, she’s been letting me mess around in that part of her domain, and that’s what I want to show you guys. After you have some breakfast, of course- Axel made the best pancakes.”

Axel makes good breakfasts the way Jesse worries about everyone not eating enough- as surely as the sun sets and rises.

“Jesse, it can wait.” Aiden holds up his hands, palms facing outward and fingers slightly curled, when Jesse narrows their eyes. “I promise I’ll have a good breakfast and enjoy those pancakes after you show us what you’ve been up to.”

That placates them, Jesse beaming as they grab his hand.

If Aiden remembers correctly, Cassie’s not the only one Jesse’s been working with on this, terrifying a thought as that already is.

He’s pretty sure their alchemist got roped into things.

It’s an interesting thought, if not a necessarily pleasant one, to be entertained by as they make their way through the temple, weaving through hallways and past busy rooms to the basement stairs.

Cassie and Ivor may be the ones directly involved, but the knowing looks and waves they get suggest that Lukas and Aiden are the only ones in the dark.

Harper’s grin at her workshop table is as impish as it is (probably) accidentally intimidating, thanks to the dark and glinting lenses of her goggles hiding her eyes entirely while reflecting sparks from the iron she’s cutting into.

Aiden’s always been a sucker for mysteries.

It’s not until they start descending, shoes and slippers silent against carpet before clacking against cold stone as the stairway becomes less and less like the hallways they were just in, that he nudges Lukas, slipping his free hand into Lukas’s to hold it loosely.

“So, what can we expect from Ivor and Cassie that’s not an inventive death trap?”

Lukas chuckles, lightly pressing his shoulder against Aiden’s own.

“Ivor’s not that bad.” Not to Lukas, maybe, but Aiden got a number of intimidating talks from the other Order members when he first moved back to this world. Ivor’s was the most… creative. “And Jesse’s involved too- it could be anything.”

They take a turn, moving away from the more used areas of the basement to the series of corridors and rooms Cassie’s claimed as her own.

“Pet witherstorms?” A year ago, when they were figuring this and so many other things out, Aiden wouldn’t even think of joking about the behemoth that hurt them and their world in so many ways, his spiraling scars aching even now under his jacket at the mention and Jesse’s less physical scars making it so that thunderstorms more often than not lead to panic attacks. They’ve healed in a lot of ways, though, all of them, and monsters of the past are more and more easily used for lighthearted jokes.

He himself is something of a monster of the past, and they’ve done an incredible job of letting him back into their lives and then some.

“Enchanted endermites.”

Another turn, this time to the right, the yellow-orange glow of regular torches switched with the gentler light of redstone ones.

“Talking cats.”

The back-and-forth reminds him of guessing games he and Lukas would play to pass the time, before, ages ago, back when it was easy to be bored and when having the most outlandish guess was as good as anything else.

“A tap-dancing-”

“Alright, alright, you can stop guessing.” Jesse pauses at a dark oak door, fingers resting on a handle that’s a lighter color than any of the ones they’ve already passed, and gives them a look that’s trying very hard to be exasperated and failing. Jesse loves with all their heart; it’s hard for them to not look adoring. “If you want to just go in and find out for yourselves, that is.”

First, he asks the question that’s been on his mind since they brought up the surprise.

“What’s the occasion?”

Aiden’s been keeping a close eye on every important event and celebration he can think of; all he knows about today is that it’s supposed to be an average Saturday.

“I just wanted to surprise you guys.” The door creaks as Jesse nudges it open, just as likely in genuine need of oiling as it is intended to make sounds for dramatic effect (Cassie has a penchant for the theatrical), and Jesse’s given up on hiding that small smile when they look back to him and Lukas. “With something we didn’t have to leave the temple for, or risk our lives over- we have plenty of adventures and things to do normally. This is just… something for us.”

Inside the room, likewise dimly lit with redstone torches, three plants Aiden has never seen before are growing from decent sized pots up and along the dark walls towards the even darker ceiling. They’re almost vine-like, with ruffled leaves that actually glow along the edges and symbols along the dark stems that look natural to the plant rather than carved or printed- looking again, Aiden can see that the symbols glow too, different colors.

Symbols that are more than interesting lines and curves, actual letters tilted this way and that as they spell out each of their names.

The one that reads Jesse has a red sword symbol at the base of its stem, while Lukas’s has a teal book and quill.

It takes him a third look to make sense of the image on the one spelling his name.

Instead of a book and quill, it’s a green book and sword, with the book placed over the sword- even if Aiden wasn’t a writer, he thinks he’d see the meaning pretty clearly, the focus on peace and positive changes.

He’s long since given up waving swords around recklessly, though he trains with Jesse and Lukas. He’s capable, but it’s not his first instinct when his temper flares anymore.

Aiden glances at Jesse, whose smile has somehow gotten even softer.

He’s a sap and he’s not crying about it.

(A quick glance at Lukas proves he’s in a similar boat, eyes shining with unshed tears and his hand over his mouth as he crouches in front of the plant spelling his name out in blue and purple characters.

If Jesse can give a bad gift, Aiden has yet to see it.

Lukas is more used to seeing the odd assortment of plants in Ivor’s lab than Aiden is, on account of having been there more, and even then he doesn’t seem any less surprised than Aiden feels.

Jesse’s ideas are often like that, born from looking at the same thing in a slightly different way.)

He clears his throat and brushes away the welling tears that aren’t there.

“Jesse, this is amazing.” Despite having cleared his throat, his voice wobbles just a bit, and Jesse open arms are too inviting to ignore. Even with as silly as he probably sounds and looks right now, their gaze stays warm. Aiden hugs them, tight grip only relaxing briefly when Lukas joins the hug in order to wrap an arm around him too. “Thanks. Looks like we’ll just have to find our own ways to surprise you.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.” Jesse squeezes them, feeling every bit the strong hero that they are, and gives a contented hum. “Just being able to do these things with you is more than enough.”

“I don’t think we could ever give you enough, Jesse.” Lukas presses a kiss into Jesse’s hair before doing the same to Aiden, his voice doing a slightly better job of staying strong despite the tear tracks shining on his cheeks. Aiden gives him a kiss in return, the quick peck on the lips making Lukas’s smile widen.

A fourth voice, one that perhaps shouldn’t be so unexpected, interrupts before they can get too cuddly.

“If you’re going to be sappy, take it anywhere upstairs.”

Cassie Rose leans against the doorway, her partner in crime meowing from where he winds between her legs, purring as he rubs against her pants.

Though not quite the senseless killer she once was, she’s certainly an efficient mood killer.

Winslow, not so much, even if there’s a playful glint of his own in his eyes.

The hug breaks, though no more than necessary, the three of them still standing close together even as Aiden shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Thanks, we’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ve got a strict no-PDA policy.” She smirks, gaze shifting to Jesse as she points a thumb towards the nearest plant- Lukas’s. “Remember, the deal’s off once you take these upstairs and do whatever you’re going to do with them.”

“Got it.” Jesse’s thumbs-up placates Cassie enough to get a short hum out of her, and their smile stays bright as they turn their attention back to Aiden and Lukas. “Ivor said they should be fine as long as they’re kept out of direct sunlight. Even then, they’ll be alright for a while, but you won’t be able to see the glow very well.”

While Jesse explains and they nod, Aiden keeps an eye on Cassie out of the corner of his eye.

In spite of that close watch, even though he glances away for barely a moment, as soon as he opens his mouth to thank her, he finds she’s already vanished, her feline friend likewise missing.

Huh.

Oh well.

He’ll thank her and Ivor for their part in this later.

“Well, if we’re taking things back upstairs anyway, I guess we could head back to your room and cuddle properly.” It wouldn’t be hard for Lukas’s voice to be mocking, but it does a good job of riding the line between joking and being genuine, and it oozes affection regardless as he wraps an arm around Aiden’s shoulders. Aiden takes a second to appreciate how lucky he is to be here, to be with them, while his heart soars. “You know, let you get some more sleep.”

“Maybe do breakfast in bed.” Jesse’s voice is just as affectionate, and the idea of getting something to eat as well as some more rest doesn’t sound half bad.

Of course…

Aiden lets his head rest against Lukas’s shoulder, huff somewhere between a fresh groan of defeat and a laugh.

“Could’ve started with that.”

Jesse, in flagrant violation of Cassie’s policy, squeezes his side and kisses his nose, startling a lopsided smile out of Aiden.

“Less exciting that way.”

If there’s something he can count on here, with them, it’s always excitement, one way or another.

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 26

First  -  Previous  -  Next

Me, writing this chapter: I am going to create a situation that is so awkward,

cw: food

~

~SHARON~

welcomes you

Remus eyed the sign suspiciously as he drove past. It was set low in the ground, as if it had sunk a bit over time. It didn’t look familiar at all—none of this did. Did he have the wrong place?

Patton shifted a bit in the seat beside him, looking around with interest. They’d reached their destination, after all. Remus couldn’t help but doubt himself. There were other Sharons in the country, after all. Maybe they’d just gone to the wrong one.

Something about this city called to him, sure. But that didn’t mean anything—the cult had called to him too. Remus’s instincts weren’t the best.

He was roused from his thoughts when Patton softly tapped his shoulder. They were passing a grocery store—Save A Lot. It was time for lunch, wasn’t it?

Remus pulled left into the parking lot of the store, which was fairly empty for midday Friday. Only three cars, and a fourth pulling in at the same time as them. Remus parked in between two of the other cars there (mostly because he could) and hopped out, taking a moment to stretch before entering the store. Patton got out too, walking around to the driver’s side while Remus continued to reach toward the sky.

Patton led the way, holding the door open for Remus, who looked up as the bell jingled. An older man waved from behind the counter. A shopper milled about in the nearest aisle. Classic rock played quietly in the background. It was nice, in a weird way. Very peaceful. Very easy.

Pat headed for the bathroom and Remus watched him for a second, before turning down one of the aisles at random. They probably needed some fruit or something. He followed the aisle through to the small produce section on the other side of the store. Another employee leaned against the meat counter on the other side of the section, eyes glued to his phone. Remus froze and stared at him, waiting to be told that he wasn’t allowed back here. Nothing happened.

Remus fully exited the aisle and checked out the fruit. Oranges, apples, different apples, a handful of pineapples. The oranges were the cheapest, and Patton needed citrus too. There was a vitamin in citrus, right? Vitamin D? C?

Whatever it was, he was pretty sure that Patty needed it. He needed every vitamin, actually. Remus picked up an orange, about to pull a plastic bag from the roll.

“Oh my gosh. No way!”

Remus dropped the orange, spinning on his heel and straightening up. His heartrate spiked, breathing quickened, and he stood at attention, keeping his eyes on the linoleum floor.

“Remus?”

He chanced a quick look up, forcing his eyes almost immediately back down. He saw . . . a woman. Young, probably about his age. Tall. A shopping basket over her arm (probably why he hadn’t heard her coming. No squeaky wheels). Smiling. She was completely unfamiliar, but by now the watery reflection of the lights on the floor had gotten into his head where he was. In a grocery store. In his hometown. Not back there.

With effort, Remus wrenched his head up, meeting the woman’s eyes. “H-hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “What’s up?”

“So it is you!” The woman laughed a little. “I haven’t seen you in years. How’re your parents?”

This woman knew him. So he had definitely lived here. But this wasn’t a very big city, and if she knew him, then she had to have known his family, right? Why would she have to ask him how they were? Had they moved away? Cold clutched at his heart as he considered that option. They can’t have. He can’t have lost them before he even found them.

“I-I dunno, just got in town. Haven’t even dropped by yet.”

The woman nodded. “Where do you live now?”

“Other side of the country,” Remus hedged, “Desert-y place.”

“Oh, I grew up in Arizona,” the woman said, almost commiseratingly. “So hot. There were days that I’d just go stick my head in the freezer.”

Remus laughed nervously. “Yep, wish—wish I coulda done that.”

“Mhm. Really, I haven’t seen you since—gosh, since we graduated! You didn’t even come to the graduation itself, I heard that you skipped town practically the day after school got out.”

Okay, someone he’d gone to high school with. Remus remembered being sorta close with the other kids on the soccer teams, but he mostly hung out with the stoner kids to annoy his parents. He couldn’t see how he would know this chick. Maybe they’d been lab partners? Or maybe she’d been someone he hung out with?

The woman seemed to be casting around for something to say, her eyes eventually falling on his face. “Wow, that mustache has really filled out, huh?”

Remus’s hand flew up to smooth it unconsciously. “Yep, this is a couple years’ hard work,” he boasted. The woman chuckled.

“No offense, but it used to be this terrible shrimpy little thing,” she said. “I remember prom night when you picked me up you were all grumpy because your mom made you shave it off. You didn’t even talk to me until we got there!”

Oh shoot.

Oh no.

This was an old girlfriend.

Remus hadn’t dated anyone in years. He’d tried for a while, those first months in the cult. But the gals weren’t interested and the guys were too scared, so he’d given up. He hadn’t really minded it, honestly—he had dated all through high school, but looking back he only did it to make his parents mad. They didn’t want him steady dating until he was an adult, and definitely didn’t want him dating dudes and stoners, so he had done both over and over again between the ages of thirteen and eighteen.

Now, though?

Maybe it was just the cult stuff talking, but Remus wasn’t interested in a partner. The romance part sounded cute (he’d never admit it, but part of him really wanted to curl up with his partner and watch a romcom, teasing each other lightly), but the rest of it sounded like way too much of a hassle. He didn’t have the time, not when he was carrying the load of three different people’s trauma. And while he had a feeling that the commitment might help ground him, he just wasn’t interested in the rest of it. If that made sense. Heck, this was his own head and it didn’t really make sense.

Anyways, he remembered this woman, just a little. Not much about her, or how well they worked together, or if they had truly been in love. He mostly remembered that he had left without breaking up with her, without even telling her goodbye.

“Yeah, I was a terrible kid,” he said, secretly waiting for her to agree with him. Instead she shrugged.

“Sure, you were always hanging out with weird people,” she replied, “but you were very kind. I definitely don’t think we were meant for each other, but I had fun with you.” She winked and Remus almost physically recoiled. He didn’t like when people winked.

A hand tapped his elbow and Remus jolted, turning his head. Patton was there, smirking a little bit.

The woman’s eyes traveled between them, clearly trying to figure out their relationship. “Boyfriends . . . ?”

“Kidnapper and victim,” Remus said, turning back to her fully and smiling toothily. He felt a little bit more in control now. She barely seemed uncomfortable, instead sharing her own smile.

“Right. Well, tell your parents I said hi,” she said, waving slightly. Remus noticed the ring on her wedding finger, but before he could ask, she answered.

“D’you remember Claire, from the swim team?”

Remus opened his mouth to lie, but she continued to talk.

“Well, after you left, she comforted me and helped me decide what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, and the answer turned out to be her!” the woman laughed at her own joke, and Remus laughed along, not quite sure why. It was obviously a practiced line, and he didn’t really find it funny either.

The woman reached out and patted him on the shoulder, a warm look in her eyes. “Seriously, it was great to see you. Everyone was really worried about you, we thought you’d died in some ditch. Take care!” And with that, she was turning down another aisle, quickly out of sight.

“Who was that?” Patton asked as soon as Remus turned to him. The smirk was gone, his eyes now wary.

“A friend from when I was a kid,” Remus signed distractedly, looking at the oranges again. He grabbed two, then a third one just in case and led the way back to the cash registers. On the way he snagged a package of beef jerky, grimacing at the price.

That was the weirdest encounter he’d had, probably ever. At least it was proof that they were in the right place.

-

“No clue where we are,” Remus sang under his breath, checking the street signs as they passed a church. The area looked vaguely familiar, so that had to mean something, right? Apparently not, because after the grocery store experience, everything looked familiar. He pulled to stop in front of a stop sign, patting Logan’s car as it groaned. For a moment, he let his eyes close and his head rest on the steering wheel.

Patton tapped his arm, waiting for him to look. “Trust your instincts,” he signed, finger-spelling the last word. He smiled softly at Remus, then turned back to the window, pulling the patched hoodie closer around his shoulders. Remus took a deep breath. He could do this. He’d survived a cult. He’d saved a whole kid from the same cult. He was awesome.

Remus took his foot off the brake, letting the car carry him from street to street, waiting for something to happen. If this didn’t work, then he’d go street by street, knocking on every door until he found his parents and brother.

Then, as he turned right in a somewhat busy intersection, his hands spasmed. Muscle memory took over, and he turned right again onto a smaller street. Memories of driving this road far too fast in the darkness of late nights and early morning flooded his mind, overlapping and playing simultaneously. In the memories, he followed this street through, then turned left at the end of it.

So he did, his arms turning the wheel almost without conscious input. Another two turns, and he was Euclid Ave, a street name that made his heart jump into his throat. Just two houses down, there it was.

150 Euclid Ave.

Suddenly, the home phone number was on the tip of his tongue—he’d memorized them together. He recalled his parents, sitting on the sofa, clapping for a miniature version of him reciting the full address and phone number.

He stared at the house so hard stars appeared in his vision, surprised to feel almost nothing. It was familiar of course, just like everything else, but it was also . . . normal. It almost felt like he’d never left. Or like he’d gone back in time, back to when this was right. Back to when this was who he was.

“Home?” Patton asked out loud, the middle of the word slurring a little. Remus’s eyes misted a little bit.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Home.”

-

Knock-knock-knock.

Remus rocked back onto his heels, shooting a reassuring smile to Patton. He could do this. No sounds came from inside the house, but there were two cars in the driveway, so someone had to be home. Hopefully both were his parents, then he could see everyone together.

But his brother could drive now, right?

They were five years apart. When he’d left, his brother had been in middle school. Now he was probably in college. If he was away at school, he wouldn’t be home right now, would he?

Remus knocked again.

Now there was sound from inside, the creaking of footsteps on floorboards, the running water. Adrenaline suddenly pumped through his veins, and the wild thought of running back to the car crossed his mind. He could get out before they ever knew he was here, just leave and nothing would change.

Did he want it to change?

Click-click. The door unlocked.

Swung open.

Remus composed his face the best he could, trying to smile and look as normal as possible. He could do this. He could do this.

He looked up.

A face, lined, clean-shaven, framed with close-cut dark hair that was greying at the ends. A face that Remus saw from the stage of a talent show, sitting in the audience, smiling and clapping along with his clarinet rendition of Jingle Bells.

The shoulders were broader than Remus ever thought his own would be, proved otherwise by time. Remus saw the shoulders from the closet of his parents’ room, where occasionally on Sunday afternoons the boy was allowed to try on suit coats that swallowed him completely.

The left hand had a simple silver band, one that Remus could see resting on the aluminum foil ring holder he’d made in class as a Father’s Day present. He’d always been afraid that it would catch his fingers when they played the hand stacking game.

Remus’s eyes traveled back up the arm, the shoulder, the neck, the face, back to the eyes. Blue, almost grey, a color that neither he nor his brother had inherited.

“Hey dad,” he croaked. “I'm home.”

The eyes widened.

~

Taglist: @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog  @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides @awkwardandanxiousfander @thekitchenpan @im-an-anxious-wreck @larkiaquail @anteonnix @fantasticfander21

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 18

Chapters: 18/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

They cook, they feed him, they chat away about inane things. Their presence soothes Martin and their voices fill him with the warmth sucked away by his unexpected encounter.

Gerry helps him make tea after dinner, and they all sit at the table together, even the cats sleeping nearby, cuddled up into one big, grey and black fluff ball.

"I think," Martin begins, voice croaky, "That I would like to tell you now."

"We're ready to listen if you're ready to tell us." Jon offers softly. Gerry reaches over to take one of his hands, turning it over to kiss the palm sweetly.

Martin talks, voice quiet and even.

"In the beginning, it was just a normal relationship. Except for the fact that he was almost twenty years older than me, and about a million times richer. I didn't know that at first, of course. He was just a middle-aged man I met in a gay bar, who didn't seem to mind that I was trans. I felt secure in our relationship, if not exactly nurtured or adored. I had never felt very secure before, and it seemed like enough, you know?

"He took me out, brought me a few things in the beginning. He was very dominant, sexually, but I was a lot less sure of my own preferences back then and I thought it was fine. He never even blinked at my trashy flat or cheap clothes, and I didn't even realise just how much money he had for a long time. Maybe I just can't really comprehend that much money, even now.

"When I was twenty-two, my mother died, and…" He huffs out a shaky, emotional laugh. "Well, I was a real mess. I lost my job, and almost my flat. Peter started paying for things, my rent, clothes, meals. He said that I needed somewhere to live and had to eat and look presentable, and it was his pleasure to provide those things for me. It made me feel a bit gross, but I struggled to find another job, and so I accepted it."

Martin hesitates here, before continuing. "The problem started when I wasn't interested in sex one night."

"He forced you?" Gerry interrupts to ask dangerously, threat explicit in his quiet words. His eyes seem to glow faintly in the growing dark of the room, as the sun sets. He wishes, more than ever, that he had helped Jon kick the shit out of Peter Lukas, instead of stopping him.

Martin sighs, eyes pressed tight closed for a second. "Not exactly. He simply pointed out that he paid for me to exist. So I made myself interested."

Gerry's hands tighten into fists and he moves them under the table where Martin can't see them anymore. Jon suddenly looks very pale. They share a look, neither able to see much difference between 'forcing' and what sounds a lot like financial abuse to them.

Martin pulls his legs up to his chest, curling around them as he goes on. "Our relationship became a lot more transactional after that night. I disengaged whatever feelings I had left for him and simply drew all my emotions down deep into myself. I wasn't ashamed to be getting paid for sex, but I felt like I had lost my own consent in the matter. Peter honestly seemed like he had gotten exactly what he wanted. Money was nothing to him, and he had someone to take out on his arm or shag whenever he wanted, without the work of a real relationship, or the complications of unfortunate attachments.

"So, if I needed something, I told him. He set a date, took me out, fucked me. He gave me however much I needed."

Martin shrugs, looking down at his hands. "I honestly hated it. Not because of the prostitution itself, sex has always been very nurturing for me, and I sometimes caught the idea that it was only another way to care for people, and being paid for that is perfectly fine, if you're doing it for the right reasons. The real issue was Peter himself. He had this way of making me feel… bereft and hollow, even before the money came into it."

A few tears track down his face, although his face remains rather blank, in a numb way. It's only as he admits the next words that his voice breaks and the heartbreak works its way out again.

"I was very foolish. Looking back, I can see that I was still a child in a lot of ways. I put myself into a situation that damaged me, but I accept the consequences of those actions, both then and now. I- I-"

"Martin," Jon whispers, warm love clear in his voice. It's nothing but an offer of support, one that he desperately needs right now.

He presses his eyes shut, forcing away the stutter and the lump of tears. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to get out of it, even if I got a crap, minimum wage job that I was qualified for. So I started applying for any work that was available. I made every application exactly what they wanted, and I hoped for the best. When Elias offered me the job at Magnus, I took it happily. Since then I found out that Peter knows him, and probably arranged the job for me, but at the time I had no idea. Looking back, I know that it's a miracle that I got out of it at all. Peter could have chosen to make my life a living hell. Instead, he accepted the several firm rejections I offered him.

"He promised me that we weren't done, that I would be back, but he left me alone. I was done. I moved on with my life, even if I had to lie to do it." Martin sighs, shakes out his shoulders, the most difficult part over now.

"I had always planned to be open about it with my next relationships, but they were so fleeting that it never even came up. By the time I fell for Jon, it had become a secret, one I was loathed to dig up for a relationship I was convinced wouldn't last. I thought to myself, 'Why ruin something that makes me happy?' I assumed it would fall apart anyway, and it was easier to allow it to be in the past.

"But I am sorry. I'm sorry that I never told you. I'm sorry you had to find out from him. I'm sorry that we've been together for more than a year and we basically live together, and I've put you in this position. I love you both, very very much."

"When did you eventually decide that our relationship was going to last?" Jon queries, genuine curiosity in his voice.

There's a beat of hazy silence at the abrupt change in tone and topic.

"Oh, ah-" Martin stumbles over his words, unsure how blatantly honest to be. He chooses the real truth, no matter how unfortunate. "The day that I got Luna was the first time I really accepted that you both loved me."

Jon simply raises an eyebrow, completely unconcerned. "What about you, Gerry?"

"With you," Gerry responds easily, "at the hospital in Morden, when I was so panicked that I couldn't decide if I wanted to kill you or handcuff us together for the rest of our lives. With Martin-"

He breaks off with a laugh, colouring slightly. "It was the day we dyed my hair purple."

"The first time we had sex?" Martin asks, surprised at such a hedonistic answer.

He laughs again, more confidently this time. "No, actually, although that was spectacular. It was afterwards, when you braided my hair for the first time. That was the first time anyone had ever braided my hair. It made me feel so… So honoured. Like I was the most precious thing to you."

"Gerry, you are the most precious thing to me. You both are." Martin whispers, tears creeping back into his voice.

"Good, because the feeling is mutual, and we desperately need you around to keep us in line," Jon tells him, voice unusually firm and confident.

"What about you?" Martin remembers to ask him, at risk of floating away in his post confession haze. "When did you know?"

"With Gerry, it was when we were teenagers. I kissed him for the first time, and he laughed at me. I just knew he was my soulmate." Jon rolls his eyes at this, but his voice is full of blatant affection. "With you, Martin, it was- Well, to be quite honest with you, there was no one special moment. It was a million tiny moments, all of them special and perfect to me. Every cup of tea, every frown while you were writing poetry, glasses pushed haphazardly up into your lovely hair. The easy, glorious look on your face the day you met Gerry for the first time, as if you weren't even capable of not falling in love with him, just as I hadn't been. It was especially the days that I would come out of the library and find you waiting for me after work. This weight of total surety would fill my chest and leave me gasping, needing you."

Jon sighs, his own eyes a little bright. "I suppose it was really the night you kissed me in the rain, and every soft moment since then has only affirmed the way I knew you were it for me."

Jon smiles at Martin so beatifically that he forgets to breathe for a moment.

"We love you too, Martin," Gerry tells him, reaching out to grasp a hand. Jon takes the other. "And we wouldn't want you any other way."

***

The next morning, Martin wakes to find Jon eyeing his phone intently. Gerry is asleep on his other side, and he feels warmly cocooned between them. Gentle cloudy light fills the space, encouraging the comfortable cozy atmosphere of their bed.

"What's wrong, love?" Martin asks sleepily, snuggling into his side.

"I got-" Jon pauses, utterly flummoxed. "I got paid a bonus."

"What?" Equally perplexed, Martin takes his phone, squinting as he tries to read the screen.

The banking app is open, and there is indeed a deposit there, Jon's normal salary amount, but on completely the wrong date.

In the purpose box, it simply reads 'Entertainment Value'.

"You don't think," Jon starts, hesitant, "that Elias paid me…"

"For hitting Peter Lukas?" Martin finishes, "His own husband."

They blink at each other, bewildered.

"Does that seem… slightly cursed, to you?" Jon whispers as if Elias might hear him. Even worse if Elias could hear them, and would probably enjoy being accused of having a cursed relationship.

"Yes, completely cursed. What is up with those two?" Martin looks as if he's smelled something bad.

"We absolutely cannot spend this money, right?" Jon asks. "Lest we are cursed with their relationship dysfunction."

"Correct," Martin responds firmly, shuddering. "Can we donate it to the animal shelter?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Jon's relief at this resolution is palpable.

He does it straight away, as if even having the money in his bank account might ruin their lives.

They let out a simultaneous sigh as the transfer goes through.

"That is wild," Martin mutters as he snuggles back down.

Jon tosses his phone away, no longer interested in it. Instead, he wraps his arms around Martin, burying his nose in his lover's hair. It smells of bergamot and tea leaves and the ocean in winter, just like Martin himself, and Jon luxuriates in the moment.

"I love you, Martin K. Blackwood." He whispers into the soft air.

"Even if I don't actually have a middle name?" Martin whispers back.

"Especially because of that." Jon chuckles.

They lay together, the gentle moments of the morning flowing around them. Later, they get up and shower together. They drink tea in front of the big windows in the living space. Martin reads a book from Gerry's shelves, his own books still packed, and Jon wanders off to play his piano where it is randomly set up, right in the middle of Gerry's typical painting area.

Gerry himself appears downstairs, still sleepy and bleary-eyed. He curls up with his head in Martin's lap, listening to Jon fill the flat with gentle music.

It's the soft sort of moment that each of them had been wishing for all their lives, full of love, and family, and a home of their very own.

[quicksilversquared]

Of Growing and Miraculous Pranks

Ladybug has always been shorter than Chat Noir, and even though Marinette has grown- well, the height gap between them just keeps getting bigger. She hadn't given it any thought- well, much thought, at least- until things started not quite lining up properly.

Or: Marinette grows. Ladybug doesn't.

links in the reblog

Marinette had been Ladybug for four years, three months, and fifteen days when she started realizing that- well, that something a bit strange was going on.

Everything started when she caught wind of the- apparently quite common- perception that Ladybug wasn't a teenager as a lot of people had originally thought, but actually an adult. For some reason, though, people still saw Chat Noir as a teenager instead of assuming the same thing about him.

"I don't know why people would think that, Tikki," Marinette told her kwami that afternoon, after she had made her excuses with Alya and headed home from their group outing a little early to get a bit of homework done. "I mean, when we started out- well, it was pretty obvious that we weren't experienced, and that we were learning a lot, and then there was that stupid textbook, too, plus I was really short then. So maybe I wasn't happy that people had figured out that I'm a teenager, but it at least that assumption made sense!"

Tikki giggled. "Maybe it's the Miraculous magic that's interfering?" she suggested, the impish look on her face suggesting that she knew exactly what was going on but she wasn't going to tell. "At any rate, that's a good thing, right? People aren't thinking about someone your age when they try to figure out Ladybug's identity!"

"Ugh, I don't know," Marinette muttered, making a mental note to maybe look into the subject more later on. She honestly didn't keep up with the news about her and her partner much anymore- she had better things to do with her time, both in her normal life (unfortunately, superheroes still had homework and babysitting and commission deadlines) and the superhero one. That was why the whole we think Ladybug is actually an adult! had taken her by such surprise. "I mean, I guess, but does it really matter that much what the public thinks if Hawkmoth knows that the timers are a sign of a Miraculous holder not being an adult yet? It might throw Alya off of my trail a bit more, but- well, I've already done that, when I used the Fox to create a Mirage of Ladybug rescuing Marinette!"

Tikki giggled some more. "More confusion around your identities is always a good thing! Even if it's just one of the city's superhero reporters that doesn't think that it's possible for you to be the same person."

"Yeah, I guess." Marinette thought about it for another minute, then shrugged and pushed the thought away. She was far too busy to waste time wondering about inaccurate speculation and gossip about her superhero self. It wasn't as though it was doing anyone any harm, anyway. "I'll figure it out later. Tikki, can you pass me my Literature notebook? I want to finish all of this week's readings today. Then maybe I'll have enough time later in the week to tailor a couple of my outfits so that they fit me better."

"Okay, Marinette!"

"Ugh, Chat Noir, can you stop growing?"

Up ahead of her, Chat Noir snickered, shoving his hair back out of his face as he flashed a devilish look back at her. "Jealous, Bug? It's not my fault that I've actually grown and you- have you shrunk, maybe?"

"Ugh," Ladybug grumbled again, pushing herself forward as they raced across town towards a reported akuma. That was totally unfair. She had grown, surpassing her mom and keeping up with all of her friends. Maybe she wasn't the tallest out of them, but it wasn't as though she was dwarfed by Adrien and Nino or anything. Adrien was the tallest of her friends, even, and she came up to just around his nose, but with Chat Noir?

With his latest growth spurt, Ladybug would be lucky if the top of her head even managed to reach his shoulders. Her partner delighted in his towering height, making a big deal about teasing her about being able to reach things without jumping, or swinging herself up.

Not that it was exactly a big deal if she had to do that, of course. It wasn't hard. Besides, being small had its advantages! There was less surface area to get grabbed or hit by akumas, it was easier to wedge herself into hiding spots, she could slip into small spaces far more easily than her gangly partner...

...but still. It was the principle of the thing. She didn't exactly want to look like a child next to her ridiculously towering partner. Maybe the city had decided that she was actually the adult out of the two for some strange reason, but it would be nice to actually look the part.

(Her one condolence was that there were short adults, ones even shorter than her. She would have been super grumpy if she had stopped growing at her mom's height, since- well, Ladybug was pretty certain that no one would have taken her very seriously if even some école élémentair students towered over her.)

"My Lady?" Chat Noir asked after several minutes of running had passed. He had slowed down, Ladybug noted in the back of her mind, and she had subconsciously matched him. "You're quieter than usual. I don't actually think that you've shrunk!"

Ladybug had to laugh at that. "I know, kitty-cat. And I have grown, I swear! Just- just not to ridiculous-person heights," she added with a sniff, turning up her nose. "It's completely unnecessary."

Chat Noir snickered at that, his ears perking back up as his worry clearly dissipated. "Unnecessary? Do you want to know how useful that unnecessary height is in my civilian life? Why, just the other day, my friend's mom asked me to grab something from a high shelf so that she didn't have to get out the stepstool, and she called me a very helpful young man when I did!"

"I've heard that tall people have a higher risk of blood clots and cancer," Ladybug parried, hoping that she was actually remembering her reading for health class correctly. "And heart issues. I'd rather have to pull out a stool than have heart issues."

Chat Noir practically fell over as he laughed even harder. "I think you're making stuff up and evading! Cancer, really?"

"Am not!" Ladybug insisted, even though she was totally evading Chat Noir's point. Adrien had done something similar for her mom earlier in the week (and had been rewarded with a cookie, which he had been far too happy about), and Marinette had been thankful for his height and extra reach then. He helped her and Alya all the time with reaching books in the library, too, when there was something that they couldn't quite reach. It didn't happen often, necessarily- neither of the two girls were really short, just normal sized thank-you-very-much- but sometimes a book was just barely out of reach and it wouldn't be a good idea to try to pull it down because it could slip out of her grasp and hit her head and then knock her out and then she would get a concussion and fail her exams and-

Well. Anyway. It was probably a better idea to either ask for help or grab a stool instead of risking injury to herself or damage to the book.

"I hope you know that I'm looking that up when I get home," Chat Noir informed her. Then he snuck another glance at her, slowing down a touch more. At this rate, civilians were going to start complaining about the superheroes taking forever to get there.

Ladybug quirked an eyebrow at him. "What, kitty-cat?"

"You know, if your height bugs you that much, my Lady, Plagg told me that our transformations- well, they can be whatever we want," Chat Noir told her, his voice going quiet so that no one would overhear him. "And, if we really wanted to, it can change, like, physical features. Like height."

Ladybug blinked at him, and then her partner's suggestion sunk in and she scowled. "I'm not going to cheat and magic myself taller, Chat Noir!"

"It was just a suggestion, in case the height stuff was really bothering you!" Chat Noir yelped, backpedaling quickly. "In case you didn't know about that bit but might be interested! I wasn't saying that you should or anything! Just that it was something you could consider. If you wanted to."

"I wouldn't consider it," Ladybug told him tartly. "What would be the point?"

(That was a lie. She totally considered it.)

(Just for a moment, though. Really.)

Marinette scowled as she shot out of yet another hiding spot that had been invaded by other students and made (another) dash for it, pushing herself to run as fast as she could. She could hear the akuma drawing closer, and she really had to transform before the akuma tore into the area and zapped her up alongside all of the other civilians in the street.

Ugh. Why couldn't people find their own hiding spots and leave hers alone? Everyone knew by now that the more people that were hidden in a spot, the more likely it was that the akuma of the day would find them.

"Marinette! Hold tight!"

"What-" Marinette started, startled, before she was scooped up my a pair of familiar arms. A second later, she and her rescuer were up on the rooftops and positively flying across the city, the streets a blur below.

Aha. It was Chat Noir.

It had been a few years since she had really interacted with her partner as a civilian, Marinette realized as she clung to Chat Noir's shoulders. There hadn't really been any akumas targeting her, not since Lila had been sent packing in disgrace, and the agility and strength that she had gotten from battles as a superhero helped her get out of the way before she could get in much danger- well, most of the time, at least. There hadn't been any more akumas wanting to go out on dates with her, either, or awkward encounters leading to more-awkward brunches with her parents. So it was honestly a little surprising that he remembered her name, all things considered, and even more surprising that he would go out of his way to rescue her specifically.

Not that it wasn't appreciated, of course, because it very much was. But it was still surprising.

"That akuma doesn't look like one to mess around with," Chat Noir puffed in her ear as he launched them across a street. "And I'm pretty certain that I saw Hawkmoth and Mayura out and about, too. So this battle is going to be super fun."

"Can you drop me off at my house?" Marinette asked right away They were headed in that direction anyway, she could tell, and if her partner was right- and he often was- about the supervillains being out, then she would need to grab a few Miraculous for backups before going out. "I can stay there, it should be far enough away from the akuma. You remember, at the bakery?"

"Got it, Princess!" Chat Noir's trajectory didn't change, which- well, which suggested that he had been headed for the bakery anyway. He adjusted his grip and sped up when a loud bang behind them signaled that some building had been pretty well destroyed. "Hold tight!"

It didn't take long at all for them to reach the bakery. Chat Noir landed lightly on her balcony, neatly avoiding all of the chairs and the table that she and the other girls had left out after their most recent tea party. "Here you go!"

"Thank you," Marinette told him, loosening her legs from around his waist and dropping lightly to the ground before reaching forward to give him a hug. "The save is greatly appre-"

She stopped. Paused. Because instead of her head just barely reaching his shoulders, like she was used to as Ladybug, her head came up to his nose. Somehow, the height difference had shrunk by a head.

What.

"Is something wrong, Marinette?" Chat Noir asked after a second had passed. He sounded confused.

Marinette shook her head hastily,. "No, it's, uh- I just thought you were taller! Because Ladybug is so much shorter in all of your pictures, you know?" she added hastily, trying to cover her slip. "So, uh..."

Chat Noir laughed at that. "Yeah, she's a tiny bug, isn't she?" he asked, his tone entirely fond. "But what she lacks in height, she more than makes up for in spirit and spitfire. And if people underestimate her because of her size- well, that just makes our job a bit easier, right? The akuma thinks it doesn't need to try its hardest to win, and we stroll up and hand them their ass on a platter."

"Right," Marinette managed, just barely keeping herself from frowning. She was Ladybug! Why was Chat Noir talking as though she was so much taller than her alter ego?

"I never tell her how endearing that is, because I worry that she might feel like I'm patronizing her, but it's really just like- well, she's one heck of a firecracker in a small package." Chat Noir grinned at her. "Small but packs far more of a punch than anyone would expect. And I should really get back so that she doesn't end up facing the akuma on her own," he added quickly, stepping back and giving her a wave. "Stay safe, Marinette!"

Marinette waved, waiting for Chat Noir to launch himself into the air before diving into her room and digging for the Miraculous box. She pulled out four Miraculous- three to definitely use, and a bonus just in case- and then called for Tikki.

She would have to mull over the strange height disparity later. Right now, duty called.

The weirdness only continued. Now that Ladybug was aware that there was something off, it seemed as though she just couldn't stop noticing other things that seemed didn't seem quite right. The most recent Odd Thing, as she had decided to dub it, was when Ladybug had escorted many of her classmates- including Nino, Alya, and Adrien- to safety, since there was an akuma rampaging through the building that they were visiting on their field trip, and of course she didn't want them hurt. It hadn't taken much to get people to evacuate, and now she was taking a quick breather before plunging back into the fight.

And in the seconds that made up that breather, Ladybug had noticed that her friends seemed a lot taller than normal. But how could they be taller?

Something really, really weird was going on, that was for sure. Adrien was as tall as Chat Noir it seemed, with her head only reaching his shoulders, and Nino and Alya seemed to have shot up as well. She had to wonder if maybe her perception of her friends' heights was just off somehow- she had been wearing (low) heels to school sometimes, maybe that was it- but there hadn't been much time to think about it then. The akuma was raging ever closer, and an evacuation to a safe zone did no good if the akuma was allowed to reach the safe zone again.

So once again, Ladybug didn't allow herself time to think about how plausible her explanation was. She flung herself into the fight, and by the time it ended, the only concern on Marinette's mind was thinking up an explanation for her being gone for the entire battle.

Then she saw Chat Noir as her civilian self again, followed by Ladybug making the time to do a one-on-one interview with Alya. Ladybug had to save Adrien from an overeager fan who had been akumatized. Every time, something just seemed off, but- well, she never really had the time to give it any thought.

The last straw finally came when Marinette was browsing the Ladyblog for the first time in- well, ages.

A reduced amount of homework had coincided with both a break in commissions and an unusually low number of akuma attacks, so she had decided to take advantage of the break to catch up on some much-needed rest and to catch up with what was being said about her on the Ladyblog.

And on the blog, there- well, there was a photo. A series of photos, really, in a very lovely article posted on the most recent Heroes Day and pinned to the top of the page. It was a reflection on the years of akumas and all that the superheroes had done for the city, with pictures from the most recent Heroes Day celebration along with photos from past celebrations. Ladybug and Chat Noir were in all of the photos, of course, with a rotating cast of secondary heroes behind them. Each year, it was obvious that Chat Noir was growing taller, catching up to the Mayor's height easily, a boy's silhouette turning into a man's. Next to him...

Marinette compared the pictures once, twice, three times. No, it wasn't just her imagination. Chat Noir grew taller and filled out with lean muscle, but next to him- well, Ladybug looked like she might as well have been copy-pasted from year to year. And in one of the last photos...

"My arms aren't that twiggy, are they?" Marinette demanded, shrugging off her hoodie to get a better look at herself. Just like she had thought- her arms were like a gymnast's, hardly bulky but clearly strong with lean, practiced muscles, just like the rest of her. Marinette had had to awkwardly wave off comments about her muscles before- after all, no one just got the physique of a professional gymnast without putting in some work- so she knew that her muscles were there and noticeable. And yet, in that photo...

Maybe it was just a bad angle?

No. No, she wasn't just going to accept that and move on. Marinette had been noticing things that were off between her normal self and her alter-ego for a while now, and she had always waved them off as coincidences or her misremembering things. But not anymore. She refused.

Today, Marinette was going to figure out what was going on.

Snatching up a book and a stray piece of chalk, Marinette stalked over to a blank section of wall. Facing the wall, she placed the book on her head, flat and level. Once she was satisfied with how flat it was, Marinette swiped a short line of chalk under the book, marking her Marinette height. Then she called on Tikki, who-

Well, who had apparently been napping before Marinette abruptly transformed. Whoops.

She's apologize later with a cookie. Tikki could never stay that upset for long.

With a small wince, Ladybug turned back to the wall, taking a step to the side so that she wouldn't be right on top of her previous mark before lining the book up again and making another mark. She stepped back, fully expecting the marks to be side-by-side and the whole looking like she didn't grow at all thing to be all in her head-

-but that wasn't the case.

"What the heck," Ladybug muttered, looking from one mark to the other. The Ladybug mark was significantly lower. She had probably been that height when she started being Ladybug over four years ago.

What was going on?

"No wonder I always look fourteen at most in the photos!" Ladybug exclaimed, glancing towards the mirror this time. From this angle, she could confirm that her superhero build looked just the same as it had at the start. "I'm stuck in my old form! Spots off!"

Tikki spiraled free and- oh, the little sprite was clearly muffling giggles. Marinette narrowed her eyes at her kwami. "Do you want to explain why my superhero self is an entire head shorter than my- well, my normal self?"

"It's not all my fault!" Tikki objected, clearly still swallowing her mirth. "You had a pretty specific picture of what Ladybug looked like after your first few transformation, so I- er, the magic- just assumed that you just wanted to keep your exact same transformation."

"Uh-huh." Marinette gave Tikki an unimpressed look. "And the magic just assumed that my 'very specific' image of Ladybug went all the way down to the exact measurements I had when I started? And that my 'image of Ladybug' wouldn't account for me growing?"

Tikki fell silent. Her eyes darted back and forth as she battled with keeping her smile hidden. Marinette waited, her arms crossed. And then Tikki cracked.

"Okay, fine, I might have fiddled with things a little bit," Tikki admitted, zipping backwards out of Marinette's reach. "I've done it before with other holders, to see how long it takes for them to notice, and it's always so funny when they do!"

"Ha ha," Marinette said dryly. She peered at Tikki. "So how fast did I notice, compared to your other holders?"

Tikki giggled. "You aren't going to like it."

Marinette groaned. "I did that badly, huh?"

"To be fair, you've been incredibly busy," Tikki assured her hastily. "You have school, and commissions, and babysitting, and putting together your portfolio, and doing long-distance studies with the Order of the Guardians, and akuma battles. You had more important things to worry about than if your superhero self had been growing at the same rate as your civilian self!"

Marinette remained less than convinced.

"Besides, it was helpful, wasn't it?" Tikki added hopefully. "It's easier to hide when you're smaller!"

The groan Marinette gave was Tikki's only answer.

A few minutes ticked by as Marinette contemplated what to do next. Her knee-jerk reaction was to ask Tikki to adjust the Ladybug transformation to grow with her right away, because she should have been growing alongside Chat Noir, and he had been teasing her about her height for ages. But a sudden jump in growth would no doubt attract attention from the press, along with unwanted speculation. If the public thought that she was an adult now- even if Hawkmoth wouldn't be fooled- then that could help keep her own identity secret from reporters and other curious people.

But on the other hand, Marinette wasn't very interested in keeping her superhero self short and spindly. Maybe it was just vanity, but she had worked hard during those akuma battles and earned those muscles. She had grown up, but the way she looked didn't reflect that at all. And she wanted it to.

(Well. Somewhat. She didn't get many comments on her figure- that she knew of, anyway- and she wasn't exactly interested in starting. Keeping a thirteen-year-old's body in that regard might be helpful.)

She didn't have to make a decision right away, Marinette decided after another minute's thought. There would be no harm in keeping her current transformation for a few more days while she figured out how much to change and how fast to change it.

After all, Ladybug had looked the exact same for years.

"What's new?" Chat Noir asked cheerfully as he landed next to Ladybug on a darkened rooftop. There were two separate contests going on in the city that evening, so the two of them had opted to call a patrol rather than just sit around waiting for an akuma to show up. "Anything interesting?"

"My kwami's been shrinking me."

Chat Noir blinked. Once. Twice. "Pardon?"

"I've been noticing some weird stuff going on," Ladybug explained, glancing across the city to make sure that there weren't any disturbances yet before turning back to her partner. "People I know in my civilian life who seem a lot taller when I'm transformed, mostly. And then I saw the photos on the Ladyblog with past Heroes Days- and I didn't look like I had grown at all, even though I have! So I marked my height on my wall, and I'm a whole head taller as my civilian self! Apparently Tikki was playing a prank on me."

Chat Noir blinked again, then sniggered. "That's hilarious!"

"It is not!" Ladybug protested. "I could have been growing all this time, so I wouldn't always look so short next to you! And how am I supposed to change to match what I should look like now without people thinking that I'm magicking myself to look different?" She spread her hands, gesturing at an invisible headline. "I can see the headlines now- 'Ladybug padding her suit?'. No thank you!"

Chat Noir choked, and it took Ladybug a moment to figure out where his brain had gone. Scowling, she tossed her yo-yo at him in gentle reprimand. "Not like that!"

"I- I'm sorry, what else was I supposed to think about?" Chat Noir managed, still sounding a bit choked. "There's not exactly a lot of things that people normally stuff!"

"Get your mind out of the gutter! I meant, like, muscle-wise." Ladybug tapped her biceps, still as bony-thin as they had been when she first started being a superhero. "I've gotten a fair bit of muscle from swinging all over Paris, but Tikki decided to hide that as part of her prank, too."

Chat Noir's shoulders relaxed. "Oh, okay. Gotcha."

"Though I do suppose that the tabloids would focus more on those other areas if I adjusted everything to match my build now," Ladybug mused, and was amused to see her partner promptly choke and turn red, clearly scandalized.

"Ladybug!"

Ladybug finally cracked and laughed, elbowing her partner "You should have seen your face! That was great!"

Chat Noir pouted, muttering something under his breath. Ladybug was pretty sure she heard the word meanie amongst the muttering, which only made her laugh harder. He stuck his lip out further in an even more dramatic pout, and she practically folded onto the rooftops, completely breathless.

She couldn't help it. His face.

Chat Noir made the best expressions.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Chat Noir grumbled, flopping down to sit next to her. "You are destroying my image of you, I hope you know that."

"I'm sure you'll survive." Finally getting her wheezing under control, Ladybug pushed herself back up to a sit. "I just couldn't resist."

They sat in silence for a minute, eyes scanning the city and listening intently for anything out of place. Finally Chat Noir spoke up again. "So what are you going to do about your transformation? Anything?"

Ladybug let out a long breath. "I keep asking myself that. Because, like, it's really good for hiding my identity, since I'm not at all the same height. But I worked hard for that muscle, darn it! Is it so wrong of me to actually want for it to show? Or to want to actually look like I've grown up at all?" She let out a long sigh. "I've been thinking about it and I for sure want to actually look like I have muscles, and I'll have to add that gradually. I just don't know about everything else."

Chat Noir hummed. "Well, maybe you can add some height but not all? Then it's still a bit of a disparity to throw off people who might be looking," he added. "And then once Hawkmoth is gone, go through a bit more of a growth spurt, since you won't have to transform during the day so often and people in your civilian life won't be wondering where you're vanishing off to all of the time."

"As if I really needed any more motivation to defeat Hawkmoth," Ladybug said with a laugh, but Chat Noir had a point. "That does sound reasonable, though. And if people notice me getting taller, then they might think that it's a clue, that they should be looking for girls who went through really late growth spurts."

Her partner grinned. "Exactly! I would be tempted to do the same, because that's a fantastic way to throw everyone off, but I think you might actually kill me if you started "growing" only for me to magic myself taller."

Ladybug's sharp nod made them both laugh.

"I've been thinking about doing a costume upgrade, too," Ladybug added once they had both calmed. She shrugged at Chat Noir's disbelieving look. "What? It's been years, and I have the world's most basic design, just because I panicked and blanked when I transformed the first time. And it would give the reporters something else to talk about other than 'did Ladybug suddenly get muscles?'"

"Well, if you decide you want to do that and want some help coming up with a new design, I have a friend in my civilian life who's a fantastic designer," Chat Noir told her, a fond grin spreading across his face. "I bet that she would be able to come up with some pretty great ideas."

"I think I can come up with my own ideas, thanks," Ladybug told him, and then scowled when a doubtful look flashed across his face. "Just I panicked once when I was thirteen and didn't think about what I wanted my transformation to look like doesn't mean that I can't think of good designs, Chat Noir!"

"Okay, okay, I believe you!" Chat Noir said with a laugh, holding his hands up in mock defense. Ladybug playfully pummeled them, and soon enough they were wrestling across the rooftops, Tikki's prank all but forgotten for the time being.

(Well. At least until the night's akuma showed up and laughed at Ladybug's diminutive height, that was.)

Ladybug's new outfit debuted a week later, black sections breaking up the red and black polka dots and a short open-front skirt- long enough to be decorative and look nice, short enough that it would be difficult for it to snag or have akumas grab on, so at least it wouldn't be impractical- a striking contrast to the simple onesie pattern that she had worn before. It made headlines, reporters and bloggers all too happy to talk about the changed design and how nice it looked and how well it suited Ladybug.

In fact, everyone was so caught up in the new design that it was three full months before the first person noticed and commented on the other new changes in Ladybug's appearance, both her apparent growth and the new muscles visible in her arms and along her legs. The internet promptly exploded with theories about it, wondering if the new costume was making illusions or if the changes were real. Doctors and fitness experts chimed in, adding their voices to the fray.

At home, Marinette just smiled as she turned away from the theories on the Ladyblog and back towards her latest commission work for Jagged Stone. None of the guesses were remotely close, of course, but when it came to things with her alter ego...

Well, that was just the way she liked it.

[writersplanetarium]

Facade: Back In Business

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 12

Aelin moaned as she grasped at Rowan’s back, her nails dragging along his skin. His hips thrust above her, his hands braced beside her head. The wall behind them thumped with every strong thrust, the headboard hitting it with the movement. Rowan bit his lip, groaning above her as he moved faster.

“Gods, please,” she begged.

“Cut!” Aelin sighed, letting her hands drop. Rowan looked down at her.

“You know you-” “Yes I know I didn’t wait long enough. I know,” she shot back, “I think you all just count too slow.” “All you have to do is lay there and pretend,” Rowan said, brushing his hair back from where it hung in his face, “Surely you can manage that.”

“Just like every other sexual encounter I’ve ever had,” she said.

“I’m going to tell Chaol you said that.” Aelin rolled her eyes, shoving him playfully. “If you’re going to be grumpy, I can be on top,” Aelin said, “We could swing it.”

“I’m fine,” he retorted, staring right back at her with those pine green eyes, clearly getting riled up at her insinuation.

“Okay,” she said, resisting a grin, “I’m just saying that it wouldn’t be out of character for Charlotte to want to be on top if this is too much for you to manage.”

“You couldn’t handle what I can manage,” he said, his eyes growing a shade darker that Aelin pretended not to notice.

“Daemion does kind of seem like he could be a bottom though. Not all the time, but he has his moments-” “They put me on top so I’m going to stay on top since I can manage just-”

“What are you two talking about?” Fenrys asked from the other side of the door to the fake dorm they had set up, waiting for his cue.

“Nothing!” ********

“I’m telling you it was ten seconds!” Aelin argued as her and Lysandra walked off the set, done for the day.

“Sure,” Lysandra drawled, “Aelin, it’s okay to admit that you liked having him on top of you.” She cast her friend a short look, making her laugh. “You two have been getting on alarmingly well. I’m just saying...”

“Rowan and I are barely friends,” she said, “And we’re far from lovers.”

“Sure, sure,” Lysandra said, “That’s why he’s been going over to your house and you two have been watching movies and having dinner and-”

“That’s for work, and for someone who wanted us to get along, you’re really pushing me to stop,” Aelin said.

“You’re telling me you’ve never thought of climbing that man like a tree?” Lysandra asked. Aelin couldn’t necessarily say that. She’d actually thought about it a shameful amount of times, especially since she and him had started getting along. She wrote it off as just pent up energy. She hadn’t gotten laid in months, and even then it had been so disappointing she’d decided it wasn’t worth it to go through the trouble. She was recognizable now, and she hated when men only wanted her for clout.

“I’m saying it’s never going to happen,” Aelin said, climbing into the car, “Is Aedion bringing Evangeline?”

“Yeah, they didn’t want her on set for yours and Rowan’s scene, so he said he’d bring her up. But don’t change the subject. I think I saw him smile at you the other day. That’s real progress.” Lysandra dropped herself into the driver’s seat, pulling on her sunglasses, starting the car.

“Well I’m just fine with staying where we are. Do you realize the hell it’d be to be in a relationship with him? All the paparazzi? We’d never know another day’s rest. Besides, half his charm for fans is being the eligible bachelor. You know how strict Maeve is on them about their relationships.”

“She doesn’t hate you though,” Lysandra said, looking out the back as she pulled out, “Me on the other hand?”

“That’s because of the ordeal with Fenrys,” Aelin said.

“I told her that it was a joke, but she didn’t care,” Lysandra said, “Regardless, I couldn’t care less about what that bitch has to say. We’re having dinner tonight and both you and Rowan are going to be there.”

“He agreed to that?” Aelin snorted.

“I may have guilted him by saying Evangeline was very excited to see him again,” Lysandra said. Aelin laughed, shaking her head. “Works like a charm. And she really is expecting the both of you, so there’s no backing out. Plus, I know you don’t have plans, or an early morning, so you’re stuck with us.”

“Fine, fine,” Aelin said, “So long as Aedion’s not cooking. He burns shit and thinks it’s flavor.”

“We’re ordering in,” Lysandra said, “Pizza.”

“I do love pizza,” Aelin said.

“I know,” Lysandra grinned.

********

Rowan tugged on his t-shirt before he glanced over at the clock. He had ten minutes before he had to head over to Lysandra and Aedion’s place for dinner. He’d been reluctant to agree, honestly just wanting to pick something up on the way home and stuff himself full before going to bed. The first day back of filming had felt exceedingly long. He’d had to stay all day, running scene after scene, and of course they’d started right off the bat with his and Aelin’s opening scene. 

It had left him very, very uncomfortable all day.

It wasn’t that he wanted her, he definitely didn’t want her like that, he told himself. It was just a natural response to the suggestive sounds and movements to think about it. And think about it. And think about it. Luckily the sheer awkwardness of it in the moment kept it from being too obvious, since there was nothing sexy about a room full of people watching and filming you as you pretend to have sex with your neighbor slash coworker, and then critiquing your form. But after... his mind wouldn’t let go.

He walked into the bathroom, splashing his face with some cold water. No. Not tonight. Not before dinner. Not ever. He did not want Aelin. He didn’t. Even if she smelled like jasmine. Even if she made those sounds- No.

Rowan dried his face off and grabbed his phone, checking it quickly. He saw he had a text from Maeve.

Call me.

He huffed, hoping this didn’t take long. It only took two rings for her to answer.

“Rowan,” she drawled.

“You said to call,” he said.

“I did,” she replied, “I have some news I’m sure you’ll be eager to hear.” 

Great. She rarely ever actually had news he wanted to hear.

“Remelle is coming to town while on tour for her new movie.” Of course. Of course Remelle was coming because his life wasn’t chaotic enough. “I figured since you two are on such good terms now, it’d be good for you two to meet up.”

“Why?” Rowan asked.

“You’re becoming more popular, as is she. We don’t want anyone thinking there’s remaining tension between you two. Benson and Essar are going to be with her, so it won’t be just the two of you anyway. I expect you all to have dinner together at least once.”

“Fine,” Rowan ground, “Set it up.”

“Already done. You’ll be eating at The Mistward at seven next Tuesday.” Pefect. Just perfect. His only night off and he has to spend it with Remelle.

“Fine,” he said, hanging up. He checked the time and quickly made his way to the door. He grabbed his keys from their bowl, locking up the house. As he stepped out, he saw Aelin leaving her own house.

“You too, huh?” She called, meeting his gaze. He nodded, meeting her on the side walk in front of her house. “Not like you to be so late Rowan.”

“It’s one minute,” he said.

“Kind of sad when you live right next door,” she teased.

“And you?” He asked.

“I’m habitually late,” she said, waving him off, “They expect it.”

“I’ll just say you held me up,” he said.

“And what was it that actually held you up. You look grumpy.”

“You say I always look grumpy,” he said.

“You do, but this is more pronounced,” she poked him between the eyebrows, earning her a shove.

“Remelle is coming to town,” he huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Remelle?” Aelin asked.

“My ex,” he said, “One of the girls I got caught hooking up with a few years ago. She wanted more and I didn’t. Caused a big thing when I broke things off.”

“Oh I remember that,” she laughed, “She’s making a movie now, isn’t she?”

“That’s why she’s coming, and bringing some of her other costars,” Rowan huffed, “I apparently have to have dinner with them.”

“Have to?” She asked.

“You don’t generally get to question Maeve,” he said.

“Right,” Aelin said, “So when’s this dinner thing happening?”

“Next Tuesday,” he said, “7. At Mistward.”

“Really?” Aelin asked, looking more intrigued, “I like Mistward.”

“Well... you could come,” he said, despite knowing it was likely a bad idea.

“You want to hang out for non work related purposes? Rowan, if you say that, I might think I’m growing on you,” she said.

“Like a tumor,” he said, “If you don’t want to come-”

“No, I’ll go,” she said, “Ask her embarrassing questions about your sex life. It’ll be great.”

“You will ask no such thing,” he said with a sharp look.

“You gonna stop me?” She asked, a mischevious glint to her turquoise and gold eyes.

“I could uninvite you,” he said.

“Well I already know when and where. I could just show up. Imagine that.”

“You enjoy causing trouble too much,” he said, knocking on Lysandra and Aedion’s door.

“Guilty as charged.” The door swung open to reveal Evangeline grinning, dressed up in a nice shirt and skirt. Rowan realized he should have probably worn something nicer than jeans and a tshirt as he looked over and realized Aelin had dressed up a bit too.

“Hi!” She said exitedly, “Aedion just got back with the pizza so it’s nice and warm.”

“Perfect,” Aelin said, “You look so nice. Is that new?” Evangeline nodded.

“You have to look nice for a dinner party.”

“Of course,” Aelin agreed. Luckily Rowan saw Aedion was dressed pretty much the same as him. Aedion gave him a nod of greeting that Rowan returned.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” Lysandra said, “There’s beer, juice, and water in the fridge, wine on the counter, and pizza’s on the table.”

Rowan grabbed a beer, sitting down to the left of the head of the table. He raised an eyebrow at Aelin as she sat across from him. She grinned taking a sip from her wine, raising an eyebrow.

Am I doing something wrong? He narrowed his eyes at her.

Not yet. She chuckled, looking down the table as Aedion sat beside Rowan and Lysandra sat beside Aelin, Evangeline taking the seat at the head of the table.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” she said, “Today, we are having dinner to celebrate everyone being friends now!”

“Is that so?” Aelin asked, looking over at Lysandra.

“It’s a milestone,” she pointed out, “It’s the first time everyone at this table is on speaking terms. I’d say that’s something to celebrate.”

“Exactly!” Evangeline said, “So we all have to eat dinner and be happy.”

“I think we can manage dinner. Like a little trial run,” Aelin said, looking at Rowan, who rolled his eyes.

“Trial run?” Aedion asked.

“Remelle’s in town,” Rowan said, “I’m being forced to have dinner, and Aelin’s coming along.”

“For moral support,” she said.

“I don’t need moral support,” he said.

“Everyone needs moral support,” Evangeline said, “I feel much happier when I go to the doctor when Lys is there with me.”

“Me too,” Aelin said, “When I had to get my nose fixed I was much happier with Lys and Aedion there.” Rowan met her gaze.

Really? I thought we were past this.

That doesn’t mean I’ll ever let you forget it. She winked before speaking aloud. “I’m absolutely starving, so I say we should start digging into this pizza.”

Dinner actually went by rather well. Rowan hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d just had dinner with friends. It was... nice. No fighting, no insults, and no tension. 

He actually felt like he could relax for the first time in a long time.

He stayed late, playing games and talking. It was an oddly familial feeling Rowan hadn’t had in a long time. Looking around and seeing everyone sitting there, it felt like he fit in, somehow. But it also created a bit of a bittersweet hole in his gut. He’d wanted this with Lyria. He’d wanted this with her and his child. A family. Happiness. It still hurt like hell to think about, but he realized, with a bit of a reluctance, that maybe he was moving on.

But he wasn’t sure if he was ready.

“I think I’m going to go home,” he said, “Thank you for having me over.”

“Any time,” Aedion said.

“Don’t go! The sooner you leave, the sooner I have to go to bed,” Evangeline said. Rowan gave a small amused huff.

“Sleep is good for you,” he said, patting her head, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she sighed.

“I’m going to head out too,” Aelin said, “I’ve got a bathtub calling my name.” They all finished with their goodbyes, Aelin leaving right after Rowan. The night air had a sharp nip to it, but Rowan didn’t really mind. He looked up at the moon, watching it as he walked. “You doing okay?” He looked over to find Aelin rubbing her bare arms for warmth since her silk tanktop wasn’t doing much to warm her.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“If you say so,” she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. He watched her head back to her own house when he reached his doorstep, telling himself it was just his protective, male nature. That it was just to make sure she got home safe and most certainly not because he just wanted to look at her a little longer.

Definitely not.

Tagged:

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LMK if you want to be tagged!

[spnsmile]

Day 28: Hellscape

@winchester-reload​  <3

“So, do you have a family? Steve?”

It took Castiel a moment to reply at the name he adopted in Gas n Sip after the fall. It was taking time to get used to but it was lucky, he chose a name short enough to remember. He glanced up from the cabinet where he returned the mop after cleaning the toilet to Nora manning the cash register.

“Um.”

“That friend who was just here,” she went on when he didn’t reply, “You know… the guy whose waiting for you with that classic car? Is he someone special to you?”

Castiel saw her nod at the glass window to where Dean’s impala was still parked with the hunter leaning on it as he waited for Castiel’s shift to be over. Castiel was honestly surprised to see Dean after he unceremoniously left the bunker. Not that he didn’t wish to see Dean at all. Every night he prays, calling Dean’s name silently because it still gives him hope. So maybe this was the answer to his prayers. The escape to his personal hell…

“Yes.” Castiel sighed, “he is special to me.”

He closed the doorknob and missed the meaningful look Nora threw in his direction. “Is there anything else you wish for me to do before my shift is over?”

The cash register dings and Nora looked up beaming.

“No, everything’s perfect, Steve. You’re really an angel—”

“No—"

“You can have your break early. But are you sure I’m not interrupting anything today? You can still meet me tonight?”

Castiel thought hard about it and wondered if this little trip with Dean would take time. He took one look at the impala outside then back at his superior.

“I’m sure we can finish our business quickly. He is efficient in his job.” He wondered why Nora’s face suddenly turned a deep shade of red with a press of lips tight as if forcing herself not to smile.

“I think he is, you enjoy yourself.” She managed.

Castiel gave her a tiny nod and smiled before heading out, finally ready to face Dean again. The sight of the impala tugged something in his heart, the sight of Dean waving and smiling at him pulled something in his soul and he wondered…

The case with the Rit Zien was anticlimactic. Dean came in time to save him and together they killed one of the most dangerous creatures on earth, at least for Castiel who understood why it was attracted to him. He was just glad it didn’t go after the baby, or Dean for that matter because believed it or not, Castiel could remember Dean’s pain, even if he could no longer see it in this form. That night, Castiel had Dean drive him to the nearest clinic, made sure the baby was okay before returning to Nora’s residence where Dean also had to help with the cleaning of the place.

“Your hand…” Dean said once they got rid of the smashed objects and now waited for Nora to come home.

Castiel tried to hide his bleeding hand out of sight but whether it’s because he was now human, or that Dean was just naturally trained to be fast, Dean snatched his wrist and hissed at the long bleeding gash on Castiel’s palm.

“It’s fine.”

“Fine my ass, hold it, I’m gonna get the first aid kit in the car.”

The baby was fast asleep and looking much better. Castiel sat opposite Dean on the couch and patiently watched as Dean plastered a square bandage on his palm after cleansing it with antiseptic in the gentlest manner. The warm on his fingers pressing on his, it’s a feeling Castiel wanted to indulge. Wanted to have more.

“You gotta stop damaging your body, it’s permanent now you know. Until we find away.” Dean said with a solemn look at him.

Castiel locked eyes with him.

“You still think I can regain my grace…?” Castiel asked in disbelief. Dean gazed at him warmly and nodded.

“Sure. You’re Cas. You’re an angel, damn right we’re gonna find a way again. There’s always away. We’ll find it.

“We?” Castiel asked skeptically. Dean’s eyes widened a little. It tempted Castiel to ask what’s been going on with Dean because he knew something was wrong, Dean was not telling him something. He wanted to help but at this rate….

Dean let go of his hand slowly. Castiel pulled it back avoiding Dean’s eyes. Nothing has changed except him no longer an angel.

“I’m sorry, Cas… there’s something I have to fix first…” Dean hesitated but when he met Castiel’s eyes, it only made Castiel worry more.

What are you not telling me, Dean? He wanted to ask. Why do you look like you’re in pain… why can’t you trust me… why don’t you have anyone to help you…? I am… it’s all my fault I’m…

Dean left the house minutes before Nora returned and waited for Castiel in the impala where he drove him back to where Castiel intended to stay.

In the Gas N Sip.

But when Castiel searched for his pockets, the key was nowhere to be found. He checked all his pockets, left and right before it occurred to him that it must’ve felt during the encounter with the Rit Zien.

Castiel stared at the locked door of Gas n Sip. The lights were all off, there was no one inside. He looked around him but the station was empty, Dean left minutes ago and probably driving home…

Home… He looked around the empty station with a sinking feeling. What should he do? He didn’t have enough money for the payphone, he has no cellphone.

The shop was closed. He was locked out. His heart clenched, the feeling of helplessness clawing in. The night was deep, the clouds too dark and ominous. No sound could be heard except the buzzing flies on the street lamps. The street was empty. It was another night of being homeless.

And he was alone again. What should he do?

This heavy feeling in his chest…He was in so much pain. He didn’t like being helpless. The Rit Zien was right. The pain was too much. If this was hell…

Castiel blinked back tears.

Someone… someone…

“What are you doing still out there, idiot?”

Cas turned around to see Dean standing behind him with curt eyebrows. The impala was behind him with its lights on. Castiel didn’t notice him return.

“Dean.” Castiel swallowed, wordless.

Dean stared at him hard, gave the Gas n Sip one look then back at him again with his frown deepening.

“What happened?” he stepped towards Castiel, stopping before him with a deep-set look in his eyes. “Cas?”

Castiel told himself he would never be a burden to Dean. But he couldn’t find it in him to stop when he poured everything to the Dean about the missing key, the locked door, the empty street, being alone—everything—

“I can pick it if you like.”

“No, I…” Castiel breathed, at last, the two of them still standing outside the door. “I can’t afford to damage it that way.

“Why are you still here anyway? Don’t you have an apartment to stay?”

Castiel didn’t answer. Something in Dean’s eyes ignited and before Castiel could ask, Dean is pulling him towards the impala.

“Come on, I’m bringing you back to the Bunker. Sam’s probably resting by now, he won’t notice us.”

“Why would Sam…?”

But he didn’t press at the sudden guilty expression on Dean’s face. He shouldn’t.  Dean was helping him, he couldn’t ask for more.

Except—

“Dean. What are you wearing?”

Dean was wearing weirdly patterned pajama pants with hotdogs for design. Castiel stood at the other side of the couch in what Dean was now calling his favorite spot in the Bunker. A small room with a television and a large couch but nothing else except alcohol. He supposed it’s Dean’s own private chamber for his favorite beverage, there are plenty of rooms in the Bunker so…

“Stop staring.” Dean said with gritted teeth, “It’s comfortable and we’re doing movie night. Don’t worry about being noisy, I angel proofed—”

“Angel proofed?” Castiel tilts his head, then nodded in understanding. “Oh… so the angels after me wouldn’t be able to enter?” Of course. He was still a burden.

But as long as Dean would have him, Castiel will stay… He will take everything Dean would give him in crumbs.

Dean shrugged but there it was again, the angry glint in his eyes not meant for anyone but himself. Castiel studied Dean as they both sat down the opposite sides of the couch, him in his fresh clothes after a warm shower, Dean in his sleeping shirt and pants. Castiel sighed at Dean’s grumpy expression. At least he figured, it wasn’t him that Dean was angry at… always, the person Dean would be angry the most…

How he wanted to ask Dean a lot of questions but instead—

“Thank you for the clothes.”

“It’s nice to see it fits,” Dean mumbles, I mean I did buy it for you but left it in the trunk of the car. Anyway, you’re safe here, you can stay here until morning.”

Castiel didn’t press. He nodded at the arrangement even if it was obvious Dean’s keeping something from him. But Dean near him now, how can he even rest?

“Here,” Dean threw a pillow in his direction which he caught aptly. Dean settled beside him, two pillows, and a blanket at hand.

“Are you going to sleep here? Aren’t we watching a movie?”

“Of course, we are, but call it insurance. Just make yourself comfortable, Cas.”

Castiel watched Dean’s every move. The man punched the pillows then threw the blanket over them, raising a leg on the couch and playing the button on the remote.

“Are you feeling okay, Cas?” Dean suddenly asked.

“Y-Yes. Of course, Dean. Thank you.”

“For what? This? This is nothing.”

“Yes, but you saved me from…” he didn’t say hell. It would only bring up memories from the past both too painful for them to remember so Castiel chose to bury it deep inside him. Just like how Dean seemed to do it most of the time. He believed it to be unhealthy.

“I’m glad I returned,” Dean said with a frown, “I was suspicious when you wanted to return in the store. Should’ve made sure you had a proper place to stay before kicking you out. Damnit.”

“Well, I’m not your responsibility.”

“Of course you are,” Dean growled. That raised plenty of questions that Castiel didn’t ask. Instead, he turned his eyes back on the television and sighed. He will never forget how Dean was there when he was crumbling down…

“Thank you, Dean.

“Shut up, alright?” Dean didn’t sound angry this time. He sounded desperate. Castiel wished he could help Dean but as he understood it, the only help he could do now is let Dean fix whatever he needed to… and then when he has the time for him, Castiel will be there. Because Dean needs him. He can still feel it, that bond that binds them together to end here in the Bunker again, together.

“Why is a rotten tomato allowed to decided what movie is recommendable and what not?” Castiel asked after an hour but no one answered. Instead, he found himself staring at a snoring Dean with mouth open, fast asleep. His feet which were just on Castiel’s lap, now on his cheek. Castiel grumbled and pushed Dean’s foot down his lap again, listening to Dean's mumble names of food but didn’t wake up.

How careless of him to be sleeping like this where he is vulnerable. Enemies could be lurking around and he’s down here, sprawled before Castiel, unafraid.

Castiel rubbed Dean’s foot.

It’s rare for Dean to sleep so soundly like there was nothing to worry about in the world. For a hunter such as he… it was a big thing.

Castiel carefully set Dean’s legs on his lap again and watched Dean instead. It was the same feeling as before, it never changed. His feeling whenever he’s watching Dean… remained and he’s glad.

This was just another trial for them but he’s certain that in the end, he and Dean will find away.

He just wished Dean would stop grumbling about pie.

art by gabester-sketch <3 patreon gift <3

[hermit-pistol]

conspiracies and confessions (mista x reader)

This is for @honey-pea as the result of the 100 follower raffle! Yes it’s goofy...but I love it so- enjoy!  :>

You never thought that you would ever become a member of a gang, yet here you are. When Bruno Bucciarati asked you, just a common pickpocket, to become a member of Passione, you couldn't believe it. 

"You're joking, right?" 

"Passione is no joke. I think that you would fit in well. While we may have differing backgrounds, I treat my gang like family." 

He wasn't joking about that, once you passed Polpo's test and gained a "stand" of your very own, the other members of the gang welcomed you, surprisingly.

There was Narancia, an energetic young boy, Fugo, a little reserved in nature, Abbacchio, who hated your guts (or so you thought, anyway), and Mista. 

Oh, Mista. 

You probably got along the best with him. You two had the most in common, he was just so easy to talk to! More often than not you would be up until the early hours of the morning giggling about some stupid internet videos or chatting about the latest gossip. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said there were times where you thought of him as more than a friend. But, you didn't want to spoil the good relationship that you already had, although it may have been platonic in nature. 

Until then, you appreciated what you had.

----

It had been a little over a year since you joined Bruno's gang, and you could say that you had really found your home there. Another member had joined as well, going by the name of Giorno Giovanna. He was good, strong both physically and mentally, and was your team's secret weapon as of late. 

Given the nature of the missions from the boss lately, your group had been living in a tiny room inside of a turtle for longer than you would have liked. Between missions, everyone was grumpy and irritable, either camping out on the couches or floor or complaining that there weren't enough drinks in the mini-fridge. 

It also didn't help that Trish Una, the boss' daughter that they were in charge of protecting... was extremely demanding. 

After a couple of weeks of living in the furthest thing from paradise, Bruno decided that it was time for a change. 

"I've booked us a place for a couple of nights." It seemed as if everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. "It's only fair since we've been working so hard lately." 

"Is there a pool?? I wanna go swimming!" Narancia all but yelled as he stood up from where he was slumped on the couch, excitement shone in his eyes. 

"Did you get a hotel, Bucciarati?" Abbacchio leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. 

"I didn't, the boss did. He's looked so favorably upon us that we each get our own rooms too." He raised his eyebrows, which could barely be seen behind his bangs. "Pretty neat, huh?" 

"It's about time that we got some reward for our hard work!" Mista pumped his fist into the air. Sex Pistols cheered as well, probably at the thought of all the gourmet food that they were about to eat. 

"When do we get to go?" You asked, never looking up from your book. You had started it that morning. 

"Tonight, actually. Be ready to check-in in about an hour or so." You could hear a loud 'YAY' from under Mista's hat. How cute! 

---

Within the next hour, you were laying on a plush hotel bed, continuing your reading. Bruno, Giorno, Trish, and Abbacchio were relaxing in their own rooms, but you distinctly remember Narancia saying that he was going to drag Mista and Fugo into the swimming pool. He had also asked you to go, but at that time you had found that you preferred the quiet company of a book compared to screaming children (Narancia included) at a public pool. 

It was about the paranormal, one of your favorite subjects. Nothing beats reading about creepy facts in a hotel room in the early evening, right? Your mind was racing when you heard a knock on the door. 

Throwing your book on the bed, you padded along the plush carpeting to the doorway, looking outside the peephole. It was Mista, looking around. A big smile crept onto your features as you undid the deadbolt. "Helloooo~ welcome to my crib." You giggled at your stupidity. 

Thankfully, Mista appreciated your goofy sense of humor. "You dork, if you're gonna talk to me like that for the rest of the night I should probably leave." He said in a serious tone, obviously joking. 

"Yeah, be my guest." You settled back into your comfy spot in the middle of the bed. "I thought that you were going to be at the pool with the other guys?" 

"Eh, I told them that I would join them in a little bit. The Pistols wouldn't stop complaining about wanting to see you, though." He took off his hat momentarily to let out his mischievous stand. They circled around you chanting your name. "We've missed you!" they spoke in unison. 

"I saw you all yesterday. Talk about clingy." You giggled. "I've just been reading." 

"Ooh what about?" Mista asked as he sat down on the bed next to you. You always loved when he was interested in your hobbies.

"It's about creepy stuff. Did you know that if you wake up in the middle of the night it could be because your body senses someone was staring at you?" 

"I did not, but that's absolutely terrifying." He let out a nervous laugh. "Uh...now that the adrenaline is kicking in we should read it together. I didn't need sleep tonight anyways." 

"Good idea." You opened the book, with the Sex Pistols nestling themselves in between the two of you. 

After reading for about 30 minutes or so, Mista pointed out one interesting fact himself. He was so close to you, and you hoped that he didn't hear your racing heart. 

"It says that to avoid the influences of mind control, you should craft a hat out of...tinfoil?" Pffft. "Y/N I know what we have to do now." 

"Oh yeah? Where are we gonna get it? I most certainly don't have any tinfoil on me..." 

"Abbacchio. He has to have some. He does all sorts of crazy shit to his hair." You shrugged your shoulders. You decided to let him take responsibility as the two of you left your room to make the short walk down the hall. 

One embarrassing encounter later, you had learned that Abbacchio did not have your 'fucking stupid tinfoil' and proceeded to cuss you out accordingly.

Luckily, the little convenience store down the road carried some. You picked up a pair of scissors as well, and were soon walking back to the hotel laughing about what was to come. 

"Okay Pistols, do you guys want hats too?" Mista asked once the two of you had returned to the room. They all squealed with joy. Well, there was your answer. 

You un-boxed the scissors and started cutting the first strip of the foil. It made such a satisfying sound. 

You started with 6 small strips for each of the pistols. Once they were cut, you formed the easily-malleable substance into small cones. 

"C'mere guys." You placed each one on their heads, which fit perfectly. Next you set to work making two larger ones for Mista and yourself. 

"Mista look at me!" Number 7 floated around the comforter.

"MEEESTA! Number 3 ripped my hat!" Number 5 cried as he sat on your shoulder. The thought of knowing that he wouldn't be susceptible to mind control comforted him even though his hat was’t in the best condition.

You stopped your work and examined his hat. "Number 5, it looks fine to me. Big Brother won't pierce your brain waves today. Dry those tears." 

"O-okay." He sniffled. By this point you had finished the hats. You and Mista decided to take pictures of each other to see how ridiculous you looked. 

"I look like a pointy toe." You laughed out loud as you walked to the bathroom mirror. "Let's take a picture together!" 

"Alright." He was at your side, and just before you took the picture he decided to sling an arm around you. In the moment you jumped, therefore ruining the picture. "Lemme see! You gotta send this to me." 

You looked at the result of your stupidity: a blurry picture produced by shaky hand syndrome. "Uh, let's take another one." You readied your camera, determined to make memories. 

This time when Mista put his arm around you you didn't even flinch. It felt...natural. 

The two of you were having a good time until the power went out. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, and the Pistols started screaming. "M-mista!" You could hear the whimpers of Number 5 from the other room. 

"I'm coming guys!" Mista called. "Y/N gimme your hand." You reached around the bathroom blindly, and instead made contact with his exposed midriff. Oops. 

"Sorry, sorry!" You could hear the humility in your voice as you trailed your touch over his arm to eventually reach his hand. It felt quite warm. Yours were just clammy from being a nervous wreck. 

Soon all of you were huddled together on the bed again, using cell phones for lighting. "A hotel having a power outage..seems a little strange, don't you think?" You asked. 

"Is this our next conspiracy?" Mista smirked. You still couldn't take him seriously with his tinfoil hat on. 

"Yes, Mista. The conspiracy of the idiot in the hotel room. How spooky." Your heart stopped when you heard the scratching on the door. 

"W-what was that."

"You're asking me?" Through the dim phone screen lights, you could see a worried expression cross his handsome features. "I guess that means that we have to check it out." 

"We? This is all you buddy." You gave him a playful shove, although the tone present in your voice was anything but. 

Mista got up and straightened out his outfit. He walked up to the peephole on shaky legs. "There's..no one here." He breathed a sigh of relief. 

"That's weird." You relaxed a little, the Pistols curling up in your arms, tinfoil hats scratching you.

That's when the thumping started. 

Mista was still at the door terrified. "Come here!" You mouthed, and he wasted no time in sprinting back to the bed. "Mista, I'm kind of freaked out." 

"It's okay, I am too." He opened his arms, inviting you in. You fell into them without a second thought. The Pistols joined in as well, and soon all of you were a giant ball of cuddling and crinkled tinfoil. 

You felt his heart race as you pressed your ear against his chest. You figured that since you might not get another opportunity like this you might as well confess your blossoming feelings. 

"Mista I have something to say..." His dark eyes bore into yours. 

"Sure, what's up?" The thumps were growing louder and more frequent now. 

"I really enjoy spending time with you, and you've really helped me find my place in Passione. You're definitely the member that I've grown closest to and I appreciate that, but over the past year, I've realized that maybe..." You tightened your grip on his torso.

"Maybe what? That you have romantic feelings?" 

You were shocked. "Well, you took the words right out of my mouth." The Pistols let out a collective 'oooh'. You could have sworn that you heard a distinct, 'Mista has a girlfriend~' taunt coming from one of them...probably Number 3.

The thumping was so loud at this point, you let out a scream holding onto Mista for dear life. It seemed as if the door were about to fall off of its hinges. The door eventually swung open violently. With the intensity that it had made contact with the wall you could tell that the flimsy hotel drywall was cracked. 

The lighting provided by the emergency exit signs brought out the outline of a figure, with a flowing garb and...ears? 

Thoughts were racing through your head. You whispered over to Mista, watching the figure carefully, "I think I know what that is, I read about it in my book earlier. Page 343. It's a catboy." 

"A catboy?! What...I thought those were only-" 

"A cryptid? A figment of the imagination? Me too, but we are not your average goons. We are prepared," Your eyes looked up, indicating to your hats, "I think we should rush him. The book says that they're not that violent." 

"I'm following you on this one Y/N." He was too scared to look at the figure standing in the doorway. It was surprising that it hadn't yet made a move. 

"Okay, 3.." 

"2.."

"1.. CHARGE!" Mista leapt off of the bed and ran up to the creature, tackling him to the floor, his tinfoil hat flying off.

"TAKE THAT CATBOY!" You screamed as the two wrestled on the ground, and as if on cue the lights turned back on. 

"Get off of me!" The figure turned out to be Giorno Giovanna, wearing a robe and hair curlers. "Why are you attacking me Mista, why are all of you wearing those ridiculous hats, and most importantly why am I a catboy?" You could sense the anger in his voice, which was very uncharacteristic of him since he was usually so level-headed. 

"I-" you started, taking off your hat and shamefully placing it on the bed. "We were just having a little bit of fun. Then the power turned off and we got paranoid. I'm sorry Giorno." 

"I noticed the power went out so I went to check on everyone else, I did not expect to have you lock me out of your room and then be tackled to the floor." Giorno adjusted one of his rollers that had fallen out of place due to the beatdown. 

"Sorry man, let's talk about it tomorrow morning? When emotions aren't getting in the way." Mista gave a goofy grin, and Giorno rolled his eyes in response and bid them a barely audible 'good night' as he walked down the hallway. 

Once again, it was just you, Mista, and the Pistols. At least the lights were back on again. "You're gonna have to explain that catboy thing to him later, he seemed very disturbed." 

"Will do, but back to earlier-" He sat back down on the bed with you, grabbing your hand softly. "Did you really mean all those things you said?" 

"I really did, there's no one else that I would rather be an idiot with, idiot." You laughed and placed your discarded tinfoil hat onto his head. 

The Pistols cheered, with Number 5 shedding a few tears in the process, "Man, I just love a happy ending." 

"I think that a sleepover is in order?" You playfully nudged him. 

"Count me in."

[sanktnikolais]

Take My Hand - Angstober/Softober (8/31)

A/N: damn this was actually longer than I’ve intended it to and I am a day late noooo KLJHASFKLJHASF but here is the role swap au no one asked for based on the prompt ‘Moonlight’ and ‘Speechless from the Angstober/Softober list.

Word count: 2620

AO3

If there was anything that made Nikolai anxious, it was looking for potential threats around the ballroom all the while keeping the princesses in sight. 

          Though he knew that the crown princess was more than capable of protecting herself, it was better to be safe and keep up with her movements on the dance floor where she was. 

          He definitely wasn't looking at her, in a floor-length blue dress and her cascading raven hair flowing down her back, dancing with high ranking officials and dukes for quite a while now. She looked at ease, calm even, which was very far from her usual stoic and grumpy demeanor that she always seemed to have when she was with him. 

          There was a weird twinge in his chest, making him frown. He knew he should never expect anything from Zoya—either friendship or just being acquaintances, it would be up to her to consider, aside from treating him as someone other than the Captain of the Guard. 

          But all those late night encounters and talks had made a small part of him hope a bit more. 

          The night went on with Nikolai taking turns keeping an eye on her and the much younger princess, who was actually easier to locate because of her yellow dress. Lada was all energetic and grins as she ran from table to table and greeted the guests. He had to fight off a chuckle as he watched the people’s expressions brighten up with her infectious smile. 

          As happy as the young princess could be came the dwindling warmth from her older sister. He noticed that Zoya’s smiles had become more hollow and forced, and she had taken one too many glasses from the passing servants. He also knew that she could handle drinks well enough, but based on past experience, he would prefer the sober, sharp-tongued Zoya Nazyalensky a hundred times over. 

          A narrowed look appeared on his face as he saw Zoya abruptly move away from her current dance partner, to which Nikolai recognized as Count Kirigin, and made her way towards the far end of the floor. Concern washed over him as he watched her disappear amidst the crowd. She rarely walked out on events—she always managed to endure it until it ended, and he was the one who would hear all the complaints and issues throughout the night.

          He averted his eyes from her direction for a moment and turned to his left, where he saw Lada hogging something on the buffet table nearby, before looking back to the dance floor. Count Kirigin was still on the same spot as where Zoya left him, shoulders slumped in disappointment. Nikolai found himself furrowing his eyebrows further at the man. Had something happened?

          “If you’re worried about her,” a voice said from somewhere behind him, and effectively startling him, “you should follow her.”

          Nikolai whirled around to see Lada perched on the pillar, balancing her feet on the small space by its base. 

          The young princess popped another sweet into her mouth and gave him a grin. “I’m sure Zoya would like it.”

          “What did we talk about having sweets at this time of the night?” He raised an eyebrow as a gesture to the little girl’s hand, which carried several more candies. “If I go and follow her, I will have to tell her about that, little princess.”

          Lada shook her head, a confident expression on her face. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d be too busy staring at her to remember,” she said, and Nikolai huffed a laugh at that. She was smarter than he had always thought her to be. “Besides, you adore me. And you’ll adore me even more when I say she’s in the balcony.”

          He opened his mouth to protest about wanting to go after her sister, but he found that Lada would be able to see right through him anyway. Instead, he sighed and turned back to observing the ball room. “I’m quite sure she wants to be alone.”

          “I’m quite sure she wouldn’t mind your company.”

          “You put too much confidence in her.”

          “For a captain, you really are blind,” Lada said, making Nikolai turn back to the child. For someone who was only turning ten in a few months, she sometimes sounded more of an adult than he would’ve expected. “She’s been stealing glances at you all night.”

          Nikolai wanted to laugh, but held it back. That’s too good to be true. “No, she hasn’t,” he replied. He was sure of it. He had eyes on her all night. Or had he just missed it?

          Lada shrugged, patting him gently on one shoulder. “Don’t say I didn’t tell you,” she said, a bit sadly, before she jumped off the pillar and skipped away before he could say something more. 

          A long moment passed and the ball continued without much of a complication. He hadn’t seen Zoya on the dance floor or anywhere again, and by that time, Nikolai was already considering following her out.

          But his previous conversation with the younger princess was the one that made him hesitate. Even if it’s true, there was no way that Zoya would be in a good mood around someone based on her demeanor the last time he saw her. 

          “Nikolai.”

          Nikolai jolted slightly at the sound of another voice beside him. “Saints,” he said as he turned to the person, seeing Tolya’s towering form and the confused expression on his face. “People should really stop startling me.”

          Tolya laughed lightly. “Unlikely of you to be startled easily, Captain. Something bothering you?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Or someone, perhaps?”

          “Dear me, why is everyone assuming I’m thinking of someone?”

          “Aren’t you?”

          “No,” Nikolai denied instantly, which made Tolya give him a knowing look. He shook his head and pulled at his collar in slight annoyance. Being in uniform for the whole day had become too stiff for his liking. “Is there something you have to tell me?”

          Realization dawned on his companion’s face, and Tolya hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Lada is looking for you,” he said.

          Nikolai frowned. “But she was just here earlier.”

          “I don’t know, she seemed preoccupied with something and can’t leave their table,” Tolya said. He waved a hand when Nikolai opened his mouth to reply. “Don’t worry, I got your place covered. Go tend to the little one. She’s really keen on finding you.”

          The table was at the center of the ballroom, just below the dais, and Nikolai couldn’t really see the royal family that much from his current place. Though it’s not new for Lada to come request for his presence at certain times, he had no idea what the younger princess wanted to show him now.

          Nikolai sighed. “Alright.”

          He made his way towards the table, mumbling excuses to the people he passed by in the ballroom, some making way for him when they saw him approaching. He was nearing the table, when he heard Lada’s voice somewhere to his right.

          “Nicky!”

          He turned to see Lada pushing her way through the crowd and running up to him. A confused look bloomed on his face. “Lada, what—”

          Lada seized his hand and started pulling him towards the opposite direction, her demeanor all too excited and beaming. Nikolai figured that it was from the sugar rush she got from the sweets earlier. Zoya was most likely going to kill him when she knew about this.

          “Finally, you moved from your post,” Lada said. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

          Nikolai frowned, but still let the younger princess drag him to wherever she planned to bring him, earning several pointed looks from people they happen to bump on due to Lada’s enthusiasm of leading him.

          “Excuse me, Captain of the Guard coming through!” She was waving her hand forward as if to divide the crowd.

          A few moments later, they were breaking out of the ballroom through one of the side exits, and they set foot on the balcony. The chatter and music from the area was now faint, with the night breeze overtaking the sound coming from the ballroom. 

          “Lada—”

          Almost too immediately, Lada let go of his hand and stepped back, holding a finger up with a frown on her face. She had the same expression for another moment before realization came to her face. “Oh, wait. I forgot something,” she said, already turning back to the ballroom again. “I’ll be back in a bit!”

          Nikolai reached out a hand as if to stop the girl, confusion overwhelming his mind, but the princess had already disappeared back inside. What was—

          “Lada?”

          A voice came behind him, and he froze. It took him two seconds to put it all together, making him close his eyes in embarrassment. He should’ve known better. And considering that Tolya was also behind this without Nikolai noticing only added to become more mortified of himself.

          He let out a sigh before turning around to face the person behind him. Maybe it was his distress over the ploy that Lada was able to pull him in, or maybe he just never had accustomed himself to her splendor and beauty, because even as he’d been keeping an eye on her all night, Nikolai still found himself sucking in a breath when he looked at her.

          Zoya’s eyebrows furrowed as she regarded him a bit stiffly. The dim light outside only made her eyes glow brighter and Nikolai couldn’t help staring. “Captain,” she greeted. She was holding an empty glass in her hand, and he wondered how many she had drunk tonight. “Was that Lada?”

          Nikolai blinked and shook himself, returning his usual cool demeanor. “Apparently, yes. She told me she wanted to show me something so here I am,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “What brought you here to sulk, princess? 

          He expected her to deflect the subject or dismiss him, but she scoffed instead, waving a frustrated hand in the air. “Oh, you know, too many people and too many small talks,” she replied with a huff. She stomped grumpily over to the parapet. “I’d rather jump off this balcony than dance or talk with another person again.”

          “But you’re talking to me,” Nikolai mused, slowly walking towards the parapet as well. Zoya gave him an incredulous look, and it made him laugh lightly. “Well, if you ever decide to jump off, just know that I’d be morally obliged to jump after you.”

          The crown princess mocked a sweet smile. “How chivalrous of you, Captain.”

          “I do my best, Princess.” He winked at her, to which she only replied with scoff. 

          A comfortable silence stretched over them, and Nikolai smiled contentedly. It was during quiet times like these that he would let his mind stray dangerously close to the invisible line between them that neither of them acknowledged aloud, or just refused to, and he would find himself hoping again. 

          He glanced at Zoya at the corner of his eyes, careful not to be too obvious. There was a look of ease on her face, the kind that one would rarely see from the crown princess who was well known for her regal and stoic expressions during public appearances. Ravka’s Storm, the people would call her, both thunder and lightning, powerful and fierce. 

          It was fitting for her, all rough edges and sharp tongue, never to hurt and only to tell nothing else but the truth.

          Beautiful. It was the one word that he could think of every time his eyes landed on her.

          Beautiful.

          Zoya must have felt his stare at her, because she suddenly turned to him with a frown, and it was too late for Nikolai to avert his eyes. She raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s the matter, Captain?”

          His mind tried to come up for excuses, but came up empty. Instead, he voiced out his thoughts. “You just look at ease tonight.”

          She laughed darkly. “Trust me, I feel exactly the opposite inside.” She paused, looking down at her hands. After a moment, she said, “Count Kirigin had asked permission to court me earlier.”

          The statement had Nikolai floored, and there was the unexpected sting in his chest again. But he knew better than to welcome it, so he brushed it away. He didn’t know what else to say about it, and he settled with his usual joking jabs instead. “Is that why you’re sulking out here?”

          To his relief, Zoya huffed. “Oh, shut up with the sulking.” She shook her head, and then sighed. “I—I didn’t know what came to me and just walked out. I don’t think I was ready for that yet.”

          Nikolai could only look at her with concern as she continued, “I know it’s bound to happen, those kinds of proposals. But I just don’t want to be tied down yet.”

          “Hey,” he said softly, reaching out a hand to clasp hers. Even through his glove, her skin was warm against his touch. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Take all the time you need.”

          “Easier said than done, Captain,” she said with a huff, but she squeezed his hand back. “It’s actually a surprise you’re not infuriating tonight.”

          He laughed. “Are you still considering jumping off the balcony?”

          “I’d rather not now.”

          “That’s good to hear.”

          Zoya gave him a narrowed look. “But, you know, maybe we should dance instead.”

          Nikolai’s thoughts stopped altogether. Out of all of the possible things she could’ve said, this was last on the list. Saints, it wasn’t even on the list. He stared at her, mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed. The Captain of the Guard was left speechless. Did he hear it right?

          He blinked repeatedly, running the words on his mind again. “Wha—I’m sorry, come again?”

          There was a faint redness on her cheeks, but her eyes didn’t waver from his stare. Nikolai chalked it up to the cold. Or probably the several drinks she had. “Dance, Captain,” she said. 

          “Here?”

          “Why not? The music could still be heard out here.” Then Zoya gave him a smug look. “Don’t tell me the Captain doesn’t know how to dance.”

          This somehow saved Nikolai from the nth embarrassment he had tonight, and he challenged her look. “Ah, underestimating the Captain again, Princess?” He didn’t even notice that their hands were still clasped until he held out his other hand out to her. “Well, then. May I?”

          Zoya only smirked and took his hand, leading him to the center of the balcony. Her arms came up around his neck, while his settled around her waist, and slowly, they began swaying along the soft, faint music that wafted out on the balcony. 

          It was a tender moment for them, not as a Captain or Princess, but as Nikolai and Zoya, under the moonlight, with nothing but the skies and stars as witnesses.

 ***

Though it wasn’t actually just the skies and stars. Behind the pillar of the exit that supported the archway hid two figures, peeking out in the balcony with a smile on their faces. 

          “I told you it would work,” Lada said. She was perched on Tolya’s right shoulder, munching on another set of sweets. “You people should trust me more when it comes to scheming.”

          Tolya inclined his head up to look at the little princess. “Remind me to include you in planning battle strategies next time?” he said with a light laugh.

          Lada only grinned in return, the both of them looking back to the couple in the balcony that were still in each other’s arms before leaving quietly and letting them have their moment.

          It was another win for the younger princess tonight.