#each chapter was it's own stand-alone short story which did also mean that even when kyle managed to connect with someone

[terpia]

I check Katherine Addison's twitter every now and then to see if there are any news about the Witness of the Dead 3. No news yet, but I did find out that a new Kyle Booth novella (main character from The Bone Key novel she published as Sarah Monette) has just been published, which is pretty amazing news to start what I have reason to believe will be a pretty shitty day.

[sukirichi]

dutifully yours. [01]

Attached to the could’ve been’s of a promised happily ever after with the Crown Prince disguised under a scheme for power and greed, you are torn between choosing your happiness — or abandoning it to fulfill your duty as the future Queen.

→ unedited bcos i’m brave lazy. implied patriarchy. angst in future chapters. pure romance and fluff for now. royalty au. eventual smut. prince naoya !! i love him sm i could cry. this fic will break me, okay. naoya is close to canon but with my twist if that makes sense. drama in future chapters. oh and listen to this while reading <3

→ massive shoutout to my besties for always hyping me and helping me uwu, i present this token of prince naoya being an ideal husband okay cry cry i love him sm im crying. anyways pls enjoy bcos i poured my heart out to this and bcos i want more people in the naoya fucker club :>

one | next (to be posted)

Ever since the day your mother taught you how to read, you’ve had your nose buried in a book. Losing yourself in different worlds, swooning over fictional princes, and fantasizing for a love story ripped out of fairytale itself with such burning, passionate romance – you’d been through it all, dreamt of it all. And yet, you struggled to stop yourself from tugging at your dress.

The tight corset hadn’t even been the main focus of your worries, and neither was the heavy rivière resting on your collarbones.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Beside you, your mother pursed her lips, fingers decorated with jewels stopping in their movements of fanning herself. The temperature hadn’t been particularly high inside the limousine that evening. You supposed it was the mere sight of you tugging and gulping audibly every now and then, gloved hands running over the hems of your collar.

You ducked your head down. “Sorry, Mother. I can’t help it.”

“Dear, your anxiety is written all over your face,” she sighed, turning your face to her as she cupped your cheeks. Smiling tenderly like a mother always did, your heart felt soothed even by the slightest bit. You wished she could keep holding you like this – like you were a fragile flower she was afraid of breaking; a fragile flower that needed more care handled than most. Tonight, however, you felt a hundred years older. Like you’d accidentally clicked on fast forward and got launched to the future. A future that seemed so unclear yet so...perfect. So right.

“How would the Prince fancy you if you’re sweating bullets like that? It’s not a good look for a marquess’ daughter.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, your heart sank again. “My apologies, Mother. I’m just rather nervous. It’s the Crown Prince we’re talking about here.”

“He is quite the looker, isn’t he?” she giggled behind her fan, “Strong and handsome, as well.”

“My ladies. You are not fantasizing over the Crown Prince in my presence, are you?”

Crossing her leg over the other, your mother leaned forwards, elbows on her knees as she winked at your father. The marquess had his torso half twisted from the passenger seat, glaring playfully at your mother’s unabashed features. “It is of no seriousness, My Lord. I’m simply easing your daughter’s nerves.”

Your father sighed in worry. “What’s got you so worked up, child? You are beautiful. The Prince would be blind to not notice you.”

Each fibre in your body screamed in desperation for your father to be right. Tonight was not just any other night – the entire Kingdom, including noblewomen, foreign royals, and unwed daughters from honourable families had been invited to the Zen’in Castle for one purpose only: to find his Crown Prince a suitable wife, one that would be fit to be the next Queen as well. As the daughter of the marquess, you’d naturally received the invitation. It felt just like yesterday when the mail arrived and you’d cheered so much in joy the chickens went flying out of their coops, your horses galloping and whinnying at surprise, and now you here – minutes away from the palace where you were soon to be deemed worthy or unworthy to be beside His Highness.

With a shaky smile, you dug your nails into your thighs. “Well, we’ve only met once, Father. I doubt the Prince would remember me.”

“Just smile, darling. You will do great.”

To no one’s surprise, the Zen’in Castle brimmed with people and esteemed guests. Men and women danced with one another as muted chatters and chuckles blended in with the grand royal orchestra, everyone dressed to the nines and making you feel completely out of place.

The moment you’d been welcomed by the knights and led to the palace doors, your dress began to feel tighter than usual, your ribs clenching uncomfortably from the pressure. Your hands had not stopped trembling either, not even when you hid it behind your back and nodded at the people passing by. There were governor-generals, dukes, earls, professors and royal advisors and even families of the royal family’s inner circle of knights. Everyone looked like they belonged here. Chatting amongst one another over the finest of wines or discussing conspiracies on where the Kingdom of Zen’in would be in the next sixty years of the future King’s reign, no one here seemed to be out of place.

Everyone except you.

A warm hand was suddenly placed on the small of your back, making you gasp. Your mother’s smile was nothing short of warm as she held you close to her one last time, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t even realize how much you shook until she clasped her hands with yours. “Calm down, dear,” she reminded, “You’ll be on your own now. This is where we leave you since we’re not supposed to mingle with potential princesses.”

“Mother!” Your eyes widened in embarrassment. Looking around frantically, you bit your lip in fear someone must’ve heard.

Of course, while it would be no surprise most guests – if not all – hoped that their daughter would be the Crown Prince’s chosen fiancée, it still felt wrong to boldly assume such when you could barely keep up with the events of tonight.

However, your mother merely laughed. “I am proud of you, dear. Never forget that. It doesn’t matter whether you are chosen or not. We’re only here for formality and respect to the King and Queen’s demands.”

“You say that as if the Crown Prince really would not bother with me.”

“We didn’t mean that,” your father cut in, a flute of champagne already nested between his calloused fingers. Ever since you arrived, he’d been snatched away by fellow earls and barons, disappearing into the crowd for a ‘hearty conversation over one’s lands.’ You knew better than that, though. That statement always translated to which leader got to have more chances to wine and dine with the King, to which your family was ridiculously reminded of that you’d been stationed to the most faraway land where even hearing news from the royal papers was but a privilege.

“Just be yourself, alright? And enjoy the party. It’s about time you met with girls your own age and made some friends.”

“I – Father, wait!”

A slender young woman slithered to your side out of nowhere, her golden brown eyes following the silhouettes of your parents. It wasn’t long before they completely disappeared. Left alone with the stunning woman that was – for some reason – dressed in a plain black curve hugging dress too modest for tonight’s appropriateness, you took three steps away in caution. “You must be from way up North,” she noted, her head to the tipped to the side. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

God, was she beautiful. Long, thick eyelashes and short hair chopped in messy yet elegant curves, you struggled to hold her gaze. “Oh, yes, I come from the Terratian Borders. My family is stationed there under His Majesty’s orders.”

She hummed to herself. “The Terratian Borders are mostly forests and fields, no? The last time my family and I visited there, I came across the loveliest dandelions I’ve ever laid eyes on. Shame they died on the way back,” offering her hand – again, bare and empty with decorations yet still littered with faint scars and cuts – she beamed at you. “I’m Mai, by the way. Mai Zen’in.”

Zen’in?

Hands cupping your mouth, you bowed deep until your back ached. “Lady Mai!” you shut your eyes closed, unable to live with the shame. Mai Zen’in; one of the iconic twin pair from the extended Zen’in royal family, both a fashion icon and a legend for being a rumoured female knight. To have her in your presence was an honour. “My apologies for not recognizing you any sooner, Lady Mai!”

“Stand up, I’m not a royal,” she sniggered, “We’re just relatives of the actual monarch, but don’t let the family name fool you. The Crown Prince barely even acknowledges us being of the same blood.”

Albeit hesitant, you followed her gestures of making you stand up. You straightened your back and cleared your throat, fighting the urge to go haywire the moment his name was brought into the conversation. Not only would you be seeing Prince Naoya again in real life for the first time in years, but you’d also made acquaintances with his distant niece. However, his name was spoken with malice.

Frowning, you faced Lady Mai in all seriousness. “Prince Naoya? Why so?” Lady Mai looked at you like you’d grown two heads.

“He’s an ass, that’s why.”

“I-I don’t think he is,” you defended, “The Prince has been nothing but kind to me.”

“I didn’t know he was capable of kindness,” she muttered more so under her breath, low enough you were unsure whether you were supposed to hear it in the first place. Lady Mai then shook her head to herself before stealing a flute from a waiter passing by. Chucking it your way, her face turned dark and grim. “Take it as free advice: stay as far away from his as possible. The Crown Prince is nothing but good news.”

“Is it because he has lots of lovers?” you inquired with a small voice, “Uhm – well – It was an assumption. With a title and handsomeness like that, it would make sense everyone would want to be the Crown Prince’s lover.”

Lady Mai’s lip curled upwards. “Prince Naoya won’t bother with lovers. He is too occupied for that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Heard from whom?”

“The Royal Declaration from His Majesty himself,” you said, “Was it not the purpose of this ball? To find worthy candidates to be the Crown Prince’s betrothed? His coronation is coming soon.”

“Right. I forgot today was technically a bridal market,” she scratched the edge of her brow, falling silent for a moment. Her eyes scanned the lively crowd for a brief moment – watching with you as everyone laughed and danced to their heart’s content – the grand final event of the routine personal dance with the Crown Prince himself slowly approaching to reality. “You are joining in the festivities, are you not? Later, when he arrives, he shall meet you.”

“I am obligated to as a noble bachelorette, though I doubt His Highness would even look my way. There are far richer noblewomen here and even daughters of duke that would be perfect as his wife. ”

“You may have a point for that,” she hummed to herself, unaware that her agreement to the Crown Prince not paying attention to you left a sting both in your ego and heart. Not that it lasted long, for Lady Mai was already tugged on the arm by another equally fiercely beautiful woman – her older twin, Maki Zen’in. Soon to be governon-general of the Kingdom.

Lady Mai smiled in apology. “I need to go now since I’m not a part of this event. But hey, if ever I come around to visit the Borders again, perhaps you could entertain me?”

“I would be honoured to, Lady Mai.”

“You are sweet and innocent,” it was her sister who spoke this time, glasses perched high on her nose that concealed the wariness of her gaze. “I hope the Crown Prince never gets to your routine.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing; she was talking to herself. Maki does that a lot,” Lady Mai’s forced chuckles were barely heard from the music. “You enjoy the party now. Don’t drink too much lest you want to embarrass yourself in everyone’s eyes and be talk of the Kingdom. Prince Naoya would hate it if you took the attention away from him.”

“Oh, uhm...”

“It’s a joke, Lady Y/N. Relax.”

You bowed once more. “My apologies.”

“The dance is about to begin,” Maki tapped on your shoulder, making you look up right where her eyes zeroed in. And exactly in the middle of the grandiose hall, under the sparkling golden chandeliers where he made all the gold in the world look incomparable next to him, the Crown Prince stood in his fully glory. Blond hair with the ends stained of midnight gelled back to reveal his forehead, the Crown Prince’s beauty never failed to shine. Whether it be in the papers, in the tabloids, in the billboards that you passed on the way to the city, or from way back when you met him for the first time as a naive, innocent teen – Crown Prince Naoya came straight out of a magazine cover.

In the back of your head, you could hear either of the twins murmuring good luck. Maybe both of them had said it – you had no idea. All of your attention, all the sensibility and coherence of your state had been switched the next instant, as if your heart and soul was born for the sole purpose of being bewitched by your Crown Prince.

And as if feeling someone’s gaze on him, the Crown Prince’s eyes trailed over the crowd. Almost boredly, his sharp eyes bounced from one giggling woman to another, the ends of his lips smirking upwards for just the tiniest bit. It must’ve stroked his ego. Until his eyes connected with yours. The Crown Prince’s eyebrows knitted together. You had no idea how you looked in that moment, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. Because the Crown Prince was looking at you, and you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes along with your heart pulsing at the tip of your tongue.

“Let us begin,” his lips moved from the distance, “Play the music. I shall dance with my bride.”

The air shifted in a split second. Murmurs were thrown over the room, women and men alike turning pale. Even the orchestra was stunned from the Crown Prince’s entrance – and it hadn’t even been dramatic to his standards – yet the whole castle fell mum from just a few of his words. A few seconds later, the crowd recomposed itself, and the strings began to dance along with its bows.

You are pushed into the crowd. Nearly colliding into the arms of another, you quietly thank the masked man who was to be your first partner of the night.

All the men joining the dance floor dressed with the intention of making the Crown Prince shine. Prince Naoya stood out from the throng of white as per the colour code, his blood red uniform as both Prince with the  golden crest of the military leader pinned to his right breast. The other men meant to be filler partners until all the potential brides got to their designated three minutes with the Prince were all dressed in black, faces covered behind a plain black mask. None were allowed to talk. None were allowed to utter even a word, and so your partner pursed his lips in displeasure at your apology.

Whatever. You just had to wait a few more rounds before the song finished and transitioned into a new one; the song where you’d been informed would be your time alone with the Prince.

You’d been so lost in your head you barely breathed the entire dance. From partner to partner, you blanked. Your heart drummed so wildly in its cage it begged to come out, and strings of apologies were let out each time your masked partners grimaced for a brief second when their hands came in contact with your sweaty ones. Around you, all the lovely women smiled and danced graciously, mouths moving in unreadable conversations shared with the Crown Prince. Not once did you look at the six partners you’ve danced with. Not once did you worry about tripping on your own feet. Not once did you care that some of the masked men held you a little too roughly for your comfort. Your entire reason for existing in that moment was to witness the Crown Prince himself, mirroring his frown that got deeper and deeper with each woman retreating to the sea of people he’d rejected.

Not once did you even think about being one of them – the girls who’ve ducked their heads down as their parents comforted them over not being the chosen one, of bringing ‘dishonour’ to their families that the mighty Crown Prince had deemed them unworthy. Tears streamed down their faces until black ink followed afterwards, lips trembling from silent sobs.

Despite their broken prides – although there was that minority who simply sighed in relief after returning to their own families – no one would dare interrupt the Crown Prince’s dances.

All of these thoughts crossed your mind too late and at the exact time your masked partner pulled away from you, body half bent in a bow with his arm outstretched to the side. Following where he was gesturing at, your eyes met the Crown Prince’s tall and lean stature, a few blond fringes now fallen from his movements.

Even though a thin layer of sweat shone from his face, Prince Naoya remained ethereal.

And like a snake charmed by the musician’s seductive tone, your feet moved on its own. Fingers stretching until it met with the Crown Prince’s large and warm ones, you were now in front of him. With him. Holding him, touching him, meeting him eye for eye and realizing – gold. His eyes burned a deep shade of gold, elegantly rich and heartbreakingly stunning your heart ached.

Before you knew it, your hands began to tremble, feeling as if your body had been corded into a corset three sizes smaller. You could not breathe, and the Crown Prince took notice.

“You are stiff. Do I make you uncomfortable?” Good Saint. If only possible, you would’ve closed your eyes and basked in the deep warmth of his voice. It reverberated from deep within, breathed out with an air of natural authority and profound confidence it made your knees weak. As if sensing his effect on you (though for the wrong reasons, it seemed), Prince Naoya hummed to himself. “This routine shall last for a few minutes before I can let you go, I’m afraid.”

You instantly realized the implications of your silence. “N-not at all, Your Highness! I am honoured to be dancing with you.”

“There is no honour in a choreographed dance. Everyone will dance with me. It’s nothing special.”

Your heart fell. Prince Naoya not only sounded dejected, but detached as well. As if he found no pleasure or specialty in this event, at a time where he had every opportunity to meet his lover, and that this ball was merely a task to be checked off in his already long list of responsibilities. It wasn’t disappointment, per se, but rather melancholy that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Not because Prince Naoya held little to no regards for something you treasured, but because he sounded terribly alone. Like he was simply waiting for it to end out of discomfort.

“It’s special to me, Your Highness,” you blurted out faster than you could stop yourself. For a moment, you feared you may have offended him, but the Crown Prince only laughs.

And when he did – saint, when he laughed – his eyes crinkled into half moons, pearly whites flashing against the bright lights and his whole chest shook with amusement.

You’d never seen him smile this way before.

Prince Naoya’s laughter didn’t cease. Around you, your gut instincts told that people were now beginning to look; the Crown Prince’s deep rumbles of laughter sounded exquisitely like music as well, after all. “ Is it special to you because you are now dancing and within the Crown Prince’s proximity? As much as I presume how exhilarating it might be for those who mostly see me in the papers and in the tabloids, I assure you, dancing with your Prince is not an honour. Especially when you are all sent the invitations based on your status and not your worthy traits.”

“It’s special to me,” you mumbled, growing shy all of a sudden when the Crown Prince nodded at you to continue. “Because...because it reminds me of the first time we met.”

The Crown Prince hummed in amusement.

“We have met before?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m from the Terratian Borders – my father is a loyal servant of His Majesty. You visited the borders when you were eighteen and I was sixteen. Do you remember it, Your Highness? You stormed in my private library.”

Indeed, the young barely-out-of-his-teens Crown Prince barged into your home’s library years ago. You were not previously informed he and his parents would be visiting since they arrived wordlessly, so you were stuck in your chambers as usual, killing time if not for sleeping and tending to the animals. Perched on a ladder, you attempted to reach for a book on the upper shelf when your foot slipped beneath you. At the age of sixteen, you were dramatic enough to say your life flashed before your eyes. You would’ve screamed then had strong arms not appeared out of nowhere, the Crown Prince staring at you with wide, golden eyes as they were now, his breathy rasped as he asked, are you okay, my lady?

The mere recollection of that fateful memory had your cheeks warming in delight. “You were so charming and heroic back then. Even when I had no idea you were a royal, I would have still believed you to be princely,” you said rather absentmindedly, blinking once then twice at your words. “Of course, it’s understandable if you do not remember, Your Highness!”

“My apologies. I do not remember, though Terratia is a wonderful place. Such a shame I was not informed beforehand they had a lovely daughter.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you cheered back, cheeks and jaw beginning to ache from how wide you were smiling. But could anyone blame you? You felt absolutely silly that you were a breath away from passing out minutes ago, and now here you were, dancing with the Crown Prince and sharing memories with him like it was a daily occurrence. The words it’s true love when you feel at peace with them suddenly rang back at your head from that latest romance novel you read, and you turned away, hoping the Crown Prince would not read your thoughts to your face. However, Prince Naoya’s lips pursed into a thin line, all traces of humour now disappeared. “I’m sorry – should I not have laughed?”

“No, I don’t mind,” he mused with his jaw locked tight, “I just haven’t seen anyone react that way before.”

“Like what?”

“Like my words meant the entire universe to them. I may dare even say you look terribly in love, though I cannot blame you on that one, can I?”

Prince Naoya shook his head the minute the words left his mouth. Forcing himself to believe it couldn’t be real, perhaps, you truly did not know anymore. Your only plan for tonight was to see the Crown Prince and get to live out your dream of seeing him once more even for just a brief moment before you travelled back home while he married another, and yet – “Your Highness, I’m in love with you. I have always been since the day we met.”

You could no longer stop the words. The voice at the back of your head begged you to shut up and not cause a scene, that your time had passed up and people were staring, yet you remained in his arms no matter how much you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Please do not misunderstand me, Your Highness. I did not come here to attempt to steal your heart and be your wife, though I will admit I have dreamt of meeting you again for so many moons. I...I only want to tell you this. That I love you and even though it was a brief moment, I think the love I’ve always read about felt real and possible for the first time in my life,” chuckling nervously, you gather to courage to face him, adoration shining for the Crown Prince stood shock still before you, however stunned he may be. “I love you, Your Highness. I love you. And to whoever lucky woman you choose to be your betrothed, I hope she takes care of you and showers you with all the affection you are deserving of. You would make a great King. So God help his Crown Prince, and may you lead us all into a better world.”

Prince Naoya did not budge a muscle. His eyes remained hard on yours, breath warm as his nostrils fumed. With each passing second that he did not speak, you grew restless and tugged your arm away from his hold with a disgraceful smile.

You’d truly crossed your line. The repercussions to be faced for this impoliteness would destroy your family’s honour. You had to leave. “Your Highness? The song has changed. It’s time to let go—”

The Crown Prince inched close enough until his hair tickled your cheeks, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he pulled you close, close enough that your lower bodies touched. Skin ablaze with heat, you dared not move an inch. “Do you mean it?” he demanded lowly, his fingers ghosting over your wrist to hold you in place. “Do you truly love me? Not for what I have, not for who I was born to be, but me as a person itself?”

Closing your eyes to shudder in a deep breath, you exhaled. “Of course, Your Highness. Even if you were not born as a Prince, I’m sure I would’ve still loved you in a different universe.”

“But I do not know you.”

“We don’t have to know each other, Your Highness, and we never will. Once you let me go, I’ll return to the shadows where I belong, and I will continue supporting you until the day of your coronation.”

“And if I refuse to let you go?” he clicked his tongue, “What will you do then?”

The Crown Prince’s spicy perfume must be an aphrodisiac or hypnotizer of sorts. Everything he did messed with your mind that it was too late – the music had stopped and people were no longer drinking or chatting. Everyone’s eyes were on you and the Crown Prince. You could only imagine how controversial this position must be; with his lips trailing dangerously close to that sensitive spot in your neck where you nearly moaned. You really needed to leave.

“P-people are looking, Your Highness. You do not want this affair with someone you won’t choose—”

“Who said I won’t choose you?” Finally, he pulled away. But Prince Naoya never once tore his gaze away from yours, nor did he allow you to look at anyone but him as he caresses your jaw so light and feathery you wondered if he was truly there.“Who said I haven’t laid my eyes on you the moment you walked in here? This ball is for naught because of you, Lady Y/N. I’ve already made my choice, and you helped me confirm it as soon as you danced with me.”

“Your Highness...”

“Look at me,” he ordered, your eyes flitting from his pinkish lips to his sharp nose and then to his fox-like gaze. Only this time, Prince Naoya was no longer harsh. “Don’t be scared.”

“But they’re looking.”

“You are with me, of course they’ll look,” he teased, “They wish to be you right now. But ignore them and dance one more time with me.”

It wasn’t like you had a choice, but did it matter? One nod from him was all it took before the orchestra fumbled back to their spots and a new song played, Ode of Moonlight Lovers, and the Crown Prince was guiding you back to where he had originally danced with you.

From the corners of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your parents with their mouths gaped open; your father looking like he was on the verge of passing out. However, you felt nothing but joy, nothing but the adrenaline pumping through your veins as he danced and twirled you in his arms. When the music stopped and you were both panting for air with silly smiles on your face, it dawned on you that you were with the Prince. No, rather, it was only you and the Prince alone. Even in the sea of people whose faces began to blur, he prevailed crystal clear.

You could recognize him anywhere, find him everywhere.

Prince Naoya stepped impossibly closer until your chests touched, hearts beating as one. Cupping your jaw, he was near enough that he swallowed all your shaky breaths with a small, teasing smile like you both shared a secret the entire world could not know.

“Do I still make you nervous?”

Laughing, you nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“It’s beloved now,” he corrected, face inching closer and closer to a point you could count the number of his lower lashes. “And what do lovers do to seal their union?”

“M-Marriage?”

“Close, but this is much better.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would have a love story ripped out straight from a fairytale, you would’ve laughed at their faces. You were no Cinderella, nor were you a goddess of beauty that could’ve possibly caught the Crown Prince’s eye. Yet, his soft lips were on yours, kissing you with as much passion you could only dream of that you cried.

Strong hands guiding the back of your waist, Prince Naoya dipped you lower to the ground – the grand of finish of his dance. He had chosen his bride.

The crowd cheered and rejoiced all around you, making you smile into the kiss. Fisting his collar to bring him closer to yours, your mouth burst into metaphorical fireworks as soon as his tongue mingled with yours for an experimental taste. He was bitter yet sweet; expensive wine resting on his tongue, yet a delicate vanilla sat heavily on his soft lips that molded with yours. It was a taste you could spend forever being addicted on. And you were crying, crying so much your chest ached and the Prince’s cheeks grew damp from yours. You’d dreamt of this for so long, too long now.

Prince Naoya slowly pulled you away, his thumb wiping the tears away from the pads of your cheeks with tenderness in his touch. However, the Prince was not satisfied. The crowd whooped as he leant down to kiss your forehead. “You are mine now, my princess.”

Looping his hands with yours, the Crown Prince led you out of the castle. The crowd parted naturally to make way for the new couple, and you were left staring at his broad back and the tuft of blond hair where you’d soon find out how soft it would be. Sending one last glance to your crying parents, you waved goodbye. You had no idea where the Crown Prince would take you but you were already bunching your dress up, heart completely filled with trust you did not question it. What mattered tonight and for the rest of your life was that it felt right. That it was him – your beloved Prince Naoya Zen’in and soon to be husband – that you’d follow through the moon and back.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

After All (Part 11/?)

Pairing: Riff X OC Jet Girl

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racism, Violence

Summary: After all, if you really want to get out of the neighborhood, you marry up.

Word Count: 9800 ish.

DISCLAIMER

Please note that this is a reimagining of the film West Side Story (2021) and as a result is slightly AU.

Masterlist /// Part 1 /// Part 10 /// Part 11 /// Part 12

A/N: A day will come when I cut back on the length of chapters. But it is not this day. Thank you all for the support. It means a lot to know that you guys like this as much as I have liked writing it. Just a note, in this house we stan Tony (who has had a come-to-Jesus moment) but not necessarily Ansel Elgort. As such, imagine Tony as whoever you want. Also, I may write a short something for Baby John at some point, it’s been too fun and easy. There’s a lot of plot in this chapter since I wanted to get to some good stuff in the next one. I hope I’m not discouraging anyone with the recent chapter lengths. Take as much time as you need to read this. I hope you all enjoy and have a good rest of the weekend! :)

Part 11: Inevitable

It wasn’t long after Roxie had left him standing alone in his bedroom that Riff reached the conclusion that he needed to make things right.

He spent the rest of the evening with Grazi, as they had planned. She didn’t stay over though, and bid him goodbye just before midnight with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek. She had probably noticed his mind was elsewhere. He didn’t exactly hide the fact that he was upset. If he had, Grazi would’ve seen through his facade, anyways.

Later, Riff laid in his bed alone, looking up at the cracking ceiling. Though he tried desperately to focus on the sounds of distant traffic leaking through the cracked window beside his bed, all he could hear was his own screaming thoughts.

He knew Roxie was jealous of Grazi. He didn’t know the exact reason why, regardless of what he told Roxie, but he was sure of it.

And fine, fine. Maybe he was a little jealous of Michael, too. So what?

… But why?

Riff had spoken his mind when he told Roxie that Michael was a stiff. The guy looked like he hadn’t had a genuine laugh since he was in diapers. And why did he insist on dressing that way? He should’ve counted his lucky stars that he hadn’t been mugged for his clothes yet.

Riff self-indulged in a few thoughts that turned a bit dark as he entertained the idea of staging a stick up. Action wouldn’t ask any questions. A-Rab was always up for causing some trouble. Baby John was still eager to prove himself; he’d make a dedicated lookout.

No, no, no.

As much as Riff enjoyed the thought of giving Michael a good scare, it wasn’t worth the effort. Not to mention that Michael most likely wouldn't hesitate to report Riff to the cops, even if he was Roxie’s friend.

What did she see in Michael, anyways? Riff couldn’t imagine that Roxie wasn’t bored by him.

She deserved someone fun, someone who knew how to let loose. She deserved someone who was patient enough to get to know her. It’d take some time- Riff knew from experience- but it was so very worth it.

Riff wasn’t sure how long they had been seeing each other, but he feared it was only a matter of time before Michael realized what a catch Roxie was and popped the question. Would she really marry someone like him? And if he came from money, which Riff was all but certain he did, Roxie wouldn’t even need to work.

She needed a job of her own. She wouldn’t be content with sitting at home all day being a housewife and allowing her husband to be the only breadwinner. Not his Roxie.

…

Except she wasn’t his.

Then it hit him.

Riff wasn’t jealous of Michael. Maybe it bothered him that Michael could offer Roxie everything he couldn’t.

She wouldn’t even need to go back to school. If they got married, Roxie would leave the West Side again. Michael would be her rich husband. They’d have a fancy house with a white picket fence. They’d have kids. Riff could only hope they’d look more like Roxie than Michael.

If Roxie was willing to make all those personal sacrifices to be with Michael, no matter how much Riff detested him, he couldn’t stand in her way.

Riff had to make things right with Roxie. He had to see her again. He had to start walking her home again. He had to take every opportunity he had to spend time with her while he still could, before the inevitable happened.

He was done making decisions for her. It was high time he supported the ones she made for herself.

————————————————————————————

Though she had been feeling miserable, Roxie was given a bit of relief the following day as the thought of meeting up with Tony later gave her something to legitimately smile about.

She was in the process of doing laundry in the basement of her apartment building. The memories of the argument she had with Riff temporarily fled from her thoughts. She hummed a tune she made up along the way and shut the washing machine door with a clunk.

“You moved in on the sixth floor with Betty, right?”

Roxie turned to look at the woman a few machines down who was in the process of putting her freshly cleaned but soaked articles of clothing into the basket at her feet. Neither had spoken a word to each other yet, and Roxie had been so lost in her thoughts she had almost forgotten she wasn’t alone in the basement.

“Yes. My name’s Roxie.”

“Helen,” the woman introduced herself, shortly and sweetly. “You won the lottery with that apartment, you know.”

“I suppose it’s not too bad, considering the rent,” Roxie responded carefully before reaching down to pick up the empty basket at her feet off the concrete floor.

“No, not that!” Helen said, throwing more of her clothes into her own basket. “I tried to get the landlord to let me switch from my unit to yours, but by the time I spoke to him, you’d already gotten to him first.”

“I’m… sorry?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Helen replied. “With any luck, I’ll get another chance soon enough.”

At this point, Roxie was thoroughly confused. She had no plans of moving out of the apartment any time soon, and to her knowledge, Betty didn’t either.

When Helen finally finished removing all of her clothes from the machine, she looked over at Roxie, who’s confusion must have been evident on her face. “Wait… you don’t know?”

“... No?” Roxie posed the statement as a question as she began feeling a bit nervous.

“They say that apartment’s lucky,” Helen told her matter of factly as she reached down to pick up her basket that was now filled with her clean clothes.

Although Helen’s explanation was seemingly enough for her, Roxie was still left a bit dumbfounded. “Lucky how?” she asked.

“Everyone who goes through that apartment gets their one way ticket out of this neighborhood in six months, if that.”

Roxie opened her mouth to respond before shutting it quickly. Surely Helen was not referring to that. The neighborhood was changing, but had it really gotten that dangerous? “So when the landlord told me that Betty’s last roommate ‘up and left’... she actually died?”

Helen burst into a fit of laughter. “God, no!” she replied once she had calmed down a bit. “She got engaged!”

Roxie let out a small sigh of relief.

“Her and the fella are married now. He’s a lawyer. Say what you want about ‘em, but he’s stinkin’ rich. They live in a townhouse on the Upper East Side,” Helen said. “Betty told me she’s been seeing a doctor lately. I just want to know where they’re finding these catches. Leave some for the rest of us, right?”

Due to her latest absences at their apartment for several reasons, Roxie failed to realize that Betty had been seeing someone. Good for her. She deserves it.

“What about you?” Helen asked Roxie then. “Are you seeing someone?”

Roxie wasn’t quite sure how to respond to the question. She also wasn’t sure if it was wise to divulge details of her personal life to this woman she’d just met, no matter how nice she seemed. “Not really.”

“Well, put your chin up,” Helen advised her with a smile. “It’ll only be a matter of time. When you get the chance, take it. After all, if you really want to get out of the neighborhood, you marry up.”

“How romantic,” Roxie commented plainly.

“You can frown upon it all you want,” Helen said, noting Roxie’s slight disdain. “Soon enough you’ll come around to the idea; it’s the only chance girls like us have around here anymore. Before long, the landlord will sell this building to the highest bidder and we’ll all get evicted. And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather marry the first decent man who offers and live comfortably in a penthouse than marry for love and be homeless.”

With that, Helen walked past Roxie to head up the stairs. As she began up the steps, she called, “It was nice meeting you, by the way.”

“Likewise,” Roxie said neutrally, her eyes focused on the basket in her arms.

————————————————————————————

“It isn’t much, but it’s home now.”

Roxie met Tony at Doc’s at three o’clock as he requested. When she arrived, he immediately led her to the basement.

She was currently walking around the room and taking it in. The basement was bigger than she would have thought. Most of it was lined with shelves that were almost filled to capacity with various goods. Boxes occupied space on the floor where the shelves did not. There was a large refrigerator along one wall. A thin layer of dust coated everything she could see.

Tucked away underneath the staircase, a small bed, along with some storage and a mere few items of personal belongings, made up Tony’s section of the room.

“It was nice of Valentina to give you a job and a place to stay,” Roxie stated quietly, mindful of the fact that the woman in reference was just upstairs.

Tony was ruffling through a makeshift wardrobe beside the desk. The sound of rustling shirts filled the air as he searched for one in particular. “It was,” he acknowledged. He finally withdrew a white t-shirt and turned to face the bed. Roxie turned away to give him a moment of privacy as he changed from the button up he’d worn for work to the t-shirt.

“Your folks didn’t take you in?” she asked, her eyes scanning over a nearby shelf of canned peaches.

“Nah,” Tony said, his voice muffled by fabric. A moment later, she heard the door to the makeshift wardrobe open once again, and Roxie took that as her que that he was done changing his shirt.

She turned back around and watched as he closed the door. “Tony, you know Riff would’ve taken you in. Why didn’t you ask him?”

“What does it matter to you?” Tony challenged playfully. “You talkin’ to him again?”

That was a bit of a loaded question. Roxie wasn’t sure Tony was prepared for the answer.

Tony closed the door, and glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. “It wasn’t really my choice,” he said quietly before sitting down. “I’ve got a parole officer to keep happy now.”

That idea hadn’t crossed her mind. “Parole officer?” she asked. “It’s not like you killed someone.”

“But I almost did.”

An awkward silence fell over the room.

“Sorry,” Tony mumbled, breaking the tension. “I didn’t wanna bring it up.”

“It’s fine,” Roxie assured him quietly. “It’s what happened, right?”

Tony said nothing. Roxie walked over to the bed and slowly sat down beside him.

“Enough about me for now,” he continued after another moment. “How on earth did you end up back here, Roxie?”

Roxie looked at him, and couldn’t help but sigh as she contemplated where to even begin.

————————————————————————————

After a few hours, the sun was starting to set. Tony walked Roxie back to her new apartment. He supposed it wasn’t really necessary, but he didn’t mind. They said goodbye, but not before she made him promise that he wouldn’t drop off the face of the earth and that he would see her again. Once she was satisfied with his reassurances, she gave him a hug before promptly heading inside her building. As soon as she was past the doors, Tony quickly headed to his next destination.

His parole officer warned him against going out, and especially about staying out late. But there was something that Tony needed to take care of, and he needed to take care of it soon. Since Roxie knew he was out of jail, it was only a matter of time before the situation was out of his hands.

As Tony walked along the streets of the neighborhood that were gradually being lit up by street lamps, he could hardly believe what he saw. Buildings that had stood for as far back as he remembered were gone and reduced to nothing but rubble and abandoned singular walls. Many of the buildings that remained just weren’t the same.

What had happened to the Irish Pub? Over the past year or so, there’d been many nights he lay awake, counting down the days until he’d be able to drink his worries away. Maybe they’d only disappear for a night, but if it’d allow him to live with himself and what he’d done a little bit longer, it was more than worth it.

Before he knew it, Tony was outside the auto shop that had once been run by Riff’s uncle. Roxie told him Riff was running it now. He looked up at the sign that was beginning to show a bit of distress from passing time. Then his eyes fell to one of the garage doors. It was open.

Tony had had a year in the hole to gather his thoughts, but as he forced himself to walk forward and take the final steps towards the auto shop, he realized with slight dread that it hadn’t been enough time to prepare himself for the conversation he was about to have.

God was merciful, or so Tony hoped. That belief was further cemented in his mind when he entered the garage and found Riff alone.

Riff’s back was to him as the other young man faced the workbench across the garage. Though he didn’t turn around, Riff must have heard him enter.

“A-Rab, I already told ya that you were pressin’ your luck with shop owner,” he said over the noise of clanking tools that he was moving around. “He caught you grabbin’ the sign again, didn’t he?”

“No,” Tony answered, watching as Riff paused at the sound of his voice. “I’ve got an appointment actually… made it ‘bout a year ago.”

Riff continued to face the tool bench for another moment before he slowly turned around.

If Tony had feared something awful had happened to Riff- and perhaps he had a few times over the past year or so- his worries were quickly dismissed upon seeing him in person once again. The last memory he had of his long time friend was a bleak one. Maybe a rumble had been deemed necessary at the time, but no one actually liked what they felt the need to do when they were in the mess of it. The Riff he had seen going toe to toe with Asim, the one so angry and violent, was far removed from the Riff before him, who was calm and collected. And yet Tony still knew that they were both one in the same.

Riff looked at him like he had seen a ghost. “I’ll be damned…” he muttered, unchracteriscally at a loss for words.

Tony spared him any more discomfort and crossed the garage in a few long strides. The two embraced warmly, clapping each other on the back.

When the moment felt right, Riff pulled away, but the two remained close. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, though he was still smiling. “How many times did I tell you I would be there when they cut ya loose?”

Still feeling apprehensive about what he had come to discuss and unsure of what to say, Tony merely shrugged.

“Nevermind,” Riff continued quickly, not noticing Tony’s hesitation. “You can tell me all ‘bout it later. There’s an extra cot upstairs with your name on it.”

Tony sighed. “I appreciate it, Riff, but-”

“Ya know what? No,” Riff corrected himself. “Probably haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in who the hell knows how long. How ‘bout you take my bed, at least for a few nights?”

“Thanks, but that ain’t necessary-”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Riff interjected. “Some of the fellas are stayin’ with me, and you haven’t heard Diesel’s snoring. But we’ll work it out.”

Upon seeing the hopeful look on Riff’s face, Tony almost caved. It would’ve been so easy to accept Riff’s offer. Maybe he could sneak out some nights and still crash at Valentina’s. His parole officer wouldn’t be any the wiser.

But that wasn’t right. He knew that if he needed to make the change that he was demanding of himself and that his parole officer was enforcing, he had to man up and tell Riff what needed to be said.

“I can’t stay with ya.”

Riff frowned but quickly regained his composure. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Of course ya can!”

Riff finally took a step away and turned back to face the work bench. Tony watched as he continued to pick up the various tools that cluttered the surface. He put some in nearby drawers or otherwise moved them out of his way.

“I’m staying with Valentina, Riff.”

Riff paused and turned to look at him once again. “At Doc’s?” he asked slowly and redundantly. “With the old witch?”

Tony frowned upon hearing his best friend’s choice of words. Riff had never been her biggest fan, and she was certainly not his, Valentina deserved more respect than that. “She gave me a job.”

“So a job’s the problem, then?” Riff countered. “You can work here with me. Shop ain’t makin’ too much money right now, but soon we will be.”

“Yeah?” Tony raised his brows. “Roxie’s gonna work that kinda magic, huh?”

Riff pursed his lips and Tony knew he had hit a sore note. “So, you’re talkin’ to her?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Riff, you better not be playin’ games with her,” Tony warned him, pointing a finger at him for emphasis. Riff might as well have been his brother, but Tony had not forgotten how he had treated Roxie. He was worried.

“Please,” Riff scoffed.

“She told me all about Asim, Riff,” Tony informed him coolly. “I know what you two did to get the money to pay him off.” Riff said nothing as he watched him with narrow eyes, so Tony continued. “I appreciate you havin’ my back for that, I really do. But Roxie also told me about the agreement you’ve got now, and the argument you had.”

“Where ya goin’ with this?” Riff snapped. “Seems like she’s told you all you need to know.”

Tony sighed angrily as he contemplated his next words. “She’s upset, Riff. If you’re not playin’ games with her, you two ought to work it out. You know she didn’t mean what she said. You two used to be together, for God’s sake.”

Riff was quiet for a few moments. “Did she ask you to come talk to me?” he asked Tony then. Riff’s voice was quiet, and if Tony hadn’t been so exhausted from the events of the day, he almost could’ve sworn Riff sounded a bit hopeful.

“No,” Tony said. “I wanted to come talk to ya myself.”

“Ah… so were you plannin’ on bringing her up before or after you told me you didn’t need me anymore?”

Tony looked at Riff carefully.

Riff was his brother. Womb to tomb, sperm to worm, and all that. They’d been attached at the hip since they’d started school, and apart from Tony’s stint in prison following the rumble with the Egyptian Kings, they hadn’t been separated since. Tony didn’t like seeing Riff visibly upset at the fact that he hadn’t called him when he got out of prison and that he wasn’t going to be staying with him. Tony should’ve known how betrayed Riff had to feel, and if he could’ve tolerated thinking about this very moment for more than a few seconds throughout the past year, maybe he would’ve realized that sooner.

“It’s not like that,” Tony told him definitively. “I still need you, and I’m still here for you too.”

Riff was obviously waiting for the punchline. “But?”

“I can’t be runnin’ around with you and the Jets anymore.” Tony avoided looking at Riff, knowing that if he did and if he saw his reaction he probably wouldn’t be able to finish his thoughts. “I know about the Sharks, too. If I get in any more trouble, my parole officer will make sure I get locked up again... I can’t take the chance.”

Maybe Tony could have been honest with Riff. He could’ve told him that he was trying to change his life around. But, despite their close connection, the two of them had never been ones to have deep discussions. On the rare occasion they did, hypotheticals shielded them from any true vulnerability. Tony hoped that Riff would accept what excuse he’d given him, even if it was true.

“Seems like everyone’s forgotten where they came from these days,” Riff stated calmly, breaking the several minute silence.

Tony was taken aback by his tone. Riff didn’t sound angry. He sounded defeated.

“You best be gettin’ out of here,” Riff advised then, turning back to the workbench and focusing on the tools once again. It was almost as if their conversation had never even occurred. “The guys will be gettin’ in soon. I wouldn’t want them to see ya and get their hopes up.”

Tony sighed but relented with a slow nod. Riff didn’t spare him another glance.

“I can't be here for the Jets, but I’m still here for you, Riff,” Tony reiterated while taking a slow step backwards. “Whenever you need me, you know where you can find me.”

Tony retreated from the shop without another word. As he walked back to Doc’s, he could only hope that Riff would come around sooner rather than later.

————————————————————————————

Work was tiring, but when Roxie finally got into bed that night, she couldn’t sleep.

Instead, her mind was plagued with thoughts about the conversation she had with Helen in the laundry room and the talk she had with Tony earlier in the day.

Roxie had never thought herself to be a romantic. She’d never really considered marriage, at least not seriously, let alone a loveless one. There weren’t many married couples she’d known that had set a good example for her, except maybe Valentina and Doc.

She could still fondly recall how her mother would take her to Doc’s when she was a little girl. Valentina and Doc were always smiling at each other, and they never argued. Roxie was certain they loved each other up until Doc’s sudden death.

But Roxie wasn’t naive, and she knew that more and more folks ended up in a loveless marriage whether they had intended to do so or not.

Maybe Helen had a point. Hypothetically speaking, marrying Michael would guarantee Roxie a comfortable life.

But she didn’t love him. 

She’d known him for the better part of a year and honestly tried to give him a fair chance. They’d gone on a few dates and he had made a point to visit her a lot lately. He was kind, had a good job, and she knew she ought to like him… but her feelings for him had never developed beyond a platonic level.

Marrying him was out of the question.

Based on his recent behavior and their topics of conversation, Michael had already developed romantic feelings for her. It was likely inevitable that they’d continue to grow unless she told him the truth and put an end to things soon.

Michael was more than she deserved, but she wasn’t willing to allow his presence to cause a rift between her and Riff. If she stayed with Michael, there wouldn’t be any guarantee that it would work out, anyways. Why should she needlessly destroy the relationship with Riff they had mutually agreed to begin repairing?

Roxie knew then she had to go back to Riff and apologize. Maybe he’d apologize to her too, but even if he didn’t, she still felt it was the right thing to do. He wasn’t off the hook, and she knew she didn’t deserve what he had said. But he didn’t really deserve what she had said to him, either. Roxie hadn’t even meant to start the argument with him in the first place. She was just jealous of Graziella.

…

But why?

Roxie couldn’t think of a good reason that she was jealous. She and Riff weren’t together anymore. Riff could see whoever he wanted to. She didn’t know if he was the marrying type, given what she had gathered from what happened between his folks, but if he was, he could marry Graziella. Roxie wouldn’t stand in his way.

If Michael wasn’t her ticket out of the neighborhood, then continuing her education was still an option. Maybe she’d be able to earn enough by the fall semester. If not, spring semester was always an option.

Either way, she wasn’t going to allow Riff to push her away this time.

Not again.

————————————————————————————

“Riff, you goin’ to the dance in a few weeks?”

Riff and Baby John were once again in the park in the middle of the following Thursday afternoon. Riff had cut out a bit early from the auto shop, but he left it in the guys’ capable hands.

He and Baby John had met up to play some basketball a few times before. Riff knew it probably wasn’t the best idea for just the two of them to be out and about.  But they hadn’t had a problem so far, and they always made sure to be long gone before the Sharks came around the park after they got off work later in the afternoon.

Riff was grateful for the distraction from his other problems. Though he had made up his mind about going to apologize to Roxie, he had been unable to get her alone to do that. He thought about meeting up with her as she walked home from work, but he ultimately decided against that. In addition, the reunion and conversation he had with Tony still occupied a good portion of his waking thoughts, despite his attempts to push it out of his mind.

Tony just needs more time. A year in prison had to mess with one’s mind in ways Riff didn’t care to find out about personally. Tony would come around. In the meantime, Riff thought it best if they both gave each other some space.

Riff nodded in response to Baby John’s question as he caught the basketball that rebounded off the backboard. “I’m supposed to be goin’ with Grazi.”

“Right, cool,” Baby John replied quietly.

Riff looked at him to pass him the ball, but momentarily paused when Baby John looked like he had something else to say. “What about you?” Riff asked him curiously.

Baby John caught the ball with more of a familiar ease than he had been just a week or two ago. “Well, I haven’t asked anyone yet, but there is this one girl…”

Riff watched with a smile as Baby John shot the ball. The ball sunk in the net with a satisfying swish.

It’s gonna be one of those conversations, huh?

“Oh yeah?” Riff pried, though he could tell Baby John didn’t need much persuasion. “Tell me more.”

Riff could’ve sworn he saw a blush on Baby John’s face even from a few yards away. “She goes to my school,” he explained. “Her family lives in that building across from Doc’s, but they’re gonna be movin’ into the new apartments up the block when they’re done with ‘em.”

Leave it to Baby John to fall head over heels for a local girl. Riff knew what that was like. If the girl’s family was fixing to move into those fancy new apartments, they had to have some money, though.

“I’ve spoken to her a few times since school let out,” Baby John continued. “I know she’s plannin’ on goin’ to the dance, but whenever I think about askin’ her to go with me… I don’t know.” He passed the ball back to Riff.

Riff caught the ball and spared Baby John a brief  sympathetic look before taking a shot. “Wish I could help ya out, kid,” Riff said. He glanced across the park towards the apartment complex across the street for a brief moment. “But I ain’t really in the position to be givin’ advice about girls right now.”

Baby John nodded understandingly as he caught the ball once again.

It was quiet for a moment before Riff added, “Whatever ya do, just be honest and upfront about it.”

“Upfront, right…” Baby John replied, already looking as though the gears in his mind were beginning to turn. “I think I’ve got an idea. Thanks, Riff.”

Riff waved him off. “Don’t mention it.”

Baby John’s mind must’ve been elsewhere, because his next shot went flying past the backboard.

“Ya gotta focus, now,” Riff teased him, already heading over to grab the ball. “A-Rab would never let you live that down.”

Baby John smiled sheepishly.

Riff turned his back to him and sped up to a light jog in order to stop the basketball from rolling further away from the court. Once he reached it, he leant down, and quickly picked up the ball. As he stood up straight, a sudden yelp from behind him caught him off guard.

Riff spun around on heels and was immediately met with the sight of some Shark holding Baby John up by the collar of his shirt. “Hey!” he shouted instinctively, dropping the ball as he ran over towards them.

He went to grab the Sharks arm to make him release Baby John, but as he reached out his own arms were suddenly grabbed instead. Blindsighted, he was roughly picked up and thrown to the ground.

————————————————————————————

Love was in the air.

Well, it was for some people.

“Roxie, how do I look?”

Roxie was in her bedroom reading a book and trying to kill some time before she needed to get ready for work when Betty knocked on her door.

Roxie set the book down and looked at her roommate throughtfully. “You look great!” she complimented, noting the semi-formal dress Betty donned and her hair that was styled meticulously and pinned securely in place. “Going out?” Roxie asked conspiratorially.

“Yes!” Betty grinned. “Wait… I haven’t told you, have I?”

Roxie shook her head. If the woman she met in the laundry room the other day- Helen- was to be believed, Betty had been seeing some doctor lately. As far as she knew though, Betty had no idea that that conversation had ever taken place, or that Roxie even knew Helen.

“His name is Charles, and he’s very sweet. He’s a pediatrician, so he’s great with kids,” Betty informed her. As she talked, her smile grew and her focus seemed to be somewhere else, almost as if she was in a dream-like trance at the mere thought of the man. “He loves the arts, too. He’s actually taking me to a Broadway show tonight.”

The guy sounded too good to be true, but for Betty’s sake, Roxie hoped that wasn’t the case.

“I’ll be back late tonight,” Betty told her then. “But I’ll try to be quiet when I get in.”

Roxie didn’t doubt that, but for how often she got in late at night from work herself, she wouldn’t dare complain, even if Betty decided to bang on pots and pans at three in the morning.

————————————————————————————

The wind was knocked out of Riff as he laid on the basketball court. Dazed, the only thing he felt was the concrete pressing up against the left side of his face. It took one, two, three kicks to the ribs for Riff to find the air he needed and snap out of his stupor.

Riff scrambled off the ground and fought off the assailant on top of him as he did so. He spun around, fists raised, and recognized the man as one of the ones who seldom left Bernardo’s side.

Sharks.

Just a few feet away, Baby John was still on the ground, covering his face with his arms as another man- who Riff also recognized as one of the Sharks- wailed on him.

Riff ignored the man who had thrown him to the ground and went to his young friend’s aid. He yanked the man off of Baby John and shoved him down to the ground. As the man landed on the concrete a few feet away, Riff reached for Baby John and yanked him up to his feet.

The man who had attacked Riff stepped up once again, and Riff shoved him down to the ground as well.

Distant angry Spanish shouting filled the air then, and Riff looked across the playground to see a whole mob of people rushing towards them. Whether they all were Sharks, Riff wasn’t sure, but he could tell they were definitely PRs.

“Let’s go!” Riff urged Baby John as he grabbed him by his t-shirt and forced him along.

————————————————————————————

Schrank was about to clock out of his shift and finally head home for the day when he received a radio call about a shoplifting incident at the liquor store a few streets down from the park. Sergeant Davis had already headed home, so he was forced to respond to the call solo.

As Schrank pulled up his police cruiser to the front of the store, he found himself wishing he had ignored the call and gone home. He parked behind the two other units who had already arrived on the scene and hopped out of the vehicle.

He approached the other officers, who were in deep conversation with the apparent store owner. He recognized one of them. “Krupke!”

Sergeant Krupke heard him, and after glancing at the other officer, took a step away to speak to him. “Lieutenant,” he greeted.

“What do we got?” Schrank asked him.

“Store owner said two guys came in and swiped a couple of bottles of whiskey,” Krupke informed him, vaguely gesturing to the man behind him that was still speaking with the third officer on the scene.

Schrank looked around Krupke and at the store owner. He had stopped at this particular liquor store on his way home a few times previously, but the man before Schrank was not one he recognized. He was older and Puerto Rican. Schrank spotted the store sign next and immediately noted the changed name. This place get sold, too?

“Alright,” Schrank said as he turned his attention back to Krupke. “Let’s just get the report written up and we can all be on our way.”

Sergeant Krupke shook his head. “Apparently the guys shoved the store owner down when he tried to confront them,” he said. “He got banged up a little bit, but seems alright. He declined medical assistance. I’m not sure if they meant to hurt him, but a couple bystanders saw it all go down and one of them called it in.”

Schrank cursed internally. Theft was one thing, but assault, intentional or not, was another. Looks like I’m gonna be late for supper.

“Some of the bystanders tried to chase them down, but they haven’t gotten back,” Sergeant Krupke added.

Jesus, what is it with the vigilante justice ‘round here?! “Did you get a description of the perps?” Schrank asked.

Krupke nodded. “The store owner is still a bit shaken up and he didn’t remember too much, but it’s somethin’.” He pulled out his notebook from his back pocket and began to read off his notes. “Two young males… one taller, one shorter. Both were wearing somewhat raggy shirts and dirty blue jeans.”

It was an extremely general description that could’ve fit more than a handful of folks in the area. Fortunately, Schrank had an idea of some people in the neighborhood who would target a Puerto Rican store owner specifically and try to get some jollys by nabbing some alcoholic beverages in the process.

“We’ll need to start circling this area,” Schrank told Krupke. “If the mob doesn’t catch ‘em, let’s try to pick ‘em up before they get too far.”

————————————————————————————

“You good?”

Baby John nodded in response to Riff’s question.

The two had a bit of a head start from the crowd- or rather, mob- that had started to chase them down at the park. When a few of them got too close, a few trash cans thrown in their direction provided enough of a distraction for Riff to pull Baby John down an alleyway. They kept moving along the backs and sides of the various houses and stores and did their best to keep quiet.

Once they hit a dead end with a fence, they had no choice but to scale it. Riff made it up and over the tall fence with no problem, but once Baby John had reached the top of it, someone from the mob had caught up and spotted them. In his eagerness to make it over the fence, climb down, and disappear from sight once again, Baby John’s focus slipped, and he accidentally cut his arm on a jagged piece of metal on the fence.

The two were once again out of sight of the mob and were huddled down in an alleyway. They hadn’t been able to make it past the end of the block. Everytime they tried crossing the street, they’d been spotted by the mob or one of the police cruisers that was circling the block. Baby John wasn’t sure exactly how many there were, but he was certain there were at least a few. 

Baby John and Riff had already taken several trips through the block and had circled back around to near the playground once again. As they took a moment to catch their breaths, he tried his best to ignore the stinging pain, which ran down his right arm in almost a straight line, but Riff must’ve noticed him grimacing anyways.

“Let me see,” Riff demanded lightly, taking a step closer. Baby John offered him his arm, and Riff looked over it thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look too deep,” he said decisively after a moment. “But you oughta get it cleaned up.”

“What are we gonna do?” Baby John asked him, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

They couldn’t just stay there and wait it out. If the mob and the cops were determined to find them, and it seemed like they were, they’d be closing in on them soon. They had already circled back around to the playground. It was still light out, and given that they had already made several attempts, it didn’t seem likely that they’d be able to just slip away.

What did they even want? Playing basketball wasn’t a crime. But if they got grabbed by the cops and had something pinned on them, they’d be toast. Baby John couldn’t get locked up. The very thought of it would kill his ma.

“I got an idea,” Riff said suddenly. “You see that building across the way?”

Baby John followed Riff’s line of sight to the building in question. He recognized it immediately.

“When I say go, we cross the street, and head to the back of it,” Riff proposed before looking back at Baby John for confirmation. “Ya ready?”

Baby John nodded.

“Go!”

————————————————————————————

Schrank stood in the park and watched as the crowd turned mob rendezvoused back at the playground. As he looked at their angry faces, he struggled to understand why they were so upset. Sure, technically what had happened was assault, but the old hombre wasn’t even hurt. He was just out a few bottles of the whiskey the perps grabbed on their way out of his shop.

The mob had tasked themselves with serving some vigilante justice, but where had that gotten them? Nowhere. They’d come back empty handed. A few of them said they’d been chasing a pair of young men matching the general description of the assailants, but they also said they had lost them in some alleyway.

It was a police matter now. That’s why Schrank was there. The supper his wife would’ve cooked by then was probably already sitting on the kitchen table and getting colder by the minute. Ugh, cold meatloaf.

Schrank, Krupke, and the other responding officer could wait around a patrol for a little while longer, but at some point the report would get written up and that would be that. Maybe the perps had actually managed to get away in the shuffle of it all and could live to get inebriated another day.

Schrank had just finished telling the crowd to begin dispersing when he saw two figures make a dash across the street by the park entrance. It was quite the distance, but he recognized the Riff-raff and the newest Jet recruit, Baby John, from where he stood.

He continued to watch as the pair of misfits made it to the other side of the street and promptly slipped into the alleyway along the side of the building.

Schrank smiled to himself, knowing that that way was a dead end. He’d caught a few previous perps there. All that alleyway led to was the back of that apartment building and the one behind it. It was blocked in by two unclimbable and very tall brick walls.

The Jets made his job almost too easy sometimes.

Thankfully, the crowd was facing him, and their backs were towards the park entrance. They hadn’t seen what he had. Better that way; if they dispersed, he could grab Krupke quickly and make their way over to the apartment complex and try to trap the miscreants.

————————————————————————————

Baby John followed Riff across the street and through an alleyway beside the apartment complex.

When they finally reached the back of the building, Baby John felt slightly distraught upon the realization that it was a dead end. There was no way he’d be able to climb that brick wall, especially not with his arm.

Thankfully, Riff looked like he had a plan. He was focusing on the back of the building as he walked alongside it. Finally, he stopped just before the bottom of the third fire escape down and looked back at Baby John.

“Up we go,” he told him.

Baby John had an inkling of an idea where Riff was leading him, but he still gave him a confused look as he walked over to follow his order. As he reached up, grabbed the metal bars, and began to climb, he asked Riff, “What are we doing?”

“Less talkin’, more climbin’,” Riff replied, eyeing the alleyway they’d come through and fidgeting a bit.

————————————————————————————

Roxie sat on her bed, her shoes long since discarded on the floor, as she continued to re-read the book she had started earlier in the week.

She knew the plot of the book. She’d read it several times beforehand. However, she still found herself feeling spooked by the time the plot twist arrived and the killer was announced.

Slight chills up ran up her spine as the detective in the novel began to recount how he had solved the murder. The murder weapon was found in the possssion of the butler, who had been contemplating his resignation, but he had an alibi for the actual crime. It wasn’t the ex wife, or the oldest son who had been disinherited, though one would think they had the most to gain. The answer was clear then. They really should have known all along that the killer was actually-

Knock knock knock.

A series of rushed knocks against the outside of her window made Roxie nearly jump out of her skin. When she regained her composure, she set the book on the bed and stood up. She slid on her shoes before making her way over to the window and opening the curtains.

Roxie should have been surprised to see Riff, along with the young Jet she had run into a few weeks beforehand, squatting on the landing of the fire escape and looking at her with somewhat helpless looks. But stranger things had occurred since she’d gotten back in the neighborhood.

Against her better judgment, she opened the window swiftly and stepped aside to allow the two to climb inside.

“What are you doing here?” Roxie asked Riff. She watched as he shut the window behind them. He lingered by the window and looked out of it as if he were looking for someone or something. When he didn’t respond, Roxie added, “Are you ever going to use the front door?”

Riff really had some nerve, showing up to her apartment like this. Maybe she was ready to come around and apologize, but that hadn’t actually happened yet. It was bold of him to assume she’d just let them in.

But she did.

Riff finally glanced at her. “Didn’t think you’d want us walking up the hallways lookin’ like this,” he said half-jokingly as he gestured to the younger Jet beside him. Said young man was shifting on his feet apprehensively.

Roxie looked at the younger man and immediately noticed the red gash running along the length of his right arm and his swollen left eye. She looked back at Riff, but he was facing away from her again as he looked back out the window. He looked alright, save for the few scratches on his left cheek.

“What is going on?” she asked again. She hated to admit it, but some of her anger had started to relent at the thought of either of the two hurt. If Riff had come to her for help, in light of their last conversation, it was probably something serious.

Riff was still staring at something outside. When he didn’t answer, the younger man beside him answered, “We were in the park when we got jumped outta nowhere.”

Jumped? “For what?” she asked him, brows furrowing slightly.

“Does one need a reason to get jumped?” Riff asked rhetorically. “Anyways, we don’t know. There was a whole mob after us, and now the cops are out.”

Roxie took a step forward to stand beside Riff and looked out the window to where his focus was.

Lieutenant Schrank was walking around the alley behind the building. He walked past the many fire escapes and craned his head up towards the sky to look at each one.

“Are you sure you didn’t do anything?” Roxie asked the pair.

“Yes,” Riff answered quickly as he continued to watch Schrank. “But I know ya may have a problem taking my word, so just ask the kid.”

Roxie frowned at Riff for a moment before looking at the other young man expectantly.

He looked at her for a second before his eyes fell to the floor and he shrugged nervously. “We were just playin’ basketball, honest,” he said quietly.

Riff had a point. Roxie may have questioned his word at that moment, but when she looked at the other Jet, she quickly picked up on his nervous and somewhat shy demeanor. He held his injured arm subconsciously and he still refused to meet her eyes. Roxie severely doubted that he had enough guts at the moment to lie to her.

“Well,” Roxie relented with a small sigh, “you better get away from the window then, before Schrank sees you.” She put a light hand on Riff’s arm to gently guide him away.

————————————————————————————

Riff allowed himself to be led away from the window. Then, he and Baby John followed Roxie out of her bedroom and into the living and kitchen area.

“Your roommate in?” Riff asked Roxie, suddenly remembering the other girl. Oops.

“She’s on a date,” Roxie answered simply. She turned to give him a pointed look. “And I’ve got to go to work shortly.”

“We’ll be out of your hair soon,” Riff assured her sincerely. It hadn’t been his intention to put her out.

He really was grateful that she had been home, and was even more thankful that she had let the two of them inside her window. Considering he hadn’t apologized for their argument the other day, he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had left them out there on the fire escape. Riff looked at her and tried to find the words to convey what he was feeling.

However, Riff was also aware of Baby John’s presence. He liked the kid, and Riff didn’t think Baby John would go blabbing about what he’d say to the other Jets, but he owed Roxie the decency of a private apology. Riff and Baby John needed to get out of whatever situation they’d found themselves in first, and then he’d be able to properly apologize.

“You got a phone I can borrow?” Riff asked Roxie instead.

Roxie gestured to the kitchen area and Riff headed over to it. As he walked across the room, he took a quick look around. He’d been in Roxie’s bedroom before, but he hadn’t seen the rest of the apartment. It actually seemed to be a bit smaller than the living area and kitchen in the apartment above the shop, but this one was definitely nicer. It only took him a moment to find the phone.

Riff picked up the device and called the one number he bothered to memorize. His foot bounced lightly as he listened to the phone ring.

————————————————————————————

Baby John watched as Riff had the phone pressed up to his ear and waited for someone to pick up. He was probably trying to call some of the other Jets, but it didn’t look like they were going to answer as seconds continued to tick by.

“I thought I recognized that tattoo,” Roxie said as she turned to him. “I’m glad to see you don’t have paint-stained hands.”

Baby John briefly looked down at his hands in confusion. When he realized she was referring to when they had first met, he gave her a small smile. “Me too.”

“I’m Roxie,” she introduced herself with a smile of her own.

Baby John already knew who she was, but he realized with some embarrassment that she must not have known his name. “Baby John,” he supplied.

“It’s nice to formally meet you, Baby John,” Roxie said. She sounded genuine. “You can sit down on the couch if you want,” she said then. “Just, um, try not to get blood on it, okay?”

Baby John sat down on the couch behind him, as she had suggested, but as he did so, he was mindful to hold his bleeding arm over his lap. Roxie took a step towards him, but remained standing. “That cut looks pretty deep,” Roxie noted. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Baby John looked over at Riff, who was still waiting on the phone. Riff hung up the device with a frustrated sigh before picking it up and dialing the number again.

Mouthpiece had told him that Riff said the Jets could start talking with Roxie again. But Baby John hadn’t known her back in the day. He’d only just introduced himself to her. Riff had led them to her for help, but this was uncharted territory for him.

Roxie must have noticed his hesitation. “He probably hasn’t said much about me,” she said quietly, also looking at Riff. Riff didn’t notice either of them as he continued to wait for someone to answer his call. “But I used to fix him and Tony up all the time.”

Baby John looked away from Riff and up at Roxie, who was staring at him with concern. After another moment of thought, he nodded.

He couldn’t go home in his current condition. His ma had enough to worry about without fretting over him.

————————————————————————————

Riff had already attempted three calls when he decided he needed to take a break. He hung up the line once more.

Before he could turn to see what Baby John and Roxie had been up to in the meantime, Roxie walked past him. He watched silently as she entered a room to the left of where he stood in the kitchen. A moment later, she emerged back into the living area with some various items in her hands.

She crossed the room once more and sat down on the couch beside Baby John. He offered his arm to her without a word, and she began to examine it a bit closer.

Riff was already going to apologize to Roxie the moment the opportunity presented itself, but if he hadn’t been sure of that beforehand, seeing her with Baby John would have convinced him. Here he was, bringing their problems to her, and despite the likelihood that she was still upset with him, she was helping them out. She wiped off Baby John’s arm with a washcloth carefully and thoughtfully.

“It shouldn’t need stitches,” Roxie told Baby John. “But I’ll wrap it up for you.”

Knock knock knock.

Riff eyed the front door warily. “Expecting anyone?” he asked Roxie quietly.

Roxie shook her head. She set down the washcloth and stood up from the couch. She slowly walked to the front door, unlocked it, and cracked it open. What she saw on the other side must have alarmed her, because she straightened up a moment later.

“Lieutenant Schrank,” she greeted loudly and purposefully.

Riff looked at Baby John, who was already looking at him with wide eyes. Riff put a single finger over his lips and hoped Baby John got the message.

————————————————————————————

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Ms. Thomas,” Schrank said, smiling at her through the cracked door. “Why am I not surprised to find that ya live here?”

Roxie kept her expression neutral. She shifted a bit and placed a firm hand on the door, not wanting to take a chance that Schrank could see inside the apartment and reveal the two boys who were waiting behind her with baited breath. “Evening, Lieutenant. Can I help you with something?”

“There was an incident at the liquor store by the park,” Schrank informed her. “Owner got roughed up a bit when a few individuals matchin’ the description of a certain group of people I believe we’re both familiar with took some of his product.” Schrank looked her up and down. “Unless my eyes were deceivin’ me, I thought I saw some of them head behind this building, but they’ve seemed to disappear without a trace. So I’m goin’ unit to unit to see if anyone’s noticed anything unusual.”

“Wow,” Roxie replied blankly. “Well, I haven’t seen anything, and I’m actually headed to work soon. I wish you the best of luck with finding them though, Lieutenant.”

Schrank narrowed his eyes at her and glanced at the door. “Mind if I come in?”

“Yes, I do,” Roxie answered. “I know my rights. I believe it’s the fourth amendment specifically. Best of luck, Lieutenant.”

————————————————————————————

Riff couldn’t help but grin as he listened to the conversation between Roxie and Schrank. When she shut the door in his face and locked it quickly, he had to stifle the laugh that was threatening to slip out.

Remembering the task at hand, Riff picked up the phone once again and dialed the number. The phone rang a few times, but after what felt like a lifetime, someone finally picked up the other line.

“Hello?” Gee-Tar answered.

Riff rolled his eyes and made a mental note to remind the guys about answering the auto shop’s phone later. What if he had been a customer? Screw it, bigger problems right now. “Gee-Tar!” Riff said quickly. “Listen buddy, are Ice or Action there?”

“Nope,” Gee-Tar replied nonchalantly. “Just me, Diesel, and Snowboy. But wait- I think someone else is comin’ in now.”

“Who?”

“Let’s see… ah, It’s Balkan and Mouthpiece! Wait… Hey, they brought some whiskey!”

Riff frowned and put a tired hand over his face. “Where did they get it?” he asked, though he felt confident in what the answer was.

“... They said they grabbed it from a liquor store.”

Riff sighed loudly. “The liquor store by the park?”

“Yes.”

Riff cursed under his breath. Baby John and Roxie looked at him from their places on the couch, but he ignored them. “Well, you tell Balkan and Mouthpiece that their sticky fingers landed me and Baby John in hot water!” he snapped hotly.

————————————————————————————

As Roxie wrapped Baby John’s arm, she listened while Riff proceeded to tell Gee-Tar about what had happened. Eventually, Riff told him that he’d call when the cops cleared out so that some guys could head over and make sure Riff and Baby John could leave the block safely.

By the time Roxie retrieved a pack of frozen vegetables from the freezer in the kitchen and gave it to Baby John to use it on his swollen eye, Riff had finally ended the call.

Leaving Baby John to his own devices, she slowly walked over to the kitchen. She stopped a few feet before Riff and looked at him silently for a few moments. His eyes didn’t leave hers. She ignored the funny feeling it gave her as she glanced over him once again to check for any sign of injury. The scratches on his cheek were red and seemed a bit irritated, but that appeared to be the extent of it.

“I think you’ll live,” she teased.

Riff smirked. “Thanks.”

It was silent for a few more minutes as the two stared at one another.

Once she found the nerve, Roxie broke the silence first. “I think we need to talk,” she said quietly, mindful of Baby John, who was just a few yards away on the couch.

 Riff nodded. “Yeah, we do.”

“Later,” she proposed. “I’ve got to get headed to work.”

“Later,” Riff agreed.

“Just stay here and lay low. When it’s safe, leave out the window,” Roxie directed. “My roommate won’t be back until later tonight, so as long as you two leave in a few hours, at most, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I owe you one.”

With a nod and a small smile, Roxie turned to head back into her bedroom. Before she took a step, Riff’s hand wrapped around her wrist lightly, stopping her in her tracks.

“Thank you, Roxie.”

————————————————————————————

Baby John leaned back against the couch and tried to focus on how nice the ice pack felt on his irritated eye. It was a desperate hope, he knew, but if it could get the swelling down at least a little bit, maybe he could slip past his ma whenever he got home without her noticing. Roxie had already wrapped up his arm, so he’d have to think of an excuse for that.

Baby John looked over to the kitchen, where Riff and Roxie were conversing quietly. Curiously, Baby John watched them out of the corner of his one good eye.

Riff had mentioned he was going to the upcoming dance with Grazi. But if Baby John didn’t know that, the look on Riff’s face as he looked down at Roxie would have made him believe differently.

Roxie turned to leave suddenly, but Riff stopped her. The look that Roxie gave Riff was one that Baby John could only hope that Tessie, the girl he wanted to ask to the dance, might give him someday.

A/N: If you enjoyed, please feel free to interact or leave feedback. If you would like to be added to the tag list, please comment, send me a message, or otherwise let me know. I may need an extra day or two than usual to get the next part out, but I’ll start working on it. Thank you again! :)

Taglist: @whisperofsong @disguisedbassethound @lingerasthesmokeoncedid​ @westsidelegendary​

Part 12​

Masterlist

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Six)

AN- Two chapters in one night... hope you like them! Soft Holmes Brothers scene at the end because, especially after the Eurus situation, the boys truly do love and care for each other! Not proof read either of these yet so apologies if there are mistakes!

Word Count- 4405

The younger brother's eyes had flicked over you both only momentarily, the tiniest flick up of his lips at the side of his mouth that disappeared so quickly it could have been misinterpreted for a twitch.

"Ever the delight, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke, standing straighter, his chin poking up a little higher. Sherlock glanced over his posture and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake don't start that Mycroft. Had I blamed you for everything I can assure you I wouldn't have bothered opening the door, don't make it so obvious that you care about my opinion of you- it's embarrassing for both of us." And with that he spun around and headed up the stairs to 221B, leaving the door to the flat wide open and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Well that was.."

"Easy? I told you that you shouldn't worry." You nudged Mycroft into the building before ascending the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes, possibly the only man in the world to forgive somebody for nearly killing him in a heartbeat, but held a 6 month grudge when I took the last custard cream from the biscuit jar when I was 12.." Mycroft muttered, making his way into the flat and sitting beside you on the two seater sofa. John walked into the room from the kitchen shortly after, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand as he said his hellos.

"Figured I'd stick the kettle on when you said you were on your way.. Greg shouldn't be long now." He gave a smile, taking his place in his own armchair. "How have.." He glanced at Mycroft. "How have you been? He won't admit it, but Sherlock's been worried about you." Mycroft took a breath, sending a polite smile in the direction of the army doctor.

"Doctor Watson, I can assure you that I am fine and have been perfectly well looked after." His eyes flickered to you for a moment and then back to the doctor. "I presume the pair of you have held up well as I haven't heard any reports of gunfire towards the wall for a fair bit of time." John grinned, casting his eyes over to the smiley face on the wall that had thankfully been left alone.

"Good. Yeah, uh, things here have been.. good.. too." A blank stare matched with a more thoughtful raise of lips. ".. Very good, actually.."

"Catch." Sherlock came stalking into the room, a damp flannel thrown in Mycroft's general direction which he caught expertly, not allowing a single moist patch to appear on his clothing.

"And this is.."

"A flannel? Christ Mycroft has trauma affected your brain cells that much?" Sherlock quipped, flopping down into his armchair and lazily holding his hand out for his tea that was a mere few inches away from his fingers. John placed the mug in his hand without thought or argument, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's slightly before moving away. A biscuit soon followed, John holding out the digestive while Sherlock partly opened his lips, and shoving the food between them. It was your turn to raise your brow now, but you didn't say anything, instead just nudging Mycroft with your knee to make sure he had seen it too. Of course he had. "It's for your face, Y/N's lip balm is all round your mouth and it's making me feel a bit sick." John's eyes widened as he looked between the pair of you. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, Mycroft simply sweeping away the slightly pink balm from underneath his lip and folding the wet cloth back up to place on the side. At least he hadn't picked up that you did it on purpose. Before anybody else could speak, the sound of someone bounding up the stairs filled the flat.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms Hudson let me in an- what did I miss?" Greg stood breathless at the door, satchel slung over his shoulder and a carrier bag in his other hand, staring at the apparent awkward glances shared between half the room. You stood from the sofa and headed over towards him, swiftly wrapping your arms around him and placing a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. He made his way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Mycroft, casting another look at everybody when his question still hadn't been answered.

"Nothing of importance. Mycroft and Y/N have obviously decided to stop moping around each other like lovesick teenagers and finally admitted they've been infatuated with each other for years.. Now you're all caught up, can we get these papers sorted out so I can be more productive with my time?" Sherlock huffed.

"Nothing of importance? Don't be an arse Sherlock, that's excellent news." Greg clapped Mycroft on his shoulder and shot you a toothy grin. "Declaration in the park was it? Might be a good enough reason for me to not punch you for closing off St James'.." John's eyes widened more, if it were possible.

"You just.. closed off St James'? Can you even do-" The look Mycroft shot John made him cut his sentence short. "Right, yeah. British Government." He nodded, standing to go fetch Greg a coffee (yourself and Mycroft still held a shared judgement against Greg and his hatred for tea) and continuing to ask questions about your newly confirmed relationship. Mycroft sat awkwardly through the encounter- briefly talking about his emotions in front of you was one thing, a whole flat full of people was entirely different- so you gave his knee a quick squeeze and answered for him. "Who bit the bullet then?" John sat down. "Christ I know I mistook the pair of you being together when I met you, so surely these two have been waiting longer for you to get on with it." Greg grinned, nodding in agreement at John's assumption. Sherlock, on the other hand, stay lying on his chair completely unphased by the conversation going on around him.

"To cut a long story short, we were watching telly, I said Stephen Fry was a bit sexy, Mycroft informed me that he used to get told he had a slight resemblance to him, I realised I'd stuck my foot in it and had a ramble.. Went from there. Nothing too exciting, sorry." You left out the parts where the night before you had handled a broken Mycroft to the shower, how he had gripped onto you, how you held him as you slept. You also left out the way he had allowed himself to cry, how you held him while he wept- and, for that, Mycroft was incredibly thankful. Sherlock probably knew though, somehow, in his Sherlock way of knowing things- but he was either too kind to announce it to the room, or didn't care enough to waste his breath.. probably the latter.

"That's disappointing. You've mentioned about fancying Stephen Fry for years, this could have happened ages ago." John teased.

"Nothing compared to Hugh Laurie though. I'm pretty certain that I'm straight but I'd let him-"

"The papers!!" Sherlock's shout cut Greg's ramble off, making the silver haired man jump and grab his satchel, handing out the reports in a way that reminded you of a teacher with test papers.

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Basically the proper forms aren't ready for another week or so so these are just a few basic questions- nothing too in depth yet since I wanted to give you guys time to... yeah just basic for now." Mycroft chose to read through all the questions before answering them, whereas Sherlock  hastily scribbled his response to each question as he went along- the smaller details in the Holmes brothers' differences are always interesting to stumble upon. As he held the page in his hands, you carefully leant over to have a glance at the questions, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder and your cheek resting just against your fingers- blissfully unaware at the 2 sets of eyes openly staring at your movements, and the one set that watched from the side. Greg was right, in a way, the questions definitely weren't as overbearing as they could be- but that doesn't mean it was an easy task. The questions targeted Mycroft a lot more than it did John and Sherlock, asking things about scenarios and situations that had occured before they were taken, how long it had been since they had any contact with Eurus prior to that evening/ what they discussed, and a few basic questions about any incentives Eurus may have had, and anything that aided her into her plan. Of course the papers weren't labelled with the sister's name, they were generically printed and typically handed out to anybody involved in any kind of criminal behaviours, but that didn't make it seem any less like these were questions that targeted Mycroft in particular. Mycroft took a deep breath and laid the papers back onto the coffee table in front of him, pulling a pen out of his pocket and beginning to write. In this moment you had noticed the small bounce of his left leg, a movement only ever shown by him in times where he had a particularly stressful day at work, or a troubling encounter with his brother- it was a movement that let you know his brain was running a mile a minute and he felt a little more overwhelmed that usual. Without making a point of it, you move your right hand to rest on his mid thigh, allowing your thumb to rub small shapes into his leg to show your support.

Turning your gaze to the rest of the room, you noticed Greg's eyes on you, a grin on his face that practically stretched to his ears. You rolled your eyes at him, using your other hand to flip him off and smiled.

It had taken just under two hours in total for the boys to finish completely (well, an hour and twenty minutes for the Holmes siblings, an extra forty minutes for John whose brain simply didn't work as fast as theirs to convey the information on the paper). The time had passed fairly quickly, with yourself and Greg not wanting to disturb the silence and instead just drinking your hot drinks and stealing a couple of biscuits from the tray. You gave Mycroft's leg one last squeeze before sitting back against the sofa, stretching a little after finally getting out of that position.

"Thanks again for getting this done today." Greg spoke, taking the papers in and putting them in a plastic folder. "I'd better be off anyway, get these filed in." He stood, heading for the front door and tripping over the carrier bag he had brought in with him earlier. "Shit, yeah I almost forgot." He picked up the bag and handed it to you. "Got your coat, and I may have accidentally read your mind if you had been talking about Stephen and Hugh.." You dug through the bag and grinned as you pulled out the box at the bottom.

"You, Gregory Lestrade, are a bloody legend. God I could kiss you!" Your boxset of 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' rested in your hands and you showed it to Mycroft, beaming at him. His lips raised at your reaction, showing a small glint in his eye, as you explained how now the pair of you would have to binge watch it since Mycroft had never got round to watching them before. Greg barked out a laugh.

"I wouldn't. I don't fancy being hunted by Mycroft's secret services." Mycroft let out a small laugh himself. And with that, Greg was gone and left the flat to the four of you once more.

***

You hadn't stayed at the flat long before you all made your way to Angelo's restaurant, even managing to convince Mycroft to just take a cab rather than bothering his chauffeur for a 5 minute journey.

"Ahhh Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson!" Angelo greeted, pulling the aforementioned men into an awkward half embrace, half headlock. "Back again so soon? I shall get your usual table set up, grab some candles. Anything for you!" The pair of men awkwardly shifted out of the hold and Sherlock offered a smile.

"Not today Angelo, we need a table for four if that suits your capacities here?" Sherlock peered round at the tables inside.

"Of course, a double date, very lovely to see! Come, come!" He led the four of you inside, you grinning at Mycroft at Angelo's casual mentionings of Sherlock and John's usual 'romantic' set up. You were all ushered inside of a small booth and handed menus, the benches were small but tolerable, your thigh just brushing against Mycroft's, him offering a shy smile at the close contact. "You stay here, I'll get to work on those candles. Just for you, Mr Holmes." Angelo spoke again, clapping Sherlock on his shoulder and disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

"He's.. uh.. a bit enthusiastic sometimes." John spoke, his cheeks burning a little at the memories of previous encounters here.

"Quite. Seems a pleasurable fellow." Came Mycroft's response, glancing over the menu. It had taken no time at all for the restaurant owner to appear back with a handful of small tealight candles in glass jars, and a single flower resting in a vase to lay on the table, taking everybody's orders and leaving once again. Then as the food turned up, Sherlock began to prod at the chips on his plate with his knife.

"What are you doing? Eat your bloody food, Sherlock." John quipped, elbowing the man to his side.

"Don't want it.. whoever decided that dessert was only customary after a meal? I'd much rather wait." John gave Sherlock a look and he spoke again. "Don't give me that look, this was your idea. Who even suggests 'late lunch' as a valid meal time? It's impractical. I didn't eat breakfast because we didn't get out of bed until well past the respected breakfast hour.." 'We'.. you didn't press. "So I had a sandwich at lunch which has ruined my appetite for this. Then I'll be hungry again later, but later than dinner time because of how late this lunch is." Sherlock childishly squashed his chip with his thumb. "It's just ridiculous.. they keep adding new names for new meals at new hours, I feel like we're becoming Bobbits."

"Hobbits, brother mine." Mycroft corrected, the faintest smile playing at the side of his mouth as Sherlock's words sounded alarmingly like the ones he had told you only this morning- it was nice when they just got along.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Bobbits."

"Boys!" John warned, and you broke out into a small fit of giggles.

"We really can't take you anywhere, can we?" You chimed in. Sherlock just huffed, stabbing a chip and eating it as John gave him a stern look. It was quite sweet, actually, watching them be all domestic. By the time you'd finished your meals, yours and John's plates were clear, Sherlock's leaving only a few chips and a mouthful of burger as he found, after starting to eat the food, that he really enjoyed it and wanted more. Mycroft, on the other hand, had managed to leave little over half of his spaghetti bolognese, making comments about the pasta being far too rubbery, or the sauce being too thin, crossing the cutlery over in the centre and making a dismissive comment about making something to eat when he got home- you all knew he wouldn't.

Sherlock had practically jumped for joy when Angelo came out with a tray of chocolate fudge cake, offering slices around the table which you all, bar Mycroft, accepted happily.

"I shan't spoil my appetite for when I get home." Was his small excuse, raising a hand to prevent Angelo from spouting his claims that he had the best cake in London and that he must have a piece, and instead asking for a coffee. Without words being spoken, John cast his eyes over to you and you offered a small sad smile. Nobody had told John of Mycroft's past, but he was a doctor and always knew when signs were displayed. You had taken an extra fork from Angelo just in case and took a small bite with your own fork, unable to let out the (embarrassingly erotic) moan that had escaped you.

"Christ he wasn't lying, this is incredible." You praised, taking another small piece on the second fork. "Mycroft please give it a try." You offered your hand out towards him, the sliver of cake resting on the tip of the fork's prongs. He looked over at it, his mind telling him to give it a go, at the very least because it had been offered by you, but the image of himself in the mirror this morning came back to mind. He declined the offer and you sighed. Mycroft truly did love cake, and any sweet things, so it was heartbreaking for you to see him turning it away because of the thoughts that ran through his brain. Sherlock had already cleared his plate by this point and stood up abruptly, hoisting his coat back over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go out for a cigarette, care to join me Mycroft?" He had asked, walking past the table. Mycroft creased his eyebrows into a frown.

"Sherlock, the pact? I haven't smoked for three years."

"Neither have I, let's go." Sherlock spoke back quickly, hoisting his brother from the booth and taking the pair of them outside. You raised a brow at John who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I stopped questioning the pair of them and their motives a long time ago." He reasoned, the pair of you turning your heads to see the two Holmes boys outside resting against the restaurant's window.

"I try my best to.. they just still fascinate me." You spoke back, your eyes lingering on Mycroft a little longer before turning back to the table.

"So.. you and Mycroft. Going well?" John asked, his mouth raising in that side smile he often displayed when he was teasing somebody. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen Mycroft Holmes smile in a non-threatening way, and over half of those were from since you walked into the flat earlier. I think I can only just about count on two hands times where he's pulled an expression that isn't stoic and emotionless."

"Yeah.. I didn't expect it to happen, if I'm completely honest with you. We've spent so many years just avoiding the subject, but after.. Eurus.. I don't know. It flicked something in Myc that made him regret not doing something about it sooner." John nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "You also don't give him enough credit. Everybody just assumes he's this 'iceman' persona, but it's all a front.. I've watched him laugh so hard that tears fall from his eyes, he's one of those people who throws their heads back and lets out an absolute belter of an infectious laugh. I've seen him get angry at the telly if I came over and some stupid reality show came on the telly.. He shouted at Kim Kardashian once on there for some reason or another. I've stayed up all night with him after he had gruelling days at work, him offering to do the same for me if I had a bad case and couldn't sleep. And then, very recently, I watched him cry." You continued on. "Mycroft Holmes is one of the most emotional, caring people I've ever known, he is just incredibly particular at who gets to see it. You're a doctor, John. You know how experiences in life can shape one's emotional stability, how it alters their mental health. Had you grown up without very many people being kind to you, you'd be scared to let somebody else in too." You finished.

"Sorry.. I didn't mean it to come out in a bad way.. I just meant.. It's nice. Seeing Mycroft acting like that, it's.. nice." He apologised. You waved it off. You knew John didn't mean any harm.

"Mycroft and I are old news anyway.. What about you and Sherlock? When did that surface?" You asked, beaming at the deep red John's face had become as he choked on a sip of his drink. "Oh come on, don't act like that. We've all been waiting for this one to happen since you moved in."

"I.. I don't know what you-" Glaring at him, he stopped himself. "Yeah fine, okay. When we got back to the flat that night we went into the front room and Sherlock lost it. I'd never seen him anything like it before, he just.. he just sobbed into a heap on the floor." He explained, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his glass trying to distract him from his eyes watering. "I didn't know what else to do, so I scooped him up and put him in his bed. He begged me to stay with him and I did. Then he apologised to me, for dragging me in all of that mess, for almost getting me killed and he just wouldn't stop apologising.. So I stole the stereotypical movie move and kissed him. Just kind of went from there. I think that night made us realise that beating around the bush all these years wasn't helping either of us, and the thought that we could have lost the other only a few hours beforehand woke us up." He coughed, his voice breaking slightly.

"God look at us.. All the people in the world and we've landed with the Holmes'" You grabbed John's hand from across the table and laughed. "Makes you feel quite special though, doesn't it? That, equally, there were all the people in the world and they chose us?" John grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Could never tell them that though, their egos would go through the bloody roof."

***

"They're talking about us." Sherlock mused, breathing in the London air.

"It seems people do little else." Mycroft returned, casting his glance to you smiling with John at the table.

"She really does like you. I've spent years deducing everything about her to make sure she wasn't a secret Russian spy sent with the motive to kill you." The younger spoke playfully. "You could have eaten the cake."

"Hmm?"

"The cake. I know you wanted it, but you're going back to how you used to be. Now that you're together, you're nervous." Sherlock's voice was nonchalant, simple observations, which didn't ease his older brother at all. "It's pointless. She's entirely infatuated. I thought the childish doe eyes disappeared after being attracted to somebody for a few weeks, but she still looks at you like I look at a triple homicide."

"Resulting to similes now?"

"You need to stop that too. Dismissing it whenever somebody is trying to be... kind... to you. That's just annoying and not a good defence mechanism for insecurities, like a mask made of clingfilm, it's too obvious." Mycroft didn't speak in turn and Sherlock huffed. "She worries for you, she seeks for you to be comfortable in trialling situations, her eyes do that little light up thing every time you open your bloody mouth. Since standing here she's looked over 3 times and smiled to herself seeing you stand here with me without us arguing. I caught her 4 times on the way to the cab from the flat looking at your arse and your legs in that damned suit. You don't have to worry about anything with her- the way she looks at you is so lovesick it makes me queasy."

"And you know this how, Sherlock? Or is this another one of your cruel schemes to embarrass me?"

"Because, Mycroft, it's the same way you've looked at her for as long as I can remember you knowing her. Jesus, Mycroft, I haven't seen you smile this much since we were children.. before we did everything that led us to believe we were any better than anybody else, that we deserved more than sentiment. And it's the same way I.. the same way I look at him." Sherlock's eyes now locked onto John.

"Always did say there would be a happy announcement between the pair of you. Good to see I'm correct once again." Mycroft mused. He remained stoic, but his brother's words were whirring in his brain, leaving him in a state of shock at the curly haired man even displaying this form of kindness towards him.

"You told me once that caring isn't an advantage. But these last few days, no matter how short it has been, have already led me to believe that caring is perhaps the greatest advantage of them all. And I strongly believe you feel the same way, no matter what bull you make up to argue against it." The pair of them watched through the window once more, the image of you and John laughing at whatever joke had been shared between you. "We both have wasted many years fighting against this, and I don't want you to screw yours up. Y/N will remain by your side and feel the same way towards you, whether you wear a bin bag, lose your job, put on weight- she's in it for the long haul. She's spent so many years pining after you that she deserves the best from you and to be happy. And you, brother mine, have been through enough with not good people; you deserve the happiness too." Sherlock trailed the last sentence. It's incredibly rare for them to show it, but Sherlock and Mycroft would always have a particularly close bond, they've been through too much together not to- and so times like this were precious to them. Mycroft simply let out a small cough, reaching his arm over to rest on his younger brother's shoulder to give it a quick squeeze, before patting it twice and letting his arm rest back by his side.

"Sentiment appears to be dwelling well on you." Mycroft spoke, heading back to the door of the restaurant to head inside, holding it open for his brother.

"As it is on you, brother. As it is on you."

[technowoah]

THESEUS - a dsmp story ( DreamSMP x Queen!Reader)

CHAPTER FIVE : AND I REALIZE THREE FUNDAMENTAL TRUTHS AT THE EXACT SAME TIME.

Chapter Summary: You had gotten what you wanted, but at what cost? Nightmares ensue, and Dream’s true colors begin to show.

pairing: c!wilbur x queen!reader

an// IM BACK!! hopefully yall like this chaper cause this is the last one that I wrote in the past, Im writing chapter 6 rn so it might take a while. Also sorry for not posting requests I really wanted to get this chapter out there

⚠︎ swearing, dsmp spoliers(?), angst, arguing, smoking, explosions, gaslighting(?), not proofread.

Series Masterlist 

"Good job you two! This is all yours now.”

Dream had led you and Eret back to the castle, all of them still battered and bruised from the war they recently had. You had already taken off your armor and now you were wearing underneath your L'Manburg outfit that was torn and burnt showing some of your skin which was also burnt or cut. You had noticed on the way to the castle that Dream had kept on looking at the outfit that Eret and you had on with disgust, like a taunt.

You could finally relax in the huge castle that you apparently deserved because you and Eret had taken the first lives of the citizens of L'Manburg. In your heart you knew that L'Manburg was still a country. They all have two more lives and they will build the country up again with those two lives. You sighed then kept walking into the throne room. you looked at the two big thrones that sat next to each other. One for a king and one for a queen.

"Why are you standing there? Sit down! Relax!" Dream patted one of the thrones.

You and Eret had sat down on the thrones next to each other looking around the huge throne room and Dream smiling right in front of them. Once you both sat down you tried to sit up straight, but you wanted to slump down into the comfy, plush, velvet and gold chair. The two of them sat on velvet and gold thrones while in burnt and torn L'Manburg uniforms. It was a sight to see, and if someone didn't know the context of what just happened, this scene would've made sense to them.

"I'm happy you did this. You deserve all of this." Dream said while walking along the marble floor.

"It's beautiful, but I'm exhausted." You let your head fall to the side. You sighed wanting Dream to leave so you could finally get some rest.

"I bet."

"Eret are you okay?" You spoke up after Dream.

Eret had a look that you couldn't make out. He just stared off into space in his own mind. He shook his head after you called for him again.

"Yeah, yeah I am fine. I'm just thinking." Eret quickly responded.

"What are you thinking about?" Dream said in a monotone voice.

"If we did the right thing." Eret sighed.

You slowly nodded because you were thinking the exact same thing. They were traitors, you had built somewhat of a connection with those people you helped kill. And now what? you're living in a huge castle and apparently you "Shouldn't be feeling this way", Dream claimed.

"You two are overreacting. They are fine." Dream said bluntly while staring at them with a straight face.

That was a huge lie, their lives were taken today. They're not just “fine”.

"You two were never a part of that place anyways. This is your home! Why would you need to wear those hideous colors? They look bad on you, it's unflattering. There is no need to go back." Dream explained.

You hang your head not knowing what to say to the man, there wasn’t really anything to say but you spoke up hoping the words will come to you.

"I don't-"

"You don't have to say anything, it's okay. You're safe now. Did you get hurt?" Dream asked.

The bruises and scars said differently.

"Remember when I said that?" Dream pushed the question.

You rubbed a burn mark on your wrist and laughed a bit. "No! Actually I don't. We're safe now, but that doesn't mean we aren't hurt." You chuckled in disbelief.

"Well maybe if you listened to me you wouldn't be so anxious. If you listened you wouldn't have been so hesitant. You're safe." Dream said sternly.

"Maybe you're tired, Dream. We're all tired. Shall we go to bed?" Eret stood up and held out his hand to help you up from your seat.

You accepted his hand and started to follow Eret through the huge castle making your way through the huge, high ceiling halls. The three walked towards the king's and queen's room in the castle, Dream kept a slower pace and walked behind the two wanting to get one more word in before leaving the castle.

"If you two are ever in doubt just remember that you are on the right side of history." Dream said then turned around to leave the two alone.

You both stopped and turned around to see Dream’s back facing the both of you as he walked away. You and Eret eventually made it to your new bedrooms. There was a big door which held a huge room made for the both of them to sleep in and two separate rooms next to the bigger door which were made for one person. Eret and you stood in front of the bigger door staring at the intricate designs on the door not speaking to each other.

"So?" Eret laughed.

"So!" You exclaimed while chuckling.

"Are you okay sleeping in that huge room tonight?" Eret asked.

"I'm not totally comfortable with that, but it would be weird if we slept in the same bed. Don't get me wrong! You're a great friend, but-"

"Y/N/N stop! I'm okay with that too. I wasn't looking to sleep in the same bed. Yes we're married, but we're just staying friends, hey we might get a divorce later." Eret explained.

"If I do, we won't be king and queen anymore." You said softly to your husband.

"Is that what you want? To be "queen"?" Eret asked while putting air quotes around the word queen.

You paused for a moment then answered his question.

"I don't know where I'm supposed to be, Eret." You looked up at him sadly and he pulled you in for a hug. It took you everything you had to not cry into the L'Manburg uniform Eret was wearing. Today drained you mentally and physically, your hands were raw from shooting arrows, you had burn marks on your skin and your feet hurt from running through the kingdom. You weren’t sure about where you would go, because this didn't feel like your home.

"Let's go to bed and we'll talk in the morning. Rest on it because I'll happily divorce you so you can find your place in this huge kingdom." Eret laughed and let you out of his arms.

You chuckled and then let him go walking into what was supposed to be the queen's room and right next to it was the king's room which they both walked in after saying goodnight and closing their doors finally having time to themselves after a long day.

You finally took off the L'Manburg uniform and laid it on a velvet chair in the corner of the huge room. You stared at the uniform before going to the nearest closet and picking out something to wear for that night. The queen's room was basically the huge couple's room that you found before, but just with a smaller bed. There were still trinkets, jewelry and even clothes in the closet. you took a nightgown out of the closet and sat on the plush bed. You ended up laying down staring at the high ceiling thinking of the predicament Eret's question brought.

You finally retired for the night and crawled into bed and got under the soft covers. The window was open so a soft cool breeze was blowing through the room letting the curtains flow with the breeze. If you left you wouldn't have anywhere to go except back to L'Manburg, they would never let you back even if you tried. They probably hated your guts by now, so maybe divorcing wasn't a good idea. You had a set home here, you had food, clothes, and you weren't under attack every minute. you didn't have to watch your back for any enemies.

Your mind slowed down as you finally lulled yourself into a deep sleep forgetting the troubles in your mind for only a moment.

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

The sunset fell over the horizon making it a gold, red color. It was beautiful. The trees were illuminated and the lakes had a certain glow to them. you could see mobs began to crawl out of the ground and caves, but you was safe up here.

You looked down and saw the familiar obsidian walls. It seemed like a faint memory, but in reality the walls were real. It was like you could feel the stone underneath your feet at this moment. you could see inside L'Manburg.

you saw Tubbo and Tommy laying in the grass talking to one another. you saw Fundy sleeping in the grass next to them. There were two new faces you had never seen before. It was a woman with short pink hair and another man with a shaved head. It might've been your mind putting people in your dreams to fill space. Then you saw Eret sitting by a small river letting his bare feet flow in the water. It was a peaceful scene.

"Beautiful sunset isn't it?" A voice showed up beside you.

It was Wilbur. He had his uniform on, it was clean like the war didn't even happen.

"It is really beautiful." You agreed watching the sun continue to lower over the trees.

"You know everything the sun touches is yours? It's all of ours. It just so happens that you can see the sunset and sunrise from L'Manburg. You can do anything as long as you see the sun rise and fall." Wilbur said, keeping his gaze soft at the sunset.

You hummed but stayed quiet admiring his words and the sunset.

"Let me tell you what I wish I'd known when I was young and dreamed of glory. You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story. After you took one of my lives away I understand now. You can't control other people and their motivations."

You hang your head in disappointment, but then Wilbur continued.

"But I know that we can win. I know that greatness lies in you, but remember from here on in that history has its eyes on you. History will forever have its eyes on you no matter what you do." Wilbur looked into your eyes as the sun set on the two of them the stars began to shine.

The light brown eyes Wilbur had turned darker because of the sunlight being gone. You looked out back at the mobs in the forest and the huge towers in the sky made the kingdoms members. you turned around and looked into L'Manburg. Or what was considered L'Manburg.

There was no one there anymore, instead of people there were huge amounts of TNT that filled the walls behind them. you could hear faint voices around them, people that you didn't know. It sounded like chaos. you whipped your head around to Wilbur who was dressed in a brown tattered trench coat, brown pants, and a white shirt instead of the L'Manburg uniform.

He had a cigarette in his mouth and matches in his hands. He smirked at you as the voices around you got louder and your head sounded like you were in the middle of a tornado. your head was buzzing as your eyes couldn't focus on Wilbur in front of you. It felt like these moments were happening right in front of your all at one time.

"You want to be a hero Tommy?"

"You know if I die, this country goes down with me."

"if respect is the only thing protecting you from a knife in the back, then respect is nothing, right?"

"Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me, Phil kill me! Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Look-"

"You know Y/N" Wilbur started next to you. He lit a match and turned around to L'Manburg which was now filled with TNT.

"Somethings. Somethings were never meant to be." He threw the match into the huge pile of TNT and all in a second the obsidian underneath your feet disappeared as you fell into the explosion beneath you.

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

"Fuck! Where am I?!" You shot up from your sleeping position in a cold sweat.

You frantically felt around the bed trying to convince yourself that you were physically at the castle in your bed. You finally caught your breath and laid back down in your bed finding yourself staring at the ceiling again. Even with the window open blowing cool air into the room, your skin still felt hot. You ended up tossing the covers off of you and making your way towards the entrance of the kingdom to get some air.

That dream was so much stuff in it you couldn't comprehend all of it. It was like Wilbur was there as if he was talking to you directly and it wasn't a dream and it made you second guess yourself and think that it may have not been a dream. You finally made it outside and sat on one of the steps that led people up into the kingdom. you sighed and breathed in the fresh air and it immediately relaxed your body and mind. You were alive, you were here and sadly Wilbur wasn't there. You closed your eyes and felt the breeze around you until you were startled by a figure beside you.

"You're up late. I thought you said you were mentally tired." Dream chuckled sitting beside you.

"I had a bad dream." You sighed.

"Hey don't take my name in vain like that" Dream laughed trying to bring up your mood.

Dream sighed and stood back up when he didn't get a response from his companion.

"Come one, let's go. Let's get your mind off of the one bad dream." Dream held his hand out, gesturing to you to take it.

You took his hand and then released it letting him lead the way to wherever the wind may take them. The dream is currently still stuck in your head. The voices from different people confused you and made your head spin.

"You want to be a hero Tommy?" What did that mean? Was someone threatening Tommy? Will someone threaten Tommy? You grew to care for that kid.

Who said "If I die, this country goes down with me"? What country. L'Manburg?

"If respect is the only thing protecting you from a knife in the back, then respect is nothing, right?" That one stumped you the most. you didn't even know if this was being spoken to you or to someone else. All of them except for the Tommy one.

Were they all even dreams? The one that haunted your mind the most was the one where someone was telling a man named Phil to kill them. Were you there for that moment? Did Phil kill the person? Who was Phil? All these thoughts and questions plagued your mind so much that your feet mindlessly carried you wherever Dream led you to.

"Here we are." Dream led You on top of a hill, a tall enough hill to see the main attraction. The place you missed the most, L'Manburg.

Tears started to form in your eyes and you tried blinking them away. All the moments of that dream appeared in your brain, but even stronger. you never felt these emotions before. Maybe L'Manburg was your home all along. you missed seeing Tubbo, Tommy, Eret and Fundy doing their own thing while your and Wilbur had a deep talk inside the van. you had spent weeks with them growing too attached to them and then ended up becoming a traitor.

"That place. You never belonged there. You're too good for them." Dream started and you stayed quiet watching the stars begin to disappear.

"Do you trust me?" Dream asked.

You stayed quiet not having the answer he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear you say that you trusted him when in reality you couldn’t, you weren't fully there yet, not anymore. 

"They lied to you. It's not your home." Dream continued on letting you listen and not talk.

"How did you know if someone said it was my home or not?" You asked, startled.

"I might've been keeping an eye on you. I wanted to make sure my flower was okay." Dream kept his gaze on L'Manburg.

"Stop calling me that." You sighed.

"I never started. This was the first time I said that. Who called you flower?" Dream suddenly got serious, staring at you.

you kept your sights on the obsidian walls, not sparing him a glance. The stars began to fade and the sun peeked over the horizon. As they stayed longer the sun rose over the walls of L'Manburg. You started to remember the words in the dream you had.

"You know everything the sun touches is yours? It's all of ours. It just so happens that you can see the sunset and sunrise from L'Manburg. You can do anything as long as you see the sun rise and fall."

L'Manburg stands for independence. Independence. That word kept ringing through your head like a mantra until a few voices below the hill and near the walls alerted you.

"HEY! Hey Wilbur! Give me back my shit!" Tommy yelled as he stomped after the older man.

"Wilbur get Tommy to stop shouting and give him his swords back please!" Fundy yelled trailing behind the two.

"No not until he learns not to go start stabbing shit!" Wilbur yelled back at the other two.

You missed that. you missed the bickering and the nonsense they all shared. you were upset that Tommy still hadn't learned his lesson and you wished you were there beside them at that moment.

Dream spoke up giving you a look you couldn’t quite get. "You are never allowed to step inside those walls again.

"What gives you the right to tell me what and what not to do? Who does that make you? Who do you think-"

"YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO GO IN THOSE WALLS!" Dream yelled getting dangerously close to you.

You continued to stare at those blue eyes as the bright sun rose over the dark walls of L’Manburg. you didn't say anything but descended down the mountain alone with the sounds of Tommy, Fundy, and Wilbur bickering in the background, wishing you were there and not next to the man next to you who was staring at you angrily.

"I know what’s good for you! I know what's good for this country! Just trust me Y/N!" Dream yelled starting an argument

"Would you calm down! You came here to be all quiet and now you're yelling at me. You might want to be quiet before Wilbur hears you. Or do you want me to get him myself?" You yelled back, getting furious.

"Oh you wish! He doesn't care for you as much as me, Sapnap and George do! They agree as well!"

"Don't put words into his mouth!" You accused

"Oh! So if he cares so fucking much he would've help save you. And do you know what would happen if he saved you?! You would've died! I saved you! You were in a perfect situation and all you had to do is not complain! You're always overreacting." Dream ended with a huff and rolled his eyes while turning away..

you were speechless at this point. Overwhelming emotions consumed you. you couldn't believe you were overreacting. Maybe Wilbur wasn't everything you needed. you were overreacting, you were being selfish too. Dream was right. Dream walked over to you pulling you in a hug with L'Manburg was still in your sights.

"I did everything because I love you. You're too precious for them, you're not for them. They don't deserve you, you deserve someone who wants the best for you. A flower that needs a home and I'm here to give it to you." Dream softly explained.

Your eyes kept tearing up at the words and different emotions flowing through you. The sights on L'Manburg make your memories and questions come back. Where did you belong? But more importantly who was telling the truth?

Taglist: @hi-imuwu @k-l-a-w-s

[space-helen]

Back to Vegas - Chapter 7

Words: 1907

Pairing: Nick Stokes x Reader

A/N: There’s one more part after this! Thank you for all of the support to far it means a lot

CH1   CH2   CH3   CH4    CH5   CH6  CH7  CH8

_______________________________

Nick rested his forehead on your bed as he clutched your hand within his two as he listened to the beeping of the machinery around you. He’d been waiting around the hospital for three hours before he was allowed to come and sit with you.

It’d been nine hours since that point. Nine long hours of him sitting by your side as you slept and he talked to you. The Doctors said you’d pull through and would wake up in your own time but there was no telling how long that’d take and only you could decide that for yourself.

They’d told Nick in detail exactly what Hannah had put into your body but the only thing he took away was “You were extremely lucky to get Y/N here on time. Any later and the result wouldn’t be the same.”

The opening of the door had Nick sitting upright, he moved one hand but kept the other intertwined with yours. Greg, Sara, Catherine and Grissom all filled into the room taking various positions around your bed.

Catherine sat opposite Nick while Sara sat at the end of the bed with Grissom at her side and Greg took a seat not far from Nick. Nick angled his body slightly so he could see all of them. They instantly noticed his disheveled complexion and very red eyes from crying.

“We heard she’s going to make it.” Catherine was the first to break the silence

“Yeah.” Nick nodded to himself and looked at you before looking back at Catherine. 

“She’s strong Nick. She’s out of the woods.” Sara added as she looked over you. She could see the bruises littered on your exposed skin from the struggle and from the force at which Hannah had injected you, your hand that Nick wasn’t holding was also bandaged up.

“She still needs to wake up though.” his words were barely audible and his eyes began to tear up.

“Nick I know you want to stay by her side but you haven’t eaten in hours. Let one of us sit here while you get a bite to eat” Catherine tried to persuade the man.

“I have to stay with her. She stayed by me.”

“We really don’t mind.” Sara added.

“You don’t understand.” he looked around the room “She didn’t leave my side so I won’t leave hers. I know it’s not as severe but I just can’t. What if I leave and-” he stopped to try and compose himself by taking in a deep breath and letting it out.

“The case?” Grissom broke his silence.

Nick looked at the man with shiny eyes and nodded “Word has probably got around to you guys about a case Y/N and I worked that really brought us together. I think only Greg knows the extent of the case really and even I spared him some details.” He looked at you and started to rub a pattern on your hand with his thumb and he teared up a little but was able to keep his emotions in check. 

“To cut to the chase we ended up in a shootout. We were hiding together and trying to keep calm. Some punk found us and shot me twice, once in the leg and the other in the shoulder. Luckily the guy was shot down before Y/N was shot otherwise we wouldn’t be here now, either of us. She tried to stop the bleeding the best she could and just stayed with me and re-assured me I’d be ok while we waited for the EMT’s.”

Nick’s voice was starting to get wobbly and show emotion, Greg moved to sit on the edge of his seat and put his hand on Nick’s shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly.

“She didn’t leave my side the entire time. She got her injuries checked out and that was about it. I nearly bled out, hell I was even dead for a short time in surgery. Y/N sat by my bedside for God knows how long until I woke up. After that she still barely left my side until I ordered her back to work. I didn’t want to tell any of you guys because I didn’t want to worry you.”

Greg moved his hand from Nick’s shoulder “We understand but you should have told us.”

“I know I know.” Nick took in another breath “She stayed with me through recovery and rehabilitation, I had to basically re-learn how to walk for a little bit because the bullet had torn through my leg badly. It’s all fine now. It really took me no time to build back the strength. There were a couple other incidents after that and then we were going on our first date.”

He sucked in a breath “I really don’t know what I’d do without her.”

The room stayed silent for a moment while Nick just looked at you, eventually he let go of your hand and he twisted for his coat which was laid over the back of his chair and rummaged through his pockets “I guess it’s just my luck.” 

He pulled out what he was looking for and clutched it in his hand “I was just about to ask her to marry me and everything. I nearly did last night but… I changed my mind because I wanted to tell you guys first. I’ve had this ring since way before we even came to Vegas.” a tear rolled down his cheek and his throat was sore with emotion “In hindsight I really should have just done it. Last night was perfect.”

Catherine was soon standing up and moving around the bed and opening her arms to give Nick a tight embrace “It’s ok Nicky. She’ll wake up soon.” the woman could feel her own tears threatening.

Sara approached the pair in the embrace and joined in with Greg soon following and Grissom approaching the huddle and putting his hand on Nick’s shoulder. Grissom looked down at you before looking back at Nick.

“I really think she’s going to make it Nick. I know my words mean nothing but she’ll wake up, even the Doctors said that.” he tried to reassure.

The huddle was soon breaking up as Nick completely composed himself and flopped back in the chair by your bedside. Grissom and Sara had offered to feed Sam and go back to the lab to continue working the case and Greg offered to bring him some food before going back to the lab.

Catherine was the last to leave a short while after the others.

“I should head to the lab but I want you to know something.” She moved to the edge of her seat and grabbed Nick's hand from across the bed. “I could just see how well you were made for each other as soon as you walked in through the door. You know I’ve had my fair share of love stories and after a while you just know when someone’s relationship is heading for trouble or destined to be happy. You guys are made for each other.” She squeezed his hand and gave him a smile.

“Thanks Cath.” he mustered a sad smile of his own “That really means a lot.”

She stood up and grabbed her belongings “I mean it Nick. I thought she was pretty good when I met her but I think she’s an amazing woman now. I’ll catch you after my shift. Please message me if anything happens.”

The man nodded and made his promise to Catherine to message her if anything changed.

The room was not silent but after Catherine left it felt as if it was. He sadly smiled at you and leaned forward to give you a quick kiss to the cheek before leaning back in his chair.

It’d been long enough for Greg to stop by with food and Nick to eat and clean up before you woke up. Nick was getting comfy in his seat after using the bathroom when you began to stir.

“Y/N” his voice was full of enthusiasm and excitement. “You’re at the hospital.” he tried to comfort you knowing how weird it could be to wake up and not know where you are.

“Nick?” your eyes were fluttering open and trying to focus on the man “I feel dizzy. Where am I?” your words slurred.

“The hospital Darlin’. Let me go grab a Doctor.” he stood in a scramble and soon was returning with a Doctor who made him wait outside the room.

Ten minutes later he was back at your side. “Hey.” you weakly spoke

“Hey.” he lowered himself into the chair next to you and smiled. “How you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” you admitted, there was a dull ache in your head and your body hurt all over. 

The man nodded in response and let a silence hang for a moment. “I was so worried.”

“I know.” you reached for his hand and curled your fingers between his. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry for bringing you to Vegas in the first place.”

“Never apologise for that. It isn’t your fault. We did the right thing coming back and I don’t regret it. I should have just been more careful at the scene.” 

“You remember what happened?” he asked curiously, secretly hoping that you did so he didn’t have to recount the moments.

“Yeah. It gets hazy after she got me the second time and I have patches of memory of a car journey.”

He nodded sadly “Yeah. I rushed you here. I really thought I’d lost you. I don’t know what I would have done if I-”

“I’m here now. I’m ok.” you reassured the man “The Doctor said I needed to stay in for another couple of days to monitor me because they really don’t know what other effects the combination of drugs she gave me will have.”  He looked you in the eyes, relief and emotion present in his. “I love you Nick.”

“I love you more.” he said leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead “promise me you won’t go alone to a scene again.”

“I promise.” you yawned and felt yourself getting tired.

“Am I really that boring?” the man teased

“Of course not.” you gave him a weak laugh “You look pretty tired and I could really do with a cuddle.” you admitted’

“Y/N I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Why not?” you pouted slightly “Look here.” you started to try and shift over in the bed.

“Hey, slow down. It’s alright I’m comfy here.”

“You might be but that doesn’t stop me from wanting a cuddle.” you adjusted yourself over in the bed so he had some room “Get up here why don’t you.” you said tapping the bed.

“If we get caught-”

“I’ll take the blame.” the man lay down next to you and you cuddled up to his chest and let your eyes fall closed.

The man felt himself get slightly emotional when he wrapped his arms around you and brought you to his chest. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and rested his head down on the pillow. He couldn’t even begin to express the way he was feeling right now. A tear rolled down his cheek as he closed his eyes 

“Thank you for saving my life.”

Next Chapter

Tag List: (open)

Nick Stokes: @wanniiieeee  @pumpkinfriend

CSI:

[moonbaby26]

Title: What’s in a Name?

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from last chapter. You and the others are finally homeward bound, flying back to the U.S. from the events in Egypt and Greece. You get to hear a little more about Peter’s eastern European roots while passing time on the plane together.

Warnings: None, just fluff and Peter being Peter.

Notes: I know where some things I’m referencing don’t match the comics. Blend of comic canon and the movie version going on here.

Chapters: Previous Chapter Here

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

The morning sun was still low and red on the horizon as you’d stepped back out into the open air of the flight deck. But seagulls were already calling from somewhere up above as men milled around, checking and readying a set of helicopters that you knew would soon be taking you ashore.

You wouldn’t miss this boat itself of course, none of you belonged here after all. But you’d be lying to say it’d been easy to let go of Peter when morning had come. You’d woken up far more tangled than you remembered going to sleep as, chest to chest, his good leg wrapped over you and one of his hands somehow far up the back of your shirt.

The longest part of getting ready had been the procrastination of leaving that bed. After that, it only seemed like minutes before you were all awkwardly standing up here now, waiting on next instructions. It wasn’t as if you’d had anything you could pack after all. Besides that somewhat silly polaroid picture you’d seen Peter carefully stowaway in one pocket of his shorts, you had no possessions to speak of here. Even the shoes they’d given you were some poorly fit military boot. The tops of them scraped against your ankles as you walked and you’d be glad to be rid of them whenever possible.

The Professor and Moira approached after another moment, Moira hurrying a little more as one of the helicopters began to fire up, followed by the other soon after. She had to speak louder over the rising noise of the blades rotating faster and faster.

“Keep these on you!” She called, going to each of you in turn, handing over a U.S. passport with a driver’s license closed separately inside. She only opened them briefly to check that she was matching each to the correct person. “The flight we’ll be taking is just a commercial plane. The government has contracted them and dictated the pickup and landing points, but it’s civilian pilots and flight crew. Normal security still applies, but only those with U.S. citizenship are allowed aboard.”

As she’d gotten to you and Peter, she’d handed both passports to you as you’d had your hand outstretched, and he’d still been holding on to his crutches. You quickly opened one just to see which was yours, so you could pocket only your own. The first one opened was his however, but even in the low light of early sunrise, your brain hitched on something unexpected.

The picture looking back at you was clearly him, albeit a little younger, and with slightly longer hair than the way he wore it currently. But that wasn’t the issue. You reread the name printed in front of you more than once, before glancing up to him as if to confirm.

It said Pietro Django Maximoff.

“Your real name isn’t Peter?” You asked, even over the helicopter noise before you could stop yourself. But the realization was already dawning on you almost before that last word left your mouth that so many people were called one name by friends and family even if their legal name may still be another. You felt a bit stupid then for your reaction, instantly wishing you could take the question back.

But thankfully he only leaned in with a smile, taking his passport and license from you even as he spoke right against your ear. “Define real.” He pocketed them, before continuing. The helicopters were at their full ready now. “But it’s a bit loud here, babe. I’ll tell you all you want to know about my sexy alter ego later, deal?”

—————————

By the time you’d gotten to the airstrip on shore, it was full morning sun now. And just as Moira had said, there was already a large U.S. commercial jet waiting there. You also found out you weren’t alone, as you’d had to join a line of people already waiting to board. They were checking credentials as people moved up one by one onto a mobile stairway that had been rolled up flush with the plane’s open door.

Looking around you, most of the would be passengers still looked like military of various branches though. Army, Navy, Air Force, they still had on their uniforms. But there were others too, likely diplomats being evacuated you thought. Men, women, even a few children as you’d seen the curious eyes peeking out from behind their parents’ legs as you all had also moved through the line.

“It had to be damn stairs,” Peter mumbled as the two of you neared closer to the plane. Without any actual terminal here, boarding straight from the tarmac was the only option.

“If Hank can help carry the Professor up them, wheelchair and all, I’m pretty sure I can handle you.” You responded, only meaning to give him a little grief.

But he just spun things right back on you of course. “Oh, you can handle me any time.”

And when your stare said you didn’t seem to find that quite as funny as he did, he only shrugged, still smiling. “Sorry, you left yourself wide open for that one.”

“I did.” You admitted. “But I still want to hear the story of that driver’s license. And why did you even have one to begin with? Seems a little unecessary.” You said, still moving up every few moments as you neared the bottom of the stairs.

Yet he just kept smirking at you, almost a seeming delight in his eyes then, realizing that you were that curious about it. “Now who’s impatient?” He taunted, just before turning back to flash said documents to one of the workers now checking them.

“Do you have anything to declare?” The woman asked him.

With the way he paused, you knew his brain was churning then to select whatever he would deem the funniest or wittiest response. But as odd of looks as you were all already getting, mostly from Hank and Kurt’s vivid blue skin as usual, it probably would be best not to test the waters any further. You did want to get home after all.

“We don’t,” You answered before he could, relieved when she seemed to want to hurry you all aboard and away from her as much as you did. She handed Peter’s passport back to him, then took your own in quick succession to glance it over as well before seeming satisfied enough as she handed it back to you.

After you were past her, it was the issue of the stairs however. Obviously they expected Peter to just figure it out, but you knew you could lend a hand. The trick was going to be in trying to keep that act of levitation a little more subtle though, still being in mixed company here.

“You should have let me have a little more fun with her,” Peter said, though glancing back with some curiosity as you moved behind him.

“I don’t want to make a scene,” you responded quietly. Really, referring to her just as much as what you were about to attempt. “Pretend you’re going up the stairs anyway. Move a little like you’re walking.”

The person in front of him on the stairs wasn’t looking back, and only more of your friends were directly behind you. With the sidewalls of the stairway also going up about waist high, the people still on the ground couldn’t see the little glow that went around his legs as you willed him to levitate just high enough that his cast didn’t drag the steps as you both continued towards the plane’s door.

“Woah, hey at least give a warning.” He responded, lifting his good leg up enough for it to also miss the now passing steps even as his crutches hit once or twice.”

“I did.” You answered, though still trying to look past him the whole time to make sure no one was looking back from the plane’s doorway. Once you’d gotten nearly to the top, you set him back down to do the last couple steps on his own and enter the plane normally.

Once inside though, the aisle really was too narrow to use his crutches properly. Maybe on a more normal flight more measures would have been taken to assist the disabled, but there sure wasn’t anyone offering anything today.

Kurt was behind you, and offered to take the crutches while Peter put one arm over your shoulders and you both half hobbled, half shimmied awkwardly down the aisle until you reached the first open seating.

Being a larger jet meant for transoceanic travel, there were seats in groups of three on both the left and right side of the plane, but a row of four in the center as well. You ended up in one of the rows of three on the side, letting Peter take the aisle seat to have more room for his leg, while you sat in the middle, and Kurt beside you at the window as he’d laid Peter’s crutches down on the floor underneath the seats.

You finally felt like maybe you could relax a little then, just glancing around a bit. There were some old magazines in the seatback in front of you, but probably not much of anything else any of you could really do now in however many hours it’d take to get stateside. You were pretty sure a passenger jet like this would be a good deal slower than the high tech military one you’d gone to Egypt in.

You were only looking up at the light and air vent controls above your seat next as a sudden movement and curse surprised you as your eyes darted back to the aisle.

“Goddamnit.” A man said.

His soft sided suitcase had just burst open, spilling most of his clothing onto the floor as he then paused to shove it back in as best he could. He struggled with the zipper a moment, but it only slid back and forth uselessly, no longer sealing the bag back. “Cheap ass government issue,” He added, finally just picking up the whole thing and holding it closed against his chest as he walked on.

And that random event would have been nothing more to you, except for the way you saw Peter move his head back then, sucking in a pained breath through his teeth as he gripped the armrest between you.

Kurt noticed too, leaning forward as he asked, “Are you alright, Peter?”

“Yeah, sure,” He grunted.

But as you glanced down to see Peter’s other hand now clutching his broken leg, you also saw a newly materialized pair of sunglasses pressed between his fingertips and the cast. As well as a military jacket now folded messily under his seat.

“That was you.” You spoke abruptly, yet low enough just for the three of you. “You took those out of that man’s suitcase!”

“Well I didn’t think the stupid zipper was going to break when I tried to close it back! He’s right, that was a cheap zipper.” Peter admitted.

“And you hurt yourself trying to get back into the chair didn’t you?” You chided a little more, not quite sure what was worse, the thievery or the recklessness.

“I hit my foot on that damn bracket, and the vibration went through the bone.” He motioned to the metal bracing that bolted the seat in front of him to the floor.

“Thou shalt not steal,” Kurt said, not judgmentally, but just as if this should be an inherent truth as he still looked to Peter with concern.

“Oh man, so I get like twelve hours of flight time to look forward to, trapped next to you two goody two shoes then? Awesome.” He joked back, though already looking back down then at the sunglasses in his hand with a little admiration. They had a mirror finish as he spun them over in his fingers. “And hey, you guys are the ones who burned up my last jacket back in Egypt, remember? I’m not going home empty handed. I’d been wanting one of those army looking deals since we got here. Buzzcut there seemed like he’d have one.”

“Mama look!”

All three of you paused your talk then to see a small boy now standing in the aisle as the movement of people had slowed once more with passengers stopping to put their luggage in the overhead bins. But his mother didn’t seem to be paying him any mind as he continued to point. She was talking to the man in front of her as that man fought with an oversized suitcase.

The boy continued staring though, likely at Kurt. But it wasn’t really a fearful gaze, more excited than anything.

“Guten tag,” Kurt said cheerfully regardless, just waving in return.

And at that the boy’s eyes really went wide. “Sprichst du Deutsch?” The boy stammered a little, yet with the biggest grin.

“Ja, ich komme aus Bayern.” Kurt replied.

And that spontaneous connection over a surprise shared language would have been truly adorable too if Peter wasn’t suddenly leaning right over you to interrupt it.

“Yo, Kurt, ask him if I can borrow some of his markers!” Peter pleaded abruptly.

“What?” You and Kurt both said almost simultaneously.

“The markers, he doesn’t need the whole box. I only need like three colors, tops.” Peter answered, motioning back to the boy. And when still neither you or Kurt seemed to understand this sudden sense of urgency, Peter actually put his hands together like making a little prayer. “You told me you didn’t want me to steal, so I’m trying not to. Come on, at least a red one?”

Kurt really was confused then, but he did lean forward, saying something else in German to the boy.

At that request the boy did look down at the coloring book rolled in one of his hands, and the small pack of markers sticking out of his pocket that evidently Peter had somehow put a target lock on.

But he really did like Kurt apparently as after only a couple moments of thought, the little boy opened the marker box to pull three out.

“Sweet!” Peter said as the child handed over red, black, and blue to him. “I’ll give them back in a bit, right?” Peter added though, smirking at him. “Thanks, little dude.”

And it was all just the oddest thing to you as the boy only happily waved bye to Kurt after, the movement of people starting again as he and his mother continued on to go sit a few rows further back.

“I don’t even know what just happened,” you said after they were gone.

“That was world class negotiating, babe. I mean Kurt literally just smooth talked some colors from a kid with a coloring book in his hand on a twelve hour flight.” Peter responded.

“You are actually going to give them back though aren’t you? You told him you would.” Kurt replied with a little concern.

Peter kind of shrugged, “I mean yeah, I guess so.”

“He’ll give them back,” You added for him. “Or I will.”

“Okay, okay, jeez. Yes, it’s not going to take me hours to do anything. Ever. I’ll have this baby gussied up in no time.” Peter responded, patting his cast gently. “You can’t leave a blank canvas to a guy like me. Especially if I have to stare at this thing for weeks.”

And he was right, you weren’t even in the air yet before he just started doodling away.

————————————

Thankfully the plane only stopped one more time, at an air base in France to pickup more U.S. government evacuees, before at last the wings were over water and you were finally pointed home.

By now Peter’s cast looked more like those advertisements or example sheets on the walls of any tattoo parlor. Yet when you made a comment as such, the sly grin you got in return made you instantly wish you’d thought that through a little better.

“Ah, so you’ve been in a tattoo parlor then?” Oh he was so interested in this topic now. You could see that wolfish look coming into his eyes. “You’ve got some ink somewhere?”

“I don’t.” You’d thought of doing it though, quite a bit actually. But it was such a commitment. You’d probably keep that tidbit to yourself for a while though, lest he try to drag you immediately to a tattoo shop on the drive to D.C.

“I’m not totally sure I believe you.” He answered, though leaning in to whisper in your ear after, “Think you’ll let me check some time?”

The fact that he was still so bold with Kurt literally right beside you, made you wonder if you really should be making sure whatever rental car you ended up with later was just some sort of bucket seat tiny two door thing. If it was a boat like sedan with a full bench back seat, you might actually be in trouble tonight.

“We’ll see,” Is all you answered back though. At least for a moment before you realized now was as good a time as any to flip the conversation back on him.

“So when do I get to hear the Pietro story?” You asked, relaxed into your seat as much as the small space would allow. “Kurt and I have nothing else to do. Let’s hear it.”

“The who?” Peter teased back, just working on giving one of the pin up girls he’d drawn a little better shading.

“Or Django. Either Pietro or Django, they both sound pretty interesting I think.” You replied playfully.

Peter glanced at you, but smiled a little. “You’re just going to be disappointed actually. I was just hyping it up, there’s really nothing to it.”

“Then go on, it’ll be a quick story then.” You still wanted to know more about him of course, and every piece was just another part of the whole picture.

“Django was my grandfather. Mom’s dad back in the old country.” Peter replied, still just finding more and more little details to add to his drawings. “I didn’t really know him. Mom never liked to take us back there much to visit. I mean it makes more sense now of course. She didn’t want my Dad to know where she was. But back then I just figured she thought that place was creepy.”

“What place?” Kurt asked innocently enough. You both were actually equally curious to whatever Peter might say about his family. Like he’d said before, Kurt wasn’t used to having friends his own age. And learning more about each other now was all part of growing those bonds.

“Wundagore Mountain,” Peter replied. “And trust me, as much as it sounds like the newest ride at some amusement park, it’s totally not. I remember being like five and going back there thinking Dracula himself was going to yank me out of that freaking soviet tin can Mom was driving us around in. Wanda still swears she heard voices up there. I mean I don’t know, we stayed with Mom’s aunt one time and she tells us this thing so creatively called Man-Beast was going to come down off the mountain for us if we didn’t behave.”

Peter glanced over to the both of you, further clarifying, “Not like Hank or anything though, it was basically just a werewolf I think. But if it’s a werewolf, call it that you know? What the hell is a Man-Beast? They had so many weird things that could take children. I feel like every story was, oh but don’t do that or Porga will get you. Oops, you talked back to your mother? Guess Tagar is coming tonight. Darn, forgot to brush your teeth? Nice knowing you, kid, Bova’s going to take you to live in the woods forever now.”

You were sort of just staring and listening, but out the corner of your eye you saw Kurt only nodding as if in complete understanding. You would hazard a guess that parts of Bavaria evidently had very similar folklore. Between the two of them, they could likely trade stories like this the whole flight.

But Peter just continued, “But yeah, Django was my gramps, just met him a couple times. And Pietro...well that’s just me. Like I said, nothing special. I was Pietro all the way until Mom started us in kindergarten.” He smirked a little. “Guess she figured the dorky little Jewish kid with the curly brown hair needed all the help he could get fitting in with all the John’s, Mark’s, and Scott’s of the world. And yeah, feel free to tell Summers I said that later.”

So she’d Americanized his name. It wasn’t unheard of with first or second generation immigrants, but still there was something a little sad about that. Yet you smiled softly, that image of the kindergarten age Peter frankly adorable in your mind. “You were a baby brunette?”

“Until the old X-gene flared at 12 or whenever that was yeah,” But he paused, a little surprised, just then realizing what look that was on your face. “Oh stop, you’re picturing it now aren’t you? I was a total dork, don’t do that. Seriously, no! I swear I will never let you find those pictures.”

But you just kept grinning. “No need. I can imagine this forever.”

“Hell, where is Jean?” Peter looked around in a little show of dramatics. “Memory wipe needed on aisle 3, Red.”

It was just too funny though, and honestly it made all the sense in the world. The physical resemblance between Peter and Erik would have been a lot more noticeable had they both still shared similar hair color and texture. Yes, you would bet Peter’s hair had even had that bit of auburn in it too back then.

“But I do have a question,” You spoke then, your tone sincere. “What do you actually want to be called?”

“Sexy?” He answered at once.

But you didn’t let him off the hook that easily, still waiting patiently for the real answer as you just watched him.

Finally he relented, but still seeming a bit non committal. “I mean I’ve heard both for so long, I answer to either. Really, I do. But if the Django comes out though, that’s Defcon 1. It means I’ve done something catastrophically wrong and Mom is about to go full on nuclear on my ass.”

You considered this for a moment, before trying it. “Pietro,” you said, looking for any difference in his expression.

He did grin at you, eyebrows going up a little.

“Peter?” You asked then.

And to that he just continued to smile. “Babe, it’s like you’re trying to pick the name of the new dog.” He raised the pitch of his voice a little, imitating a generic wife you guessed. “Honey, which one does he like better? Did his ears go up at that one?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to figure things out,” you defended. “Guess I’ll just go back to imagining all that curly brown hair now.”

“Noooo.” He whined.

———————————

The three of you had joked and talked for quite a while. But somewhere, maybe about two thirds through the flight, things did quiet back down. Eventually you decided to try and sleep some if you could. You weren’t tired yet, but you knew you would be by the time you landed.

With the difference in timezones, even though you’d left early in the morning Greek time, it would likely only be around lunch time in the U.S. after landing. While you already would have been traveling for almost twelve hours.

It was as if you’d get to repeat the day all over again. You had all that time still ahead of you, including having to convince the Professor to let you drive Peter home.

You closed your eyes for a bit, thinking of all the hypotheticals of what you could say. What you would argue if needed, and what Xavier may say in response. But as you tried to let your thoughts drift further, you realized you’d crossed your arms, little chill bumps on them as you opened your eyes to look up at the air vent above you.

Was it stuck open? You fiddled with it a moment, but felt no difference. Shifting to sit back up a little, you looked at the seatback in front of you again as well, in the pouch there with the old magazines.

“They don’t have any blankets,” Peter said quietly, easily interpreting the reasoning for your search.

You’d thought he’d already been asleep just as Kurt was though. You were surprised as Peter reached out, smoothly laying that jacket over your chest and arms. The one he’d taken earlier.

“See.” He added. “Crime does pay sometimes.”

You gave him a skeptical look still, but the jacket really did make the difference as you leaned back again in the seat, snuggling into it. “Thank you, thief.” You answered softly.

“Any time.” He smiled a little, before reaching down to click the button on the armrest between your seats. He moved the armrest up and out of the way, then running a warm hand under the jacket to find one of your own.

You grasped his hand when they met, intertwining your fingers together.

“Have a nice nap, see you in Jersey.” He said, yet closing his own eyes as well.

“See you in Jersey, Pietro.”

You felt him squeeze your hand more at that, and you couldn’t help but smile.

————————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Sit by the fire until... Chapter 2

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870150/chapters/81650737

Here’s the thing they don’t tell you when you get magically transformed into a bunny rabbit against your will by the corrupted darkness of the Sacred Realm: somethings, unfortunately, tend to stick.  

Now, Legend isn’t saying that he’s hiding a cotton tail under his tunic or that his soul secretly aches to frolic in meadows or spend his time sleeping in holes or whatever else it is that rabbits do when they're not busy being very confused and scared twelve year old Hylians.

No.

But that doesn't mean he was left unscathed by having his entire anatomy re-written in less than an instant.

Because of course he wouldn’t. Goddess forbid he ever catch a break for once in his life.

He was still pretty young when it happened, so Legend can’t remember if his teeth had been quite so bucked before the incident. Regardless if they were or not, they sure as Hylia are prominent now. Then there's also the fact that he never really grew into his ears, the damn things always just a shade longer than they should be for a regular Hylian.

Before he joined this wild cucco chase masquerading as an adventure, Legend would sometimes catch himself looking at Ravio wondering, Is that how I would have looked? Besides the hair and eyes, the merchant was supposed to be his mirror image after all. Zelda and Hilda were, so it stood to reason that he and Ravio should be the same.

In which case, the bucktooth thing was going to be a problem regardless.

The ears, on the other hand, are a completely different story. From the quick glances Legend has managed to steal of Ravio’s side profile, the merchant has relatively short ears himself, which just make the Veteran’s own look comically long when the two stand side by side.

And ugh, and that wasn't even touching on his… less physical changes.

 Namely, his cravings.

Noshing on some leafy greens while home alone doing some chores? A-Okay.

Getting caught by Warriors and Twilight absentmindedly chewing on the hay he was supposed to be feeding the horses? Ehhh, not so much.  

Goddesses, his ego still hasn’t recovered from the amount of jokes the Pretty Boy had made at his expense. And that’s not even mentioning the veritable mountain of carrots he found in his bedroll, no doubt courtesy of that flea bitten farmhand.

Regardless of the less than natural way he got these… attributes, Legend couldn’t say they were all bad. ‘Cuz sure, his ears were a bit longer than average, but he could also hear better than most of his companions, able to catch the sound of crunching leaves above even their loud bickering. Like wise, his eyes were sharper than others in the low light of dawn and dusk, allowing him to see things others would miss.

Frankly, both skills had helped keep him alive during his quests. He was thankful for them in a weird huh, guess that works kinda way, but thankful all the same.

But sometimes Legend wanted to wring the goddesses necks because really? Being turned into a rabbit couldn’t have fixed this particular problem?

This particular problem being his absolutely horrible pollen allergies.

“ A-A-A!”

Each rapid, involuntary inhale feels like a simultaneous punch to the gut and a gasp for breath, the air yanked into his body and then stoppered up. It leaves the veteran in a state of limbo as a paralyzing calm falls over him; lungs full of air, shoulders hiked up, muscles tensed.

For a second, everything feels lodged in place, frozen, like the Champion had used his stasis rune on him.

And–

Legend clamps his mouth shut and tucks his face into his elbow just as tension snaps and–

“- acheew! ”

Nothing but a soft, cut off sneeze slips past his lips, yet, the force of holding it back  still sends Legend bowing over. He stays there, hunched over for a breath as his body recovers, before he straightens back up, sniffing irritably as he tries to ignore the itch prickling at his eyes and the congested pressure throbbing behind his sinuses.

A chortling huff sounds next to him and when Legend glances down he can see Wolfie– or should he say, Twilight– peering up at him, mouth open and tongue lolling in a doggy grin, but icy blue eyes too pointed, too teasing, to be anything but human.

Legend's nose twitches tellingly as it begins to tickle again and the wolf gives another stuttering huff. A laugh. Legend can practically hear Twilight’s twangy, Awww. You sneeze like a bunny.

The bastard.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, dog boy,” Legend grumbles, wiping harshly at his face in an attempt to stave off another sneezing fit. “Don't you have trees to piss on or something?”

That earns him peeled back lips and a growl, but Legend just sends the other a responding sneer as strides past the grumpy wolf and out into the rolling field of tulips that stands in front of them.

Another huff, this one more annoyed than amused, sounds behind the veteran before the wolf streaks past him, loping through the flowers with his nose down and tail high.

Legend rolls his eyes.

Twilight loves to show his teeth, but the farmhand is quite literally all bark and no bite.

And besides, they both have better things to do than needle one another. If Legend is going to be miserable, he may as well take steps to make that misery as short as possible.

Afterall, they aren't out here swanning through a meadow of flowers for pleasure.

The last Dark Portal they had all walked through had, once again, separated them. Legend and Twilight were lucky enough to find one another quickly, though, now that Legend thinks about it, it probably had less to do with luck and more to do with Twilight’s nose.

After regrouping, they had tried to search for the others more that day, but a storm had them holed up in a cave overnight to wait out the deluge. They had gotten up early to start their search again today, but so far they had no such luck in finding any of the others in the forest.

Which just left the inexplicable meadow of tulips surrounding the wood.

Legend had been hoping that the rain would keep some of the pollen at bay, but nooo that would be too merciful, wouldn’t it?

If anything, the rain just made this whole experience more aggravating. Now, along with stinging eyes, a running nose, and a throbbing head, Legend also had the delightful honor of feeling the tulip stalks and leaves and petals sliding wetly across his skin, the annoying slap of his tunic smacking his thighs as it got more sodden by the second, and the disgusting squish of water between his toes with every step he took through this Wind Fish damned field.

And sure, maybe it was worth it to reunite with the other heroes, but really, would it kill the goddesses to make his life just a little bit easier.

A bark pulls Legend from his miserable musings. Twilight's dark tail stands out among the ocean of pastel pinks and yellows and oranges, wagging frantically twenty meters away. It disappears after a second, replaced by a muzzle and expectant eyes.

Twilight barks at him again.

He must have found something.

Finally, Legend thinks as he begins to make his way over toward the other, hopefully a reason to get out of this floral hell hole.

“What is it, boy?” Legend asks, voice going high and mocking as he takes delicate care stepping on as many flowers as possible, “Little Time-y fall down the well again?”

Instead of a growl for his effort, Legend gets a flurry of black flecks falling upward, like pieces of reverse snow, in his peripheral vision.

“You know,” Twilight says as he straightens to his full height, eyes half-lidded. Unamused, “You’re really not as funny as you seem to think you are.”

And before Legend can interrupt that– No, actually, you just have a dog shit sense of humor. Literally– Twilight continues, “I can smell the smithy all over this thing.” He nods down at a small tree stump breaking through the tide of flowers. “The scent is a bit old, probably from sometime before last evening, but still traceable. I should be able to find him from here.”

Legend eyes the stump for a moment, peering into the cracked hole in the top of the wood. Inside, he can see the round, red caps of several toadstools sprouting.

He can also sense magic. Close to that of the fairies– natural and glittering and smelling of moss– but not quite the same.

The Smithy’s doing?

Or a natural occurrence?

Regardless…

“Welp,” Legend says, straightening up, “Let's go find him. Couldn’t have gotten far on those little legs of his.”

“Again,” Twilight huffs, the black fractals already consuming him once more as he transforms, “You’re not as funny as you think...”

His voice distorts and fades into nothing as the magic swallows him whole, leaving Legend once again having a conversation with a very unimpressed looking wolf.

“I like you better when you can’t talk,” Legend tells Twilight as the other sets off, snuffling at the ground.

The other pauses to give Legend a look that would be more at home on a disapproving mother’s face, before continuing his tracking.

He also whaps Legend in the leg with his tail.

Hard.

The prick.

They continue on their trek together like that for a while, Twilight occasionally pausing to shove his nose into the dirt some more as he decides which direction to follow as Legend trails behind, keeping his eyes peeled for a quadripartite tunic and a head of straight, gold hair.

It isn't long before the farmhand turned canine breaks off into a light trot and then a jog, and then a full on sprint.

And stops just as suddenly.

Legend is out of breath by the time he slides to a stop behind the farmhand, but from a cursory glance around, there doesn’t seem to be a short, mouthy smithy anywhere in the vicinity.

“What happened?” Legend asks, still searching, turning circles as he cranes his neck, “Did you lose the trail?”

Twilight gives a light whine, grabbing Legend’s attention.

Then he does two full spins and sits primly, looking up at Legend.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Legend crinkles his nose at the canine. “Use your words.”

Wolfie rolls his eyes in a way that Legend didn’t think was possible for dogs and then stands.

The canine stares at him intently, as though making sure Legend’s eyes are locked with his own. And then he flicks his eyes over the yellow tulip he is sitting next to meaningfully. Then back to Legend. Back and forth back and forth, his eyes go for a full minute before he stops and stares at Legend once more.

Legend feels as his face wrinkles in confusion.

It's just a regular tulip, just like the thousands currently around them. Pretty enough, he supposes. The bulb seems to be a little wilted, like it's been weighed down by rain water perhaps, but other than that, nothing to sneeze at.

Or everything to sneeze at, if you’re Legend.

Legend gives the flower one more skeptical glance before turning to look at Twilight once more, brow raised.

“Pretty,” he assures the other. “Not sure how it helps us find Four.”

Twilight heaves another too human sigh.

And then he reaches up,  takes the sleeve of Legend’s tunic between his teeth, and yanks.

“Hey!” Legend yelps as he’s dragged down into the dirt, “Watch the teeth! The embroidery on this thing took forever to do and even longer to enchant!”

Twilight pays him no mind, pulling him down and forward, closer to his chosen tulip.

Legend tries his best to keep his face away from the damn thing.

“I swear on The Three, if your slobber stains–”

Legend’s words crumple up and die in his throat.

There’s something in the tulip.

At first glance, Legend would identify it as the Smithy's earring. The small feathered one that he takes special care of. The one that Four refuses to tell Legend the origin of, besides his cryptic, “From a friend.”

Legend would say that it was just the earring, but… but it isn’t.

Rather than being completely red with a white tip, Legend can see that this little feather is only mostly red. Right before the tip, a darker red plumage takes over, followed by purple and blue and green.

Also, rather than being attached to the small, golden chain and stud Four uses to fasten the jewelry to his earlobe, it’s attached to a body.

A very, very small body.

By now, Twilight has let go of his sleeve, but Legend both doesn’t notice and doesnt care, all of his attention fixed on the little creature before his eyes.

From what he can tell, the little creature is asleep, curled up in the bulb of the flower, his feather tail tucked up near his nose for warmth. Looking past the plumage, Legend can see that the little guy has a very rat-like face, complete with a small, twitching pink nose, long whiskers and–because the creature is shivering– long, chattering rodent incisors. Oval shaped ears stick out from the creature's head, a mix between mouse-like and Hylian.

And framing those ears is shoulder length, soaking wet blonde hair.

Blonde hair held out of the little guy's face by a green headband.

And…

And he’s wearing the smithy’s tunic?

“... Four?” Legend whispers in amazement.

And just saying the other’s name out loud is like a spell because suddenly Legend can see all signs. The little guy has Four’s bag over his shoulder and the Four Sword at his hip. That same magic that was by the stump– the not-fairy, fairy magic– completely surrounds him, dusting him in the same way he is currently dusted in yellow pollen.

“Is that you, Smithy?” Legend asks a little louder.

But rather than startle awake, the small creature– Four, Legend reminds himself– simply hunkers down more fully into the flower, curling up more fully as his shivers increase.

“He must have transformed in order to speak with the Minish around here.”

Twilight’s voice, even though it is a whisper, gives Legend a start. He hadn’t realized the other had transformed, nor had he seen the farmhand crouch down by his side.

The other isn’t looking at him as he speaks, cool blue eyes instead locked on the fitfully sleeping smithy, face concerned.

“He once told me that the Minish are insatiable gossips. He must have transformed to try and find us.”

The concern on the farhand’s face darkens the longer he stares.

“He must have been caught out in the storm,” Twilight says grimly.

Legend tries to imagine what that would be like. To be the size of a mouse and out in a storm. Tries to imagine what it would feel like for gale force winds to pull at drag at him, crushing him into the dirt one moment and yanking off his feet the next. Tries to imagine dodging back and forth between tulips, avoiding the head sized, stone cold rain drops pelting down from the sky

It's not a pretty pictograph, he’ll admit.

And ugh, Legend really isn't a fan of what it's making him consider.

He spares another glance at Four.

And fuck, the little guy shivers and shivers and shivers until the fower he is sleeping in is shaking with it.

And then, he sneezes, the sound coming out tiny and squeaky and weak.

Son of a bitch.

With a sigh that is as weary and reluctant and annoyed as he can possibly force it to be even though the vetran is feeling none of those things, Legend takes hold of the flower near its stem. As gently as possible, he digs his nails into the soft green there, cutting the flower from the ground while keeping it intact.

He hands it to Twilight, who takes it from him with gentle, if slightly confused hands.

With one hand, Legend flips open his shoulder bag. With the other, he rips his hat from his head with a motion probably a tad more violent than is really called for. He arranges the hat inside the bag, making sure to cover his items with the soft fabric while also shaping a soft bed.

Without looking up from his work, Legend extends a hand out to Twilight.

Makes a grabbing motion when what he wants isn't immediately in his hand.

After a second, Twilight slowly places the stem of the flower back in Legend’s hand and the Veteran gently lowers it in the small nest he had created, making sure the bulb sits in a place both shielded from the sun and extra comfortable thanks to the extra fabric padding beneath it.

In one smooth motion, Legend takes a hold of the strap of his bag, pulls it carefully off of his shoulder, and places it on the other side of Twilight’s neck.

And then, he reaches down and touches the dark stone hanging from the necklace around the farmhand’s throat, letting the darkness flock around and consume him.  

When Legend blinks open his eyes, Twilight is looking down at him smugly.

He is looking down farther than usual.

Also looking smugger than usual.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, shaking out his fur before hopping on all fours to get closer to the bag.

“I didn’t say anything,” Twilight replies, not bothing to wipe the smug look off his stupid face even as he lowers the bag to the ground for easier access.

“Yeah you did,” Legend hisses quietly as he clambers carefully into the satchel, settling down the nest of leather and items and hat.

He pulls the flower closer to his side where it is warm.

Inside, he can feel as Four’s shivers begin to lessen.

"Cute," Twilight laughs from above them.

"Fuck you," Legend whisper spits, though he makes no move to push Four's flower away. If anything, he pulls it closer when he hears the smaller hero start to make small, chittering snores, surprised the smithy could sleep through such a racket.

Twilight, thankfully, doesn't comment, instead pulling the top of the bag loosely closed to give them some shade. Then, Legend feels as he gently lifts the satchel back up, slings it slowly over his shoulder as to not disturb the contents inside, and begins walking, hopefully back in the direction of the forest.

Legend can still hear the farmhand laughing to himself from within the bag, but without the others' eyes on him, he finds he doesn't care.

The pollen still itches at his eyes and nose and Legend can still feel the pound of his sinuses even now.  But something about the shade and warmth and soft rocking of the bag makes it hard for him to mind.

Four gives a harty twitch, kicking a petal directly into Legend’s face.

And even that doesn't dissuade the veteran from his task.

Instead, Legend sighs and pulls Four even closer, relaxing despite the discomfort.

He’s got dirt on both Twilight and now Four, the two heroes with sticks most firmly inserted into their asses. He can get out of whatever chores and lectures they try to pin him with.

Yep, he thinks , distantly. That's why he did this.

For the blackmail.

And no other reason.

[poohkeepsee]

I was going through my AO3 bookmarks, and I wanted to organize them a little bit. These are my Dean/Cas canon-ish fic recs.

season 5

canticles  by  2street2car Words: 10,311     Chapters: 1

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

FTBYAM MY BELOVED

post season 6

Someone Who's Feeling For Me  by  ellispark  Words: 45,876     Chapters: 1

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

post bunker

Sun Can't Set Until Nine  by  LeverDrift Words: 67,939     Chapters: 16

Cas moves into the bunker as his powers start to fail. Dean doesn’t know if the arrangement is as permanent as he wants it to be. He's also not sure why he keeps dreaming about his friend. All he knows is that he wants Cas to stay. Overall warnings: canon-typical miscommunication & Dean having self-hatred issues.

Life Skills  by  ilovehowyouletmefall           Words: 26,052     Chapters: 3

After Metatron steals Castiel's grace, and Cas comes to live in the bunker, Dean spends a lot of time with him, sharing all of his favourite things. Dean can't help it if sharing things with Cas just makes everything better. Besides, it's Dean's job as Cas' friend to introduce him to the joys of human life. To teach him how to be human.  And if one of the experiences they end up sharing is sex with women, well... that's just part of Dean's job as Cas' friend too, right? The desire is triangulated, the rituals are intricate.

Sam Stole My Boyfriend  by  sobsicles    Words: 8,445     Chapters: 1

“Dude, you’ve been staring at me a lot lately, like even enough that Sam noticed. More than usual. So, like, what’s up?” Dean pauses, purses his lips and reconsiders. “What did I do?”

Cas knows that would be a perfect time to confess to Dean what exactly happened and what he was thinking. Maybe, Dean had some insight into the situation or even some kind of comfort to offer. But, the longer that he sat there, he realized that he could not tell Dean absolutely anything. So instead, for the first time, Cas fumbled.

“Um,” Cas mutters and abruptly stands. “Freckles?”

Dean blinked up at him as Cas pivoted and left the room. There was only one remaining option he had and unfortunately, it involved Sam.

Aching in the Absence of You  by  sobsicles Words: 95,090     Chapters: 10

Brittle and battle-worn, Cas looks at him over coffee one morning and says, "I need to go," and Dean instantly knows that he's not coming back.

He's not really sure how he knows it, but he does. It settles into the pit of his stomach, curling hot and tight like something he instinctively wants to tear out with his bare hands. He takes a breath, and it gets stuck in his throat, hitching there. It hurts, hurts, hurts when he finally exhales.

"Yeah," Dean says, "of course you do," and he nods jerkily as he looks down at his phone. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't look up from the screen when Cas gets up and leaves the room. He doesn't finish his coffee, or move for a long time.

By nightfall, Cas is gone.

'Communication'  by  JustAnotherSamlicker Words: 11,656

The same story told from two perspectives.

Dean bought a house and he and Cas fix it up.

Is Dean moving out? Is Cas moving in?

Should they just talk to each other already? (Yes they should)

Build a Home  by  domesticadventures Words: 20,102

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them.

He doesn't

season 10

The Most Important Thing  by  NorthernSparrow Words: 94,462     Chapters: 14

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

season 12

Heroes for Ghosts  by  pantheon_of_discord Words: 42,922     Chapters: 7

Canon-divergent from 12.08

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

season 13

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees)  by  sobsicles   Words: 74,173     Chapters: 8

Dean keeps going back.

When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains.

He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would.

He likes to talk.

There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time.

Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.

Trial and Tribulations of Raising a Nephilim  by  Sickandtiredofyou Words: 14,910   Chapters: 6

Dean has far too much on his plate, losing his mom, his best friend and now being a single parent to a newborn nephilim.

In which Jack is an actual newborn instead of a teenager.

post season 13

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination)  by  sobsicles           Words:     108,427     Chapters:     4

Freedom is just one adjustment after the next.

Cas hums again. "I think you already have. It's been months since everything settled. All that's left to do is...get used to it, and perhaps—" His voice stalls out, uncharacteristically, and his gaze roams Dean's face with intensity. When he speaks next, his tone is a little raw. "Perhaps what one does with peace is...whatever they want."

"What if I don't even know what that is?" Dean grumbles, arching an eyebrow in challenge. "'Cause I know damn well you don't just mean good food and a good bed and time in Baby, not simple wants like that. You mean—ya know, the big things, the wants we didn't get to have before."

"Yes," Cas agrees. "If you're not sure, figure it out."

"Easier said than done."

Reasons to read this:

Dean reads a story that ends like despair and his reaction is FUCK THAT

Cas wears Dean's hoodie

Jack is a toddler

The Jack and Claire sibling energy we deserve

Eileen being awesome and pulling pranks with Dean while Sam thinks she's an angel

Sam knows

YOUR HONOR THEY'RE IN LOVE

First Date  by  aeli_kindara Words: 8,968    Chapters: 1

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

Also known as the Dean Winchester makes the first move fic.

season 14

Broken Road  by  thegeminisage Words:     109,629     Chapters:     7

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

post season 15

fools and pilgrims  by  lagaudiere Words: 31,904     Chapters: 2

Claire shows up at the bunker a day before Dean was planning to leave, with her hair cut short and a fresh tattoo on her left arm under a bandage. Chuck is dead, Jack has given up his godlike powers, and Cas is back from the Empty, which doesn't make it any easier for Dean to talk to him. Suddenly finding himself in a world without monsters, supernatural forces, or any need for hunters, Dean's solution is to go on a road trip. Claire tags along.

Dean-Claire mirror fic post Despair

what's missing is found (our souls can exhale now)  by  sobsicles Words: 27,403

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

canon(?) au  (Hunters and Men of Letters)

Dean Winchester's Secret (Angel) Boyfriend  by  reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent Words: 11,191     Chapters: 1

Dean Winchester isn't exactly a team player. So when he starts mentioning a new Hunting partner, Ellen and Jo Harvelle aren't sure whether they should be worried or relieved.

But they're starting to get the feeling there's something important Dean's not telling them about Cas...

Shot Through The Heart  by  peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim) Words: 11,191     Chapters: 1

Dean is a hunter.

Castiel is a Man of Letters.

And even though they have to work together on a regular basis, there is not much sympathy between them. Castiel thinks Dean too brash and reckless while Dean in return sees nothing more in the other man than a rude asshole with an obsessive love for books and a truly terrible fashion sense.

But fate clearly has a funny way of throwing those two together over and over again.

And somewhere along the way feelings change into something neither of them would have expected.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.03

10/21/2020

Garden of Delights

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,411

Warnings: angst, jealousy, talks of death, talk of sickness, infant sickness, neglect, fluff

A/N: As I said, writing itself right now. lol I’m not really sure how long this story will be. I have the basic premise set and a small plot, but if I choose to make this around the size of Pseudo Princess, I’ll have to come up with a bigger plot than the simple one I’ve got. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I know I certainly loved writing it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Seriously, Thor doesn’t reblog as easily as Bucky or Steve on tumblr, so I TRULY appreciate it.

Please do not RESPOST any of my works on other sides or blogs.

REBLOGS always welcome!

You’re still laughing gently, hiding your chewing behind your hand.

“Stop.” You plead, looking across the table at Thor.

Both of you seated on opposite heads of the table. To your left is Loki, smirking with no shame at the stories just relayed. To your right is Brunnhilde, sipping her wine…well, guzzling would be more apt.

She’s teetering left and right, elbow on the table as she shakes her head at Loki across from her.

They lock eyes and Loki scoffs, “Don’t pretend as if you didn’t want to stab him too when you first met him.”

“I never said I didn’t!” She argues, plopping her glass down a little too hard and the glass makes a loud clink that draws everyone’s gaze.

“Why did you want to stab him?” You ask her, reaching for your own glass of regular wine. Thor had promised that you didn’t want to try the Asgardian mix.

“You won’t wake for a week. Trust me, Your Highness.” He’d been super proper, and it was a little annoying, but you understand why he’s being so careful. He wants to impress everyone, especially the two who sit beside him.

To his left sits a woman, absolutely drop dead gorgeous with creamy moon skin and raven hair. She’s certainly one to watch out for as Brunnhilde had said.

She hasn’t smiled once since she gave you a small stiff grin as Thor had introduced you.

Even now she watches you, her hand resting on the table, a little too close to Thor’s hand for comfort.

Her fingers seem to be inching their way towards his and you feel the beginning bite of fangs in your mouth at the thought of her hating you because she wants Thor for herself.

This also makes you sad because you don’t meet women who are as unique as she, but Lady Sif has drawn a line and you find yourself on one side with Thor while she watches from the other, despising your very existence for taking the man she covets.

On Thor’s right is a man with his dark hair in dreads. Beautiful amber eyes stand bright against his dark skin, and the luxurious gray armor he wears, sits pretty on his muscular form. To his own right is a sword, placed between him and Loki.

He looks less amused by the story Loki and Thor just told them but when he meets your gaze, his eyes betray an amusement. Heimdall, protector of the Asgardian borders, has a soft spot for his King and his friends.

“To put it short,” Brunnhilde begins, popping her lips as she lifts her wine to her lips again, eyes locked on Thor. “He’s a bit of a doofus.”

Thor’s burst of booming laughter in infectious and you laugh too, just as Loki, Brunnhilde, and even Heimdall chuckles along gently.

Lady Sif is the only one who doesn’t laugh but merely smiles as she look at Thor as he shakes his head overwhelmed with amusement.

You know what she sees, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes are endearing. The sparkle of his one blue eye. The loveliness of his golden bearded face all stretched into a stunning smile.

“I am not a doofus!” He protests, then clears his throat and taps his fingers against the table as he makes his face as serious as he can manage. “What way is that to speak of your King?”

Brunnhilde throws her head back outrageously tickled by his words.

“You may be my King, but that does not make you any less of a doofus than before you earned your crown.” She throws at him and Thor laughs again, shaking his head as you quietly chuckle with them, loving this exchange and the ease at which they seem to be.

“What about that made you want to stab him?” You ask her, everyone’s gaze drawn to you and Lady Sif’s smile vanishing.

“Well, you’ll just have to wait and see.” Brunnhilde teases. “My condolences. Being married to this buffoon will be a true test of your character.”

Although her words are said as a joke, your heart gives a small lurch as you meet Thor’s gaze again, and this time he holds it, his own face falling a little to only a soft smile as both of you replay the conversation in the hallway once again.

“I’ll just have to try my best.” You tell her, a small shrug of your shoulder. “He seems alright so far. No major red flags. Besides the obvious.”

Thor’s smile is completely gone now, his brow furrowed as he continues to stare at you, his breathing a little deeper. A little more labored.

You’re nervous as you speak, voice shaking a little as your heart pounds and aches.

“What’s that?” Loki asks, also serious suddenly, picking up on the tension between you and Thor.

It might seem like you’re letting it go on too long on purpose, using it to make everyone uncomfortable, but really you just have to find the strength to speak as your nerves begin to get the better of you.

“Well,” You begin, voice still shaking. “I mean, look at him.”

And they all do.

“He’s also been really nice to me.” You admit, because aside from the unanswered question in the hallway, Thor has treated you respectfully, politely, with genuine concern and compassion…so far. “I think the deal was that I’m supposed to marry him and it’s alright if I don’t love him but, how long can I really resist?”

Brunnhilde scoffs, purging the atmosphere for everyone else of what you’re saying allowing them to relax and laugh at your strange way of telling them you find Thor attractive.

“At least your worries about your wife not liking you are assuaged.” Heimdall claps Thor on the shoulder, visibly shaking his body, but Thor’s intense gaze is on you alone.

Swallowing hard, you reach for your wine glass and take a deep drink, so conscious of Thor’s stare.

Dinner goes on just as it began and before long, Thor is back to laughing and chatting while your own attention is given to Loki and Heimdall whenever he remembers something he’s wants to ask.

When all plates are cleaned and glasses sit empty, dinner officially over, Sif turns hard eyes on you.

“So, I hear that you don’t have parents.” The interest is forced. She couldn’t care less about you or your life.

“Yeah,” You nod. “Um, they died a few months after I was born. Plane accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Heimdall laments kindly.

Beside you, Brunnhilde has her head in her hand, elbow on the table, eyes shut and mouth slightly open.

She’d just been talking so this is new.

“Thank you, but I don’t remember them. My only sorrow comes from never having a family.” You admit. “I grew up in a school—well, really it was an orphanage, but it was run much like a private school with uniforms that the government provided along with a minimal education. I attended until I became a legal adult and my lawyer, came to give me my inheritance.”

“Why weren’t you adopted?” Sif asks, her voice full of well-hidden venom that you can hear only because you know to look for it, her hand is inching towards Thor’s again and while he’s not your husband yet, the urge to stake claim over it is strong.

The way she asks also makes you feel as if she’s waiting to see exactly what is wrong with you. What can she use against you?

You smile, a smirk really, knowing what she’s up to.

You’re not unkind, but you bristle when attacked and Sif is making it easy for you to be defensive.

Searching within yourself for the strength to keep yourself calm, you take a deep breath before you answer.

“I wasn’t a healthy baby. I was sick, all the time. There was even a night my fever became so high that the doctors were sure that I would be left with brain damage. So, they watched me grow, expecting defects, but I got sick less and less the older I got.

“My speech and motor functions were top tier, and my learning capabilities were also fine.”

Everyone is silent, watching you with somber expressions. You’re a little on edge with them paying you such close attention, but this was the point of the dinner. To get to know each other.

“Unfortunately, potential parents were warned about the possible challenges I might face as I grew older, which put many of them off. While they wanted an infant, they didn’t want one that was broken.”

“I’m sorry for their ignorance.” Heimdall offers. “Clearly you grew up to be a lovely woman, but even if you had not, I’m saddened by their lack of compassion.”

You can only smile at him, having come to terms with the facts of your childhood long ago.

“Anyway, that’s why no one adopted me. So, a true family is something I’ve never had. I’m…” You blink, wondering how honest you want to be here. “I think it’s one of the things I’m looking forward to most. After tonight, I’m more convinced than before that this is will be a good environment to build a family. You’re all so nice.”

Loki, Brunnhilde—who’s awake again—and Heimdall are smiling. Lady Sif sits stiffly, her hands pulled onto her lap as she keeps her eyes locked on the empty plate in front of her.

Your heart stutters as you meet Thor’s eyes again. Staring deep into the single blue orb still locked on you.

“As conflicted as my past with the people in this room has been, I promise you, that is the right decision.” Loki assures you, a peaceful smile on his face that somehow comforts any misgivings you’ve been having.

At least about the people you’ll be around daily.

Your conversation with Thor in the hallway is a different matter, and one that you really want to finish.

“Well,” Brunnhilde slaps her hands on the table, rising to her feet with a little sway. “I think that’ enough pleasant conversation for me. I am tired-”

“And drunk.” Loki adds.

“-And that.” She agrees. “I need some sleep. So, Y/N, Your Royal Highness this has truly been a pleasure. I will be by in the morning to see you about wedding arrangements. Not too early though, you know—”

She steps out from in front of her chair, already walking towards the door large double doors.

Heimdall rises too, then Loki, Thor, and Lady Sif.

You stand last, fixing your dress as you do, making sure it isn’t stained. Luckily, it isn’t.

“This has indeed been illuminating.” Heimdall agrees, moving over to you to take your hand and press a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “Your Highness, it has been a true pleasure. I look forward to getting better acquainted with you.”

Loki is smiling, standing by the door but then he turns his eyes on Lady Sif.

“A word, Sif?” She looks at him, freezing beside Thor where she’d already begun to take his arm to pull his attention. “It won’t take long.”

With a sigh, she gives you one look before moving out the door in a huff, Heimdall following. Loki gives Thor a nod, something silent passes between them. With one final nod to you as well, Loki leaves.

“I really am very sorry that Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun could not join us. Unfortunately, the Warrior’s Three are highly sought throughout the galaxies.” Thor says, moving towards you with calm slow steps. “They should be back for the wedding though.”

“I’m excited to meet them. Everyone was so kind.” You observe. “Well, almost.”

Thor looks confused, stopping just at the corner of the table beside you, his fingers nervously tracing the shape of the edge.

“Seriously? You didn’t notice?” You shake your head, somehow finding it funny. “I think Brunnhilde might be right about you being a doofus.”

Thor laughs once, blows a quick raspberry in denial at your conclusion. “Why do you say that?”

“Thor, Lady Sif hates me.” You point out, it’s so obvious to you and was obvious to Loki too at least.

“No.” Thor shakes his head.

“She kept trying to grab your hand! She kept glaring daggers at me.” You sigh. “She’s in love with you.”

“Sif is like a sister.” Thor tells you, as if this negates her feelings as well.

“She’s still in love with you.”

Thor sighs. “I’ll speak with her.”

“Don’t bother. I think Loki’s beating you to it.”

“Walk with me?” He asks, and your heart goes into sudden arrest.

Fingers nice and tingly, you swallow the lump in your throat. “What?”

“I would like it very much if you walked with me for a while. The night is not over yet, and despite the exhaustion of my court, it’s not actually that late yet. The gardens my people have cultivated for the palace are beautiful. I’d love to show them to you.” He offers his hand, waiting patiently for you to take it but you can only gawk at him.

“Isn’t it cold outside?” You ask, on edge.

Thor drops his hand. “Oh, right. Estrid?”

She’s already waiting by the door, auburn hair looking slightly disheveled.

“Ah, Estrid.” Thor smiles, big dopey grin on his face. “Oh, your hair…”

He gestures and she quickly fixes it.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” She gasps.

“No, no. Just looked funny.” He eases her, and she calms instantly, smiling bashfully. “Can you fetch Her Highness a jacket?”

Estrid turns and rushes from the room but returns only seconds later with a long navy cloak. It isn’t a jacket, but it will match your dress nicely.

“That’s not a jacket.” You observe, feeling self-conscious.

Thor takes it from her and holds it open for you. There’s a clasp around the throat that will sit against your collarbone. “It’s a cloak. It’ll keep you just as warm as a jacket.”

You turn for him and he slips it over your shoulders, holding it until you turn to face him then he quickly fastens the clasp.

“Better?” He checks, fixing it around you.

You can’t find your voice to answer. Heart is racing. Damn him. This isn’t going to work if he keeps being sweet.

He offers you his arm and you hesitate, timidly wrapping your hand around the lower part of his large bulky bicep again.

“Wonderful.” He smiles wide. “Estrid, Her Highness will be in later, please prepare her bedroom so that she might go to sleep as soon as we return.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She curtsies quickly then turns and rushes out to get your room ready.

“She doesn’t have to do that.” You tell him, turning to watch her flee. “I can make my own bed and stuff.”

“It’s her job.” Thor tells you. “Will you take it from her?”

You think about it carefully, and despite the fact that  Thor is a warrior and has travelled around the world sleeping in terrible places with no comforts at times, you understand in this moment that having servants is something he’s used to.

“No.” You realize and make a mental note to let these people do their work without putting up too much of a fight.

Thor leads you off down a side door into another dark wooden hallway with beautiful cobbled floors beneath your feet with a long carpet running its length. No one seems to be walking around in this hallway which makes you think it’s more secluded.

“Did David tell you I like flowers?” You check, wondering how much information Thor has about you.

“No? I didn’t know that though. That makes this even better.” He realizes.

You lapse into silence, hand trembling around his bicep as your mind replays the last two hours, picking apart every moment, every word shared, and every lingering look Thor had given you.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” Thor asks, his voice much lower, quieter.

It’s an intimate volume and it startles you, giving you a little bit of a delay in your response.

You meet his eyes and he’s staring right at you, soft smile stretched across his lips. It’s more a peaceful expression, calming.

And yet, it has the opposite effect on you, and you gasp a little as you catch your breath. Your heart is pounding through your ribcage.

“It was good.” You nod, looking towards the large stone archway up ahead. One of the doors stands open, the Norwegian night beyond.

You can see a splash of beautiful green beyond and can already hear the soft tinkling of flowing water from what is probably a fountain.

“And the conversation?” He asks, tilting his head to one side as he gives it better thought. “Aside from Sif.”

“They were all super nice, Thor.” You smile, honestly grateful to Loki, Brunnhilde, and Heimdall for their warm welcome. “I wish Lady Sif had been more open. She’s been fighting at your side for a long time, right?”

“She has.” Thor nods, as the two of you break through the doorway and you’re greeted with an elegant garden larger than even the circular room you’d first met with Thor in.

Your jaw drops and you stop walking, gaping at the collection of flora and fauna each piece delicately pruned and cared for. There are certainly several small fountains, dark gray with small underwater lights to provide the garden with diffused illumination.

Despite the chilly night, the garden makes you feel warm with flowers of every color. Roses in white and red, lilies with stunning white, carnations in pink, wine, cream, yellow, and purple. Throughout the roses are smaller pink flowers you don’t know but they’re adorable and the fragrance in this garden is intoxicating.

“Wow.” You whisper.

“You like it?” Thor asks, smiling a little wider as he waits for you to take your long look.

“It’s beautiful.” You nod.

“Come.” He pulls you along gently, urging you to walk again.

You follow, your hand sturdier around his arm. “Do you like gardens too?”

Thor nods. “My mother used to cherish her garden. When we arrived, it was the first thing I had commissioned. They were finished building it before they even finished the palace.”

“She passed?” You wonder, looking up at the echo of sadness in his eyes.

“A while ago.” Thor nods. “I miss her counsel. She was always the voice of reason and logic in my life.”

“I’m sorry.” You offer, hoping it’s a comfort.

You reach up with your other hand, wrapping it around his arm too.

He looks down at you, eyes searching, confused? But his smile never wavers. “Thank you.”

The two of you lapse into silence again, you busy looking at every flower you pass in admiration, Thor lost in thought.

“I’m going to miss my herb garden.” You lament with a sigh.

“You had an herb garden?” Thor wonders, turning his attention back to you.

“Just a small one. I only had some rosemary and thyme. I wanted to grow some mint, parsley, basil, and dill but I didn’t get the chance.”

Thor stops walking, gently shakes his arm to make your hand slide down along his forearm. As it falls, you takes hold of it.

You’re startled, but you don’t pull away, your mind devouring the information you can gleam from this moment as quickly as it can.

His hand is warm. No…it’s hot. Like he’s had it shut for a long time. The skin is a little rough, calloused, but not uncomfortable. You can just imagine the battles he must have fought. His hand is so big. Fingers wrapped softly around yours. He gives it a squeeze and you feel it in your core that this isn’t going at all how you planned.

You almost want to run to your room and hide under your blankets with the speed at which you can feel yourself dropping your guard to him.

The plan had been to marry him, never love him, and live your life as best you can and probably take a lover at some point. You should be able to love too.

But it isn’t supposed to be Thor. You’re not supposed to fall for him.

You remind yourself of his refusal to be honest with you. You remind yourself that his heart is already given and accepted. Jane loves him too, even if she won’t marry him to prevent him from marrying someone else.

You can understand why she can’t give up her life to take on this one. It’s a lot to ask of anyone.

It helps you grasp onto reality, to remember the conversation before dinner and his inability to commit to honesty when It comes to Jane.

“I have something to show you.” He tells you and pulls you down the length of the garden until you reach a greenhouse.

Thor releases your hand and throws the doors open before holding his hand out for you to take again.

You do, and he pulls you into the narrow but long space. Each side is lined with planter boxes, each box holds a different herb, including all of the ones you mentioned before, and some you have never seen before.

“What is this?” You gasp, reaching for a particularly strange one in a deep blue, almost black color.

“It’s the Asgardian version of lavender.” He tells you, placing his other hand over the one you’re reaching out for it with. “But it stings a little for humans to touch with bare hands. There are garden glove in the box by the door if you want to cut some for your room later. It smells wonderful. My mother used to keep some on her desk.”

“I can take some?” You gasp, turning to look up at him and he’s standing so damn close, you shrink in surprise.

“Of course.” He smiles at you, “This is your home now. Anything in these gardens is yours to have.”

He’s so fucking nice! You hate him.

You’re too stunned by his proximity to speak, hands twitching under his own. He seems to realize what’s got you tongue-tied because he takes a step and one hand back but keeps hold of the other.

“I wanted to talk with you, it’s why I’ve brought you here.” He pulls you along, and you give the herb garden one final look before he shuts the doors and moves back towards the center of the garden.

There you find several white marble benches around a small manmade pond, surrounded by more flowers.

Thor leads you to one of these benches, then extends a hand towards it so that you’ll sit.

You do, nervous suddenly as he sits beside you, taking his hand back for the first time since he began to show you the garden.

“You’re making me nervous.” You admit, your mouth moving before you can stop it. Anxious is not a good state for you.

“No.” He assures you, shaking his head, full of concern. “No, please don’t be nervous. I only wanted to continue our conversation from before dinner.”

“Oh.” You nod, expecting to be denied the honesty you want.

How will you use his refusal to do it as an excuse to not fall for him if he agrees to it?

“You’re right.” He nods, turning in the seat to face you a little better, your body mirroring his.

“I am?”

“Yes.” He takes a long deep breath. “After everything that was said during dinner, after watching my friends meet with you and get to know you, I realize that you’re right in what you say. I am asking a lot from you. More than I care to admit.”

Your mouth is suddenly dry.

“Did you mean what you said?” He whispers, a trace amount of uncertainty in his deep voice.

“What did I say?” You ask, voice not as quiet but still a little breathless.

“About falling for me?”

“Oh.” Your brain goes fuzzy and your heart is probably going to burst through your chest like in that one horror movie you watched as a kid.

“Truth is, I chose you because you were different.” He nods. “Not, different from regular humans. Most of them are very much like you, which is great. I love humans. But compared to the other ladies that came to meet for this purpose, I…if I’d wanted someone who would turn a blind eye while I and Jane continued to see each other, then I should have chosen one of them.

“They knew what was expected, as did you, but I didn’t consider how the difference in you would affect your own responses.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me anymore?” You ask timidly, feeling a rush of emotions all mixing together, turning into confusion.

You’re almost happy that he doesn’t want you anymore. You won’t have to marry him and deal with Jane and a life of standing by watching him be with someone else while the world thinks you’re together.

Another part of you, the part that’s already out of your control—even though you’ll never admit it—can’t help but feel depressed that he’ll be married to someone else.

“No!” Thor rushes to assure you, sliding over closer so that he can take your hand again, his knee touching yours. “No, that’s not at all what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that I understand what you meant. I know why you were upset. I’m sorry that I did not consider this whole thing more carefully from your perspective.”

You feel a wave of relief and know you’re screwed. It’s already too late.

“But I need you to answer my question.” He says.

Your eyes go wide at the audacity of this man as you laugh because it’s so funny of him to need that of you when he couldn’t return the favor before. “You didn’t answer mine!”

He smiles, chuckling. “Answer mine first.”

As you consider him, blue eye staring at you with no restraint for the way his gaze makes you feel, your mood grows somber, all traces of your laugh gone.

“Yes.” You sigh. “I’ve never been in love before.”

You shrug.

“And it’s not like you’re not…I mean…You know damn well what you look like.” You growl.

Thor laughs, throwing his head back.

“And then you come in with that voice and you’re not rude or…I mean, you were a little mean with the whole asking me to put up with being married and having no love in it. Like, I get that it might be normal for royals or whatever, but I’m not really royal. I haven’t lived in a palace with servants and a crown on my head.

“I grew up in an orphanage with no friends. No one has ever loved me. My parents loved me, I think, but they died and no one has cared about me like that since. Even now, the only person on my side is David, and I know he only stuck around because he felt bad for me. He’s also getting paid by my estate, so…there’s that.

“I’m not asking you to love me. I know that you love someone else, but I was only asking for you to be open with me about it. If you want to meet Jane, fine. Meet her. But do it somewhere that I can’t see. Do it but tell me that’s where you’ll be so that even if rumors fly in my ear that Thor is meeting with his mistress, it won’t hurt as much. It won’t make me feel as stupid, because I already know that’s where you are.”

Thor’s hand over yours grows tighter, his face lamenting for who knows what reason, because you’re not in his head but you can see that he feels bad which is stupid and you hate him for it because it means he cares.

You only just met him but with every passing moment in his presence, you fall more and more. It’s not love yet. You know that. It can’t be a crush because you know him too well. You like him. You’ll admit that.

“To answer your question more clearly,” You take a deep breath, exhaling quickly to wipe away the excess of emotion that surged forward suddenly. “Yes. I meant it. I don’t love you now, but I think I could.”

Thor nods, looking down at your hand, turning it over in his own.

The silence feels endless! He won’t speak, but his thumb keeps caressing your hand and you kinda wanna bite him for it.

“If my mother were here, she’d be disappointed in me. She’d tell me that I should let go of Jane. She met her, and while she liked her but…We are clearly moving along different paths and as much as I love her, she is not the one for me. Not anymore. My mother would definitely think so.

“I think she would have really liked you.” He admits, and his words give you comfort. “She would have called me a fool to pass up such a sweet and level-headed woman.”

“I’m not that level-headed.” You confess. “I’ve got anxiety issues sometimes.”

Thor smiles.

“I think she would have been right.”

Wait, is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“I will talk with Jane tomorrow to…to break things off. It won’t be the first time for us to part ways and I think in the long run it will be better for us both.”

“Thor, you don’t have to-”

“But I do.” He nods, meeting your eyes. “I need to let go of my past to embrace my future. And that’s you and New Asgard. It’s my people.”

“I want this marriage to work.” He continues. “I chose you and I meant that choice. Out of all the women I met, your picture of an ideal marriage was the closest to mine. It would make me happy to live that life with you.”

You’re breathless, chest heaving as you struggle to find a coherent thought.

Thor seems to realize that you’re struggling because he places your hand on your lap, tapping it gently before scooting back a little to give you space.

He’s so fucking massive! How is it possible that this is seriously your life? This God will be your husband. You’re going to have his kids?!

Your cheeks burn, neck burns, ears burn, legs suddenly clenched together as the fear from before runs quickly through your mind.

They’d wanted a maiden and they got one. Will he talk about it with you later? You can’t bear to talk about it now. You’re too embarrassed and overwhelmed by what he’s saying.

“So,” He starts, rising to his feet to tower over you. Then he falls, gliding gently onto one knee before reaching into his pants to pull from his pocket a small brown pouch.

He opens it, turns it over, and into his hand tumbles a shining silver ring.

“I chose this before I knew you liked flowers but now that I know, it makes me glad I picked it.” He smiles, “It just made me think of you when I went searching so, I hope you like it.”

He grabs it with two fingers, pinching the thin band delicately to hold it upright so that you can see the stunning design. A round diamond rests in the middle, shining brilliantly at the center of what looks like a lotus flower made of smaller diamonds filling its leaves.

You hate him because you absolutely love this ring. You love the sight of him on his knee in front of you. You love the way he scoots closer so that he can hold your hand easier as he gently straightens it and presses the ring to the tip of your finger.

“Will you marry me, Y/N? Will you be my Queen?” He asks, and you’re so silent, he grows visibly nervous. “Please?”

You laugh at the hitch in his voice, the plea there.

“Yes, stupid.” You laugh again.

He chuckles as he slips the ring on your finger, then after a moment of hesitation, he hooks his hand behind your neck and pulls you down to meet his lips.

Eyes wide, heart stopped, you freeze as hot lips fry your nervous system.

[deltas-writing-corner]

Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

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AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn��t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

[votederpycausemufins]

I wonder what people think of the NSMP so far, and how they think of it at the end of the chapter, and just what people think in general

@petrichormeraki the hermit Tommy people and @helleborusangel the online friendo with great rambles!

“So, how are things with Grian?” Grifter looked up as someone sat at the table he was working at.

“Surprisingly well.” Grifter replied. “It took about a day to get him used to standard weapons again, which isn’t too bad. He’s still worried about respawning, which is an obvious fear. Oh, and I’m hoping he’ll be able to hang out with Flora today!”

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea. I know there aren’t many young hermits, so if he’s able to hang with anyone his age- hey maybe I should end lessons early.”

Grifter looked up at the other Listener. “End lessons early? You mean for just one, or both of the kids?”

The Listener shrugged. “Both obviously. Vee probably wants a break as much as their sister, so wouldn’t be fair to give one a break and not the other.”

“You’re not sending Vee to the NSMP, right?” Grifter asked, trying not to have any worry in his voice, and if there was, he quickly tried covering it up. “I mean, I haven’t gotten everything over there fixed. They’re all still used to how Nightmare ran it. And I haven’t gotten around one of the things he put in there.”

The Listener chuckled. “No! Of course not. If I could keep Astrid from wanting to visit, I would. I mean, it sounds like you’d like her to come over for Grian. I could try keeping her out if you want but-”

Grifter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, rebellious teen who’s also got magic. Been there, done that. Speaking of, how long have they been training?”

The Listener perked up at that. “Astrid’s been going for one year and twelve days, and yesterday was Vee’s mark for one year. I got each of them a present of course since it’s pretty much like a birthday and all.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, I think I have a little present for them as well. In the middle of everything yesterday, a Watcher was having a one year party.”

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Though Grian found it easiest to learn and use a sword for pretty obvious reasons. Instead, he kept an axe out. Apparently it could be as powerful or even more dangerous than a sword to the point that a number of people used it as a preferred weapon. It was a bit heavy for him, but to be honest, all of the tools felt a bit heavy in his hands. Gym class didn’t really have the best setup for using stuff like this.

He set his axe down for a few moments to let his arms rest as he pulled out his communicator. Sense apparently needed to fix it up so it would work in this time or something. Seeing as how it was working and even looked upgraded, it looked like the man had succeeded. Grian checked his coordinates, moving it from side to side to figure out which way was which as the numbers changed in real time. He was pretty sure at this point he was very lost, since he was used to streets and maps and not open land and coordinates. The only real street was near the castle, and it didn’t even last that long until it turned into what was practically rubble.

While Grian knew he could just stay in the castle since rooms were offered, part of him wasn’t thrilled at the idea of having to be stuck with what would essentially be roommates again. Especially if he could live elsewhere without having to pay rent. He would have to build his own place and gather the materials for it himself, but he had been interested in architecture and was thinking about going to college for it, and it seemed like it was easier to get the stuff he would need here.

He found a nice small tree to start with and pushed leaves out of the way for a good place to start chopping. When he did, Grian was surprised to find his axe chopping through the wood like it was warm butter, taking a chunk out of it in two swings. After that, he nearly fell over in surprise when he realized the tree was still standing, but after getting back up and feeling the tree to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, Grian could feel a hint of magic there, keeping the tree floating in the air.

Not wanting to leave it there, Grian started to tear down the rest of the tree, glad to see that the leaves were falling on their own since he didn’t want to deal with them too. Since one tree had been easy enough, Grian started on another, and then another. He took breaks between every few trees, not used to the amount of work even if the axe made it easy. But he was too busy during those breaks to catch the fiery orange color darting about in the shadows.

As Grian began to chop down another tree, he was stopped again as he was tackled from the side. In a panic, he swung his axe wildly, managing to hit whatever was attacking him by the sounds they made, but couldn’t be completely sure because he had his eyes closed. Finally, something grabbed his axe and yanked it away, pinning his arms down before he could grab anything else.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” A voice hissed from above him, and Grian nervously opened his eyes. He immediately focused on the person’s ears, which were definitely not human, but he sighed as he realized they didn’t belong to a rabbit. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to amuse the hybrid as they let go of his one arm and instead pressed their forearm against his neck. “What are you? A hunter?!”

Grian quickly shook his head. He would say something, but talking was pretty hard when being choked. He saw a tree out of the corner of his eye and then looked back and forth between the tree and the hybrid, hoping they would understand what he meant. While it seemed like they didn’t, they at least eased up on his neck, letting him breathe better and speak. “I was just getting supplies.” He wheezed out, taking a break to catch his breath. “Grifter said-”

“Grifter?” The hybrid asked in surprise, then let Grian go for a moment before grabbing him again. “Wait, explain why you look so much like him. How do I know you’re not lying about him. Are you even on his good side?”

“We’re relat-” Was all Grian got out before the arm was against his neck again. “Right, sure you are. How come I haven’t heard of you before? I mean, I know my family pretty well.”

Grian wracked his brain for some way, any way to get this person to leave him alone. He at the very least had access to one hand, since the arm trapping it before was now on his neck, but he had no way of knowing if the person would understand him. He used his pointer finger to point to the side, then crossed his fingers, put his hands into a fist with his pinky out, then a fist with his thumb to the side, then finally put his thumb between his middle and ring fingers while it was in a fist. He repeated that a few times before the arm on his neck pulled back slightly

“Gry-an?” The hybrid asked, and Grian winced, but nodded, pointing to himself. “Alright, and what about Grifter? Who is he to you?” And he was glad his arm was left free. He pointed to himself again, then brushed the side of his cheek twice with the back of his hand, then had his hand go forward, palm down. “Or really? Then where are your wings?” And grian shook his hand like he slammed it in something. “Oh.”

Finally the hybrid moved away, freeing Grian from the ground. He rubbed his neck, coughing a little. “I see what he said about me needing to train…”

“So Gryan, what are you doing around my place?” The hybrid asked, standing up, not offering a hand to Grian.

“It’s Grian, and I was just trying to gather supplies. Grifter said I could stay in the castle, but to be honest, I’d like a place of my own. I went looking and found this place, so I was going to collect some wood. I didn’t realize this place belonged to you. But I’m glad you know BSL.”

The hybrid raised an eyebrow. “BSL? You mean sign language?”

“Uh, yeah. Your accent didn’t quite sound British, so I was worried you might have used ASL, or something else.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A lot. There’s also the two handed alphabet, and I'm pretty sure the sign for future is different if hurt isn’t.” Grian explained, finally pushing himself up to his feet.

“I just used what I was taught by my Grandma.” the hybrid shrugged. “She said something like it was bonzel? Or something like that.”

“BANZSL?” Grian said, fingerspelling it at the same time. “I mean, essentially the same thing. It’s just easier to say BSL.”

“I don’t understand anything you just said, I just know I understand the way your hands move.”

“Good enough.” Grian nodded. “So, your forest? I guess I cut down too many trees, huh?”

The hybrid shook their head. “Pfft, no. I can just replant them. You were just in what I think of as my place, and I’m not a fan of unfamiliar people showing up.”

“And Grifter is… is he allowed or not?”

“Oh he’s definitely allowed.” The hybrid smiled. “Coolest uncle around and now the admin, why wouldn’t I want him hanging at my place?”

“Cool.” Grian smiled, but then his eyes widened. “Wait so I’m an uncle?!”

The hybrid shrugged. “I dunno. You’re from the past, right? I doubt I’m born yet for you- how old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“What the fuck, I’m older than you!” The hybrid exclaimed “Sort of. Long story. Short version is the old admin was a bitch.”

“So, does that mean you were born at that point?”

They rubbed their chin. “No, not yet. I’m trying to remember how old I was and how old dad was when I was adopted.”

“Oh, you were adopted?”

“I think. It’s easier than saying my real dad ran out on my mom and then she dated and married this new guy who’s now my dad.”

“Yeah, that does sound easier.”

“So, I don’t think I gave my name. I’m Fleur.”

Grian smiled and shook their hand. “Nice to meet you.”

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Mumbo wanted to find Grian and leave right now. He was pretty sure the others thought the same, but right now they were all split up. They had started to explore before EX had caught up to them. Before he could say why, they were soon attacked by a creeper hybrid going by the name Euro. Mumbo could tell it was obviously the same one that was Techno’s Hels version based on the way they fought, managing to go hand to hand with the piglin hybrid.

Even with that, Euro had been strong enough to keep them split up, and now Mumbo was worried about Grian and Grum. He was especially worried from the fact that they had been there for about a day and he hadn’t seen any sign of Grian or his hels copy. It also didn’t help that the mobs here seemed to be more powerful than the ones on hermitcraft, which caused even more problems. Even in the day, he was getting trouble from zombies and skeletons that were wearing helmets, protecting them from the sun.

An arrow nearly hit Mumbo, breaking him out of his thoughts and making him start to run so he could find new cover. He barely got a shield up in time to block an arrow before he dove into a cave and pulled out a spare redstone torch for some semblance of light. The redstoner backed up, hoping for a bit more cover, but then he bumped into something that was unmistakably someone else. He was about to scream, but then his mouth was covered by a hand, so he struggled instead.

“Calm down, it’s just me!” A voice spoke that was just a little too cheerful for the situation they were in. Mumbo stopped struggling and was let go, able to turn around and see Wilbur was in the cave with him.

“Oh thank goodness. I was worried I wasn’t going to find anyone else.” He looked Wilbur over. “How are you doing?”

“Well, once you’ve died once, the fear of dying again isn’t that bad, especially since we get respawns here.” Wilbur replied, not as chipper as before.

“Yes, but that’s only with respawn anchors, and last I checked, we weren’t linked up to any of those. And if we are, we don’t know where it is and if it's broken or not.”

“Hmm, that’s true.” Wilbur replied, tilting his head slightly in thought. “Well, I’m sure there’s something for if you die and don’t have one yet. I’m sure they wouldn’t make it that easy to actually die.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Mumbo conceded. “But we should still be careful.”

The pair prepared themselves to move out of the cave and get through the landscape, not as worried now that neither of them were completely alone. They were just about to leave when Wilbur grabbed Mumbo’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Wait, there was something I wanted to tell you.”

“What was that?” Mumbo asked, turning back to look at the other man, who seemed to currently be struggling with trying to remember. He remembered at the party hearing mention that Wilbur had still been struggling with his memory after officially being revived, so Mumbo was patient with the man.

“Techno… he mentioned something about when Grifter was in the Dream SMP. About Euro.”

“I think I remember overhearing a tad bit of that when you were both over for Grum’s party.” Mumbo replied. “Something about Grifter talking about his family.”

Wilbur nodded. “Yeah, it was… That’s what it was!” And he smiled, finally remembering, before frowning again at whatever he remembered. “That was Euro who attacked us, but from what I heard, Grifter bragged about him being some sort of coward. That seemed like the opposite of what we saw. Do you think it was a lie? Or maybe that was someone else.”

“I’m not sure.” Mumbo replied. “Maybe he was just using the element of surprise. If we see him again and attack, it could scare him.”

“You’re right, that’s probably it.” Wilbur agreed. “If we see him again, I’ll try attacking and he’ll run off, letting us look for the others.”

“You think they’re alright?”

Wilbur shrugged. “Depends on if any of them are with someone else or by themselves.”

“I guess that’s true. So, what can you tell me about the people from your world? It might help us know what to expect.”

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Grum smiled as he cut down another zombie, getting approval from Techno. The two of them had quickly found each other again after Euro split them up, mainly since Techno stayed behind to fight the hels smp’er, and Grum hid nearby. Since then, they fortunately hadn’t run into anyone else, but the longer they went without seeing anyone at all, the more suspicious it became.

“Do you think they’re planning an ambush?” Grum suggested, making Techno shrug.

“If it were me, I’d probably try that. But this isn’t the SMP I’m used to.”

“Yeah, but it also looks like this place is still pretty dangerous. Nightmare was just as bad as Dream… and Theseus wasn’t that nice either.”

“Could also be that the rest of them are just idiots and cowards.” Techno said, hoping to lighten the mood. “They see us out here slaying monsters left and right and know not to deal with us.” That seemed to work as Grum giggled a little. “They’ve seen true terror! A pig and a child, truly a force to be reckoned with.”

They were able to keep the mood up for a bit longer, but then Grum was feeling sad again. “I really hope my dad is okay. He got really hurt last time we saw Grifter. I did too…” And his screen flickered a little.

Techno noticed Grum’s distress and picked the bot up, putting him on his shoulders and trying to ignore chat’s cooing. “Yeah, well now you’ve got me, and Phil’s around here somewhere, so we can take him on.”

“Yeah, and we also have Paul.”

“Still not sure what his deal is, but chat seems to know something about him. They’re just shouting all over each other so I can’t tell what they’re talking about other than it being him.”

Grum nodded, quiet as they walked a bit, then he leaned down and looked at Techno. “Hey, maybe we can find out. He’s supposed to be a king, right?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Techno replied. “Why?”

Grum sat back up and crossed his arms, Techno lifting his own arms up worried that Grum was about to fall off his shoulders. “It’s more of a fortunately. I’ve got extra diamonds and you can use those so I can get access to my mayoral reservoirs.”

Techno stopped walking. “You sure that’s a good idea? How do we know it’ll even work for him? Or, you know, even work for you?”

“Well,” Grum conceded. “We don’t really know. I mean, we’re in a hels dimension, so I might not be able to access anything. Or it might crash again, though I think that was just your old admin’s fault.”

“Then let’s not risk it just yet. We don’t need to know about that and if it goes wrong, it will go really wrong and leave you out of commission.” Techno explained, starting to walk again, but then immediately stopped, only moving to bend down and set Grum down on the ground and grab his weapon.

Seeing what he did, Grum grabbed his own sword, ready to attack whatever Techno noticed. For a few moments, everything was completely quiet. Then, before either of them could react, both Grum and Techno were suddenly trapped in bedrock.

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Paul sliced through another group of mobs in the way, then helped Tommy up to the ledge he was on. Tommy had yet to even swing his sword with Paul tearing through anything in the way. At the very least he had been able to use a bow to shoot things down from afar, but Tommy prefered melee to ranged. The teen wouldn’t have been too frustrated if it weren’t also for the fact that the man was going out of his way to kill any chicken they saw as well.

“I still don’t fucking get why you keep killing chickens. Why do they matter?” Tommy asked, picking up some feathers left behind.

“All chickens are spies, or at least a good enough portion that it’s best to get rid of any you see.” Paul explained, suddenly swinging at a creeper that had snuck up on them. “They’ve been a problem for as long as I can remember. At first, I had know clue why, it was just a sort of gut feeling. Like I knew when I didn’t actually know.”

“Alright, and so you just took it as fact?” Tommy asked, rolling his eyes.

“Not, of course not.” Paul replied. “I mean, only dumb people would do that, and there’s three types of people in this world, those who can do math, and those who can’t.”

“Bitch that’s two types of people.”

Paul sighed and looked back at Tommy. “Yeah, that’s the joke.”

“Oh…”

“Anyway, one time I found one messing with my things. I thought it was just a fluke until it happened again. At this point, I was already in the show biz a bit, so I played along. I trapped the chicken and then started jokingly interrogating it. When it actually started writing its chicken scratch on a sign, I thought I was going crazy at first.”

“So, it was actually a spy?” Tommy asked, not fully believing him.

“Yeah, it was. And from there things started unravelling until I finally met Punch.”

Tommy frowned. “And Punch is your hels version?”

“As far as I can tell, yeah.” Paul affirmed. “Pablo Punchwood, god of unwilling death. Most people think of ravens, crows and vultures as birds signalling death, but chickens can be ruthless. Whoever thought of calling cowards chickens did not meet a real chicken.”

“Really? What harm could they do?” But Paul didn’t answer Tommy verbally. Instead, he pulled out a book bound with black leather and opened it, following along with a page. A moment later, a rift of a sort of camo green color opened in the air next to the pair, and Paul reached his hand in, pulling out what looked like a dead mouse. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Think of it like a sort of multiworld enderchest.” Paul explained, though still not answering Tommy’s question about the chicken. When they next encountered some monsters, Paul had them take a more covert route, hiding instead of fighting.  Finally, they reached a pair of chickens while the pair of them crouched in the grass. Paul pulled the rat out again, then bit at the inside of his cheek a bit before using the blood from the wound he caused to put blood on the rat.

Tommy watched as the man then threw the animal towards the chickens, surprised by how quietly it went through the air. Then it landed and caught the attention of the chickens, who then started pecking at the creature. After a few seconds, Tommy looked away, not able to stomach what he saw.

“So, that’s chickens for you. Anything about that size that’s injured, and they’ll tear it to shreds. Sometimes there are even chickens that are confident enough to go after people, but bluckers are the ones you need to look out for. They really like to bite.”

“So chickens have been dangerous spies this entire time?!” Tommy asked as they started to move, looking back to see only the bones of the rat were left behind.

“Sure have been. It’s part of why avians are a class all of their own when talking about hybrids.” Paul explained, getting them through another rough patch of monsters. “See, ages ago, there were dinosaurs, and those eventually found their way to being various birds. Technically, there’s a longer explanation, but that’s all you really need to know right now.”

“So avian hybrid people are technically part dinosaur?” Tommy asked, surprised.

“Sort of. See, when you get into the nitty gritty of it all, part of the reason avians are called that and not bird hybrids is because of the fact that they tend to be more shifter than hybrid.”

“More what?”

“Shifter. There’s different classes of what most people generally call hybrids. There’s standard humans, hybrids, shifters, and naturals. Of course, technically humans count as naturals, but the categories were made by a human so it’s a bit of prejudice there.”

“Can you fucking cut to the chase?” Tommy asked, not wanting a lecture.

“Sure.” Paul shrugged. “Punchwood is my evil version, he’s got a thing with chickens, even though he should be staying in this dimension, he’s messed with things, avians are some sort of descendant deity now, and that makes categorizing them odd.”

Tommy was completely silent for a few moments, even stopping in place as Paul continued walking. Then, he came to his senses and ran to catch up. “What the fuck? None of that made any sense! Where do dinosaurs come into that? Why the fuck are there avians here then if he’s hels? Why isn’t it just fucking chickens then?”

Tommy didn’t have a chance to answer as suddenly Paul dodged an attack. Tommy himself barely pushed away, just in time to dodge an attack from a woman wielding a pink axe. He swung his netherite sword at the woman, which hit the blade of her axe, sending sparks into the air. “Hey! Are you going to help me fight or what?”

With those words, Paul attacked the woman as well, looking much sloppier than he had fighting the monsters. Though Tommy couldn’t do much about that right then, he still filed it away for later. After they dealt with whoever this was.

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Doc tried to hold back another hiss. When he first ended up finding Phil, he was just glad to have someone else on his side. The monsters were a slight hassle, but between the two of them, they were getting through them well. So well that they actually had enough time to just walk and chat. Doc was even the one to suggest Phil come up with a topic to talk about. And he decided to ask about Doc’s interaction with gods.

Though the hybrid wanted to yell at Phil, he knew that was more the fault of Theseus, Paul and himself for opening things up to that conversation. So reluctantly Doc answered the questions Phil had.

“So why are you just calling it the Perd now?”

Doc rolled his eye a little. “Yeah. Easier to mishear and harder to search for. It’s not like we really want anyone releasing Notch into the world again.”

“Why would anyone want to let him out?” Phil asked incredulously. “He was a tyrant god. People were looking for a way to trap him for years.”

“Yeah, people were, but other people continued to worship him before and even after he was finally imprisoned. God apples being called that is still a recent change.” They paused the conversation to deal with some mobs before Doc continued the answer. “Not everyone is so long lived to remember those days. Heck, some people think Herobrine’s still not a nice dude because of that old propaganda that always got put out. I mean, he can be violent if need be, but you saw how tame he tends to be.”

“I have?”

“That’s Joe. The guy hanging with Cleo and wearing glasses. Eret’s dad.”

“Really? Wouldn’t have guessed.” Phil replied, and Doc was glad for the slightly lighter subject. But that took both of them off guard, meaning neither of them was ready when they were suddenly attacked by an enderman.

Phil was the first one attacked, the monster sending him a few meters back with the amount of force behind the attack. It swung at Doc next, hitting his right arm and leaving a dent in the prosthetic. When it tried to swing at Doc again, Phil had jumped back to his feet and swung his axe, the blade hitting the monster and making them teleport a few blocks away.

With the short break in fighting, Phil and Doc were able to get a good look at their foe. The enderman stood there, slouched over a bit, yet still taller than a regular enderman. Their normally small paw like hands were now large enough that Doc was pretty sure just one could wrap around his head, and that wasn’t counting that the monster had four arms instead of just two.

The last things of note was the fact that half of the enderman was a pale lavender instead of being all black, and they were also wearing a hawaiian shirt of all things. But that was enough for Phil to realize that they were dealing with Ranboo’s hels version.

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Xisuma sighed as he got back to his feet. While he was glad to not have ended up completely alone in an unfamiliar world and dimension, he wasn’t the biggest fan of having only found his brother. X had tried a casual discussion, but EX always found a way to turn it into a fight.

And that also didn’t mention the trouble they were already having from mobs. Xisuma was defending the both of them while his brother refused to help, leaving the monsters with the upper hand. Xisuma could usually keep his cool fairly well, but at this point, Xannes was starting to get on his nerves.

“Could you move faster? You’re slowing us down.” EX said, making his point by walking faster than he was before.

“We would be making more progress if you were fighting the monsters instead of me.” Xisuma grumbled, making his point by shooting a nearby spider.

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me getting in the way.” EX replied smugly. “I’m sure you’d rather ban me again than have me sticking around. Who knows, maybe it would stick this time.”

“At this point, it would probably help.” Xisuma replied, though under his breath, not wanting his brother to hear him, then spoke in a more audible tone. “I’m sure you’d find a way around it.”

Xannes just chuckled, slowing down and finally letting Xisuma catch up again before tripping the admin with a laugh. Xisuma looked up in frustration at his brother before just lying on the ground for a moment to calm down, not wanting to fight back. And then Xisuma was suddenly dragged back with a yell as something grabbed his ankle.

Xannes turned around to see why X had yelled, only to find a trail in the ground and his brother missing. “What? Oh, ha ha. Very funny, brother. I’m sure even with my setbacks, us sticking together is still a better option.” He was quiet, waiting for a response, but none came. “Oh alright, I’ll be a bit nicer. Just come back.” But there was still no answer.

Now more worried, EX took his sword out, the blade a tad shaky in his hands. “Brother, I get your point now. My little jokes aren’t actually funny. Is that what you want right now?” Yet again, there was still no answer, except this time, there was the snap of a branch or something in the nearby area, leaving Xannes whirling around, weapon at the ready. “Br-Xisuma! Where are you?! Stop messing around!”

All that happened was another sound from nearby, making Xannes flinch, but with few other options he moved towards it. He needed to push through a bit of foliage, but then he finally saw his brother. The admin was tied up and hanging upside down, a very tall person standing next to him in a light blue cloak with gold accents, two pairs of wings on their back and a golden circlet on their head over the hood of their cloak.

Xannes crept forward, trying to make as little noise as possible. His eyes connected with Xisuma’s, who was trying to signal something, but the hels admin couldn't piece it out in time. Xannes looked back at the figure, only to see them turning back towards him. He tried to hide again, only to have his shoulder grabbed at the last moment and be yanked back.

EX got a glimpse of the person’s face, them similar enough to the demon from the DSMP that he made the connection. “Oh, and I can get a matching set out of this.”

Xannes kicked at the angel demon thing. “Let go of me you bastard! Or I promise you will regret it!”

“Oh, is that so?” They asked, tilting their head. “Well, I guess you’ll have to show me.” And they started to tie Xannes up as well.

When he was hanging next to Xisuma, the admin wriggled a bit to turn himself towards Xannes. “Why didn’t you do anything? I’m sure lightning could take down even an angel.” But Xannes just grumbled. “Look, I can’t get us out of this one, you can’t make me do everything.”

“Oh shut up!”

“Why? I’m not an admin here. I can only get us in and out of worlds, and at the very least I need to stay for the others. I can’t do anything to get us out, so you have to instead.”

“Well sure! Let me just, I don’t know, pull up my kill aura to attack him, hmm? Oh wait, I-”

And then Xannes stopped talking as suddenly the angel was attacked by an invisible force. The pair of admins watched as their captor was attacked until they finally died from damage, and a few moments later, Xannes and Xisuma were both freed from their bindings. “Took you long enough.”

Xannes picked himself off the ground. “That wasn’t you?”

“I told you I can’t do anything since I’m not the admin here. You were the one just talking about kill auras.”

“Well… I can’t actually… access any of my hacks here.” Xannes hesitantly admitted. “And I never got to go to any of the fancy schools you got to go to, so I’m always relying on them for combat.”

“You’re saying you can’t actually fight? Is that why you weren’t helping?” Xisuma asked, taking his brother crossing his arms and looking away as a yes. “Well, we have ample time while making our way through this world looking through the others. I’m sure active experience would help.”

“I don’t want your help.” Xannes replied defensively. He started to walk off in a huff, then paused, looking back. “Why not pretend to teach your viewers or whatever you record things for? Pretend like you’re doing something useful.”

Xisuma chuckled and followed behind his brother. That was probably the best he was going to get from EX, but it was better than nothing. The two of them continued through the world, Xisuma defending against monsters they encountered. And if there were a few less, the pair didn’t notice, just as they didn’t notice the person in a frowning mask following behind them.

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket Manga Review , ch 109

-The Tragedy of a an episodic format attempting to connect narrative in a series: (Tohru’s Background or Kyo’s Focus?)

One of my issues with se03, ep6 (other than it being 3 chapters combined horribly with new material added for shock value) is that it was weakly undecided who would be the focus? who would the narrative follow?: Is it tohru’s own pov abt herself? is it the gramps giving boring exposition abt tohru over weak still images of flashbacks or is kyo thinking abt tohru’s pain?

The truth is, it was all the above in the manga, but the manga gave each a chapter focus so that the chapter is well-directed with focused narrative. The anime weakly jumbled the 3 chapters together as they always do. You mix chapters & tada~ you got an ep, you only need a broad weak theme that connects the dots! here: it is tohru! & that’s it. As long as the 3 chapters discuss tohru in any form & manner, nothing will seem off if we put them next to each other in a 20 minute ep! right? riiiiiight ????

.. this was never a correct way. Just like a chapter needed a narrative direction, the ep is the same!!

ch 107: The beginning of tohru’s pov on her realization abt loving kyo.

ch108: tohru’s full pov of shock upon reaching the conclusion that she loves him & the beginning of her mom’s issues & abandonment.

ch109: Kyo’s pov abt tohru’s pain & his involvement, guil & the sheet hug.

ch110: (completely cut from the anime!!!!!!!!!!!!!) Kyoru’s part: the aftermath of kyo & tohru crossing the line of being in the most vulnerable & intimate, building towards a more crushing impact of the climax. The stronger & more painful their love is, the more it will hurt. Also a yuchi buildup?!!!!

-so, you see each chapter has a direction i& a narrative it follows independently that is weaved together to make a connected tissue of the overall plot. The anime puts the 3 chapters next to each other & we are lost on who to follow? kyo or tohru or the gramps. That’s why it feels tohru is weak & her two chapters worth of pov is stolen from her cuz it cut or shortened to include the grandpa, kyo, isuzu, shigure & let’s not forget (kazuma, yuki & haru) at the beginning, the dramatic shock value addition & OP & ED. All these take valuable screen time. The ep shocks us by moving from tohru to kyo. One minute she’s crying with him on the streets, next he’s at the grave & she’s visiting isuzu.

Kyo said he isn't going to the grave in the ep, upon seeing him actually going, I just assumed he wanted to avoid, hana, cuz I’m so invested in his story that I remember sth happened in se1, ep 14.. ages ago, The anime didn’t even allow kyo to inner talk abt avoiding hana... In their weird mind, kyo only inner talks in dramatic situations..See the difference!

Not only the writer (a) reminds us why kyo avoided the grave visit, she also (b) seized the opportunity to shine lifht onto an issue that will be the center of kyo’s struggles: Running away!

The anime introduce this in kyo’s pov only when kyo confronts tohru. Only when it was needed & couldnt be avoided. This is sth that will be the core of all the climax & the aftermath as well! Kyo running away.. How bad are you if you avoid inserting one line only that can be said in few seconds & establish great deal & foreshadow plenty!!!!!!!!!! I can’t for the life of my understand why short lines are cut from kyo when in the anime they have him be standing silent in the graveyard. Like slap the line above the silent scene!!!!! But doing so means the anime team understands tohru & kyo’s issues. They don’t. Not the slightest.

-Ep 6 signals the beginning of the anime moving from episodic format of se1, 2 & 5 eps of se3 & entering a connect plot. The anime doesn’t know how to do that & screwed tohru in the process. The protagonist’s main issues are one ep worth only. The antagonist main issues are one ep only (ep7).  Ep 6, was treated as a stand alone ep (minus the inserted shock scene to create a lingering issue that needs a following ep to explain. TOLD YOU they don’t know how to make a series!). Thus the following ep 7 is akito’s focus. Everything that was established in ep 6 was pit on hold until akito reaches the craziest mindset for the climax. See why ep 6 was so bad? it is Should NOT be a stand alone ep.

-The plot connects kyoru emotional & physically: (Kyo’s chapter with a tohru’s focus:

Unlike the anime, the chapter knows what it’s presenting 7 where it’s going. Kyo’s issues. This ch focuses on him uncovering parts of his past as it connects with tohru’s. Unlike the anime, we know why kyo's connection to kyoko’s past. The anime is hiding this for the climax, no problem, it can still work both ways. However, hiding kyoko /kyo connection doesn't necessarily mean hiding kyoko/tohru connection. But the anime is cutting this to milk it in an ova or series next year~ no problem,  it can still work if you handle this ep’s  flashback better. for all the artistic creativity they inserted in the added scene, they failed miserably in tohru’s flashback portion. how?

By choosing a frontal pov shot in tohru’s grandpa flashback as if the audience are the ones who abandoned tohru or opening the door to find her alone. it does NOT work at all. why? the audience are encouraged to be like tohru since ep 1 as tohru is the mother, angel, fixer & endearing hopeful girl. The audience will NEVER abandon tohru, that’s why tohru’s story felt disconnected & weak in the anime. Not knowing what kyoko did, who would abandon such child?! differently not us. so why use the frontal pov shot? -_-’

-tohru confesses her pain to kyo without being ushered by isuzu, without any outside factor. She simply visited the grave & came home. hiding her pain. once again. like she always do. One question by kyo, prompts her to “ complain a little” call back to se1, ep5 as he advised. we see tohru get out of her shell little by little. NOT SCREAM OR SLAP. She opened up. why? cuz the story is abt “ opening the lid” not abt “ snatching the lid”. No need for shocks. Yuki opened his lide slowly, tohru even slower, kyo is resisting opening his altho it is cracking in this chapter. When your story focuses on character buildup it pays!

-I’ll give the anime credit when it due. The hug scene is so good both in manga & anime. but so awesome in animation, colors, music & voice acting. It’s breathtaking & painful. The most beautiful kyoru scene in the whole anime.

-It represents their mutual vulnerability, understanding, pain & determination to love the other but not also let go. kyo has made his mind to be locked in order not to hurt tohru & tohru has made her mind that she can’t let go of her mom.

You see, the scene’s meaning hits different between manga & anime; In the anime: tohru has already challenged the sohmas & screamed to be with kyo, while kyo is still decided to leave her. In the manga: they’re both at the same spot (undecided). I like both interpretations but I’ll choose the manga’s version. Simply cuz it means tohru is still uncovering her issues which means more focus on her, & more explanation of why cant tohru love her mom & kyo at the same time.

-This expression on tohru’s face is a the complete opposite of the shock value expression in ep 6! T_T. I do’nt even hate the shocked scene addition itself that much, I just think (a) this is NOT its time! Tohru deserved better spotlight! (b) kyo didn’t friggen forget! ah! THIS I HATE! (c) the whole shocked scene was so wasted in ep 7. tohru return to her stupid dumb lalala~ land, cooking & forgetting kyo. what growth? what determination & screams to isuzu? what enduring kagura’s slaps? nope! just happy & cooking, lalala~ no one was freaking over her mom’s picture~ lalala~ & kyo just slept it over~ shhhh... its okay. he’ll forget again... see? totally wasted!

The anime knows nothing abt connected narrative! augh!

Side Notes:

We see kyo asking the gramps why he’s offering him info abt tohru which is so logical! XD. I love it.

I’ve read ch 110 & wanted to insert the kyoru scene in ch 110 here, & put yuchi alone in a different post, then I realized I’ll need to talk abt it again once I analyze yuki’s own expressions! XD. so, I’ll put all ch 110 together in one post. It kinda half written by now, so I’ll publish it very soon in two days time. I didn’t read ch 111 yet tho.

I hope ch 110 is the last I feel this much disappointments in furuba’s anime & by ch 11, it hopefully be be minor changes altho I doubt that cuz the manga needed to dwell into tohru’s mindset & the anime kinda stopped after ep 6. so, yup! more big changes coming!

The sheet hug is so brilliant in theory & application! so romantic & so endearing! love it so much! The anime did it so well, too!

I love kyo’s narration & pov cuz it’s so refreshing change from the anime where he rarely does!

I really wish they kept the kyoko abandoning tohru part in the anime... sigh~ it has nothing much to affect her story with katsuya. so it won’t ruin the spin off/ ova or whatever it’s called. 

I love the light focus on tohru in this chapter & how organic & natural it is opposed to how forced the plot seems in the anime....

[straightlikewetspaghetti]

The Princess and the Knight

Pairings: Poppy x MC (Bea Kingsley/Hughes)

Warnings: Mature themes, mention of death

Word count: 5391

A/N: I tried to fit the whole book into one chapter, so it's controlled chaos.

@cloud9in

"Where has that girl gone with my little tarts."

In the afternoon there was quite a commotion in the royal kitchen, as for some unexplained reasons, the tarts specially prepared for the royal afternoon tea, were going missing. The servants were accusing each other, pointing out which one of them was the biggest glutton or which one had recently gained the most weight. Such behavior among servants was not surprising. No one there trusted each other, but everyone knew how to pretend. It was sad, but what the king and queen do not know, they do not regret.

The truth turned out to be different and when the eldest of them, Ina, was left alone in the kitchen, she waited a moment and looked towards the window where the tarts were cooling down. The place was chosen deliberately by her, because she knew exactly how to catch thieves in the act. It wasn't long before the two little hands blindly began to reach for the treats, but this time they were caught by the older woman.

"Gotcha rascals." saying this, Ina pulled the thieves carefully through the window, discovering it was none other than her daughter and future princess. "Princess Poppy, Bea, you know very well what I think of your food escapades." even though she tried to sound threatening, her voice was very docile. She loved these children too much, even if Bea was not her own and Poppy was a future princess.

"Ina! How did you know it was us?" Bea asked innocently, grinning from ear to ear, unaware that her lips were covered in crumbs. Her little smile always made the hard work Ina had at the castle, worth it. She was proud of her, even if Bea was a little troublemaker.

The woman shook her head and laughed briefly, wiping her daughter's mouth with a tissue. "Your giggling can be heard from the hallway, I really have no idea how the rest of the servants didn't figure it out."

"The rest of them don't know us as well as you do." said Poppy, who had been sitting quietly until then. Her whole face was covered with a blush, and her eyes were fixed on the tips of her shoes. She looked ashamed of her act and this childlike innocence, caught the older woman by the heart.

A gentle smile entered Ina's face. It always surprised her how the Queen's daughter addressed her, with such respect, when she herself was higher up in the hierarchy. "You can call me Ina, princess." the woman reached into her apron for the cookies and gave them each one. "Come on, get out of here."

Bea saluted with a wide grin and, with the cookie in her mouth, pulled her friend along with her, who surprised, almost fell onto the countertop. Ina smiled to herself seeing the bond that brought the two girls together. They needed each other more than they could have hoped for, but that wasn't her story to tell.

When the two of them were outside, they looked at each other and burst out laughing thunderously, almost spitting cookie crumbs at each other. Falling on the soft green grass, they grabbed their stomachs almost unable to catch their breath. They couldn't have known that moments like this, would be worth their weight in gold.

"I need to learn to sneak better if I want to become a knight." Bea said contentedly, extending her hand toward the sky as if she had a sword in it. She looked between her fingers at the almost clear sky, imagining her parents looking at her with pride and faith.

Ever since Bea learned how to speak, she had only repeated that she wanted to follow in her parents' footsteps and become the best knight in the entire kingdom.

Unfortunately, she never got to meet them.

Her mother died in childbirth and her father died soon after, defending the honor of the kingdom. She was looked after by the eldest of the servants, Ina Kingsley. The woman always told her stories of her parents' lives, how her father was the bravest of the knights of the royal guard and her mother the best strategist.

This made little Bea feel any kind of bond with her family.

"I want to be a knight too!" cried Poppy behind her, mimicking her posture and almost falling down as the dress she was in, restricted her movements. She hated the clothes, but as a future queen, her opinion was worth as much as nothing. She knew that once she became a queen, that would have to change.

Bea giggled as she looked at her friend and nodded. "You can't be a knight. You're a princess."

Poppy rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, thrusting her breast forward. She could be anything she wanted, she was a princess after all. But as colorful as it sounded in practice it had no such benefits. Being a princess meant being locked in a golden cage, like some exotic bird.

And she couldn't wait to finally break free.

As the queen combed her hair to sleep, she always said how important it was for Poppy to get an education so she could follow in her footsteps and rule the kingdom. That wasn't what the blonde wanted, the vision of having power was never something important to her. For her, the most important thing was the moments she spent in the company of her best friend and the opportunity to change her kingdom for the better.

"I want to be a knight like you Bea, and explore the world with you."

At those words, the brunette turned towards the blonde and a radiant smile graced her lips. She was sure of Poppy like no one else, but the words she spoke touched her deeply, enough to settle a pleasant feeling in her stomach, that she hadn't felt since her father's death. In a flash, she hugged her tightly and wouldn't let go for any reason. 

A short time later, Bea pulled away from her and extended a small finger in her direction. "I, Bea Kingsley, promise to be by your side until death."

Poppy looked stunned at her friend, who was looking at her for the first time with such apparent seriousness. She felt like tears were coming to her eyes, but not of sadness, but of happiness. The way Bea was devoted to her and expected nothing in return, always grabbed her heart, even if they were still children. The brunette would always have a special place in her heart and even if it sounded selfish, she would be able to go to the ends of earth for her.

She reached out her finger and linked it with Bea's, almost choking from the happiness that was engulfing her. "I Poppy Min Sinclair promise, to be by your side until death."

The wind that was blowing around them stopped and a blissful calm descended on the world around them. Everything became meaningless as they stood like that with fingers intertwined, making their fates forever linked.

***

"Do you ever get your nose out of those books, princess?"

Poppy blinked a few times and, adjusting her glasses, looked over to where the familiar voice was coming from. She saw a wryly smiling Bea, who was in the middle of sparring with one of her friends, who was also training to become a knight. The blonde automatically ran her eyes over the girl's muscular stomach, which glistened with droplets of sweat in the sunlight, making Poppy's throat turn to a desert. Her brown hair in total disarray framed her face, sticking in places to her face reddened from exertion.

"Give her highness a rest Kingsley and focus on the fight." her companion groaned with visible annoyance on her face.

"Zoey, I would beat you even with my eyes closed." Bea bared her teeth in an even bigger smile and winked at her best friend. She managed to notice the blonde bury her face deeper into the book, before Zoey's blade sunk into her own, knocking her off balance.

"Would that mean..." replied Zoey viciously, as she slashed at Bea's legs in one motion, causing her to fall to the hard ground with a bang. She put the tip of the blade to her throat, and a smirk appeared on her face. "That you lost?"

Bea rolled her eyes, catching the hand extended towards her and efficiently rising to a standing position. Shaking off the dust, her gaze remained fixed on the blushing blonde, who continued her reading as if nothing had happened. She knew Poppy was watching her. She'd be lying if she said that wasn't her intention. The thought of the blonde watching her, put her in a very pleasant mood.

Zoey grunted significantly, reviving her in a flash.

"Let go of Kingsley, before it's too late. She's a princess and you're barely a knight." there was no malice in her voice, it was the truth in them, that hurt the brunette so badly.

But at that moment, Bea didn't give a damn

Ignoring the black-haired girl, she ran over to Poppy and with a nimble move, she squatted next to her on the bench, making the blonde's personal space no longer exist. It was their thing. Crossing their comfort zones.

"Would it hurt you if you used more grace?" Poppy grimaced, not taking her eyes off the words on the paper, which had become extremely difficult. She drew in a deep breath and it was a mistake, because the smell of the pine trees mixed with sweat hit her nostrils, almost breaking her composure.

"You love it." Bea's words were bold, and spoken in her peculiar way, almost in a half-whisper, made the hair on the blonde's arms stand up. The brunette's chest rose and fell in a rhythm, that the blonde had in her head each time she felt Bea's breast brush against her shoulder.

"I certainly do not." she grunted, trying to put some distance between her and Bea, which was nearly impossible, with the brunette's sweaty body clinging to her clothes. She was not a girl of great faith, but at this point she began to pray for her own sanity. Poppy was really trying to focus on her lecture, but in this situation her thoughts were just buzzing. The sight of Bea, sweaty from exertion, standing in the sunlight like a goddess, was carved into her memory and now she was right next to her, literally at arm's length.

Her thoughts really were unladylike at that moment.

Before she had time to say or do anything, she heard quiet snoring. Bea managed to fall asleep, snuggling into her shoulder. With a careful motion, she combed through the brunette's hair with her fingers, letting the strands fall freely over her shoulder. Even if sweaty, her hair was incredibly soft. Her face looked so peaceful that it moved something in Poppy and her face curved into a serene smile.

Maybe she do love it.

***

"I hereby knight thee Bea of the House Hughes. Lift thy sword high and use it for the glory of the Kingdom of Belvoir!" the great castle hall echoed with shrieks and clapping so loud, that they could wake the dead. People shouted the names of the new knights, not caring that their king and queen were looking at them.

Bea had waited her whole life for those words and now that it was happening, she couldn't believe it. She felt an incredible joy inside her and even something like a strange warmth, that she recognized as her parents' pride from above. Everything she had dreamed of was at her fingertips.

Everything but one thing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Poppy looking at her with the biggest smile on her face and tears in her eyes. She looked phenomenal, even if her cheeks were covered with streams of tears and her skin was reddened. Right behind her, Bea could hear her mother blowing her nose, and in that moment she was overwhelmed with pride.

Things began to look promising.

***

The ballroom was huge and there was general splendor. There was food all around. Musicians pouring out all their soul, getting people in the mood. All the inhabitants of the Belvoir kingdom were invited to the castle without exception, as tonight's feast was for everyone. Today everyone was treated as equals, regardless of their background or wealth. The king and queen would never have agreed to this, if not for the influential play of a particular blonde.

Poppy was determined to find Bea in the crowd, which seemed almost impossible in the prevailing hustle and bustle. She moved among the people with regal grace, forgetting for a moment that as a future princess, all she had to do was say one word. She found her near the snack table absorbed in conversation with her fellow knights.

"And then I told her, don't worry the hay can be easily pulled out of... Oh princess." Zoey stopped in mid sentence and bowed seeing the blonde.

Bea turned her head to see the satisfied blonde slip her hand under her arm and tug lightly on it. She looked spectacular in her ball gown and stood out among the people attending the party. Or maybe she always stood out in her eyes. Either way, Poppy looked so good, that next to her in her armor, Bea felt like a slacker.

"Can I steal her for a few moments?" even if Poppy asked, she was already in the process of dragging Bea to the parquet floor, ignoring the strange looks of people around her.

Zoey sighed deeply while leaning against the shoulder of Alex, who was standing next to her and also looked mortified. They both knew they wouldn't be able to protect Bea, but they could always hope that the brunette herself would mature enough, to see that the feelings she had for Poppy, weren't enough to form a relationship.

"One of them is going to end up with a broken heart."

Poppy's laughter echoed around the room as she twirled in the embrace of the equally contented brunette. Her dress rose and fell freely, mesmerizing anyone who looked at her. Bea, despite the uncomfortable outfit, tried her best to fit the blonde. She didn't even realize that it wasn't the clothes that always made them fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Bea was aware of the stares people were giving them. Some jealous, some just outraged how a princess could dance with a mere knight. She tried her best to ignore them, but one look in particular made her hair stand on end.

"I get the impression that Lord Carter feels like poking my eyes out with the spoon he's currently eating." Bea arched Poppy's body, by tilting her back slightly and letting her see exactly what she was talking about.

Poppy just shrugged her shoulders, completely ignoring the murderous look the man was giving them. Focusing her attention only on the brunette in front of her, she leaned towards her mysteriously, making the whole room cease to exist for them.

"Meet me at our place, when the moon is at its highest point in the sky." with those words on her lips, Poppy bowed elegantly and with a hypnotizing sway of her hips, she walked off in the opposite direction, leaving confused Bea alone with her thoughts. 

***

Besides the crickets, the silence was pierced by the clatter of hooves on the grass bathed in moonlight. The horse was being ridden by none other than Bea, who with curiosity and undisguised excitement was heading for the place where she would meet Poppy. She slowed down her horse, as she began to see a silhouette sitting with its back to her in the distance, under a familiar tree. 

"Poppy." she said as if to make sure it was definitely her. When the blonde turned toward her and gave her one of her smiles, her heart beat harder. "What is the meaning of..." her words were interrupted when the blonde closed her mouth in a sloppy kiss.

Instinctively, she reached for the blonde's waist, catching it and earning a quiet moan of approval from her throat. On the one hand, she felt an incredible warmth growing inside her, and on the other, a slight embarrassment about the whole situation. When Poppy pulled away from her, they were both red and breathless.

"Where did you even learn that?" the brunette asked, trying to calm her breathing. She touched her lips with her fingertips and felt a slight pain, and for some reason, it was pleasant feeling.

"I read about it in a book." Poppy said without taking her eyes off the brunette still touching herself on her lower lip. It wasn't a lie. When she was old enough, she found books in the library, about love and passion, that she had never known before. With each novel she read, the desire to experience it grew in her, and slowly she began to understand, that what the characters felt, she felt herself.

Bea looked at Poppy with undisguised interest. She felt that this kiss was just a foretaste of what she could experience, but she wasn't sure, if she was ready for it. And worse, she didn't want to disappoint Poppy with her lack of experience. "Show me more." she said, before she could bite her tongue.

Poppy perked up upon hearing those words and her eyes grew misty. She bit her lower lip, as she brought her lips close to the skin on the brunette's neck. She could feel the girl standing in front of her shaking all over, so for reassurance she grabbed her hand with one hand and placed the other on her neck. The contrast between Poppy's hot hand and the cool skin of Bea's neck was incredible, which aroused the blonde even more.

She pressed her lips carefully against her skin, feeling the brunette's pulse quicken instantly. A quiet whine came to her ears that felt like music to her. Faster and faster, a lust was building in her body, which she fought off with increasing difficulty. She felt as if she had been waiting for this moment all her life, right there with Bea, in the clearing, where they shared every bit of news, good or bad, with each other.

When Poppy pressed in a little harder, Bea's legs gave way under her and she pulled them both to the ground, her body lessening the momentum with which Poppy would have hit the ground. After a moment of silence, they both burst out laughing, just as they used to do when they were children. This time, however, Bea slipped her hand into the blonde's hair, causing her to fall instantly silent. The air was getting heavier and heavier and the unspoken words were begging to come out.

"Let me make love to you tonight."

It was hard to tell which one of them said that sentence, or maybe they both did, but in the flurry of scattered clothes, only moaning and panting could be heard. They did whatever their instincts told them to do, sucking, kissing, biting, touching every newfound spot on their bodies. Whatever boundary of shame they had between them, crumbled like a house of cards, making their two bodies become one.

That night neither of them would forget for the rest of their lives.

***

"I think I love you." Bea said thoughtlessly, surprising herself with what she said. The words were rather rushed and she should have thought about them more, but in the spur of the moment, she couldn't do otherwise. Poppy's body tensed in her embrace and Bea felt the weight of the dark clouds that began to appear in the sky, on her skin

After a brief moment, Poppy got off the ground and began nervously throwing her clothes on, almost completely confusing their sides. Bea watched this with visible surprise on her face. She rose from the ground, feeling a sudden chill sweep over her entire body, and following in the blonde's footsteps, she too got dressed. She could feel the storm approaching.

"Bea..." Poppy began in a tone that froze the blood in Bea's veins. The blonde grabbed her head and dropped it low, letting strands of hair cover her face. She looked like she was trying everything to get away from the brunette, even though the she was literally standing in front of her. The air between them was getting heavier and not in that pleasant way. "I'm engaged."

Bea felt the ground slip out from under her feet. As if someone had taken her heart and thrown it to the dogs to eat. As if someone had plunged a hundred knives into her, and she couldn't just die. Whatever words she had in her head dissipated, because while she was ready for anything, she wasn't ready for this one.

They didn't speak a word to each other again that night.

***

"I'm so sorry about your mother Poppy." Bea's voice was sincere despite the pain she'd been carrying inside her since that memorable night, but she loved the blonde so much that she could push away all her negative feelings, just to be there for her. She embraced her tightly and squeezed her petite figure which was shaking from crying.

Her heart though already broken before, was breaking again as she heard the blonde's quiet sobs into her shoulder. The assassination of the queen was so unexpected, that the kingdom couldn't assimilate the situation for a long time. The king locked himself in his chamber immersed in his despair, and Poppy's future husband took care of the kingdom.

"Isn't that adorable." the brunette would recognize that hate-filled voice anywhere and her hands reflexively tightened on the blonde. She hated this man with all her might and not just because he had taken the love of her life from her, but because he was a tyrant and no one could see that but her.

"Lord Carter." she bowed trying not to contort her face too much.

"Prince Carter to you, plebeian dog." he loved hearing his voice, especially when he was oppressing the people around him. He was a devil in human skin, masquerading perfectly among the common folk. People adored him, but behind closed doors there were no more illusions. "You can speak only when asked to." 

"Carter please." Poppy begged, trying to appeal to a soft side of him, that she knew he didn't have. She couldn't idly watch as the person she loved most in the world was oppressed, just for being alive. Even though she knew it wouldn't do anything, she was aware that Bea could see that Poppy was making an effort for her. She believed that one day she would forgive her.

Bea looked at Poppy and made it clear to her that the blonde should let go of whatever she was doing. To her inner distaste, she gave in and bowed again. "Forgive me, Prince." the words burned in her throat, but she couldn't fight him alone. She looked again at the blonde, whose expression was unreadable. "I'll see you later, your highness." she turned on her heel and with a springy step began to walk away, when a loud rubbishy laugh ripped into her.

"I don't think so, lovebirds." his laugh seeped venom all the way into the brunette's bones, making her feel almost physical pain. His face looked like that of a maniac, who was preparing to commit a terrible act. "I'm sending Bea to the front, along with the rest of the knights."

Bea closed her eyes and sighed as quietly as she could. It was what she had always wanted after all, to defend the kingdom, but why did the vision of fulfilling her duty not bring her as much joy as it had as a child? She turned towards the prince and looked at him, ignoring the terrified blonde who was covering her mouth with her hand.

"You can't!" escaped Poppy's lips before she clamped her hand over her mouth again, but Carter only smiled unsympathetically and sent an icy stare in the brunette's direction.

"Well, I can. Bea as a knight has a duty to the kingdom that she is unlikely to want to break." with those words he locked her in a trap, crushing her spirit and cutting off her wings. He was aware of what he was doing, of how much he was destroying her, but it spurred him on, gave him strength to live, he fed on the suffering of others, and who would give him more of it than the would-be lover of his future wife?

Bea saluted and, ignoring the burning pain throughout her body this time, she left the hallway, leaving Poppy and Carter alone. The man turned to his future wife and slapped her on the cheek, the smack echoing through the empty room.

"You will not disrespect me in the presence of servants." he growled at her, causing her to curl even more into herself. There was not an ounce of pity in him, let alone compassion. "Your frivolity will get you both killed."

***

In the evening fog at the castle gate, Bea was unable to see anything. Even as she tried to stretch her senses to the limit, she felt as if she were limited. She hated that feeling. She hated feeling at all. She stroked the snoot of her horse, which stood beside her, waiting for the sign to set off. The only creature that remained loyal to her.

The rest of the knights were getting ready in the garrison, only she was standing guard for practically no reason. Maybe in her sick mind, she was trying to punish herself for being reckless and not thinking about the consequences. She heard a rustle behind her and not thinking much she drew her sword towards where it was coming from.

"I could have killed you." she sighed, seeing that on the end of her blade was none other than Poppy. The blonde looked exhausted and confused, but Bea was in the same state, maybe that's why she didn't feel any strong sympathy.

"Maybe you should." she spoke up calmly, not even flinching, as she felt the blade touch her throat. She was tired. So tired that the vision of life no longer mattered to her. Not when the only person she had left, was about to leave her for certain death.

Bea sheathed the sword and stepping away from her horse she approached Poppy. Without any emotion on her face, she placed her hand on the blonde's face, who involuntarily nuzzled into her. It was the first warmth Bea had felt in a long time and somewhere deep down she felt a growing longing.

The blonde sighed on the verge of crying, her breathing breaking, almost nearing the end. She tried to stay neutral but couldn't do it any longer. Without thinking much she jumped closer to the brunette and locked her lips in a kiss. She felt a momentary resistance, but Bea didn't want to fight anymore either, returning the kiss and pouring everything, she had felt during this time of being separated, into it.

"I can't..." Poppy mumbled between kisses, wanting to get something off her chest but unable to pull away from the brunette. "I can't lose you like I lost my mother." she didn't even notice when tears started to fall from her eyes. Bea carefully kissed away every single drop, making the renewed pain that was settling inside her less painful.

Bea pressed her forehead against the blonde's allowing herself a moment of weakness. She slipped her hand under her armor and took a moment to fumble around in it, pulling out a necklace. She carefully placed it on the unsuspecting blonde, who had her eyes closed in contemplation.

"It's the only thing I have left of my parents." the brunette whispered quietly, not wanting to scare Poppy. "I want you by touching this, to always feel the warmth of my touch. By looking at this, to always see those eyes looking at you with adoration. By knowing about this, to remember that there was someone in the world who loved you sincerely."

***

How many sleepless nights it had been, Poppy couldn't count. Between her agony and the lack of meaning in her life, she had no occupation. She locked herself in her chamber, knowing that her fiancé would take care of everything anyway and not needing her at all, not that she needed him herself.

Her father awakened from his grief at the perfect time for her to plunge into hers. Instinctively, she grabbed the necklace that had always been with her. It was like a talisman, the only thing keeping her alive. The last spark of hope that she would come back and teach her to love again.

A messenger ran into her room unannounced and nearly passed out from lack of air. She rose from her seat and looked at the man with compassion.

"Princess... Is... Answer..." the man could barely catch his breath, which worried Poppy, who sensed that the information he had, must be really important. "Knight Bea... Is dead."

No one remembers what was louder, the scream of agony she gave out of herself, or the impact with which the man fell.

Promise to be by your side until death...

***

She hated being his accessory. Every time he embraced her, she felt a million worms come out of his sleeve and get under her skin. She was sick of it, but she could no longer ignore her responsibilities. The lives of thousands of people depended on her actions. She had been deaf to their pleas long enough.

So at the ball her father had organized, she tried to mingle with the crowd, listen to requests, offer advice, and apologize to those who had suffered. She felt she had failed her mother, but she was ready to change that. She was ready to prove to Bea that she was not weak. Bea. That name quivered in her head too often, echoing and making her bleed. She didn't forget, she didn't want to forget, she remembered, she couldn't remember. Everything she felt tangled with each other in endless knots that tightened inside her.

She was sure that she had managed to process her grief, but at the thought of it, tears threatened to flow from her eyes. She blinked a few times, trying not to look suspicious. Fortunately, her subjects were too busy with their free appetizers to pay attention to her.

The doors to the ballroom opened with a bang and the sounds of clanging armor could be heard. Everyone looked towards where the commotion was coming from and were stunned. At the head of the gathering was none other than the much lamented Bea Kingsley.

"Traitor!" she shouted, aiming an arrow straight at Carter's heart, who fell stiffly to the ground, drenched in his own blood. She dropped the bow and pulled out a paper with trembling hands, which she lifted high into the air. "This letter is proof of treason! Prince Carter plotted and he was responsible for the Queen's murder!" Bea handed the piece of paper to the first better citizen, who squirmed and passed it to the next, until the letter reached the King, who looked at his son-in-law's body and spat on it showing no respect.

The king began to announce something, but everything around Bea fell silent as her eyes met a familiar warm brown. With the remnants of her strength, she began walking slowly towards her. The blonde did the same. The gawkers who stood between the two parted to give them more room, watching the whole situation with commitment. Bea reached out to touch Poppy's cheek with a trembling hand. The familiar warmth gave her strength.

"You are just as beautiful as the day we made love under the stars and the day I had to leave." she said boldly, her eyes glittering with the emotion that had taken over her entire body. She had forgotten the exhaustion, the betrayal, and the hardships that had accompanied her. All that mattered now was the woman standing before her. The woman whose fate she had been bound to since childhood.

Poppy burst out crying as she cuddled into the brunette's body as tightly as she could. She couldn't believe she had her back after all these years. All of them full of pain and agony seemed nonexistent. "I love you. I love you so much." she whispered like a mantra unable to stop, afraid that she was about to disappear.

Bea chuckled, the sound so familiar from their childhood and yet so distant. "I love you too."

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 12)

Oof, the long-awaited Christmas Ball arc has finally arrived! Let's get into it!

What does it look like to see Natsume at his most selfish? One needs only to look at Chapter Fifty.

Chapter Forty-Eight

The Christmas Ball is finally here!

Natsume has to begin the ball just like he has to begin the festival, sitting on stage with the other Principal students, as if he’s some kind of representative. When he catches Mikan looking at him, he sticks his tongue out at her, and she’s taken aback and offended, but he’s trying to be cute. When Natsume is around Mikan, they always bicker and argue. She’s someone he can argue with, something he can’t do with most people. He can’t argue with the people in the DA class because he’ll get punished. He can’t argue with Ruka because he already causes him enough stress. With Mikan, none of the arguments are deep. She forgives and forgets easily, and he can act freely act like a little kid. In the last chapter, even, he smiles at her when they’re in the midst of an argument, because just the freedom of being able to bicker makes him happy.

He's trying to be cute, so go easy on him, Mikan.

He sticks his tongue out at her, acting silly and childish, because she’s special and he can act silly and childish around her.

For most of the ball, Natsume is content to sit in the tree, minding his own business and keeping away from the commotion. He does notice Mikan, though, because he always does, when she acts as Trash Santa to help Youichi play with Mr. Bear. He doesn’t say anything, and he’s only present for a couple panels, but it’s obvious she stands out to him.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Natsume is eating a good piece of cake when he meets with Ruka, who is overcome with guilt for kissing Mikan on the cheek a few minutes ago. Ruka knows that Natsume likes Mikan too, but he doesn’t understand that Natsume has jumped that ship before it could even leave the dock. Natsume gets that Ruka is conflicted about something, so he playfully squeezes Ruka’s nose to assure him in his own way. Natsume’s love language is physical touch even if it is awkward, whether it’s ruffling Ruka’s hair or squeezing his nose. That’s how he comforts people, particularly Ruka.

It apparently does make Ruka feel better, because when he next sees Mikan, he doesn’t freak out like she does. He’s calmed down a bit, isn’t quite as guilty. So he does his own version of what Natsume did for him at the alice festival closing dance. He gets Mikan to dance with Natsume. It’s his way of evening the score, giving Natsume the same chance he got. Either he doesn’t understand that Natsume isn’t playing the game at all, or he’s trying to convince him to start.

He walks away and Natsume and Mikan are left standing there without their masks. There’s a moment of awkwardness, where they stand around and don’t say anything, but Natsume has a moment of resolve. He takes her hand and pulls her close. It starts off proper and gentle, like a dance is supposed to be. They dance and Natsume notices that Mikan is not happy to be with him at all. She’s quiet and frowning. He’s seen her smile while dancing before, because she always catches his eye, so he knows she’s capable of it. She’s danced with Ruka, Tsubasa, Narumi, and all sorts of people, and she’s had a big grin on her face for all of it. For some reason, that smile is absent when her partner is Natsume.

Natsume got upset and hurt when Mikan said she would never want to dance the last dance with him. He’s hurt now that she seems so reluctant to dance with him in a zero-stakes dance at the Christmas Ball. He will be hurt in the future too, because he has a low self esteem. This girl that he likes may see him as a friend, but she gets so uneasy around him, and only him. Natsume thinks he cares so much more about her than she does about him, and it’s moments like these where he gets the feeling more than ever, and it hurts. He thinks it’s a given. He’s helped make it happen on purpose. But he still wishes deep down that it wasn’t that way.

He's doing everything right and she's still upset to dance with him! What's her deal? (heheheh)

And so he argues with her. Why isn’t she smiling with him, huh? He’s doing it all right, the way he’s supposed to. He’s dancing normally and she seems to hate it. He turns to insults because it’s his most reliable technique, and suddenly Mikan is energetic.

To avoid making a scene, they bicker and insult each other under their breaths, dancing just the same as they had before, but with a new aura around them. He twirls her and she’s smiling now. And his eyes get soft, because that’s all he wanted. One moment of selfishness for him to keep in his memories, where they danced and she actually liked it.

The moment ends when they get shoved and fall over, Mikan landing with her teeth on Natsume’s lip.

They’re both tense and uncomfortable with what just happened in front of so many people. Natsume hates that he tripped in front of everybody, so his mood has suddenly soured. If this had been a proper kiss, he wouldn’t have gotten so angry, and he won’t, spoiler alert. He was actually having a nice time, only for the moment to be so abruptly stolen from him. He fell down and now his lip is bleeding. Her teeth hitting his mouth also could be the closest he’ll ever get to a kiss with Mikan, and she looks horrified. Being under so many watchful eyes, all nervous about what’s about to happen. He has very few options, really. He can walk away, or he can cause upset. Natsume isn’t in the mood to run away, since he’s already embarrassed himself by tripping, so he tells her that she’s bad at dancing and kissing, even though he obviously very much likes dancing with her.

He is a problem child.

Chapter Fifty

Mikan is enraged that he had the audacity to call what happened a kiss. There’s also the trouble of Ruka, who had been nice and arranged for them to dance in the first place, only for this to happen.

Now it’s Natsume’s turn to feel guilty. It was an accident, of course, but Natsume already messed up by calling it a kiss, so now Ruka is upset. The only thing he can say to comfort his friend is to downplay it, acting as if everyone is making a big deal over nothing.

Don't worry about it, man. It's a whatever situation.

Natsume’s admirers take that as some sort of confirmation that he’s the man, probably going around kissing all the time. This really meant nothing, because it’s just one kiss of many. It’s far from the truth: Natsume has never kissed anybody before. This kiss doesn’t mean anything only because it was an accident.

Natsume escapes. He feels horrible for hurting Ruka, and probably let down that the teeth-kiss is the closest he’ll ever get to the real thing, least of all with Mikan. He stays in his tree, safe and isolated, alone with his thoughts. He has no intention of returning to the party.

In fact, it’s Mikan who finds him, when she climbs up the tree to find someone to comfort her. She’s looking for Tsubasa or Hotaru or Ruka or Iinchou. Not him. She admits that she’s just settling for him (or at least that’s the way it comes off in the TokyoPop version), and not being one of the people she can count on is something that he sadly resigns himself to.

Still, even if she’s only venting to him because there’s nobody else around, he listens to her whole story.

Just like with the Christmas Ball prep, he insults her and it somehow works. The worry leaves her face and she grins.

Forgive me. These scans leave much to be desired. Apologies.

Natsume is a bit preoccupied. He’s had some time to think and he has a lot on his mind, so he reminds her that she was angry at him just a bit ago, reviving her rage. It’s short-lived, though, because then he asks what happened between her and Ruka. Mikan shuts down, then tries to change the subject, mentioning all the gossip about his many kisses, suggesting Natsume talk about himself before demanding to know other people’s business, which leads him to the conclusion that she’d kissed Ruka.

They argue a bit more, but then she insists that the accident before didn’t count as a kiss, so he decides to fix that.

Natsume’s selfish acts are still in the single-digits, but this belongs on the shortest list in the world. Keep in mind that Natsume is convinced that Mikan and Ruka kissed already. They did, but that was a cheek kiss, and not on the same level. He has no idea. They’re arguing, so it won’t seem romantic or mushy at all, especially when compared to whatever Ruka surely did (though he did not do anything at all, in fact) and she won’t get the wrong (right) idea. It seems like a low-consequence move, like something he could do, so that he could have it for the rest of his life and then die with it. He doesn’t dare assume it’ll mean something to her.

He pulls her into a kiss, in any case.

She pushes him away, gasping for breath.

He explains that he did it because she said it wasn’t real before. An easy excuse. Then he muses, “So that’s what kissing is like…” and essentially answers her question from earlier, about all the rumors that he has plenty of experience kissing. He says it’s no big deal and then jumps from the tree.

"Wow! That sucked! Let's do more of this next year!"

To him, it is a big deal.

He says things aren’t a big deal when he wishes he could do them, like competing in the alice festival and now with kissing. Things are a big fuss over nothing when he can’t do them but wants to. Just like the alice festival, this is something he can’t look forward to. This is done, and it’ll probably--definitely--never happen again. Being selfish once is one thing. He wouldn’t do that to Ruka.

Downplaying it is supposed to comfort her. It’s no big deal after all, so she can just move on and keep kissing Ruka, which she probably prefers anyway. It obviously meant a lot to him, since in about a year he’d ask for more and more kisses, but for now, he’s content with one. It’s all he can ask for, and all he needs. Just one kiss, to know what it’s like to kiss the girl he loves. And now he’s done.

His post-kiss behavior is all for her sake, acting casual and blase about it so that she doesn’t catch on that it meant something more to him. “Huh, whatever,” is an easier kiss to get over than a romantic and sappy one, in his mind.

Besides, she’s not like him. It’s not like she’s never kissed somebody before.

Chapter Fifty-One

It’s post-Christmas cleaning day in Class B and the kids are gathering in a circle to tell scary stories on their lunch break. Koko calls Natsume over to make a demon fire for the atmosphere. Ruka and Natsume catch Mikan’s gaze and she runs to avoid them both.

She’s an anxious mess because of the Christmas Ball, unable to look either of them in the eye.

Natsume and Ruka both join the group anyway, and once Mikan is thoroughly spooked, Natsume scares her even more with Yo-chan’s help. It’s not that he wants her to suffer, but he wants to seem as unaffected as possible. See, he’s right back to normal, so there’s nothing to worry about. She doesn’t need to freak out about what happened, because ultimately, nothing happened. It was no big deal, a big fuss over nothing.

Jinno then separates the class into smaller cleaning groups, and Mikan is stuck with Natsume and Ruka. She’s awkward and anxious, Ruka’s embarrassed and doesn’t know what to say, and Natsume’s not the type to talk much anyway.

He isn’t really the kind of person who fixes things, but it’s on him now, because the other two sure as hell won’t. So first he teases Mikan by scaring her. She gets a little upset, so he tells her to quit ignoring Ruka. He makes it about Ruka, because he’s okay being the one ignored. Again, he’s never considered himself in the running for Mikan’s affections. He’s Team Ruka, all the way.

Ruka is touched, and there’s obviously no hard feelings about the accidental kiss at the ball. That doesn’t mean that they’re talking much, or that there’s no tension. They both know that something happened with the other in regards to Mikan, and broaching that topic is uncomfortable. They’ve been letting it sit for so long untouched--months even, since the very start of it all--and it’s only gotten bigger and bigger.

Before they can have an actual conversation, though, the lights go out.

They’re all sitting against the wall, Ruka and Natsume on either side of Mikan.

They’re both aware that Mikan is easily scared and that she’s particularly afraid of the dark, and so they both independently decide to hold her hand in an attempt to comfort her. Natsume remembers how afraid she’d been when they were trapped together in the haunted house, and how all she’d wanted at the time was to hold his hand, because if they’re touching, they’ll be warm and less scared.

Don't overthink it, Mikan. You might figure him out.

For now, it’s not about being selfish, just being helpful, because he wants to reassure her and comfort her. He’s learning ways that he can be comforting to Mikan, that don’t necessarily involve insults and getting her mad.

But then he looks up and he and Ruka notice each other, see what the other is doing, and after all this built-up tension and awkwardness and lack of conversation, it only makes sense that…

They start laughing. They start talking, suddenly so honest, because the hardest part is over. They got to skip over the confrontation and now they can just talk about it with each other. They’ve known the truth about each other all along, but now they don’t have to pretend to hide it anymore.

And Ruka feels free to tease Natsume, and Natsume can tease Ruka, and that’s amazing too. Even before Mikan came to the academy, Natsume and Ruka had a lot left unsaid. They didn’t communicate well, and their talks never involved bickering or friendly teasing. It’s like all the tension that had accrued between them for years has suddenly lifted, and they can laugh about it now.

There's so much honesty here now.

Natsume can tease that Ruka has terrible taste in women, Ruka can shoot back that that means Natsume does too, and Natsume can scold him for putting himself on his level.

If anything, this was good for their relationship. They’re in a place now where they can communicate about their feelings somewhat. Natsume is never really that emotionally open, even at his most communicative, and he’ll continue to keep his secrets, but the wall that has built between them has been more or less knocked down.

This moment doesn’t seem romantic at all to Mikan, but romance is intrinsic to their conversation. Ruka swears he won’t lose, and Natsume scoffs that he’d never intended to win in the first place.

And just like that, without even including Mikan in their conversation, everything is back to normal, or even better than normal. The Christmas Ball tensions have officially been eliminated. The feelings may still be there, but the problems are gone.

But it’s still dark and scary, and now it seems that a ghost has joined them in the hall, wielding scissors--so Ruka and Mikan run away. Natsume is not so easily spooked, so he sticks around long enough to see that the ghost in question is Nobara.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Natsume starts his conversation with Nobara by reminding her of an off-screen (off-page?) conversation, where he told her to stay away from Mikan. Nobara explains that she came to see him, because she was watching Mikan for the entire Christmas party and has something to tell him. Though it’s a bit creepy, the lengths Nobara went to in order to watch Mikan (including special opera glasses that catch sound), she says she saw something strange.

At first, Natsume thinks she’s going to mention the kiss, and he’s uncomfortable that Nobara probably knows about it. First, she’s still just as untrustworthy to him as before, because she’s loyal to Persona. That their kiss might get back to Persona could be potentially quite dangerous, and he might face serious punishment as a result. Secondly, he’s also capable of getting embarrassed, and the idea that this girl was watching when he had no idea at all, especially during such a vulnerable moment, is a little off-putting.

But Nobara isn’t talking about the kiss. She’s talking about the fact that the person who danced with Mikan and upset her by making her mask fall was probably the ESP. She tells Natsume because she’s seen the way he looks at her and she knows that he cares about her. She can even tell that Natsume forbidding her from talking to Mikan is his way of protecting her, even though she must not be a fan of such a rule. She’s a middle-schooler, and not as close to Mikan, but Natsume is in her class. He’s her partner and he cares about her, so he is the best person to have protecting her. Because he will, no questions asked.

Natsume remembers the warning he’s been given, that he should continue isolating himself or bad things will happen to his loved ones, so we can tell that he finds himself somewhat responsible for the ESP upsetting Mikan. More than that, he’s understandably concerned that this is merely the first move of many, and that the ESP will continue to antagonize her and even put her in danger, and that it would all be his fault.

In any case, Natsume is kind of stuck regarding his options.

He can go back to trying to avoid her. He was never that great at it in the first place, but it’s bound to be even harder now. But he also has to protect her, and that will be harder to do from a distance. Besides, the damage seems to have already been done. Whatever happens, he’s willing to take all the punishment in her stead, as long as she’s safe.

Conclusion

Natsume has done all he intends to do: he got a kiss from Mikan and now he'll more or less step aside. Or will he? The plot thickens! But in any case, he's up to face some serious repercussions for his actions so far, and his punishment will be any day now...

Also, sorry, I couldn't find full scans for Chapter Fifty-Two, so there's no pics. It's okay, I wouldn't have done much for it anyway, because Natsume's only around for a few pages.

Hope y'all are having a nice day! Thank you so much for reading this far!

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[floating-mid-air]

The Princess Of All Saiyans

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Masterlist

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Hey guys! Chapter nine is here. And this one is a fun one. As always, I hope you enjoy. And if you have any comments or questions regarding this fic, feel free to let me know.

Also if you've been following this story for a while, then you'd know how inconsistent I am when I post chapters of this story. Sometimes it takes me two weeks to write another chapter, and other times it takes me an entire month. So if you're interested in being notified whenever I post a new chapter, you can join my tag list here.

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Chapter 9

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Vegeta and Raditz land simultaneously, both Saiyans carefully observing their surroundings. All of the Dragon Balls have remained in place, but that provides very little relief. There isn't a trace of your presence, not a footprint, not even a stray hair. "Y/N!" Raditz shouts at the top of his lungs. This was a severe mistake on his part. For his own sake, Raditz better hope the Ginyu force hasn't heard all of his commotion.

Vegeta paces back and forth, his hands knotted through his hair. "Relax, Vegeta. She couldn't have gotten far." Despite Raditz's calm words, his tone gives him away completely. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that he's just as anxious as Vegeta. 

Raditz's advice doesn't seem to calm down the prince even a little. In fact, he only seems to grow more distraught. "Raditz, you don't understand. I never disclosed the location of the Dragon Balls to her."

Raditz furrows his brows at the smaller Saiyan. "What the hell, Vegeta!" Never in his wildest dreams did Raditz ever imagine himself shouting at the prince. He didn't even notice that Gohan and Krillin had joined them. Hopefully, they've picked up bits and pieces of the conversation because neither Saiyan has the patience to deal with their idiocy at the moment. "Just--- What the fuck were you thinking?" Raditz doesn't understand. How can Vegeta go from ordering someone to stay glued to your side at all times to leaving you to fend for yourself on a foreign planet? It's only been a few weeks. How can he have gone through such a drastic change in such a short amount of time?

"If I knew the Ginyu Force was coming, do you think I would've left her alone!" Their bickering is doing nothing to help. In fact, it's probably making the situation worse.

"Alright. How about you both calm down." Krillin decides to jump in and play peacemaker. "Y/N seems more than capable of taking care of herself. We need to focus on the threat. We need to get this over with and summon the dragon before something bad happens."

Both Saiyans turn to the smaller earthling, glaring daggers at him. "Who gives a damn about immortality right now! You don't know the first thing about my sister! So don't stand there all high and mighty and act like you do." Krillin hit a nerve, but it wasn't just in Vegeta. 

The earthling wants to revive his friends, but there is something he doesn't understand about Raditz. You've been the faint speck of light in his otherwise shitty world, the only friend the Saiyan has ever had. Even though he stood with his brother, you're still a priority over the resurrection of a handful of puny earthlings. 

"Interesting to see where your priorities lie, Geta!" Your legs have been sticking out of your handcrafted shelter the entire time. It's funny to see what details people miss while they're in a state of panic. You lean forward, revealing yourself to the abnormal group. Now your entire body hangs off the mountain.

Four sets of eyes look up at you, all with varying responses present on their features. "Oh, thank god," Vegeta whispers, at an octave low enough only for him to hear. Raditz places a hand on his chest, sighing in relief as Vegeta's features contort in displeasure. "What did I tell you about pulling shit like this? Get your ass down here!"

You jump down, landing in front of the Dragon Balls. This ensures that you maintain a safe distance away from your brother just in case he decides to kill you. "Don't get your panties in a twist."

Vegeta's nostrils flare, complemented with his entire body shaking with rage. "You scared me half to death." You expected a lecture, but he's not even raising his voice. You may have freaked him out more than you originally intended.

Your lips curve upwards. "That sounds like a you problem, big brother." Something is particularly satisfying about throwing his own words in his face.

"I suppose I deserved that." His features soften. "I'm just relieved that you're alright."

Raditz walks over to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Well, what did I do to deserve that scare?" 

"Collateral damage Raditz. Call it a happy accident."

"Enough of the chit-chat. Now let's---" Vegeta cuts himself off as you all lookup. You can sense the Ginyu Force, and they're heading straight for you. You grab Raditz, pulling him into the homemade cave. The others were facing the Dragon Balls. There would've been no time for them to get up here as well. Your higher altitude could be used to your advantage since you'll have the element of surprise. 

It's a bit cramped, but when you created the cave. You never expected to share the space with a Saiyan of Raditz's size. He takes up more space than you and Vegeta combined. You both watch the Ginyu Force land in front of a trembling Gohan, a frozen Krillin, and an aloof Vegeta. You really hope the Genius Force doesn't do those god-awful poses. You've already been traumatized enough for the week.

You decide to keep a close eye on Captain Ginyu, who is currently exchanging pleasantries with your brother. Well, as pleasant as it can get for two beings who are about to murder each other in cold blood. Followed by murmurings from various members of the Ginyu Force and Recoome's delayed laughter. "Just hand over the Dragon Balls, Vegeta. No need to make this any harder than it has to be." Vegeta's posture remains stiff. It's clear your brother isn't going to budge. Their little group is going to have to pry that orb from his dead body. "Come on, Vegeta, be a sport. We already have five." He gestures to the spheres behind him. That means Frieza will have five. Can you really trust those neanderthals to hold onto their Dragon Balls? No, you were raised to trust no one's capabilities but your own, not even Vegeta's. 

Jeice looks around, his green eyes scanning around the area. "Where's that gorgeous sister of yours, Vegeta?"

Vegeta glares at the red man. "Even if my sister was here. I doubt she'd be interested, Jeice. I mean, she never has been." Oh, your brother knows all about your history with the mutant Brench-seijin. He's overly flirty, and you reject him. It was a vicious never-ending cycle. If Vegeta had no self-control, he would've murdered him years ago for even looking in your direction. In his eyes, Jeice is unworthy of a woman of your status.

"Well, with Raditz out of the picture, there's no chance for Saiyan offspring. So I figured I'd shoot my shot." You cringe. You're not sure which idea is more repulsive, a relationship with Jeice or procreating with Raditz.

"Even if you were the last man in the universe. My sister wouldn't so much as glance in your direction." Vegeta and Jeice continue going back and forth as an idea pops in your head. This may be your only opportunity to get your hands on a Dragon Ball. You're only chance to put a fork in Frieza's plans for immortality. 

You silently climb out of the cave, dropping to the ground. The others can unmistakably see you, but they make no expressions alerting the Ginyu Force of your presence. You grab the closest orb before promptly flying back to the cave. Call this your insurance policy for when Krillin and Vegeta ultimately screw up. You escaped that entirely undetected. Is the term elite just thrown around loosely in the Frieza Force? Because that's what you're starting to think.

You hand the Dragon Ball to Raditz, directing your gaze back outside. "Those scouters of yours can't detect Dragon Balls, can they?" It was a rhetorical question. Vegeta knows they don't have that type of technology yet. You know how your brother thinks, and this is a faulty plan on his part. "Then you lose!" Vegeta pivots, launching the ball at an alarming speed. It would be a fatal blow to the head if it hit someone. 

Burter takes off, chasing after the orb. He flips in the air, catching the ball with ease. You swear, Vegeta can be such a dumbass sometimes. He knows Burter rivals you in speed. He may even be a bit faster than you.  

You shake your head, turning to Raditz, lowering your voice to a whisper. "Here's the plan. When I formulate a distraction, you're going to take the Dragon Ball and get the hell out of here. And Raditz, go hide the damn thing, somewhere no one will find it." He grins from ear to ear, causing you to glare at him. You know how this moron thinks by now. "And do not hide it with that Earth woman. That will just get her killed."

"What if that's my intention?"

"I don't think little brother Kakarot would be very pleased with you, but it's your call." You stand in silence for a moment, your piercing gaze lingering on the Saiyan. "Though, I can assure you. If Frieza gets his hands on that Dragon Ball. I'll kill you. In the most graphic and painful way, I can imagine." He gulps nervously, rapidly shaking his head in understanding. To Raditz, you're the only life form that can still sound menacing while whispering. 

You revert your vision back to the little gathering outside. And as you assumed, Krillin lost his Dragon Ball as well. Ginyu decides to take Vegeta for himself, which doesn't go over well with his team. They're acting like a bunch of children. It's almost comical. "Fine." The Captain sighs. "I'll take the Dragon Balls back to Lord Frieza. You all can sort this out amongst yourselves." They chant Ginyu's name a few times. They kinda remind you of a cult.

The four lower members of the Ginyu force move to stand in a circle. "So the winner gets Vegeta. And for second place---" Guldo is cut off by Recoome.

"The rest. Make the two runts a set. Together they'll be more equal to Vegeta." Oh, that can't be going over well with your brother. The fact that Recoome would declare that those two are his equals must be sending his blood pressure through the roof. 

They begin playing rock paper scissors. This must be how they decide their battles. It's like a game to them. Every single match ends in a draw. At this rate, you could be stuck up here forever. 

You doze off until you hear Recoome cheering. The endless match must have finally ceased. "Ya! I get Vegeta!" Fate can be an amusing thing sometimes. Vegeta must be ecstatic, getting to show the moron just how much stronger he is than those pathetic runts. 

"Of course, I'm stuck with the runts." Guldo wines. He's the last creature who should be referring to anyone as a runt. You could squash that little freak like a bug.

Ginyu approaches the Dragon Balls, picking them up with his telekinesis. He counts them before snapping his head toward the dumbest member of the Ginyu Force. "Recoome! There's only four here!"

Recoome scratches the back of his neck, that classic confused look on his face. "I'm sorry, Captain Ginyu. I thought I counted five."

Jeice turns to his superior. "I told you we shouldn't have trusted him with counting the Dragon Balls."

The Captain takes a deep breath, attempting to keep his composure. "It doesn't matter. I'll search for the missing Dragon Ball. It's probably with Y/N anyway." He takes off, heading in the direction of Frieza's ship. Well, that takes out your major concern. The others are child's play compared to Ginyu.

You pay minimum attention to Guldo's battle with Krillin and Gohan. You're more focused on finding an opening for a distraction. You begin to notice significant holes in their fight. Guldo will be in one area and then magically appear in another, and he's not teleporting. If he was, you would've been able to track his movements. Could the rumors about that green freak be true? Can he really pause time? They must be. That's the only feasible explanation. So under the assumption that Guldo can stop time, the earthlings don't even stand a chance. No matter what they do, that four-eyed freak will always remain one step ahead of them. 

You do, however, pick up on something. Guldo appears to hold his breath before every skip in time. That must be a limitation in his abilities to pause time. So if those two can somehow prevent him from holding his breath, they should be able to best him. You know what, scratch that. Those two probably haven't picked up on his abnormal behaviors.

Though, the earthlings do appear to have the advantage at the moment. And the rest of the Ginyu Force won't let Guldo forget it. They're heckling him so loud that you can hear them clearly from all the way up here. Guldo's kinda like the Raditz of the group, just a lot less respected. 

Guldo tosses the pair up into the air as a strange yellow light surrounds them. He's claiming it's a paralysis attack. That doesn't sound good for the earthlings. 

Krillin and Gohan struggle almost as if they were trapped in invisible bindings. As far as you can tell, they're immobile. If Guldo felt the need to resort to such dire tactics, he must think that he can't take out the pair any other way. So when the earthling and the half-breed combine their strength, they're mightier than Guldo. That's quite impressive considering how weak they were back on Earth.

"Now I'm gonna show you what happens when you embarrass me in front of the boys." You clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms, as you watch Guldo intently. As much as you hate to admit it, you're going to need those two runts. So if Guldo were to kill them, it would be very unfavorable. He uses another mind trick to pull a tree from the ground, using the bottom end as a makeshift spear. He points the weapon at the pair, taunting them. He's gonna impale them with a fucking stick. What a pathetic way to go.

You do wonder why Vegeta hasn't intervened yet. He's never played by their rules before. So what's stopping him now? Your brother may simply believe that Gohan and Krillin deserve to die. For not adhering to his warning regarding the weakest link of the Ginyu Force. It's not below Vegeta to be that petty. You can't blame him though, those two fools have no sense of self-control.

The slimy green creature's obnoxious cackling invades your ears. Honestly, Guldo's just pissing you off more than he was before.

Amidst the chaos, you jump out of the cave, flying a bit to distance yourself from suspicion. You shoot a purple beam at Guldo, efficiently decapitating him. Raditz seems to have gotten the message since he checked out with the Dragon Ball sometime during the commotion. He better hide that thing somewhere safe because his life depends on it.

"Did you really think I'd let a creature as pathetic as Guldo kill anything with a drop of Saiyan blood!" Your voice booms causing all eyes to land on you. You place a hand on your chest, fixating your gaze on the Ginyu Force. "I'm hurt that you didn't include me in your little game."

"Oh, our apologies Y/N." Jeice's thick accent invades your ears. "We should have assumed. Wherever Vegeta is, you're always somewhere nearby."

You swear you can hear faint grumbling. You just can't quite locate the source. Your eyes scan over the ground until you discover the origin of the sound. Long story short, it was Guldo's severed head. So his species can survive decapitation, good to know. "Defeated by a damn Saiyan. And the weaker one at that." You could run circles around that little freak. If you went head to head, he wouldn't even be considered a challenge. Guldo's giving himself far too much credit.

Vegeta chuckles darkly. "Well, don't worry." He strides over to the talking head. "You won't have to deal with that shame for long." Vegeta finishes the job, eliminating that embarrassment of the group of supposed elite warriors. 

The three remaining members complain about Guldo's demise, but it's not for the reason you may think. They're more upset about the impact his absence will have on their ridiculous pose. You wish you could say you were surprised, but you've known those idiots far too long to believe anything else.

The half-breed and earthling walk over to you, identical expressions of gratitude apparent on their faces. "We owe you one, Y/N." You roll your eyes at Krillin. It was a simple business decision. And it was nothing more than that. 

Gohan nods in agreement. "Ya, thanks." You cringe at his gratitude. Why are they thanking you? You killed Guldo for your own selfish reasons.

"Your lives had nothing to do with it." Well, at least Krillin's. If Guldo did kill the half-breed, it would've been an embarrassment to your entire race in hell. "I needed a distraction. I saw an opportunity."

"She's right, so pull yourselves together. Your lives are incredibly insignificant to us." Vegeta's lying. Your brother knows you need them. He's just far too prideful to admit it.

Burter turns to Jeice, morphing his hands to prepare for another excruciating match of rock paper scissors. "Alright, Jeice. Winner gets the Princess, and the loser gets stuck with the two runts."

Jeice shakes his head. "No, Y/N's all yours." He turns to you, his green eyes meeting your own. "I could never lay a hand on a lady as fine as the Princess." You suppress a gag, deciding to keep your mouth shut. If you were to respond, there's a good chance you could end up fighting both of them.

Burter furrows his brows at his comrade. "Are you sure?"

"Ya, go crazy, Burter." It's actually a reasonable match-up. You and Burter both have incredible speed. I guess you'll finally find out who's faster.

Now with Guldo out of the picture, it's Recoome's turn to fight Vegeta. He reminds you a bit of Nappa. Since he lacks any form of self-control. His punches at your brother are erratic. He even almost hits you, Krillin, and Gohan several times. If Recoome were to hit Krillin with that kind of force, there's no doubt in your mind that it would be a fatal blow.

"Don't go killin them all yourself!" Jeice is second in command to Ginyu, so his authority over Recoome makes sense. "I get the two runts, and Burter get's the Princess of the monkeys." One minute Jeice is flirting with you. The next, he's demeaning you. Talk about mixed signals.

You watch Recoome and Vegeta trade punches, and it's starting to lack any value of entertainment. Vegeta's covered in blood while Recoome's armor is chipped, and he's now missing tufts of hair.

You begin to grow impatient. This will be the first time you've been challenged in a while. "Yo, Burter! Let's just get this over with now. We'll make this battle a double feature." 

"Fine with me." The two of you distance yourselves from Recoome and Vegeta, commencing your battle as well.

Their gazes flicker back and forth between both battles. They were so enthralled in the action that neither Gohan nor Krillin noticed that Raditz had joined them. 

Gohan and Krillin stick to the sidelines. They're in no hurry to fight Jeice. Even though he's significantly smaller than Recoome and Burter, Krillin doesn't think Jeice's smaller size will give them any sort of advantage. 

"Raditz?" Jeice looks far from pleased. He's always been jealous of the Saiyan. Not for his strength, rather the envy stems from Raditz's luscious mane of hair. It took Jeice several years to grow his hair to an adequate length, while that fool was born with that full head of hair. Raditz meets his gaze, an arrogant smirk overtaking his features. As he waves at the green-eyed man mockingly. "But--- Y/N said you ran off!"

Mid-battle, you turn to Jeice. Without even looking, you still manage to keep up with Burter. "I'm a compulsive liar, Jeice! It's a nasty habit."

Jeice huffs, crossing his arms at the largest Saiyan. "Raditz is mine. I'm throwing him in with the two runts." A chuckle escapes your lips. He's underestimating what the three of them could accomplish together. Jeice is letting his own petty feelings cloud his judgment. How arrogant.

Krillin's brows furrow as his eyes linger on you. There's something that isn't quite adding up. He turns to Raditz and Gohan, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Hey, guys. I've been thinking about something. Remember back on Earth how Vegeta said that Saiyans get stronger after battle. Well, Vegeta's gotten stronger after several fights, but do you see Y/N? She's still able to effortlessly keep up. Even though she's barely lifted a finger. How is that possible?" The earthling's eyes widen as the gears begin to shift in his head. "Unless. Is she stronger---"

Raditz's hand covers Krillin's mouth, lowering his voice to a deadly whisper. "Silence, you earthling. Keep that big mouth of yours shut."

Krillin's teeth sink into his captor's hand, successfully freeing himself from the Saiyan's clutches. Several muffled phrases of obscenity escape Raditz's lips as he rapidly shakes his hand in an attempt to soothe the pain. "She is. Isn't she?" The look on Raditz's face told Krillin all he needed to know. "But you knew that already, and I bet you know why too. I wonder how Vegeta would feel about this?" His last sentence was clearly a passive-aggressive threat toward both you and Raditz. The earthling wouldn't be dumb enough to follow through with that threat, would he?

Raditz scowls at Krillin. How dare this pathetic little weasel attempt to threaten him. "Not a word to Vegeta. If you value your life. I'd stop talking now. Vegeta doesn't know, and it would be very unfavorable if he found out, for all of us." His tone shifts, his eyes flashing with vulnerability. "Something bad happened to us as children, and Vegeta still doesn't know about it." He returns to his menacing demeanor, your shared childhood trauma getting pushed to the back of his mind becoming yet again a distant memory. "So you will stop your absurd thoughts now. Or I can assure you. The second you resurrect your feeble friends, I will single-handedly slaughter them, and then you will follow." Krillin gulps, nodding in fear. He better pray Vegeta heard none of their conversations because he has a feeling Raditz will stick to his word.

Raditz thinks he knows all your secrets, but he's only aware of the tip of the iceberg. Below the surface lies pain and suffering the older Saiyan could never imagine from you. You keep these secrets to protect him, to protect Vegeta, and most importantly, to protect yourself. But if either of them were to find out the truth, your life as you know it would come crashing down. If they were to find out your greatest shame, your pride would be in shambles, and they would know the truth. You're just a weak Saiyan who's an embarrassment to her family name.

You're not exactly sure how much time has passed. You've completely blocked out the entirety of your surroundings, remaining focused on your battle with Burter. You can't joke around as you did back on Earth. There's no room for error today.

The two of you take turns beating the absolute hell out of each other. If you keep this up, there will be no end to this anytime soon. You shriek, spiking up your energy substantially. Burter's eyes bug out as his scouter explodes. Those pieces of junk are really no match to this energy-sensing technique. 

Even though you've blocked out your surroundings, you know the two of you have moved a significant distance away from the others. You could even be on the other side of the planet by now. In the back of your mind, you can't help but worry about your brother especially, now that you're so far away. Recoome may be an idiot, but he's a strong one. You have to remain focused. You can't help Vegeta if you don't help yourself first.

You begin to get the edge over Burter. Now he's attempting to block your attacks, but due to his large size, he's failing horribly. A couple more blows, and you'll finally be able to knock him down. You've taken down guys much larger than Burter, creatures who were triple his size. 

Over the years, you've learned to use your smaller size to your advantage. Making your opponent's sheer size more of a nuisance than a strength. Burter begins to struggle further. He's now barely able to keep up with you. "I'm the fastest being in the universe! How can one of you monkeys be faster than me?" You scowl at him, finding no humor in his statement as rage boils inside of you. 

Unknown to you, you and Burter aren't alone. Goku has been watching your battle in awe for quite some time now. He knows he should've left to find the others, but he just couldn't help it. He can't take his eyes off of you. This is the first time he's seen you fight, and you're much stronger than the Earthbound Saiyan believed.

Your fists clench as your entire body convulses in rage. It's not often you'll lose your temper like this. Goku swears that he saw your irises flash a shade of red. He rubs his eyes, glancing back at you. Your eyes have returned to normal. Maybe Goku is just seeing things. If you knew someone was watching, you would've kept your temper in check. 

Burter sends a blast of your energy your way. Which you dodge by teleporting behind him. You use all of your body weight to knock him down to the ground. You won't mock him like you typically do after defeating a foe. You won't take the chance of giving him an opening to strike back. In the palm of your hand, you create an orb of energy, disintegrating his head. Successfully, taking out your second member of the great Ginyu Force.

You fall to your knees, desperately gasping for air, before grabbing your side, wincing in excruciating pain. Damn, Burter must have nicked you good. You look to your side, noticing just how much blood has leaked through your armor. This is gonna be an issue, though you've fought through worse. You stand back up to check your body for any further damage. There seems to be no other physical damage to your form. Your armor is a bit ripped, though. 

"Wow! You're really strong." You gasp, moving your fist, aiming it at whoever is in front of you. They swiftly catch your fist, preventing you from attacking. Their grip is secure enough to stop you from escaping, yet at the same time pleasantly gentle.

You move your gaze upwards, finally gathering the courage to look them in the eye. Your brows furrow as Goku's dumb face enters your field of vision. "God, Kakarot! When the hell did you get here?" You shake yourself out of his grasp, taking a few steps back, putting some distance between you two.

"A while ago." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I got distracted by your fight." So he was observing you the whole time. Why does that make you feel incredibly self-conscious?

"Of course you did." You sigh, moving several strands of hair out of your face. Goku steps closer to you, bringing his hand to meet your forehead. It's so big that it takes up the entirety of your forehead and even the top of your head. "Kakarot. What the hell are you doing?"

"Just be quiet for a second." It's official. Goku has lost what was left of his mind. "So it is true. You guys are working together. And that Frieza guy is a much bigger deal than I thought." How does he know about all of that? And why is he still touching you?

You slap his arm, convincing him to remove his hand. "And why's that?"

"Because you're afraid of him."

Your face flushes. "I'm not scared of Frieza. I'm not afraid of anything." Your cross your arm, averting his gaze.

"Yes, you are." He pouts. "I saw it." Kakarot saw it? How the hell--- Did Kakarot acquire the ability to read thoughts? Is that even possible?

You decide to divert his mind from his accusations. Knowing Kakaort, that shouldn't be hard at all. "Since when can you read minds?"

He rubs his chin, lost deep in thought. "I don't know--- I just had a feeling."

"Well, let's go. And new rule." You bring your hand up, pointing your index finger at the buffoon. "Stay out of my thoughts!"

He holds up his hands in surrender, nodding. "Are we gonna go find that Captain Ginyu guy?"

"No. We have to go make sure that Recoome and Jeice haven't killed the others first. Don't bite off more than you can chew." Goku has this aura around him. You can tell he's gotten stronger. He just needs to learn how to get his priorities in order.

Okay. All you have to do is pin down someone's energy. There are at least four sources to choose from, so this should be fairly simple. You shut your eyes. This should help you concentrate adequately. 

"Ohh, what's that?"

Your head snaps toward Goku. "What?" You swear the man has an attention span equivalent of an insect.

He bends down, observing the ground intently. "It's like a green string."

"A green--- Kakarot! Don't!" But you were too late. He's already yanked the tripwire.

The ground concaves beneath you, causing you to lose your footing as the two of you fall down into the pit. You fall on top of Goku. Unintentionally straddling the Saiyan. And if you thought this situation couldn't get any more awkward, you'd be wrong. Goku's arms are wrapped securely around your waist, holding you in place. Your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest. And your face feels like it's been set aflame. As your eyes lock, your face only turns a deeper shade of crimson. "D-Don't touch me!" You're stuttering. What the hell is happening to you?

His brows furrow. "You're the one who fell on top of me!"

"It's not my fault." His classic pout spreads across his lips. "How was I supposed to know that the ground would collapse?" 

"W-Well, you're the reason we're in this mess!" You stand up, wanting to get as far away from Goku as possible. You don't like the way you feel around him. The only time your pulse should be racing like this is during combat.

"Well, it wouldn't be called a trap if you could see it!"

"I don't get why you're so mad. Can't we just fly out?"

You snicker as your lips curve upward. "Give it a shot, Kakarot." You know it won't work, but at least his failures will provide you with some quality entertainment. It would be a pretty pathetic trap if you could simply fly out. Goku flies up, slamming his head on the invisible barrier. You break out into a fit of laughter as he falls back down. Goku jumps back up, rubbing the back of his head. "Ouch. Did you know that would happen?" Your giggling dies down as Goku begins looking around the hole. "How did this place even get here? Is this Frieza's work?"

"No. It's definitely the work of the Namekians. Frieza wouldn't be able to formulate something so elaborate in the amount of time he's had. Besides that dictator never does any of his own dirty work."

"Well, let's just sit back and relax. I'm sure we'll be fine. Someone will have to find us eventually." He has such a laid-back attitude. Maybe another alien baby crash-landed on Earth. Because with every second that passes, you're finding it harder to believe that Goku has Saiyan ancestry. 

"Oh, ya, let's just relax." You mock him. "While the others are probably getting chopped up into little pieces by the remnants of the Ginyu Force as we speak!"

"Why are you always so negative?" Is he serious? Do you have to spell out why this is potentially a very dire situation? You'd think he would show more concern for his son.

Your hands meet the sides of your head. You're practically yanking your hair out at this point. To say you're frustrated would be an understatement. "God, why am I constantly getting trapped in enclosed spaces with your idiotic bloodline! First, it was your spawn, then it was your moronic brother, and now I'm stuck with you. And you're somehow the worst of them all!" Goku just stands in front of you like a statue with that goofy smile plastered on his face. "And stop smiling when I yell at you!" 

Being stuck down here with Kakarot will be the ultimate test of your willpower----

-

Will the others make it to Y/N and Goku in time? Or will Y/N kill Goku before they even get the chance? Find out in the next chapter of The Princess of All Saiyans!