#i also caught a falling leaf out of the air today which i always attempt and rarely manage

[placeofwonder]

lately: spending most of my time studying and watching the leaves change colour and fall

[sizeshiftingdeath]

Ends and Starts (MCYT G/T Exchange!)

Hello there sizeshiftingdeath! I received your prompts for the gift exchange, and while I tried to start pretty close to your prompt, my ideas kind of spiraled out of control, I hope you don't mind ^^' I can make something else with another prompt if it doesn't fit what you were hoping for, though! There's also a little bit of extra information down the bottom with some stuff I thought of about the au I accidentally made.

Prompt given: ‘A human caught in the rain finds a giant in the forest’

<please put a read-more here!>

The world is pockmarked with evidence of the tragedies of the past. Of warped land that paints the horrors that befell things that came before. The living reminders of them continue to live on in perpetuity, as immortal creatures that were wreathed in the horrors that life on Earth had endured in the past. 

Bask in their horrible might.

There is the Death from Burning and Fire and Falling from the Sky and Cold Choking Death, the End of the Cretaceous. A massive beast, the bloody end of an era of enormous fauna. A destruction made all the more powerful by how quickly it was achieved. It stalks the land and sea and, where it steps, the plants die of lack of sunlight and the ground turns to tar.

There is the Death from Ever Hunting and Chasing and Too Warm Too Bright - Tech, the man-shaped leviathan, death in the shape of something familiar to mankind, the Killer of the Pleistocene. The death of great megafauna in an icy world from the encroaching warmth of a new era, the sharp point of a spear. It hunts the world with spears and arrows of fire and, in the depths of its nest, all water has turned to vapor and the earth itself has become a wasteland. 

There is the Death of Falling Frozen Seas, of a primordial sea strangled to death under a glacier lock, Her Lady of the primaeval oceans, the Death of the Ordovician. The tail-end of an explosion of life, stretched too far by their own hubris. And yet, despite being a beast with a hundred trilobite and eurypterid faces, one that has a herald in the form of a human by Her side, for reasons that have yet to become known. Maybe, just like every other esoteric thing that such beasts may do, it shall remain a mystery forever.

Look and see. A new immortal is emerging from its eggshell of tragedy. The unstoppable bomb and burning oilfield. The death through hubris and a slow choking unraveling of your very being. The death of man from crackling radiation and tainted iridescent-film water and ash filled smoke. The destruction of the Anthropocene.

Except. This is a creature who was born prematurely. Because man is not dead nor feeling its own final throes. It was not born wreathed in the screams of the damned, only the fears held in the hearts of the still-living. It is naïve and curious and did not yet have the star of a hundred million species’ souls to power it yet. It was stunted.

And that is why the first human the newest apocalypse met was so important.

  …

  The forests are deep and dark. Quiet yet shivering with life. Constantly moving and yet trapped in some space between time. Most of all, they expected nothing more from you than for your own two legs to be able to travel. Ranboo liked that. 

It certainly was nicer than what he had to deal with outside of the forest at least. Here he could continue walking and listening and breathing for as long as he still could move forward. This forest in particular was a favorite, with a constant twilight quality to it that played into its timelessness. 

He stumbled over a log, slipping slightly on the slick moss, and focused as strongly as he could on his surroundings. It was hard when he could so quickly slip into his thoughts. He needed to enjoy his surroundings. He needed to stay in the present and not phase out like fog.

Ironically, it was his attempts to ground himself that prevented him from noticing what was slowly growing more wrong in the forest around him. The scent of ash in the air. The lack of birdsong or rustle of leaves. The trees, growing darker and more burnt-looking, and the dead logs that were bristling with fungi.

But when he stepped out into a clearing with an enormous rock embedded into the middle of it, Ranboo really couldn’t help but realize all of the discrepancies. The illusion of an eternal twilight had been broken with the red light that streamed down. The ground was distressingly clear of ground cover, instead dusted with ash. 

Forest fire? He hadn’t heard of any in the area but… What else would it be?

Ranboo looked up at the sun, which had meandered towards the west since he had entered the forest. There were dark clouds gathering above him in worrying amounts, and the air was a little hard to see through with the particles suspended in it. He frowned at it. 

Something was wrong here, he could sense it in a deeply animalistic kind of way. As if there was something screaming in his hindbrain to run.

He didn’t run. This was the forest that he has walked a hundred times before, when did this happen? Why had this happened? He needed to find out.

Overhead, thunder rumbled. A droplet of curiously dark water fell on his face.

Ranboo stepped towards the other side of the forest clearing that should not have been there.

And that's when a living embodiment of a mass extinction came shambling out of the ashen trees.

  Ranboo didn’t know which detail he noticed first about this rogue apocalypse beast. Was it the limp brown hair that was almost black with iridescent oil slick? Was it the enormous horns that curled jutting from its face and looked more like scrap metal than keratin? Was it the uranium-glass green stripes that criss-crossed like cracks in ceramic along it’s skin? 

Or was it the fact that this one was shaped like a man? 

The apocalypse beasts always most resembled the myriad that had died in their creation. The death of the Ice Age looks vaguely like a man,  if squinted at, mostly because so many cousins to humanity had died in its formation. It was more like an enormous boar-beast on two legs that had the arms of a man, if anything. This one did not look remotely like the death of the Ice Age. 

Ranboo took a flying leap from horror and realization to hysteria. This is the death of humans. The death by nuclear bombs and smoke and oil. The fabled next apocalypse beast, the bringer of the end of the world, was already here.

For a moment of absolute blinding terror he wondered if this meant that all other humans on Earth were dead now. That today was the day the entirety of humanity died, leaving just him wandering the forest endlessly. That nuclear armageddon occurred and he was out there worried about keeping himself grounded enough to admire the birds.

The beast - and he was never in doubt that this was an apocalypse beast, even if he had never seen any of the others in person before something shook like a leaf in his soul simply from being near it - loomed over him. It watched him like a bug under a glass with nuclear hazard yellow-and-black eyes, and the spell of frozen muscles snapped in Ranboo. He bolted towards the boulder in the middle of the clearing and pushed his way into a space between it and a smaller boulder at its base, scrambling to find a smaller crack to squeeze himself into to just get himself out of reach of the beast, of the black water, of everything.

He could hear a rasping, clicking-crackling sound. (A Geiger Counter.) He could see glowing green-striped fingers reach under the edges of the rock he had wedged himself under. Could see, in the sickly chartreuse light they cast, fingernails larger than his head catch the rock. Felt the weight of the boulder lift from his back. 

Ranboo was left crouching and shaking, so scared he couldn't breathe (or maybe it was the ash or the slimy water that couldn’t be rain), as the apocalypse beast crouched down further. It crackled and clicked with a mouth that seemed all too human to be able to make those noises, and then it. Crooned? With a voice that was more like a siren shriek turned down, weirdly echoey as if speaking from far away, it clicked and whined and Ranboo was so confused he didn’t even see the hand reach down and pick him up by the back of his shirt.

He screamed and flailed, imagination jumping into overdrive about what horrifying things the beast could do, and just as quickly, he was dropped with a whoomph to the ground and the death of Mankind jerked back. Ranboo gasped and sputtered as half of face got thoroughly soaked with ash-water mud, and hoisted himself up again to get away from the apocalypse beast.

Who was crouching over him, luminous trefoil eyes barely a foot away from his own, still crooning that awful siren tone. From this close Ranboo could faintly see radiation burns pockmarking its skin, and a horrible scar of curled and ridged skin along its face, as if it was victim to a close-range bomb explosion. 

It tilted its head, leaning a tiny bit closer, and Ranboo threw his arms up to cover his face. God, it itched where the ash water had splashed on him. Why was it itching so much?

The death of Mankind stopped again, looking up into the sky and then down at Ranboo again. It seemed to come to a conclusion, because it then slowly - oh so slowly, why was it being careful? - cupped its hands out in front of it and held them out to him.

It… Wanted him to climb on. Into the grasp of a literal specter of death specifically designed with the destruction of his own species in mind.

Ranboo, in a moment of blind panic and stupidity, climbed on. It looked polite, he reasoned. He was already going to die just from being close to this thing. 

It continued to… yes, it definitely was cooing now, in that horrifying voice, and for a moment Ranboo wondered if maybe he misinterpreted. Maybe this thing wasn’t meant to represent the nuclear apocalypse.

His eye had started to itch where the water touched it. He rocked himself in the grasp of this giant, feeling footholds in the craggy radiation-worn skin, and felt the side of his face. 

The moment e touched it, a white-hot flash of horrible burning pain hit him like a truck, knocking him into a stupor of yelling. It was as if his face was burning, was twisting and gnarling just as much as the apocalypse beast’s horns did. Under his hand, stiff with pain and unable to move away, he could feel skin slough off, could feel the cells themselves die off in droves, in response to whatever radiation or toxin was in the ash-water. 

He couldn’t even register the sensation of fingers larger than his torso curling around him and holding him steady, of him being pressed up against a vast chest that beat unsteadily like a stuck clock, of the vast thumps of footfalls against a diseased forest floor.

All he could feel is pain, burning coiling tunneling pain that tried to tear out his face, his hands, his neck, burning him bright and radiant like a star. 

  …

  The creature was screaming in its hands. It hadn’t stopped screaming for a long time. 

It was small and writhing and melting. Creatures usually didn’t like melting. 

The death of Humanity wasn’t sure how to make it stop. It had dashed out of the black-rain (that seemed to make the melting worse, maybe it’ll stop once it’s out of the rain?) to its home cave, hoping that perhaps it could figure something out in the comfort of its own home. 

The creature’s screams had died down, though whether it was from its pain being alleviated or their voice giving out, the death of Humanity couldn’t tell. All it could tell was that it wasn’t getting up, wasn’t looking at it with those wide curious scared-but-interested eyes. 

Most animals ran from the death of Humanity. Land-creatures would yell in fear and flee, birds would rise up into the sky in huge swarms only to be struck down by the black-rain. Even insects would twitch and die when they got near, which led so many to flee this part of the forest entirely. It was a lonely existence. But this human hadn’t run like the other animals had. It had hid, yes, but it had viewed the death of Humanity in all of its glory and it almost, almost, was ok with it being picked up. 

And then something had happened and now the human was dying just like all of the other animals and the Nuclear Apocalypse didn’t know what to do.

Be well. Be alright. Be just like you were before, it thought, delicately laying the twitching human on the ground out of reach of the dripping black-water puddles, in a nest of dried grasses and leaves that had swept into the cave over the years. It prodded the human with a finger, whining softly when all it did was spasm like a dying insect. It wasn’t dying, right? It was just hurt? It couldn’t be hurt, the death of Humanity wouldn’t allow it. Not when it was so curious and didn’t flee like the others. Not when the death of Humanity had a chance to learn from it. Even now, writhing in its palm, it could feel the frantic beating of life and warmth, things it had so rarely seen before.

You will be well. You must be well. I will make you well.

  ...

  When he came to, it was to complete darkness.

Well, no. Not totally. There was a faint glimmer of far away light somewhere to his left. A shuffling shadow, a faint sickly green glow.

His right was totally dark though, and he couldn’t quite open his eye. He almost brought his hand up to touch it before violently flinching as he remembered what had landed him here in the first place. Would it start burning and melting horribly like it did before? That he was even awake to wonder that is a miracle in of itself... Or the start of the second round of his torture.

Horrible curiosity pushed him to touch, as lightly as possible, the skin on his right cheek. It… He couldn’t feel it. Or rather, he could feel the sandpaper surface of extremely rough skin, but he couldn't feel the pressure, the burning bright pain. The entire area was dead to the touch.

Ranboo threw himself as upright as he could make himself, which ended up only being a half kneel before falling back over into a sit. His breath hitched and he felt his face more firmly, the rough scratchy surface of skin that splattered like paint over the right side of his face, over his eye, down his neck and onto his arm. The muted tingling where it met smoother skin along his shoulder and the bridge of his nose. In an act of desperation he even poked at his eyelid, trying to pry it open to see if he could ever see from that eye again. 

His hand passed in front of his working eye in that moment, and at this point his focus had sharpened enough to make out vague colors in the dim light. His hand… It was a black far darker than any human could naturally produce, with a grey-green cast that made him look sickly. 

I feel sickly, he reasoned to himself. What is going on? He waved his hand a little frantically, as if the new midnight shade was something that was just stuck to his skin. Desperately he held up his other (totally numb to the touch) hand, hoping it hadn’t changed too.

Well, good news - it wasn’t midnight black.

Bad news - it was a shade so pale that it looked totally devoid of blood. And the raspy surface he could feel didn’t look any prettier to the eye. It didn’t have that same grey-green tint to it though, which was nice, because it would’ve shown up really well on this pure white canvas.

Why was he even thinking about looks right now? He was in the den of an Apocalypse Beast Ranboo get your head together! This was absolutely not the right time to space out - he needed to stay in the moment!

His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he tried to get himself upright. He had only just gotten himself steady when he felt the rattle of large footsteps shake through the ground. Before Ranboo could even think to run though, the shadows out of the corner of his eyes resolved into the beast, which made its way all too quickly towards him. 

He couldn’t run if he wanted to. And besides, the damage done to him would probably kill him. He was on borrowed time as is. What did he have left to do but to see what the beast did?

It slowed as it came closer, reaching out a vast clawed hand towards him. Despite his resignation towards his fate, Ranboo flinched back as it came way too close way too fast. A movement that the beast obviously didn't notice or interpret or care about, because he was scooped up into its palm without a moment's hesitation. 

“No!” He yelled, wriggling and pushing away from the cage of fingers around him. The beast paused in bringing him up to its face, and if Ranboo was being generous he could call the look on its face a frown. 

In less than a blink the face of the beast was so close way too close and he almost punched it (for all the help that would do) out of reflex. It blinked at him with those lucent yellow-black eyes, laser sharp in their focus upon him. He felt for all the world like an ant being peered at through a magnifying glass. Maybe he’ll be fried like one too. 

“What do you want with me?” He asked, voice cracking in fear. “What is it you want?” 

It didn’t answer in that siren tone again, but instead shifted its weight to the side and turned its palms so that Ranboo was standing squarely in one of them. The other was drawn up and one sharp-clawed finger was pointed at Ranboo. Or, well. The side of Ranboo’s face that he couldn’t see from just yet. 

He trembled with the anticipation of the jagged nail at the end of the beast’s outstretched finger spearing forward. But all it did was touch, very gently, under the damaged eye. The beast frowned even more. 

Then it jabbed at him, hard enough to bruise but not much else, directly into Ranboo’s damaged eye. He yelped and jumped away, tumbling off his feet in the cup of the beast’s fingers and slapped a numb hand over numb face. Even if he couldn’t feel the area, it still surprised him enough to believe for a moment he could sense it again. Except… was that still his imagination? The eye under his pale skin was starting to itch and water, the first sensation he felt from it since he had woken up, and with a gasp he was able to open his eye. 

Fuzz. That’s all he could see from that eye. The beast leaned forward and poked at his face again, softer this time, and when he opened his eye again the world had snapped into focus, tinged with red around the edges. He blinked a few times, and felt a trail of something wet leak from that eye onto his cheek.

What had happened? “You… You healed me?” He asked up at it. It was still frowning even as he had two working eyes again, and muttered softly in a voice that sounded like something crumbling into splinters. Then it poked him for a third time, this time on the shoulder, and Ranboo held back a yell of pain as the area lit up in a blaze of sensation that felt like liquid fire. As he watched, the black skin around the edges of the wound cracked and veins of bright green glowed beneath.

Just… Like… The beast…

Oh no.

The pain of his nerves coming back to life was nothing when compared to the cold horror that had bubbled into his stomach. There was a single case of a human managing to gain immortality as a result of an apocalypse beast. One of the first beasts, Her Lady of the Primordial Sea, the beast of the Ordivician extinction, had taken pity upon an ancient human who was trapped in the glacial ices that herald her path across the Earth, and had gifted it with immortality and a pair of wings that made him as beastly as the Lady he served.

Nobody knew exactly why the Angel of the Deaths had been spared, and why not a single human had ever had that happen before or since. All that was really known about him was his violence, and that he had an uncanny ability to be where an apocalypse beast would be travelling to next. He was just as inhuman and alien as the beasts themselves, if in a smaller form.

It had only ever happened once. Until now, obviously.

Ranboo stared at his white hand, prickling with waking nerves under the surface and twisting with green strands that trailed under his skin like angry snakes, and knew that he was a monster now. Somehow, it was freeing. Like he finally got an answer to a question he had asked over and over. Why him, why now, why is he still alive, why is he not afraid enough…

He stared back up at the apocalypse beast and it blinked down at him. It was no longer frowning, only looking thoughtfully now. “You’re not going to hurt me.” It wasn’t a question.

It reached a hand back up, maybe to poke him again, but this time rubbed his hair very lightly. He did not flinch this time, steeling up his willpower to allow this touch (It won’t hurt him. He needs to keep repeating it until it is true. It won’t hurt him. He was its now it wouldn’t hurt him).

It made that soft crooning noise again, like it had before lifting the rock he had been hiding under, and despite it being underlaid with sounds specifically designed to inspire fear in humans, he could find himself getting used to it. (Would have to. He’s an abomination now after all. The second angel.)

“You’re not so bad, are you…” He slowly pushed himself to his feet, flexing his newly sensated hand carefully. “I still don’t know what you are or why you are here now but…”

The beast tipped its head curiously and warbled exactly the same words back at Ranboo. He froze, because it was so much like his own voice except under deep layers of static, before shaking his head. Best get introductions out of the way - this creature was obviously smart. It was the death of Humanity after all.

He pointed to his chest. “Ranboo.” He gave it a few pokes for emphasis, and the beast poked him too before mimicking his name. He wasn’t entirely sure it actually got what that meant but, well. Baby steps. 

Then he pointed at it. It blinked a few times (and Ranboo really couldn’t help but anthropomorphize its reactions - this thing was just too uncannily human to not) and chirped out another ‘Ranboo.’ He gestured more firmly, pointing at the beast. 

It continued to look with (probably) bafflement for a few moments, before letting loose a cacophony of sounds that sent Ranboo’s hands slapping over his ears. It was all of the sounds of falling trees, of squawking birds, of the blazing sun and frigid cold and most of all the explosive fire and cold falling ash-water and death from sickness. It was everything and more that wrapped up the death of Humanity in a nutshell. 

Ranboo blinked. That might take a while to learn how to pronounce.

  He decided to call it Tubbo for short. 

<End> There we have it! I hope that you enjoyed this - I hope it didn't betray too much how much stuff like this interests me and that this was potentially also 3000 words of me nerding out about mass extinctions.

Anyways, here's some details I had added but had no way of explaining naturally within the story that i was a little proud of ^^'

The Anthropocene apocalypse beast is also called the unstoppable bomb and burning oilfield. Shortened to TUBBO. Ha.

There’s 7, now 8 apocalypse beasts (Great Oxidation Event, Ordovician, Devonian, Permian, Triassic, Cretaceous, Pleistocene, and now Anthropocene). I originally intended there to just be 5 (for the big five mass extinctions) and then a 6th Anthropocene apocalypse beast, but then I thought I really should add in the great oxidation event that almost caused extinction of all non-oxygen breathing creatures on a very early earth, and the death of most megafauna in the Pleistocene era. 

Society is way different with these living eldritch abominations just shambling across the globe, causing a trail of destruction behind them. A lot less large cities, for one.

The Ordovician apocalypse beast is Kristin, yes. She’s uplifted Phil into something similar to what Ranboo is now. I kinda want to think more about her and her story with Phil.

The Pleistocene apocalypse beast is Techno. Idk why I chose to do that but it seemed to fit. Especially since the leading theory on Pleistocene megafauna death is humans hunting them, which I think fits Techno pretty well

The rain is black rain - rain full of radioactive fallout. Bad Stuff, definitely not what you should seek out if you want to keep your body in working order.

I kept referring to sirens in Tubbo’s speech. Just imagine every emergency warning broadcast sound except even more terrifying 

So Ranboo’s skin is majorly fucked up. For one, he’s suffered major radiation damage to the side that is now white (healed over brand new skin). The black half is much more interesting though. Did you know there are types of fungi that can feed off of nuclear radiation? They protect themselves from the effects by secreting a LOAD of melanin, making them extremely dark. Anything that wasn’t newly healed on Ranboo had now become akin to those fungi now. Feeding rather than harmed by the nuclear radiation Tubbo naturally puts off. Perfect for a newborn Angel of the deaths.

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

Thank you so much for this story submission!! I really love this idea and how well you wrote it! this is so amazing! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

[scintillasofbeomgyu]

-ˏˋ⋆ ̥ 𝗳𝗼𝘅'𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗲𝘁𝗵 – part one: the beginning (cyj)

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader x kang taehyun

genre(s): fantasy, period!fic, nine-tailed fox!yeonjun, crown prince!taehyun, angst, fluff here and there

word count: 4,1k

the spirit who had been guarding the south side of the mountain, a nine-tailed fox, is requested by the crown prince of Joseon to make an appearance before his betrothed. though reluctant at first, he agrees on condition that their meeting is fleeting and under the guise of a mask.

an: this was inspired by the kdrama ‘tale of the nine-tailed’, hence the similar elements. events may or may not be historically accurate. ++ i’m really anxious about how this fic will be taken, but i’ve put too much effort in to let it sit in my drafts ksks. might post the part 2 if you want! let me know what you think!

(finally posting this as a gift for the immense support i’ve been receiving! thank you! ❤️ and low-key bc sumi has been thinkin about kitsune yeonjun)

Sealed by the promise of two youths many moons ago, your betrothal to the crown prince of Joseon was something which was not unbeknownst to anyone in the country. Many young ladies, noble and common alike, coveted your fortune and would make desperate pleas to the gods to have half the luck you did. And perhaps anyone else would have boasted about how fate had favoured them, but you didn’t.

“(Y/n)? Are you listening?” his highness asked, raising an eyebrow as you continued to flip through the pages of a book you had picked up from his desk. You placed the book back where you found it and turned to look from the pavilion, out across the pond and above the canopy tops to the mountains in the distance.

What had intrigued you about the palace was not the status, nor the riches, nor the people who dwelt within it. After all, you preferred to be neck-deep in books of history and literature, poetry, and volumes which questioned which was myth and which was reality. Your father, though, was as open-minded as anyone else was about the education of women at the time – not at all. So you had resorted to killing two birds with one stone; appeasing your father by agreeing to meet with the prince meant getting your hands on books you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

But today, you had an entirely different motive.

“Do you believe in mythical beings, your Highness?” you asked, turning to face the prince who stared back at you, wide-eyed.

The seemingly sudden question had him taken aback.

From the very first meeting, you had puzzled Taehyun. Like you, although he knew he had to do it some day, the topic of his marriage hadn’t interested him. Or rather, it was more important to him that the person he would one day wed had the same interests as he did – the good of the people and the flourishing of the country.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect you to be as crazed about love and titles as the other noblewomen of Joseon were, at first. So he was pleasantly surprised when you had arrived at Gyeongbokgung, not batting an eyelash in his direction. But when he had attempted to open discussions about politics and solving the exorbitant taxes expected from the people, he’d find your nose buried in one of the books from the pile you sifted through by his desk.

Taehyun was already struggling to figure you out, and now you asked him this.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he cocked his head to the side, folding his hands behind his back. “have you come across something thought-provoking?”

“It’s quite straightforward; a yes or no question.” you shrugged, smirking as your eyes caught the not-so-discreet glances his personal guard and the eunuch had given one another.

Ultimately, to have relations with the throne was not all sunshine and roses. For your own protection, and to ensure you were not used as leverage against the king, your father had sent you very far from home – to Southern Jeolla. And it was upon your arrival back in Hanyang, after many years away, that you had come to hear the rumours which had surrounded the royal family.

A gumiho. A nine-tailed fox. The spirit which protected the forest. A being which could not be trusted. The one to whom the country owed it’s prosperity. The one at whose hands the country could fall into havoc.

You knew better than to believe the words of storytellers and self-proclaimed chroniclers. It was the fact that they had all said the same thing which had perturbed you. It left this unsettling feeling, which just wouldn’t fade away. So you read book after book, folklores and retellings, each and every documented account of those who had insisted they had seen the man with ‘eyes which glowed like hot embers even in the light of day’. It nearly drove you insane.

That was, until just this morning, when you had overheard the court ladies chattering away in hushed tones about how so-and-so had come to see the prince again, how much so-and-so frightened them, and how they wondered for how much longer the king would leave the future of the kingdom in the hands of such a wild-card.

You turned to look out beyond the trees again, a sudden gush of wind rattling their branches and sending their leaves sailing through the air. “Let me meet him. This... friend of yours, your Highness.”

“No.”

Taehyun nodded, taking a leaf from the shrub in front of him between his fingers, “I thought you’d say that.”

Yeonjun huffed, taking a bite out of one of the freshly picked apples the prince had brought along with him on his visit (as some sort of incentive, he supposed). The scowl he had adorned etched deeper into his face as Taehyun’s proposition crossed his mind a second time. He should have left the boy to the wandering spirits all those years ago, is what he thought. The fact that Yeonjun had allowed him to follow him around and meet with him must have made him cocky.

In the beginning, he trusted them. Yeonjun had spent thousands of years cultivating the forest and protecting those which lived beneath it’s canopy. He had taken an oath to never allow any harm to come to it, and as a sort of by-product, had taken up an arrangement with the king to hand over to him any miscreants who chanced into his territory. And for hundreds of years, this agreement was honored. King after king had revered the spirit who protected the people, throwing grand festivals in his honor.

Until humans did what they always do. They became consumed by greed and corrupted by power. They feared that the existence of a powerful being, and the esteem in which the people held it, threatened the very authority of the throne.

On a night which felt like yesterday to Yeonjun, the then king had convinced him to appear before the people, reasoning that he deserved to be celebrated and loved; not lurking in the depths of a forest where he wondered alone. His yearning for family provoked, he had left, only to return to enormous crackling fires which devoured everything in their path.

Now he was being asked to entertain the likes of one of them again? An insolent, entitled woman who was probably the daughter of some power-hungry government official nonetheless? He wouldn’t allow himself to be made a fool out of again.

“I’m aware you cannot leave the forest unguarded for long periods of time, especially at night,” Taehyun said, brushing the bits of earth from his hand onto his silk garment. “which is why I want to bring her here.”

The half-eaten apple hit the forest floor with a thud.

“What did you just say?” the same incredulity written on Yeonjun’s face, embedded into his voice.

Taehyun grinned sheepishly, “Hyung, can’t you do me this one favour?”

Quickly taking a seat beside him, the crown prince of the Joseon dynasty grabbed onto the sleeve of Yeonjun’s black robe and tugged at it. Yeonjun sucked a sharp breath of air through his teeth and slapped his hands away. The memory of a scared little boy in disheveled clothes, sobbing as snot ran down onto his lips crossed Yeonjun’s mind. He bit back the grin which fought to pull at his lips.

“I thought you weren’t interested in love? Why all the effort then?”

Taehyun dropped his hands from where they had been grappling at Yeonjun’s robe and stood up, clearing his throat before folding his hands behind his back again. Yeonjun smirked. “It’s not by choice, the woman in question is frightening. Only the gods would know the lengths she would have gone to had I refused her.”

Many minutes of back and forth bickering had passed before Taehyun managed to convince Yeonjun to appear before you. This reluctant agreement came with conditions, however. Leaving the mountain for even a moment during nightfall was out of the question, but that didn’t mean that he was okay with some suspicious woman wandering into his home. So, they had settled on the foot of the mountain closest to the north side. Yeonjun had also made sure to point out that although he had agreed to let you see him, he never agreed to introductions.

“You never struck me as the type to attend parties in the evening, your Highness,” you hollered from your palanquin which lagged behind his. When no reply came, you seethed, biting back the urge to punch a hole through the expensive wooden barrier in front of you. He had suddenly appeared at your father’s estate just as the sun had dipped beyond the horizon, not bothering to give an explanation before your father had the guards stuff you into the tiny varnished vehicle. “You haven’t yet answered me, your Majesty. The question from earlier.”

You cried out in pain when the palanquin was suddenly set down, tossing you up in the air like a shuttlecock. Hand still pressing down on your head from where it had hit the roof of the palanquin, you glared at Taehyun’s outstretched hand when the door folded open. You violently slapped the hand away and pulled back your skirt, nearly kicking his shins as you climbed out. Accidentally, of course.

Your behaviour amused Taehyun, a smirk finding its way to his lips. He whispered something to Soobin, his personal guard, who had given him a distressed look in return. He sighed as Taehyun placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a quick nod before returning to the entourage. You raised an eyebrow when Taehyun offered you a smile, gesturing his hand to the left of where the road forked into two.

The evening air was brisk; the various flora emitting a plethora of unique smells which blended together as they crawled into your nose. Leaves rustled as the forest creatures scurried across the floor; the occasional flapping of wings and hoots of the wide-eyed, mice-eating predators filling the otherwise eerie silence. The pale moon, which shone like a great halo in the sky, casted it’s light through the trees, creating beautiful natural skylights and mysterious shadows. The breeze was ever-so gentle, seemingly caressing your cheeks as you followed Taehyun down the path filled with earthy soil.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” He chuckled at the question you had posed. He took a firm hold of your hand as he helped you cross the stream you had encountered, squeezing it a little tighter as your shoe glided off some algae, smiling when he heard the under-the-breath cuss.

When you had both safely crossed over into the field of long grass on the other side of the bank, he caught his breath for a moment. “My men say there came a troupe from Jeonju in Northern Jeolla a few days back,” Taehyun started, motioning for you to follow behind him as he stalked through the vegetation.

You groaned. Just how much torture was he planning to put you through? Did he find out you had ‘borrowed’ some of the books from his shelf?

After another few dreadful minutes of walking, an enormous tree came into your sights. It’s trunk looked as if it could house a small population, and it’s branches spread far across the open space; a meadow. Taehyun smiled in satisfaction and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, before placing his hands on his hips. Was this what he wanted to show you? You were far too tired, and your feet hurt way too much to enjoy the sentiment.

“Right, as I was saying,” The prince continued. You took a seat on the soft blades of grass and began pulling the shoes off your aching feet. “Despite journeying across the country to perform in gisaeng houses, I’m told the productions of this troupe were rather enthralling – ”

The sound of your snorting earned a glare from the prince. You shook your hand, “I find myself in constant surprise this evening, your Highness,” you laughed. “Hearing the term‘gisaeng’ from your mouth would send chills down anyone’s spine.”

The distant strumming of a zither whispered in your ears and your body froze. Slowly, the field, which had been lit only by the silvery hues offered by the moon, glowed in shades of green and yellow as fireflies hovered in the air. Then the zither stopped. Your neck snapped in the direction of scuffling feet by the tree trunk. Figures dressed in black placed paper lanterns varying in size at the base of the trunk, before scaling up to the branches.

A gasp slipped from your lips when the zither had suddenly started playing again; much louder this time. Ribbons dropped from different branches around the tree, carrying men and women who spun as they unravelled. Sporting white masks in the form of a fox, they danced around the tree, twirling and swinging back, dipping low before soaring through the air with such delicacy it gave you goosebumps.

“This performance is called the Fox’s Hiraeth,” Taehyun whispered, eyes fixated on the scene before of him, “you asked the other day did you not? About gumihos in Hanyang.”

His Highness’ attempt to throw you off was painfully obvious in that moment, and it did not go unnoticed. But just before you could make the remark that you had been carefully curating for exactly this situation, the zither had come to a stop once again. Leaves rustled above you and you lifted your head into a pair of the prettiest eyes you had ever seen.

They were a shade of light brown; little flecks of green and amber peeking from in-between when light passed through them. Bewilderment swam in those sparkling orbs behind the mask, it’s wearer holding his breath, not looking away for even a moment. The feeling in your chest drew a smile onto your lips, so big, it pushed up the corners of your eyes.

“Hello.”

He pulled back suddenly, and a strong gust of wind blew right through you, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The wind seemed to blow harder and harder – Taehyun had to press his hands onto your shoulders to prevent you from being gone with it. When it had died down and you opened your eyes again, you shot up, shoving his hands away.

The lights had gone out and the fireflies were nowhere to be seen. The lanterns and the troupe too had vanished into thin air; leaving not a trace. But that was not what was distressing you.

Hands clenching fists into your satin skirt, your eyes searched desperately, “where did he go?”

“Who?” Taehyun questioned, tightening the black cloth strings of his gat. He blinked, feigning innocence so professionally, it antagonised you. “The performance is over; we should leave.”

Pulling your lips between your teeth, the agonizing feeling of having lost something important tearing at your chest, you made a decision. You were positive that Taehyun knew exactly what was going on, but you weren’t about to waste any more time trying to force an answer out of the tight-lipped prince.

Where the meadow under the peculiar tree ended, the forest started again, and spread all across the mountain. You could have been mistaken, and that man may have just been another one of the performers. But it was the forest. It felt as if it was calling out to you; screaming. Every one of your limbs ached to dash into its depths.

Taehyun cleared his throat and turned away instantaneously when he noticed you hurriedly tearing off your blouse. You tossed the garment carrying the golden emblem to the ground, and slipped your shoes back on, ignoring Taehyun’s voice which bombarded you with questions.

He grabbed onto your hand before you left and you stopped, peering down at where your bodies were joined. “It’s dangerous.” he said; his voice as firm as his grip, yet eyes pleading with you like those of a child.

Despite your fathers’ lasting friendship, you had never met Taehyun until a few days ago. And if you did, you couldn’t recall. The confounded stares he had thrown at you upon your arrival had amused you; they were not contrary to that of the other noblemen and their sons whom your father had introduced you to. You didn’t act like the prince’s woman – they had probably expected someone who they could easily manipulate and bribe to their liking – but you were very much the opposite.

It was his behaviour in the days that followed which had taken you by surprise. He’d have books stacked up all around his desk which varied in genre, and were organised by author and publication date, whenever you visited. He seldom spoke and never forced conversation with you, but he’d call for tea and sweets then leave them at a certain place on the tabletop untouched. You’d catch his eyes glancing up at you every once in a while in your peripheral vision, and a smile would find itself to your lips.

He cared for you and you had grown to care for him as well. But you knew that if you left with him right now, your insatiable curiosity would only grow and you’d just end up returning here anyway.

Placing your hands over his, eyes asking him to forgive you, you slipped out of his grasp.

“I’ll be okay.”

Yeonjun paced up and down the cliff once more. He glanced over his shoulder at the mask resting against a boulder behind him, then slapped his hands onto his face and lamented. He couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Everything was happening exactly as he had planned – the dokkaebi had put on their show, relishing in the fact that they were pranking humans; the trees, the breeze and the critters had agreed to set the mood for what he had intended to be your heart being won over by the Taehyun.

He peeked through the spaces in his fingers at the wooden guise, and proceeded toward it. He knelt down and picked it up, eyes fixating on the slots where they were housed previously. He was certain he had prepared for everything, but that all changed when his eyes met with yours.

They stared back at him in surprise, but that surprise slowly transitioned into a warmth which enveloped him; the light of the lanterns which reflected from them, inviting him closer. They scared him, too. Under the mask he had given himself the appearance of one of the lumberers who frequented the forest, but your eyes seemed to stare right through him. They reached into his depths, baring him before you.

Yeonjun glared, irritated with how foolish he had been. He should have trusted his instinct and refused Taehyun no matter how much he insisted. It was absurd that after all these centuries he still let himself fall prey to the ludicrous fantasy he would ever be able to live and feel as they do – he knew that was the real reason he had gone along with this preposterous idea.

His grip on the mask tightened before he hurled it into the bushes. Your voice exclaimed an ‘Ow!’, making him topple over in surprise. The golden rays of sun spilled over the summit just as you stepped out from the flora, bathing you in it’s warmth and highlighting your features as it chased away the night. You rubbed your head profusely where the mask had hit you, pausing when you noticed Yeonjun’s figure on the floor.

Hands on your hips, smiling in triumph, you blew the stray strands of hair from your face. “Found you.”

He had never in his life met such a vivacious woman. Your hair looked like a bird’s nest; tiny twigs and leaves buried within the now tousled black locks. There were tears in your hanbok. Stains of dirt, grass and mud soiled the skirt. Alas, you still had a stupid smile plastered across your mucky face. He caught himself before he started grinning like an idiot too, shuffling amongst the earth before rising with his back turned towards you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. Was he looking down on your intellect?

“You’re not very clever for an ancient spirit,” you remarked, tossing the mask at his feet. His frame froze, making you scoff.

The hair cascading down his back was a pale shade pink which shimmered under the light. It contrasted the pitch black robes he adorned, which were embroidered with silver. When he turned around to give you a look of wry amusement, you noticed the bangs which framed his face were more washed out in colour compared to the rest of his head. His slanted eyes were mono-lidded, and they glistened as beautifully as the night before. His lips were plump; it’s colour reminded you of the strawberry tanghulu you had seen in the market.

He stepped closer to you, smirking at the way you were entranced by his beauty, until his face stood only inches away from yours. You cast your eyes away from him, gulping as you took a step back. His eyebrows furrowed when you cringed, staggering before you fell to the ground.

“Are you alright?” he fretted, the role of the charismatic flirt quickly abandoning him as he helped you to your feet. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you into his arms, and carried you to a place where you could sit comfortably. You gripped only his garments tightly, eyes still refusing to meet with his; the scent of flowers lingering on your clothes as he set you down. “His Majesty did not accompany you?”

He knelt down beside you and pulled off your shoes. Blood had soaked into your socks from all the hiking you had done the night before – the back of your shoes had cut deep into your heels; climbing over boulders and through thick vegetation had made the soles of your feet sensitive and prone to cuts and scratches. He pulled his lip between his teeth, eyes shooting daggers into yours.

He poured some of the alcohol he had been storing over your wounds, and massaged in the compound he made of medicinal herbs he had momentarily disappeared to go and find. He tore pieces of his robe to bind them when he was finished, then folded his arms over his chest. “I’m taking you back to the palace.”

You jolted up from where you were seated; Yeonjun pushed your shoulders back down. “None of my questions have been answered, I’m not leaving until they are.”

“Don’t you have a prince to marry?” he contended, tapping a finger on his chin, “they’re not going to be impressed when you return looking like this.”

“What’s your name? Are you really a nine-tailed fox? How old are you? Do you eat human livers? If so, why? Is it true that you are only able to receive titles like the ‘Spirit of the Mountain’ when you don’t feed human on livers? Are you actually a woman? Do you really want the best for this country? Do you wish to bring it to ruin for your own pleasure? Is it true that – ”

He took a step closer to you, and lifted your chin with his finger, closing your mouth. You held your breath as his eyes flickered to your lips, and he smirked noticing the blush spread across your face. He reached behind you and pulled the jade pin from your hair, the tresses falling gently down your back. Bringing the hairpin before you, and his lips to your ear, he whispered, “I dare not rob the future king of his woman, my lady. You should return home for your own safety.”

His hand travelled down the length of your arm, trailing goosebumps and setting fire to your skin. He placed the pin into your hand and lifted it, brushing his lips across your knuckles. His eyes locked with yours and you gasped as they glowed like a setting sun.

A horse whinnied as it strode into the area, making you tear your eyes away from Yeonjun’s. Taehyun slid off it’s back, rushing to your side. He grabbed onto your shoulders brows furrowing as he examined you from top to bottom. “Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You nodded absent-mindedly, searching for where he had gone. Taehyun led you to his horse, and lifted you onto the saddle, sighing as he found you still trying to see past the trees and their leaves. You squeezed onto your chest as you rode away, an inexplicable feeling overtaking you. You had to see him again. Not out of curiosity. No, you – you just had too.

Yeonjun held onto the trunk of the pine tree and swung his body around from the backside. Watching you ride off into the distance, eyes still set on finding him, he sighed, twirling the ring he had slipped off your finger around his.

“(Y/n), huh?” he muttered under his breath, exhilarated by the way it rolled off his tongue.

[artzychic27]

Artist Family Values?

Everything is calm. Marinette, Alix, and Rose are playing funeral in the backyard; Felix is helping Juleka write a love note to Rose, confessing her feelings; Nathaniel is arm wrestling That and losing

Marc: Nathaniel, wonderful news. My mother is going to have a baby and she wants us to have it... Right now.

*Several hours of excruciatingly painful labor later*

Little girl: And then mommy kissed daddy, and the angel told the stork. The stork flew down from heaven and left a diamond under a leaf in the cabbage patch, and the diamond turned into a baby.

Marinette: They had sex.

*Later*

Rose: Nathaniel!

Juleka: What news?

Marinette: Nathaniel, what is it?

Nathaniel: It’s an Artist!

The baby’s name is Kiran. He has black eyes and was born with fangs

Marinette and Alix immediately hate the baby and do everything they can to get rid of him. Guillotine, shooting him, dropping him from the roof

Marc: Mari. Alix. Why do you hate the baby?

Alix: We don’t hate him. We just wanna play with him.

Marinette: Especially his head.

To keep Kira out of trouble, Marc and Nathaniel hire a nanny. Lila.

Juleka immediately hates her because of how she’s taken a liking to Rose. Little does she know that she isn’t in love with the blonde. She’s a black widow out for their fortune.

Noticing that Marinette and Alix are onto her, Lila makes it seem like they wanna go to summer camp so they’re not in her way.

Nathaniel: *Disgusted* Fresh air. The scent of pine.

Chloé: Hi. I'm Chloé Bourgeois. Why are you dressed like that?

Marinette: Like what?

Chloé: Like you're going to a funeral. Why are you dressed like somebody died?

Marinette: Wait.

While at camp, Marinette and Alix make enemies of the popular bratty rich kids and allies out of the outcasts (The Akuma class)

Marinette finds herself glaring at a certain boy from America who glares right back at her... It’s Damian.

Back at the Artists’ home, Rose finds herself falling in love with Lila, much to Juleka’s anger but no one seems to notice

Marc and Nathaniel invite them to a gothic bistro

Lila: I just can't tell. Does she like me at all?

Marc: Of course she does. She pulled out her hair at the sight of you.

Marc and Nathaniel perform the badass tango from the movie

Meanwhile at the cemetery, Lila and Rose get engaged surprisingly quickly

Rose: Good news! I’m engaged!

Juleka: What?! *Felix pats her back for comfort*

Lila: *Shows the ring*

Marc: That ring.

Nathaniel: It was my grandmother’s. She was burried with it.

Lila: *Holds up a shovel*

Later that night at the camp, Alix and Marinette attempt to escape with some help from Damian, but are caught by the brat campers and are forced to sing Kumbaya

Damian and Marinette find themselves becoming closer

Damian: You know... I’m pretty good with a knife myself.

Marinette: ... *Holds Damian’s hand*

Escape attempt #2 is a success. When they hear about the wedding, Marinette and Alix have to go and see if it’ll be a train wreck. Of course, Marinette invites Damian as her plus one.

It’s surprisingly pleasant. Everyone’s dressed in black, the flower girl is tossing dead petals on the ground.

“I do.” “Ditto.” Marinette catches the bouquet.

Damian: Now you have to get married.

Marinette: It’s not binding.

On their honemoon, Lila attempts to kill Rose by dropping a toaster in her bath. Unfortunately for her, Rose is immune to death by electrocution

Needing a new plan and for the Artists to stay out of her way, Lila forbids Rose from seeing or speaking to em ever again.

Meanwhile at camp, Alix shoots an endangered bird!

Camp director 1: It’s a white tailed eagle!

Camp director 2: Aren’t they endangered?

Marinette: They are now

Juleka is sulking after receiving a letter from Rose, saying she can’t see them ever again.

Juleka: Have I done something, said something? Why does she despise me?

Nathaniel: Rose adores you.

Juleka: I'd do anything for her. At her request, I would rip out my eyes. At her command, I would crawl on my stomach through hot coals and broken glass.

Marc: ... You’re in love with Rose?

Back at camp, the directors announce that the campers will be performing the poorly written and quite racist play about the first Thanksgiving

Chloé will be playing Sarah Miller, the outcasts will play the Native Americans, and Marinette will be playing Pocahontas.

Marinette passes out at the announcement

Meanwhile, the Artists visit Rose and Lila at their pristine white mansion.

Juleka: So these are the gates of hell.

Lila forced them to leave, and Rose, out of fear, backs her up.

Marc: I see Lila that you have placed Rose under some strange sexual spell. I respect that. But please, may we see her?

Lila: No!

Marc: You have gone too far. You have married Rose. You have destroyed her spirit. You have taken her from us. All that I could forgive. But, Lila...

Lila: What?!

Marc: ... Pastels?

They leave, but not before Juleka curses Lila.

They try to go to the police, but they won’t take them seriously, and Nathaniel makes the following announcement

Nathaniel: I shall not submit! I shall conquer! I shall rise! My name is Nathaniel Artist, and I have seen evil! *Juleka holds up Kiran* I have seen horror! *Felix waves* I have seen the unholy maggots which feast in the dark recesses of the human soul.

Marc: They’re at camp.

Speaking of camp. The main 3 attempt to escape again, but are caught by the other campers and are soon forced into the Harmony Hut where they’re forced to watch Disney Movies.

Hours without food or drinks later, and they come out looking pale and traumatized

Marinette snaps out of it and traumatizes them back by smiling

With the Artists, something horrible has happened to Kiran. He blonde and has blue eyes!

Marc: My brother!

Nathaniel: *Faints*

Juleka: *Reading from spell book* “Infant possessions. These terrifying changes are most often the result of a troubled family life.”

Marc: Rose!

Juleka: If we don’t get Rose back, we’re talking dimples.

Nathaniel: Not in this house!

Juleka: He could stay this way for years. Forever. He could become... A lawyer.

Nathaniel: No!

Juleka: An orthodontist.

Marc: Juleka, please!

Juleka: ... Mayor.

Nathaniel: NOOO! TAKE ME INSTEAD!

It’s the day of the highly offensive show that portrays Native Americans as uncivilized people.

It goes off well until Marinette flips the script.

Marinette: You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now, my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the road sides. You will play golf and enjoy hot hors d’oeurves. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will drive stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They have said, “Do not trust the pilgrims, especially Sarah Miller. And for all these reasons, I have decided to scalp you, and burn your village. To. The. Ground.

The outcasts burn the camp to the ground and attack the brats while the main 3 escape in a canoe.

Meanwhile, Lila tries one last attempt at killing Rose, knowing this won’t fault. A bomb.

When it goes off while she’s out, she’s expecting a blonde corpse. Not Rose holding a tray of cupcakes and a warm smile

Enough is enough.

Lila: *Aims gun* I tried to make it look like an accident! I tried to give you some dignity, but, oh, no, not you!

That shows up to save the day by hitting Lila with his car and helping Rose escape back to the Artists’ Home,

*Now for the best scene*

Marinette: I may never see you again.

Damian: I know.

Marinette: There are forces tearing us apart-- Gary, Lila, tenth grade.

Damian: I'll never forget you.

Marinette: *Touched* You won't?

Damian: You're too weird.

Marinette: We'll always have today and camp

Damian: And this. *He holds up a retainer*

Marinette: What is it?

Damian: Chloé’s retainer. *Drops it to the ground* Meyn ziskeyt.

Marinette: Mi querido.

*The two kiss through the fence before pulling away and wiping their mouths*

Meanwhile, Nathaniel’s lost his mind.

Nathaniel: *Lying in bed* Swing low... Sweet chariot... Coming for to carry me home.

Marc: Oh, my sister is ill and my husband is dying. Juleka, what am I gonna do?

Juleka: Well, you already have a black dress.

Rose returns, apologizes for abandoning them, reconciles with her friends

And at that moment, Marinette and Alix return from camp. They all group hug, and Juleka is about to tell Rose about her feelings for her, until...

Lila: In-laws!

Down in the dungeon, the Artists, Felix, and That are strapped into electric chairs while Lila tells them the story of her life... Through slideshow!

She burned her house down with her parents still in it because they gave her Malibu Barbie instead of Ballerina Barbie

Marc: *Disgusted* Malibu Barbie. The nightmare.

Nathaniel: The nerve.

Her first husband the heart surgeon could never make it on dates, so she committed axe murder.

Juleka: Aw, an axe. That takes me back.

Husband #2 was a Senator who wouldn’t buy Lila that new, expensive car because they had to set an example. She ran him over.

Lila: So I destroyed one innocent life after another. Aren't I a human being? Don't I yearn and... ache and shop? Don't I deserve love... and jewelry?

Marc: *nods* Adios, mi querido.

Nathaniel: Zay gezunt, meyn tayer.

With some encouragement from Felix, Juleka uses her last few moments to confess to Rose

Juleka: Rose, night after night, I have desired you. I would worship every pale, lifeless limb on your body, die and kill for you, love you even after my dying breath. Rose... I love you.

Her confession leaves Rose in tears.

Rose: I love you, too.

Lila: Oh, barf! *Grabs the lever* Goodbye, everyone! Wish me luck!

Artists: Good luck.

Right as she’s about to pull the lever, Kiran, back go normal and by some miracle drops down from the ceiling and switches the wires, making Lila electrocute herself to death

*One year later*

Juleka and Rose got married! Also, it’s Kiran’s birthday! And Damian’s invited!

Rose: And to think I might have missed all this. What was I thinking?

Marinette: Physical pleasure.

While the others are celebrating, Marinette and Damian hang out in the cemetery and talk about marriage. Which Marinette doesn’t want

Damian: But what if you found a man so devoted to you, who worshipped you, that he’d be your eternal love slave?

Marinette: I’d pity him

Damian: *Looks at Lila’s gravestone. ‘Friend, Family, Killer* Damn. Lila was sick.

Marinette: She wasn't sick. She was sloppy.

Damian: What?

Marinette: If I wanted to kill my husband, I'd do it, and I wouldn't get caught.

Damian: How?

Marinette: I'd scare him to death.

Damian: *Scoffs* Sure. *As he goes to lay a flower on Lila’s grave, her hand pops out of the ground and grabs him, making him scream.*

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan chapter 65 FINALE!!

Tags: @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz

“LEOOOO!” Michelangelo ran over to Leonardo out of breath, colliding with his brother before he could stop himself. “Leo Leo Leo Leo Leo Leo—“

“Woah woah woah!” Leonardo laughed and put both hands against Michelangelo’s shoulders to keep the excited turtle at bay, “Where’s the fire?”

Michelangelo took a long, deep breath. “I traded face painting for a snail and traded the snail fir a painted rock and I traded the painted rock for a cane and I traded the cane for a ball and I traded the ball for a basket of muffins and I traded the basket of muffins for a kitten and I named him Klunk!”

Michelangelo shoved a tiny orange and white kitten in Leonardo’s face; Klunk gave a tiny mew and batted curiously at Leonardo’s nose before quickly being pulled back against Michelangelo.

“That’s great, Mikey—“

But Michelangelo was already running away again on the trail of a bright butterfly, which left Leonardo once more wandering in search of something to do. Everywhere he looked was something new— young yokai playing games or families swimming in the river or flying flips through the air either on wings or paragliders. Everywhere they all seemed to be having the time of their lives. None of the activities caught and kept his attention though until he happened to look over to an ice cream cart manned by a slime yokai. The current customers were a calico nekomata and an old rat.

“Dad?” Confusion came first, and then came a sneaky, mischievous grin. He rubbed his hands together not unlike a supervillain, “Ohhh this is good~”

Slowly, like he was walking across a cloud, Leonardo glided behind a tree. He pulled himself onto a higher branch to get a vantage point, watching as Splinter and the strange woman passed under; he caught a snippet of conversation.

“I can barely handle my four boys; I don’t know how you manage so many!”

“It’s not all fun and laughter that’s for sure, but most of them get adopted really quickly…”

Leonardo jumped the next tree over, silently cursing himself as a falling leaf made Splinter stop and look up. His nose twitched, eyes narrowing just the slightest bit as he stared directly at Leonardo, but perhaps not seeing him; Leonardo remained like a statue.

“Splinter, what’s the matter?” The woman came to up wrap her arms around Splinter’s arm, looking up and trying to see what he saw.

“Nothing.” Splinter said quickly, “Just thought I saw something.”

Slowly, with Splinter dragging his feet, they moved on. Leonardo saw no point in hiding anymore. Before they could get far, Leonardo dropped down in front of them.

“So do I get to be the flowergirl?”

“AH!” Both rat and cat screamed, but Splinter quickly fell to grabbing his sandal and repeatedly slapping Leonardo with it. “YOU! DUMB! DIRTY! YARO! Scared me half to death!”

Leonardo bunched himself at the assault, laughing harder with each slap as he did his best to protect his face. “I’m - sorry! It was too good to resist! Besides, flower girl is more for Mikey, I wanna be ring bearer!”

“You get to be NOTHING!”

“Now That’s just unfair!”

Splinter swung his arm around the cat to guide her quickly around Leonardo, trying his best to ignore his son's taunting presence.

“Was that your son?” The cat asked, trying to look back and steal another glimpse of Leonardo.

“Don’t look at him and maybe he’ll go away.”

***

“RENET!”

Renet stopped long enough to look around, giving a curious hum at the familiar voice. “Michael?”

“ME!”

Renet gave a startled yelp that was quick to turn into giggles when she recognized Michelangelo had come up from behind and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

“HUG! Hi Renet!” Michelangelo skirted around to her front, smiling brightly, “I traded face painting for a snail and traded the snail for a painted rock and I traded the painted rock for a cane and I traded the cane for a ball and I traded the ball for a basket of muffins and I traded the basket of muffins for a kitten and I named him Klunk!” Klunk gave a soft meow. “Also! I caught a butterfly and traded it for a balloon and traded the ballon for an ice cream cone do you want it?”

Michelangelo offered a strawberry ice cream to Renet, who accepted it with a confused but excited smile. “Uh… thanks. I’ve never had ice cream before!”

She looked over the frozen treat for a curious moment, then took a big bite out of it before Michelangelo could stop her. The cold immediately seized her body and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth against the drool that tried to escape from the shock.

“Mm… cold.” She shivered, wiping her mouth once more before she let herself giggle.

“You’re supposed to lick it, not bite it.” Michelangelo encouraged.

Renet did as asked, swiping her tongue across the length of the dripping ice cream, “Mm! It’s good.”

“It’s ice cream, of course it’s good!” Michelangelo beamed, “What are you doing out here? I didn't think you left your mansion all that often.”

“Yeah I uh… I don’t.” Renet said with a giddy laugh, “Today’s actually the first day. I’ve never seen the sun before.. It’s just as beautiful as I imagined. But hot…”

Renet swiped a few beads of sweat off of her forehead. Michelangelo gasped and, out of an innocent want to help, went to grab the back of her wheelchair to push her. Renet pulled away from the attempt, rolling back around to face him while Michelangelo looked confused, and then startled at Renet’s uncomfortable expression.

“Actually I can roll myself.” She said slowly.

“OH! I— I’m sorry!” Michelangelo squeaked, head shrinking, “I was just going to bring you into the shade…”

Michelangelo motioned to the shade of a nearby tree and Renet started to roll herself over to it while Michelangelo trailed behind.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated again, “Was the hug bad too?”

“O-oh, no, you’re fine just… don’t grab my chair unless I ask you, okay?”

Michelangelo nodded quickly. “Yes Ma’am! And thanks again for, you know, making sure we don’t burn a fiery death in TCRI.”

“Oh yeah, no biggie.” She nodded; the ice cream in her hand was quickly disappearing. “I really enjoy being out here with all the sun and the grass and the bugs! Maaaan I love the bugs!”

“I didn't get out much as a child either.” Michelangelo related, “It was so fun when I got to learn about all the critters and— and watching the stars and the sun rise! And it never gets old because it’s always so different!”

“Well I’m glad to finally experience it.” Renet finished off her cone and then rolled a little further so her front was in the sun; she closed her eyes against the warmth, the light bouncing off her scales in a flashy display, like sunbeams on water. Her skin seemed to glow radiant like light amber, the baby blue headscarf catching the breeze. “The wind is like the sweetest honeydew on my skin… and it’s like I can taste the colors of the world!”

“Well, if you wanna enjoy even more of the world…” Michelangelo started, rubbing his head, “Maybe you want to come eat with me and my family?”

Renet opened her eyes and looked to Michelangelo. “I’d love to!

***

While his brothers were exploring, Donatello was content to stay at the table near the girls. He had been away for so long that there was a seemingly endless amount of social media he needed to catch up with, so he took the opportunity to get a head start on it. Occasionally April or Sunita would throw a shrimp or a burger his way to use him as a taste tester, but he didn't mind. Scrolling was certainly working up an appetite.

Something hit him in the face. Donatello groaned and reached up, having to swipe a few times before he was able to pull it off, and when he did he was hit with a wave wave of confusion. It was a cherry blossom flower— not just a petal, but a full, blooming flower! Even as Donatello held the stemless thing in his hand, it seemed to open a little wider, the dew drops on its petals dripping down and dampening his palm.

Donatello looked around and saw no tree, nor anyone carrying such flowers that could have been lost. Carefully, his fingers traced along the pink curves, soft as melted butter. He stood up, and when he did, he looked down. In the grass just ahead of him was a trail of flowers, blooming before his very eyes and stretching toward the warmth of the sun. The trail was expanding closer to him until the flowers came to him, gentle stems tickling his ankles as he lifted his feet to see the spectacle better. The blooming flowers led to a golden rift at the end of the trail, similar to Draxum’s except with flowers instead of vines. A rift identical to the one that had rescued Donatello and his brothers from The Sea of Trees.

“I told you your brothers would come.” Said a familiar voice— the kirins voice!

And then the flowers were gone, and so was the rift, and so was the voice.

“Don, food’s done.” April called, then put a hand on her hip and gave a frustrated huff when it seemed Donatello wasn’t listening to her.

“Y-yeah, be there in a second.” The hand that once held the cherry blossom felt empty now in its absence, and it took Donatello several long heartbeats to turn back to his meal. “Thanks April… it looks great.”

“It better!” April laughed, “Then again I’d bet anything looks great to you given the past two weeks you spent alone.”

“Yeah…” And Donatello looked to the table and saw a basket of berries sitting there for him, shining with a heavenly glow, “Alone.”

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Ten

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Total word count: 47,939

Summary:

Emily tries apple cider, things get corny, Spencer wins a prize, and the night ends with a kiss.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months. Takes place over the span of the first semester of their sophomore year.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

“See, I told you it was good,” JJ grinned up at Emily, adjusting the blue scarf that was wrapped tightly around her own neck against the cool air. 

Emily licked her lips as she held a paper cup filled to the brim with apple cider tightly in her hands. 

“Ok fine,” Emily admitted, “You were right, cider is good.”

JJ watched as she took another sip, as a smile spread across her face at the taste. JJ knew she was right, that apple cider at a fall fair always tasted better than anything from the grocery store. 

The two of them walked across the leaf-strewn grass, trailing behind their friends to talk. When JJ had told Penelope about her conversation with Emily about how the girl had never been to a fall fair, her roommate insisted that they rally the troops to make it happen. 

Both JJ and Emily still had a lingering cough, but other than that, they had just about made a full recovery. Somehow, the others had escaped coming down with the same thing, and so all of them were able to make the trek to the other side of their college town to attend the fair. JJ had the day off from soccer, a rare thing these days with playoffs imminent, and during essay season, and she intended to make the most of it. 

JJ kept catching Emily looking at her. It was the same way that a wild animal would look at her if she was offering food, nervous, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She could tell something was bothering her. But knew the more she probed, the more Emily would shut down. 

She wondered if Emily felt awkward after sleeping in her bed, and worried that she had pushed things too far. JJ had been forward, and felt slightly guilty about that, but in her own feverish state, her sole focus had been to make sure Emily was alright. JJ reminded herself that Emily was here, and hadn’t run from her despite all that had happened. She could take a slightly closed-down Emily over none at all, any day. 

The fair itself was located on a farm on the outskirts of the city. Their school had arranged for a shuttle bus to facilitate this wholesome entertainment for their undergrads. It deposited them on a muddy grass field filled with carnival games, a midway, vendors and miscellaneous fall themed activities.

Golden leaves shone in the sunlight, and JJ raised her face to feel its warmth. It was a nice day, the first after weeks of rain. Her wool sweater was more for the fall festivities than for warmth, as it was pleasant outside, but she knew once the sun set she would be grateful for it. 

Emily was looking as beautiful as ever, wearing a maroon turtleneck underneath a black corduroy jacket that looked soft to the touch. Her lips matched, painted with a dark purple-red hue that made her look elegant and mysterious.

She hoped that today would be fun for Emily, knowing that the girl missed out on a lot of the childhood staples of the average American, and JJ wanted to rectify it. Hopefully it would also ease some of the tension between them as well. 

JJ gasped when she saw the petting zoo near the entrance, which was a spacious zone filled with chickens, goats, two llamas, some sheep, cows, and most importantly, the most beautiful horse she’d seen in ages. It was, in fact, the only horse she’d seen up close since that summer, and it was quite scruffy up close.

In her excitement, she found herself reaching out her hand, grasping Emily’s and pointing as she exclaimed: “Horse!” 

She internally cringed at her own behaviour, but Emily looked excitedly where she pointed and followed at her side as she veered towards the animals. 

The horse was a brown gelding, with a black mane and a stripe down his nose. As JJ approached he leaned his head over the fence in anticipation of some treats. Slowing down, JJ approached, still hand in hand with Emily, quietly and calmly so that she didn’t startle him. 

His brown eyes watched her, his ears forward and relaxed, and leaned into her outstretched hand as she reached to pet his nose. JJ’s cold bare hand met warm horse face and her mind flashed back to all the times she rode her grandmother’s horse as a kid.

“He looks like Socks,” JJ giggled, as the horse tried to nibble gently at her sweater, “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Socks?” Emily asked, with a quizzical look on her face, keeping distance between her and the horse. 

The others caught up with them, milling about the petting zoo and interacting with the various animals. Derek and Penelope bought some feed with a quarter from the dispenser and used the flat of their hands to feed some sheep.

“One of my grandma’s horses,” JJ explained, “His name was Socks. He was her favourite and when she got too old to ride, I would.”

“You ride horses?” Emily asked. 

“Not that well,” JJ admitted, “But Socks was patient with me.”

Noticing Emily’s hesitance, JJ smiled at her, trying to reassure her friend. 

“Do you want to pet him?” 

Emily nodded. JJ guided her hand onto his neck, leading her as she stroked it gently. A look of awe crossed Emily’s face and JJ couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. 

JJ removed her hand and let Emily take over, watching as the horse nuzzled Emily, taking great interest in her hair. JJ reached her hand out—and just in time—moved his mouth away just as he attempted to take a mouthful.

“Don’t be rude,” JJ exclaimed, guiding his face away from her friends hair, “That’s not for you.”

Emily’s jaw had dropped, holding onto her hair in horror. 

“They do that sometimes,” JJ explained. 

Emily nodded sagely before nervously returning to give him another pat, her reservations clear on her face.

“Why Socks?” Emily asked, after a moment. 

“He had white marks on his legs,” she explained, “They looked like socks.”

“Seems reasonable,” she said. 

The crew left the petting zoo and walked towards the carnival games area. A wave of nostalgia hit JJ like a truck. Every fall when she was a kid, she and her sister would always beg her for their parents to take them to the fair, insisting that they play all of the games and go on the rides multiple times. In retrospect, it probably cost a ton of money which they definitely could not afford, but her parents would hand them a stack of tickets and let themselves be dragged around the fair by the two girls. 

JJ closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of popcorn, funnel cake and corn dogs—not altogether an entirely pleasant smell—but one that brought her back to being six years old and walking hand-in-hand with her sister.

Emily knocked their shoulders lightly, the motion bringing JJ back into the present, locking eyes with Emily.  

She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that this was Emily’s first fall fair. The other girl looked onto the attractions with apprehension, gawking at the sheer mass of fried food and the loud rides and hordes of people swarming the games. 

“These games are all rigged,” JJ explained. “They’re next to impossible to win.” 

“But you can win,” Emily said, a challenge in her voice. 

JJ nodded.

“I’ve seen some folks walking around with that bear at least,” JJ gestured at a fuzzy brown teddy bear that sat on the top shelf of the dart game’s prize shelf. Other prizes included dangling stuffed snakes and some other plastic toys. 

“It’s cute,” Emily commented, smiling up at the bear.  

JJ smiled as her whole group went head to head on the water gun game, lined up in a row and shooting at the targets as if they were at a shooting range. Each played the game with the focus and determination as if it were a life or death situation, and not a carnival game. 

After, they all spread out around the stalls of games, competing with each other or going it alone as they played games that interested them. 

Emily’s smile kept crossing JJ’s mind as the games wore on, and the thought of that bear stuck in her mind. It’s cute, Emily had said. JJ could get it for her. She was great at darts. 

JJ circled back to the dart game, slamming a five dollar bill on the table and getting a handful of darts. She tossed one. The balloon popped. Another. Pop. Another. Pop. She hit every single one she threw. 

This was harder than it looked, as the balloons were barely filled, it needed a lot of force, and a wicked aim to pop them. JJ, luckily, had both. 

“Pick something from the first shelf,” the employee told her. 

JJ frowned, looking at the fluorescent stuffed animals on the first row. They looked cheap, and none were as cute as the bear, which sat between a monkey and a rabbit on the top shelf. 

“How do I get the bear?” she asked. 

“Win again,” he said, with an apathetic shrug. He was just a teenager, probably only getting paid minimum wage. JJ couldn’t help but glower at him.

JJ sighed, paying him for another round. She knew that the toy itself was worthless, but it wasn’t about that. It was about winning it for Emily. 

“What are you doing?” A voice asked her from behind as she lined up her next shot. 

Spencer. He was standing to her right, clutching a plastic bag in his hands. He wore a pair of sunglasses and smiled awkwardly in greeting. 

“Darts,” JJ answered, “What does it look like?”

She looked at the bag. It was clear and filled with water, with a small goldfish swimming around inside. 

“You won a fish?” JJ asked.

“Yup,” Spencer said, gesturing over at a game that was essentially beer pong, but instead of cups full of alcohol, it was a series of fish tanks. 

He explained that he had won on his first try, and now was a proud owner of a goldfish. JJ was certain it would die before they got back to residence, but decided not to burst his bubble. The kid was smiling at his fish, looking proud of himself. 

JJ turned back to the game and focused on an orange balloon that waved in the wind. She threw. Hit. The balloon popped. 

“I just want that damned bear,”  JJ hissed, gripping the dart tight in her hand. 

“Why?” Spencer asked, his forehead furrowed. 

“Why” was a great question! For my not-girlfriend because I’m just such a good friend, was the answer, but she wasn’t going to say that . Because I want her to like me, and I want her to date me, but I can’t work up the courage to ask her. Because she might be gay, but might not, and I haven’t even asked her that. Because all I want is for her to smile. 

JJ sighed. 

“I want to win it for Emily, ok?” JJ said.

“You could buy her a nicer bear if you wanted with this money,” he pointed out. 

“I know,” JJ said, aiming her dart. Another hit. “I just have to hit three more and then I win.”

JJ was being pointedly obtuse, she knew if she began to explain, it would all come rushing out. She could handle Penelope’s teasing, but that was her limit. 

Spencer began to speak, but she shushed him. She threw another. Hit. The balloon popped with a satisfying pop. Two more. 

Reid held his fish up to his face, examining it close up. Just as she was about to throw her last shot, she felt a hand clap her on the back in the unmistakable gesture of Derek Morgan greeting her. 

“What’re we playing, kids?” he asked. 

“JJ wants the bear,” Spencer informed him. “For Emily.”

Derek grinned at her. JJ ignored both of them, squinting at a bright red balloon and taking her aim.

Pop. She did it. Both Derek and Spencer cheered for her, despite their earlier misgivings. JJ slapped the metal barrier between her and the employee in glee as he nodded approvingly at her achievement. 

The employee used a telescopic grabber to lift the bear off a tall shelf and handed it to her with a smile. 

She hugged the bear to her chest, elated with her accomplishment despite Derek’s probing looks. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with Emily’s best friend these days. He seemed to know something that she didn’t, and she caught him smiling at her and Emily when they spoke. 

JJ was relieved when he shifted his attention to discussing the logistics of goldfish ownership with Reid.

The three of them wandered through the stalls, taking a break for Reid and Morgan to pick up candy apples, then ran back into the rest of the group. Penelope, Hotch, Rossi and Emily were still at the water gun booth, cheering Emily on as she played against a boy that looked like he was about their age. 

A bell rang, and a light flashed over Emily’s head. She had won. 

JJ walked up behind her, watching as Emily got to point out her prize. She pointed to the exact same bear as JJ had tucked behind her back. 

“JJ will love it,” Penelope said to Emily, neither girl knowing that JJ was right behind them. 

“Love what?” JJ said, confused. 

Emily turned around looking at JJ, clutching the bear to her chest. 

“Uh, you said you saw these bears around,” Emily said, “I thought you might want one.”

Derek and Spencer both burst into laughter, as JJ felt blush creep over her face. Emily held the bear out to her, with a shy look on her face. To her left, Penelope’s jaw had dropped and both Hotch and Rossi’s usually serious expressions were filled with bemusement. 

JJ pulled out the bear from behind her back and presented it to Emily. Both girls were holding identical bears out to each other, each having independently decided to win it for the other. 

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Penelope squealed. 

JJ and Emily exchanged identical bears, both feeling quite silly. JJ was speechless, simply grinning at Emily, who smiled down at her. 

Hotch broke the silence after a minute, pointing to what was in Spencer’s hand. “Is that a fish?” 

   “We should do the corn maze next!” Penelope squealed, pointing at the painted wooden sign leading towards a field with what looked like an endless maze. 

“Mazes are actually quite simple,” Reid said, “You have to hug the right side wall for the duration of the maze and you will eventually reach the exit. It beats getting hopelessly lost in the hopes of entertainment.” 

“That’s one way to do it,” Hotch commented, looking over to a smirking Rossi.

“Come on Reid,” Derek chastised, throwing an arm around his shoulder, “You couldn’t possibly think that’s the best way of doing it.

“How do you suggest we should approach it?” Spencer asked as he shrugged Derek’s arm off of him.

“You gotta get a feel for it,” Derek replied. “Remember where you came from.”

Spencer made a non committal noise.

“Getting lost comes with the territory,” Derek added, “It’s part of the fun.”

Emily gave him a look, but didn’t contribute to the debate. 

“You won’t be saying that when you’re lost, cold and surrounded by corn,” Spencer retorted.

“He’s got a point about the corn,” Hotch quipped. 

“I’ve never seen this much corn in my life,” Emily admits, “I haven’t spent much time around farms.”

Emily touched her hair absentmindedly,reminded of the horse trying to eat it from earlier in the afternoon. “Aren’t you a farmgirl, JJ?” Derek teased.

“No!” she said, “I lived in the suburbs near Pittsburgh. She lived an hour away so we’d visit on the weekends and on holidays.”

“They had cows!” Penelope blurted, “She showed me pictures once. They’re so cute as babies.”

JJ nodded, she loved visiting her grandma when she was little. She and Ros would be allowed to collect the eggs in the morning, and JJ always loved grabbing hay for the horses. 

“What’s your take on mazes?” Derek asked her, “Oh farm girl?”

JJ punched his shoulder in retaliation.

“I say that you two should put your money where your mouth is,” JJ said, “See whose method works in the end.”

“You talking about a race?” Derek asked. 

“That seems only fair,” Emily said, “Since both of you have such strong opinions on how to go about tackling this maze. Let’s see who’s right.”

“Shall we split up?” Hotch asked.

“Very Scooby-Doo of you, sir,” Penelope cooed, “I like it.”

Hotch did not acknowledge this beyond a glare. 

As they approached the maze entrance, a teenage girl, a bit younger than them and wearing a green shirt branded with the name of the farm handed them a map and began to explain the rules of the maze. No smoking, drinking, cheating by ducking under the red ribbon that marked the paths, she told them.

She then offered them a map, a black and white printout that marked out the route. 

“No thanks,” Derek said in a haughty tone, “We’ll figure it out ourselves.”

“I legally have to give it to you,” the girl said, her braces giving her a slight lisp. “It’s a safety issue.”

Derek and Spencer looked at each other, each taking a map, but folding it up and placing it in their pockets. Hotch also took a map, as did Emily. 

“I call dibs on Der-bear,” Penelope said, wrapping her arms around his bicep. “And JJ will go with Emily of course.”

“I’ll follow the wall,” Hotch says, “Reid, you better be right about this wall thing.”

Rossi looked around and seemed to decide to see whether the boy-genius was onto something or not. 

JJ felt a little shy at the assumption that she and Emily would naturally be together. Penelope was getting more and more bold with her attitude towards the two girls. 

The teams set out into the maze, splitting up at the first fork in the road, the boys staying right, Derek and Penelope heading straight ahead, and JJ and Emily veering left.

“What do you think of your first fair?” JJ asked, fiddling with the stuffed bear in her hands. 

They trudged through the muddy maze, with the sound of the fair in the distance, a pleasant hum of music and the clamour of the rides. 

“It’s not what I expected,” Emily said, “I only really saw this stuff in movies.”

“Better or worse than you imagined?” she asked. 

“Better,” Emily said, “but that’s probably just the company.”

“Good friends make a difference,” JJ said. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, “friends.”

JJ hummed, smiling as she felt the breeze in her hair. She loved the outdoors. She spent way too much time cooped up in the library these days. Emily, on the other hand, was picking her way through, careful not to step in any puddles or trip on fallen corn stalks. 

“Left or right?” Emily asked as they neared an intersection.

“Right,” JJ said. 

They headed deeper into the maze, turning left, then right, then hitting a dead end and back tracking. The corn rose above their heads, limiting their vision to a few feet in front of, and behind, them at all times. 

A few times, they bickered over directions, as JJ was certain that they were walking in circles. 

“How long was this supposed to take us?” Emily said, after twenty minutes passed. 

“Not this long,” JJ admitted. 

“Where are we?”

“I have no idea.”

She stopped, and paused waiting for Emily to do the same. JJ listened hard, straining her ears to listen for the direction of the music. 

“I can’t hear the carnival anymore,” JJ said, “We must be on the far end of the maze.” 

“Are we lost?” Emily asked. 

“I think that’s the whole point of it,” JJ said with a laugh. “Let’s head this way.”

“Should we check the map?” Emily asked. 

“Sure.”

Emily looked at JJ expectantly. 

“ You took the map, Em,” JJ said with a laugh. 

“No I didn’t,” Emily replied. She rifled through her pockets, then held up her hands in a gesture of: see? Nothing!

She checked her own pockets, and inside the small purse hanging over her shoulder. No map. 

“You sure you don’t have it?” JJ asked, hearing the stress in her voice. 

Emily’s eyes widened, checking her own pockets more frantically. 

Neither had it. JJ began to laugh. Of course she’d get lost in a corn maze with Emily. Of course. 

JJ’s phone pinged. Penelope had texted her.

Penny G: where are you? are you making out in the corn? 

JJ: no, we’re lost. are you all done already?

Penny G: yup. Spencer was a few minutes behind us  

“They’re already out,” JJ explained to Emily. 

“Figures,” Emily huffed. 

Penny G: we can wait for you? we’re going to try the rides 

JJ: i’ll text you when we get out, go ahead

JJ slipped her phone back into her pocket, noticing Emily poking at the edge of the corn with her hands, trying to peer through. 

“More corn,” Emily said, sounding defeated. 

JJ thought for a second, trying to weigh their options. 

“Get on my shoulders,” JJ blurted. 

“What?” 

“So you can see,” JJ said, “I’ll lift you up.” 

Emily looked flustered for a moment, opening and closing her mouth at the thought, but eventually nodded. 

JJ knelt down slightly, letting Emily put her legs on either side of her head. JJ knew she was strong. She could lift more than double her own weight at the gym. Once Emily was settled, she lifted her with ease, standing straight up and holding onto her thighs with her hands to steady Emily. 

“I see, uh, a highway behind us, more fields,” Emily said, then JJ turned a bit to give her another angle, “We’re almost there. We’re on the far right side, but the path is fairly clear. We go left, then it doubles back. But I think I can get us out of here.”

JJ stumbled under Emily’s shifting weight as she turned, finding herself tilting forward before she could adjust, tipping forward and sending both girls tumbling into the corn. 

Emily landed on top of JJ, their limbs tangled, with a loud “fuck!” as they made contact with the mud.   

JJ sat up, rubbing the back of her head where Emily had accidentally kicked her. 

“Sorry,” JJ said, “are you ok?”

Emily sat up, rubbing her wrist which caught most of her weight. Both girls had come out of the fall mostly unscathed.  

“The corn broke my fall,” Emily said with a laugh. 

They burst into laughter, and JJ reached out her hands to help Emily up. 

The girls retrieved their bears, both unsure whose was whose, and began to make their escape from the corn. 

Emily navigated them out of the maze, which, despite their tumble, made JJ’s idea worthwhile. 

“I don’t think I ever want to see corn again,” Emily said as they left the maze. 

“I guess you won’t have roasted corn for dinner?” 

“God no.”

They laughed. 

For the next hour or so, they visited the midway, braving an assortment of spinning rides that bore names like The Annihilator, and The Brain Blender, that were next to carousels and other rides clearly meant for children. 

JJ had a blast, she was definitely an adrenaline junky and the rides gave her the same endorphin high as sports. 

Emily was clearly nervous, but was a good sport. She took a couple rides off, claiming to need to babysit Spencer’s new fish (he decided it was too cold out for the goldfish, so he had been wrapping it in his coat to keep it warm. Emily did the same during her time as babysitter as Spencer rode the ride.)

The sun began to set, and as the sky filled with colours, the carnival lights dazzled them, glowing in a rainbow of incandescent light. 

“One more ride?” Hotch asked them, as he noticed their energy fading and their stomachs growling. 

“The Ferris wheel!” Penelope announced, “we have to.”

“The last Ferris wheel I was on was the London eye,” Emily commented. 

“We’ll miss jet setter,” Derek replied, “this will probably be a bit less glamorous.” 

They waited in line for it, laughing and goofing around. JJ smiled at her friends, while her nerves grew in her stomach. She tugged on her sister’s necklace, pulling it tight against the back of her neck to calm her. 

“Hey,” Emily whispered, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” JJ said back, quietly. “Just a little nervous with heights.”

Emily smiled down at her, with no trace of judgment on her face, and JJ softened. 

“Didn’t you just ride The Bonebreaker earlier?” Emily asked, talking about a ride that locked them in a cage, and flipped them in punishing rotations. 

“Those are different,” JJ said as tucked her hair behind her ears, trying to find the words to explain. “You’re strapped in, and there’s a cage. Ferris wheels have just the bar. You’re exposed.”

“Are you good to do it?” Emily asked, concern etched into her features.

“Yeah, of course,” JJ said, setting her shoulders back and gritting her jaw. “I’m not actually scared.”

JJ forced herself to relax, making good on her promise, leaning onto the chilly metal barricade. She was so happy that her little troupe of Penelope and Spencer had expanded to include all of these new people. Their dynamic was fun, and warm, and felt… right. 

“This would be a beautiful photo,” Penelope exclaimed, pulling out her phone and gesturing at the whole group to get in close. 

JJ turned to face the camera, smiling wide and meaning it. Reid and Emily wrapped their arms around her shoulders, and she was squished into the big group of friends. She felt the happiest she had felt in years, despite the creeping fear building up inside her. 

The line moved quickly and they were shuffled into their seats, two by two. Emily and JJ were together, like before, and soon they were slowly lifted into the sky, side by side. 

“It’s beautiful,” Emily gasped.

She looked down onto the fair, leaning forward as she gazed into the quickly shrinking fairgrounds. 

Emily’sbeautiful, JJ thought, looking at her friend as she looked out into the night. 

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, feeling a touch of vertigo, breathing deep to keep calm. 

“Thanks for bringing me,” Emily said. 

JJ clutched the bear tightly, as though someone was going to take it away from her.  

“I told you that you’d like it,” JJ said, focusing on Emily’s face instead of the height. 

“I admit it,” Emily said. “I like apple cider. Fairs are fun. I’m a country girl now.” 

“Not yet,” JJ said, “we’ll work on that.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Emily said with a smile. 

The Ferris wheel slowly turned as new passengers boarded, raising them higher into the air until they were at the very top, when they stopped. 

Emily leaned forward, then back, making the chair swing slightly. JJ gasped as her stomach clenched, the fear of her plummeting to her death high on her mind. 

JJ realized that her hand had shot out and now rested upon Emily’s. The other girl did not pull away. 

“Sorry,” Emily giggled. “I had to.”

JJ glowered at her, but knew she was kidding and wouldn’t actually put her in danger. They rested at the top of the Ferris wheel, their chair swaying slightly, hand in hand for a few minutes. 

JJ shifted closer to Emily, mentally telling herself that she was doing it to get closer to the warmth. Emily leaned towards her, allowing their shoulders to meet softly. 

“We’ve been at the top for awhile,” JJ said, a little nervously. “Do you think it’s stuck?”

“I can’t imagine these things get stuck,” Emily assured her, “it’s probably someone getting off or on.”

This did nothing to quell the bundle of nerves in JJ’s stomach. She clutched the bar even tighter. 

“JJ look at me,” Emily said, her voice soft, but stern. 

JJ complied, tearing her eyes away from the ground far below her feet and focusing on Emily, sitting right next to her, feeling her warmth radiate out from her hand. 

“You’re ok,” Emily said, calmly. “Don’t worry.”

JJ believed her, knowing that whenever they were together, nothing ever seemed to go wrong. 

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world faded away. JJ got lost in her warm brown eyes that looked at her with concern. Emily had done a perfect wing of eyeliner, sharp on the corner, and covered her lid with a neutral brown eyeshadow. Emily was so beautiful. Her brows framed her eyes so perfectly, forming a graceful arch. Her cheekbones were sharp and her smile warm, but rare on the serious girl’s face. JJ took her in, relishing the moment to look unheeded. 

JJ felt Emily’s grip on her hand tighten, and there was something about her eyes that beckoned her closer. JJ felt herself, acting almost on autopilot, leaning towards Emily as if she’d done it before.

Emily’s arm, which was thrown casually over the back of the chair, wrapped around JJ’s shoulders, pulling her oh so slightly closer. An invitation.

Without thinking, JJ found herself just inches from Emily, their breaths mixing as their foreheads touched. 

Jennifer Jareau couldn’t believe this was happening, that Emily Prentiss, the girl across the hall, who she had been pining over for months, was probably about to kiss her. 

She did not think of the billion ways this complicated their friendship, or the fact that she didn’t know if she could even handle jumping back into a relationship, or how she was thirty feet in the air on a rusty ferris wheel, all she could think about was the idea of Emily’s lips on hers. 

Their lips met. Before this moment, JJ thought the phrase “sparks flying” was an exaggeration, but the electricity that she felt when Emily kissed her set JJ’s body on fire. 

Her lips were soft, velvety, perfect. At first, it was chaste, with their hands nervously still holding onto the railing. Then, it deepened, lips moving slowly against the other. Emily’s hand moved from on top of hers up to her face, pulling her closer than before. JJ did the same, tangling her fingers into Emily’s black hair. Their matching stuffed bears were squished between them. 

JJ’s mouth opened, and Emily’s tongue gained entrance, rubbing against JJ’s. It felt heavenly, and in that moment JJ decided that she didn’t want to do anything else in life but kiss Emily. 

Their kiss was gentle, yet needy, with a passion that made JJ’s head spin. Emily’s hands rested delicately on her face, stroking her cheek, and wrapped almost protectively around her back. 

The two girls only came up for breath, kissing like their life depended on it. 

JJ felt her heart race, but a wave of calm washed over her. It felt like a kiss she had had a thousand times, and one she would have a thousand more. As familiar as something that she had experienced in her past lives, and something she knew she wanted to do for the rest of this one. 

Suddenly, the chair rocked, and the Ferris wheel roared back to life.

They pulled apart, looking away from each other and catching their breath. JJ could feel a blush rise up her face as Emily tugged her arm out from behind JJ’s back.

Neither made eye contact as the Ferris wheel spun around, the carnival blurring out as they picked up speed. 

They turned once, twice, a third time, before it slowed to a stop and people began to exit. 

JJ no longer felt the acute fear of heights tug at her stomach, on the contrary, now it was the knowledge that she had just made out with her floormate weighing on her mind. 

Her head was spinning and her lips tingled with the memory of the kiss. Her blood roared in her ears, as anxiety took over as her brain flashed with all of the million ways this could go terribly wrong. 

Wordlessly, they dismounted and waited quietly for the rest of their group, who all babbled about how pretty the wheel was and how Derek wouldn’t stop swaying the chair. JJ scanned their faces, wondering if anyone could tell what had happened.

JJ drifted alongside the group, lost in her thoughts, unable to meet Emily’s eye, clutching her bear tightly to her chest all the way home.

[wistfulcynic]

The Sleep of the Sun

SUMMARY: It’s eighteen years after Emma and Killian defeated Cora and her plan to flood their world with dark magic, and the story moves on to their son Liam. A sweet and loving boy with the ability to shift into a dog at will, he is also more observant than his parents give him credit for. 

And now, as Samhain approaches, something dark is brewing in the forest yet again...

Written for @cspupstravaganza​​, following on from The Very Witching Time and potentially leading to something for next year’s Supernatural Summer...

ALL the thanks to everyone who encouraged me to continue in this verse which I love so much, including @thisonesatellite​​ and @katie-dub​​ for all their love and brilliant beta skills, and to @teamhook​​, @kmomof4​​, @darkcolinodonorgasm​​ and @shireness-says​​ for all the love for puppy!Liam on the Discord. He loves you too ❤️❤️

@mariakov81​​, @stahlop​​, @ohmightydevviepuu​​, @thejollyroger-writer​​, @resident-of-storybrooke​​, @snowbellewells​​, @jennjenn615​​, @winterbaby89​​, @scientificapricot​​, @tiganasummertree​​, @captainsjedi​​, @ultraluckycatnd​​ (importing the tag list from TVWT, I hope you don’t mind!) 

Rating: G Words: 2.4K Tags: shapeshifters, witchcraft, witchcraft AU, original CS children, family fluff 

On AO3

The Sleep of the Sun: 

The scents of autumn fill his nose as he runs through the forest, the crisp air and the dying leaves and the moist earth. Hints of wood smoke and moss and mushrooms, blackberries and raw chestnuts, all distinct and clear in his head, gradually becoming one with names as his mother teaches him the lore of the forest. 

There is another scent too. It was always there, faint in his earliest memories and growing stronger with each passing year. It’s not a pleasant scent; it’s hard and menacing, dark in a different way to the smell of the leaves and earth. He tried once to explain it to his mother but the look on her face stopped the words in his throat, then she hugged him hard and said she’d take care of it. 

He can smell it now, stronger than ever as Samhain approaches. The turning of the year when the veil between the worlds is thin and his mother and sister perform their ancient rituals of death and rebirth. This year there is worry behind his mother’s eyes as she lights the candles in the windows each morning and unfamiliar stones in the tumbling bowls she places alongside them, and her mouth is set grimly in the evenings as she pores over crumbling books and whispers to his father about knotholes and barriers and darkness. She doesn’t know he can hear her, and Liam is not yet ready for his parents to discover that he hears as a dog does even in human form. 

He ignores the scent today. Samhain is still a week away and he prefers to revel in all the delights the forest holds for an energetic young dog. His ears stream behind him as he races through the trees, his paws that are still too big for his body falling silently on the forest floor. He chases a squirrel until it scurries up a tree, yipping delightedly when it chatters at him from the branches. The squirrel knows as all the forest creatures do that he means it no harm and just likes to see it run. He sniffs a rabbit next and goes to seek it, running faster as the scent grows stronger, as he picks up on its trail. His senses tell him it’s close and then he catches a twitch of motion, a glimpse of a fluffy tail through a gap in the underbrush. He crouches down and his muscles tense in preparation for his pounce and then he hears the call. 

“Liam.” His father’s voice in his head, put there by the connection they share that even his mother can’t explain, and by a spell of hers she could explain but won’t. “It’s time to come home, lad. Dinner’s nearly on the table.” 

He briefly weighs the merits of being late to dinner in order to catch the rabbit and decides against it. His mother is tense enough as it is. He turns away from the scent trail and races home. The garden gate swings open as he approaches and he dashes through it, yipping a greeting to the garden magic as he goes. As he bounds up the steps his form shimmers with a golden light, stretches, lengthens, the gait shifting as he takes off from four feet and lands on two, and when he opens the screen door it’s as a human child. One small for his age and uncommonly graceful, with blond hair that falls messily into eyes that always match the colour of the sky. 

His mother doesn’t like him to be a dog at the dinner table. 

—

“Is that you, Liam?” Emma called from the kitchen as he ran inside, letting the screen door slam shut behind him. “Wash your hands before you come to the table.” 

“I know, Mom!” he groused, kicking off his shoes before heading upstairs to bathroom he shared with his sister. Quickly he washed his hands, remembering to use soap even though he hated how it smelled, then peeked his head into Rowenna’s room on his way back downstairs. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, bent over a large, leather-bound book. 

“Whatcha reading?” he asked her, and she jumped in alarm.

 “Oh! Liam! I didn’t hear you come in.” 

He frowned at that. She would’ve had to be really absorbed in her book not to hear him. Their dad claimed he sounded like a herd of elephants going up and down the stairs. “I just asked what you’re reading.” 

“Ah. It’s, um, just something for Samhain. Mom’s worried that—” she broke off, flushing guilty pink. “Er— let’s just call it a witch thing. Is it dinnertime?” 

“Yeah.” Liam wasn’t always great at picking up on verbal cues but even he could spot this blatant attempt to change the subject. But Wren’s shoulders were tight with the same tension their mother had been carrying in hers the past few weeks, so he smoothed out his frown and let it go. 

“What are we having?” she asked him. 

He sniffed the air. “Pumpkin soup and grilled cheese.” 

“Mmm, perfect.” She shut her book and set it aside, stretching and rolling her shoulders as she got up from her bed. “Hey,” she said, putting her arm around him. “I think you’re getting taller!” 

“I’m not,” he grumbled. “I’m still too small.” 

“No such thing as too small, or too big,” she replied, squeezing his shoulders. “Just the size you are. And remember, Dad says he was small for his age until he was about seventeen, then he grew like eight inches in one summer. I bet that’s what happens to you.” 

“That’s still six years from now,” said Liam, with a hint of a whine just creeping into his voice. “That’s forever.” 

Rowenna laughed with all the wisdom of her own sixteen years. “It’ll come eventually,” she said. “Let’s go eat.” 

In the kitchen they found their parents standing next to the stove, kissing. At the sound of the door opening Killian broke the kiss but leaned his forehead against his wife’s, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek as he murmured quiet words and she nodded. Liam’s sharp ears picked up the sound of his father’s voice clearly but he quickly tuned it out before his brain could register any of the words, concentrating on the the bubbling of the soup and sizzling of the grilled cheese, and on Rowenna’s long-suffering sigh. Some things he knew instinctively were not for him to hear. 

Rowenna stomped to the table and dragged her chair from under it with a drawn-out whine of wood on flagstones, muttering right here in the kitchen and like they’re my age just loudly enough for her parents to hear. Emma and Killian pulled apart, he to smirk at his daughter and she to brush her fingers over her eyes and turn back to the stove. 

“Liam,” she called, “Come here so I can check your hands.” He approached and held them out for her to inspect. She made a show of examining them closely, turning them over and sniffing them. “You used soap?” she asked sternly, a smile hovering just at the corners of her mouth.

She must know he had, but he played along. It was their special silly game. “Yes, Mom, jeez.” He rolled his eyes, unconsciously imitating her own much-used gesture. 

Her smile widened, then began to quiver at the edges and for a terrible moment he thought she might cry. Instead she pulled him into a tight hug. “I love you, kid,” she whispered. 

He wished he was in dog form so he could lick her face and make her laugh, wag his tail so hard it took the rest of his body with it. Human words were just not enough to express what he felt for her. For all his family. 

“I love you too, Mom,” he said anyway, and squeezed her back. 

She held him for another brief moment then kissed his head. “Go sit down, I’ll bring the food in a minute.” 

Liam went to the table sat down in his chair next to his dad, who grinned at him and ruffled his hair. 

“How was your run, lad?”

“Good. I almost caught a rabbit.” 

“Almost, hmm?” Killian raised an eyebrow.

“I would’ve got it, but then someone made me come home for dinner,” retorted Liam, and his father laughed. 

Emma set a bowl of soup in front of him, and a plate with a crispy golden sandwich oozing warm cheese. Liam wagged his butt in his seat. It wasn’t always easy, he reflected, having a witch for a mother. You never got away with telling lies, even tiny harmless ones like no of course I didn’t knock over that vase with my tail, and it wasn’t always clear what things in the kitchen were food and what were spells. But one undeniable upside was that your grilled cheese stayed oozy no matter how long it took you to finish it. He picked up half of it —cut into triangles just as he liked— and watched the cheese strings stretch. He stretched them as far as he could until they snapped, sprung back and stuck to his arm. He giggled. 

“Try not to make too much of a mess,” Emma chided, but her smile was indulgent. Liam wrapped the cheese strings around the corner of the sandwich and dipped it into his soup. He breathed deeply as he took a bite, enjoying the rich smell of the pumpkin that had been growing in the garden just that morning, the fresh ground spices his mother added to it, the crispy sage leaf on top and the drizzle of hazelnut oil, the buttery bread and the salty cheese. 

The four of them ate in silence for a minute then Emma spoke. 

“Did you find anything, Wren?” 

“Not yet. But I’m only halfway through the book, I’ll do the rest after dinner.” 

Emma hesitated, a frown wrinkling her brow, then shook her head. “No, it’ll wait until tomorrow.” 

“Mom, I can do it—” 

“No. We still have time, and you have homework.” 

“Homework might not matter in a week,” muttered Rowenna, not quite under her breath. 

Emma gave a little hiss of warning and Killian frowned at his daughter. Liam concentrated on his soup, canine senses on full alert. 

“Just saying,” huffed Rowenna. “You’re both being very relaxed about this when it could easily—” Emma hissed louder and Rowenna broke off, scowling. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Not like anyone ever listens to me anyway. Now I know how Cassandra felt.” 

“Because you did your homework,” Killian pointed out. “Otherwise you wouldn’t know who Cassandra even was. Would you?” He waggled his eyebrows at Rowenna, who managed to hold back her giggle for nearly ten seconds. 

“All right, point taken,” she laughed. “Stop it, Dad, you look like you’re having a stroke.” 

Killian laughed too and Liam grinned into his soup. Even Emma chuckled, the lines of worry in her forehead smoothing out and her eyes twinkling.  

After dinner Liam, his own homework completed, stood at his window watching the moon rise over the tops of the trees, large and pale and nearly full. In a few days it would be a Hunter’s Moon, and glow dark orange in the sky. He loved the moon normally, but tonight it gave him an uneasy feeling, like a prickling beneath his skin. He shifted into dog form and snuck on silent paws to Wren’s door, finding it open a tiny crack. Nudging it open further with his nose, he slipped inside. His sister was curled up on her bed with a book in her hand, a school paperback this time, and a notebook lying open next to her. With a graceful leap Liam bounded up onto the bed and licked her face. 

“Hey.” She laid her book aside and hugged him, running her hands soothingly through his fur. “Everything okay?” 

Barking would draw their parents’ attention, so he gave a small whine and licked the tip of her nose. “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Stuff’s a bit unsettling right now. Want some lap time?” 

 He whimpered louder, bathing her face in enthusiastic kisses. She chuckled and sat up, crossing her legs to make a spot for him. “Curl on up then,” she said. 

Liam had heard of sibling rivalry —mostly from his cousin Leo, who had eight year old twin sisters— but he had never felt it himself. He loved his sister. He loved everyone. 

“A true canine nature,” laughed his father, who understood. Just as Liam understood that there were times when his dad missed being a dog. 

Wren also understood. As witches tended to be she was close to nature, her connection to the forest magic remarkable even for the women in their family. She knew the exact moment the geese began their journey south each autumn and she felt when the first buds of tender green burst open on the trees each spring. And she more than anyone else in his family knew when Liam just needed to curl up in a lap and have someone scratch his ears. 

“Did I ever tell you I asked Mom once if I could learn to be an animagus?” she asked him as her clever fingers found the precise spot where he most loved to be rubbed. “So I could go running in the forest with you. But she said that’s only in Harry Potter and that your magic is unique. She said it probably owes a bit to traces of Dad’s curse, but most of it is just you.” 

She leaned down to rest her cheek against his head. “I know you feel the weirdness in the forest right now. You can probably smell it.” 

He whimpered in affirmation. 

“I thought so. I wish I could tell you what’s going on but Mom swore me to secrecy and actually we aren’t completely sure. But whatever it is, Mom and Dad will handle it. You know that, right?” 

He risked a tiny yip and licked her wrist. She kissed his head and picked her book back up, continuing to pet him as she read. Liam snuggled deeper into her lap and closed his eyes. As he slipped into slumber, he realised that his unease from earlier was gone. Because Rowenna was right.  Whatever was going on in the forest that his family wasn’t telling him —still insisting on protecting him even though he was almost twelve— he was certain there was no magic his mother couldn’t handle, no mystery his dad couldn’t solve. They would take care of it, of course they would. That was what they did. 

[callboxkat]

Infinitesimal (part 32)

Author’s note: Hey guys! This is only two hours late, so I’m calling it a win. Also, from now on--if you want to be added or removed from the tag list, please send an ask! I was looking back at older chapters, and apparently there were a few people who asked in a comment that I missed. I’d like to avoid that in the future! 

Enjoy the update. :)

Warnings: nightmare, injuries, death mention, fear, arguing, mentions of kidnapping and being trapped, illness mention, referenced past abuse

Word count: 3691

Look for the masterpost in the notes!

...

Patton blinked awake slowly. His vision faded into focus, and he was startled to see thick, black metal bars criss-crossing about a foot above him.

No… it couldn’t be. How was Patton back in a cage? Hadn’t he gotten away? Fear started to twist in his chest as he frantically tried to figure out how he had gotten here.

“Well aren’t you being a lazy-bones, dolly?” a high-pitched, grating voice suddenly sing-songed. It felt like it came from everywhere at once, making even his bones vibrate. Patton’s blood ran cold.

No…. No, no, no, no! Patton sat up fast, almost like he’d been shocked, snapping his head towards the source of the voice. Pale blue, visibly annoyed eyes larger than his entire head met his.

“Marissa,” he whispered, the word as frail as a dead leaf trembling on its branch, about to be blown away in the wind. His eyes were wide with shock as they took in the huge child’s pudgy, pink face. His fingers began to go numb with panic, his legs trembling.

“I want to play,” Marissa announced, spitting slightly on the ‘p’. Her hand shot towards the cage door, the movement almost too fast to see. She grinned, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Patton jumped up  while she was busy unlocking the door and tried to run, to hide, but there was nothing in the cage but himself, and his feet seemed to slide backwards on the slick plastic floor, making his attempts to run slower than a crawl. The door fell open with a clang; and Marissa’s hand snatched him up easily, lifting him off his feet. Patton’s arms were pinned to his sides, his legs hanging uselessly. The grip around him tightened, pushing the air from his lungs and leaving him breathless.

Marissa pulled him out of the cage and dropped him unceremoniously on the table it sat on. Patton staggered to his feet and attempted to run again, slipping on the fabric scraps strewn about on the wood. Marissa casually flicked his back, sending him crashing to the unforgiving tabletop with a small cry. A sharp pain throbbed in his back, and tears pricked in Patton’s eyes. He had only just begun pushing himself back up on shaky arms when Marissa abruptly grabbed at him again, pinching his right arm between her fingertips, the pressure strongest just above his elbow. She slowly lifted up his struggling form, and Patton’s arm quickly began to go numb as he couldn’t help but whine in discomfort. His legs kicked at the air, and Marissa shook him harshly. It was a miracle that his shoulder didn’t dislocate.

“Stop it!” she snapped at him. “I’m playing!”

Patton went limp immediately, hanging awkwardly as dead weight from the one arm Marissa had pinched in her grasp. His heart was pounding, but he knew from experience that if he kept struggling, he could get seriously hurt.

Marissa giggled, apparently pleased by his compliance. She took a step back from the table, then lifted Patton up high, oh, so high, impossibly far from the floor below. He stared down at Marissa’s face with frightened eyes. She grinned, her teeth somehow even sharper than before, like the shark teeth he had seen once in a book.

“W-wait, p-ple-ase,” he gasped desperately, realizing what was about to happen. “Don’t!”

She let go anyway.

…

Patton awoke for real with a jolt and a startled, quickly stifled cry. Disoriented by the dream that still felt so incredibly real, his eyes darted around, desperately trying to figure out where he was. It was a stark contrast to what he had just experienced: It was dark; the cage and Marissa were both gone; and most notably, he was no longer plummeting to his certain death. He  found that he was lying in a nest of blankets and other soft materials, a warmth at his side.

Patton knew then where he was: He was in Virgil’s and Emile’s home, curled up alongside them. He wasn’t with Marissa. He wasn’t with any human at all. He was free. He was safe.

I’m safe, Patton repeated to himself. I’m safe.

As the all-consuming terror of his dream faded, Patton slowly felt himself return to his body. One of the blankets had gotten wrapped around him at some point, nearly pinning his left arm to his side. He had also rolled onto his other arm, which had now gone numb beneath him from the elbow down.

Patton forced his left arm free of the blanket, then rolled over onto his back and tried to catch his breath as quietly as possible. Pins and needles pricked through his numb right arm, the feeling gradually returning to it as his heart rate just barely began to slow to its normal pace. It had been a while since he’d had a nightmare that bad. He didn’t think he had had one so vivid and terrifying since before Virgil had rescued him.

The brother lying closer to him was stirring, probably roused due to Patton’s movement and any noise he hadn’t quite managed to silence. Patton had gone to bed first of the three that night, and it was rather dark in the room, so he wasn’t sure which brother it was. He hoped that he hadn’t woken either of them. Virgil had told him that he could always wake him up if this happened, but… Patton just felt so guilty doing that. Virgil and Emile had already done so much for him.

The person lying beside him relaxed again after a moment, his breathing evening out; and Patton released his breath in a quiet, relieved sigh. He stared up into the darkness, his heart still pounding, and hoped that he would eventually fall back asleep.

…

“Hey… did I elbow someone last night?”

“What?” Virgil asked, glancing over at Emile from where he’d been sitting, in the middle of sewing up a hole in his jacket. Patton, who had been sitting nearby untangling a wad of string, stilled. He thought of the part of his dream when Marissa had flicked him. The spot on his back was still a little sore despite the injury having happened in a dream.

“I thought, maybe… I don’t know,” Emile was saying, trailing off uncertainly. He shrugged, glancing between his brother and Patton. “Sorry.”

“I mean, you do it often enough that I wouldn’t be surprised,” Virgil admitted jokingly. “But it wasn’t me.” He glanced towards Patton questioningly.

“Oh—um, maybe,” Patton admitted. “My back, I think? It wasn’t too hard. I barely even woke up. I never would have known if you hadn’t said anything.” He took a long sip of his water, glancing away.

“Oh,” Emile said, sounding relieved. “Okay. Sorry about that, anyway. It was an accident.”

Patton shook his head, setting down his cup and looking up at Emile with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo; you were asleep. It’s not your fault. I’m fine, promise.”

Virgil glanced between the two of them, then returned to his sewing. One of the lights flickered overhead just as Virgil went to do a stitch, and he pricked his finger with the needle. Virgil sighed, sitting back. “So, are we doing anything today besides mending clothes?” he asked, sticking the tip of his sore finger in his mouth.

“I was actually meaning to talk to you two about that,” Emile said. “I need to go out and get some things.”  He rolled his shoulders and stretched. “It might take a couple days, though .”

“A couple of days?” Virgil echoed. “Where are you going?”

“I need to get some stuff on the upper floors. For repairs and such. We’re running low.”

Virgil removed the finger from his mouth. “Okay. Let me come.”

Emile sighed. “No.”

Patton shifted uncomfortably. The light flickered again.

“Why not?” Virgil said, sounding annoyed now.

“I’m—I’m gonna take a walk,” Patton announced. Virgil and Emile didn’t fight very often; but things were still  kind of tense between them; and it made Patton rather nervous to see, even though he knew by now that they were not going to change their minds about letting him stay.

“Wait, Pat, you don’t have to go,” Virgil said, the annoyance immediately gone from his voice.

“I won’t go far,” Patton promised, already getting to his feet.

Virgil sighed, rubbed his temple, then nodded. “…Okay. Don’t be gone too long, though, yeah?”

Patton made an affirmative noise, grabbed a water pouch from near the door, and left the room as he fastened it around his waist.

…

“Why can’t I go with you?” Virgil asked once Patton was gone, turning back to Emile. “Do you really still think I can’t do it?”

“Virgil, I can’t—”

“You can,” Virgil interrupted. “I can do it. You know it. I know it. I’ve left the walls before, so many times! Haven’t I proven myself capable? I know you’re still mad that I lied to you, but I can do it! I saved Patton from humans. I can steal a few crumbs without being caught. Why do you still treat me like a helpless child?”

“It’s not that I think you can’t do it,” Emile said as calmly as possible.

“Then what is it? Are you still mad about me saving Patton?”

“I’m not mad that you saved Patton, of course not! I’m mad because—I’m mad that you didn’t tell me about him sooner!”

Virgil paused, confused. He hadn’t told Emile about going to see Patton in the time between finding and rescuing him, that was true, but why was this somehow worse than all the other times he had left the walls without Emile’s permission?

“Look, I get that it wasn’t safe—.”

“It’s not that,” Emile snapped. “It’s not just that. It’s…. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t want to help him? Why didn’t you trust me? Did you really think that I would ever leave someone stuck in a cage, that I would be that selfish?”

“…No,” Virgil said quietly, realization dawning in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say more, but found that he had apparently forgotten how to speak.

“I just… I need some time to think. Okay?”

After a long pause, Virgil all but whispered, “You’ve had two months to think.”

“Have I?” Emile asked. “We’ve been busy trying to get Patton back on his feet—he was so sick when you brought him here, Virge; you know that. And besides that, I’ve had to be collecting supplies for three people now—and don’t you dare use that against me,” he interrupted himself, before Virgil had the chance to say that that was all the more reason for him to go with. Which may or may not have been exactly what he was about to do.

Instead, Virgil sighed. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Patton wouldn’t want to be left alone, anyway, would he?” he reasoned more gently.

Virgil thought for a moment. “I guess not,” he admitted reluctantly. He knew that Patton couldn’t do a trip like that yet, certainly not easily, and it wasn’t fair to ask him to attempt to travel that far. Emile had a point. They couldn’t leave Patton alone here for two days. Not with the nightmares he got when alone. He looked away, then got to his feet, grabbing the crutches that had been laying at his side. “I’m going to go find Patton,” he announced, already on his way out the door.

“Do you want me to wait until you get back before I leave?” Emile called after him. “I have everything mostly ready, but I can wait.”

“No, why bother?” Virgil said, his back to his brother. “Don’t let me interrupt your thinking time.” He did pause in the doorway, though, and look back at Emile. “I am sorry,” he said, his tone softer and gentler than before. “I wasn’t thinking about—When I didn’t tell you about Patton, it wasn’t because I actually thought you’d leave him. I know you would have helped him escape, too. I was just… just scared, I guess. I didn’t realize that it would seem like I thought you’d do that to him. So… I’m sorry for that. Really.”

Emile nodded, not meeting his eyes; and Virgil left the house.

…

Virgil had a pretty good idea of where he could probably find Patton. He knew that his friend wouldn’t have left the floor, which narrowed things down quite a bit. There was a spot that the two of them had visited frequently since Patton had first arrived, as the two of them went on regular walks together, trying to get Patton’s strength up.

The walks were working pretty well, and they could go a lot further now before Patton needed a rest than they had been able to at the beginning, meaning that they usually no longer needed to use this place for a rest. Patton had come a long way. Even so, they often visited there, whether Patton actually needed a break or not.

There was a spot where a hole was cut into an air vent on this floor, both to allow access to the vent and to let more of the heat it carried to reach the littles’ house in the colder months. There was a vent cover near the entrance that had a view down into the apartment below, which had a large aquarium almost perfectly placed in the center of the view the vent provided. It was a nice place to spend some time, honestly, just watching the fish swim about. Virgil went there; and sure enough, Patton was sitting in front of the vent cover, hugging his knees and looking through the slats at the fish tank below.

“Hey,” Virgil said softly, nearing.

Patton looked up. “Oh, hi, kiddo!” he greeted. “What’re you doing here?”

“Came to find you.” He sat down at Patton’s side. “How are the fish?”

“Sasha and Sweetpea keep chasing each other,” Patton answered. He had insisted on naming all ten of the fish in the tank during their past visits. “Maybe they’re playing tag.”

Virgil nodded seriously, looking down at the fish, two of which, sure enough, were chasing each other around the tank. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “I hope we didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay,” Patton mumbled, looking back to the fish.

“It’s okay if it’s not okay,” Virgil said.

Patton shifted, adjusting how his arms rested around his knees. “Really, Virgil—I know that you and Emile are going to fight sometimes. And I know you’re not going to kick me out. It just… makes me nervous, sometimes, that tone of voice.” He looked away with a feeble shrug. “

Virgil looked down at the floor of the vent ruminatively. After a moment, he put a reassuring arm around Patton’s shoulders. “I’ll try to not do that anymore,” he said. “And I’ll talk to Emile. We can try to have more… discussions, before things get heated.”

“It’s not even really just fighting, though,” Patton admitted softly. “It’s just…”—he smudged at his eye with his sleeve—”when she used to get annoyed, it wasn’t… It wasn’t good.” He kept staring determinedly down at the fish. “I know you’re not—you’re not even….” (Human, Virgil thought, silently finishing the sentence.) Patton swallowed. “But it still makes me nervous, for some reason. It’s not fair to ask you guys to never be annoyed with each other, or realistic. I know that.”

Virgil bit his lip, his heart sinking at the thought of having scared Patton. “How about we promise to leave the room if that happens?” he offered. “You shouldn’t have to be the one who has to leave.”

Patton seemed about to refuse, but Virgil squeezed his shoulder, and he reluctantly nodded. “If… if Emile’s okay with it,” he whispered.

“He will be, I know it. Besides,” Virgil said. “Emile and I were talking, and… we should hopefully not be fighting as much anymore. I realized I’ve been kind of a jerk to him.”

“You’re not a jerk,” Patton mumbled.

“Thanks. But… I did act like a jerk, kind of, to him. He was upset that I didn’t tell him about you before I brought you home. I guess he thought that I thought he wouldn’t want to help you. Which… I honestly hadn’t even considered.”

Patton glanced over, but he didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, I think it’s going to be better now,” Virgil said. “He’s probably out on that supply run already, though, so it’s just going to be the two of us for the next couple of days.”

…

Several minutes passed in silence, the two friends watching the aquarium below. After a while, Patton released his knees and sat back, uncurling a bit from his formerly hunched position.

“Do you think Roman and Logan are okay?” Patton asked softly. The question probably seemed out of nowhere, especially given their previous conversation topic; but Patton still thought about the humans quite a lot.

“Does it matter?” Virgil frowned, glancing at him. “They’re humans.”

“Yeah, but…” Patton bit his lip. “I’d just like to know.”

“Why?” The question seemed genuine.

“I don’t… I don’t know. They were pretty nice to me, weren’t they, even though they’re humans? I don’t really—I don’t know why they let me go, or why… anything they did. But they were nice to me. Without them, I could’ve….” Patton trailed off, uncomfortable and uncertain. “I don’t know.” The humans had saved him, really. Patton was pretty sure. He knew that he had been in bad shape when the found him—even if they had basically kidnapped him, Patton thought that their intentions were good. They had fixed up his hands, given him food and water and a place to recover from his ordeal; although, they hadn’t exactly gone about it the way that Patton would have preferred. Even after they had stopped trapping him in the cage, they left him on top of a table that he was too ill to climb down alone. There were also the multiple times they had scared him, whether it was intentional or not. Plus, while he didn’t remember much about when the humans had found him at the beach, he was pretty sure that he had not exactly been captured willingly. Still, the bad things that the humans had done didn’t negate the ways that they had attempted to help him. Even the outfit whose sleeve Patton was worrying between his fingers attested to that. The fact remained that, had Roman and Logan not found him, the chances were not insignificant that someone else would have instead. And even if that hadn’t been her… Patton would prefer not to think about it. He knew that he had gotten lucky.

If he hadn’t been caught by Logan and Roman, after all, he would never have met Virgil and Emile, would he?

Virgil brought Patton out of his thoughts when he sighed, looking up towards the ceiling. He had made it clear that he still thought that the humans had been trying to trick Patton into becoming a pet, or an experiment, or something of the sort through some kind of mind game; but he had also all but admitted that they had seemed to genuinely want to help Patton. Now, he looked conflicted.

As Patton watched, Virgil screwed his eyes shut, as if already suspecting that he was going to regret what he was about to say. “Well…” he began reluctantly, “I guess… we have some free time while Emile’s out on his supply run. If—if it’ll make you happy, we can go down to the second floor. Just for a bit, to look in on them.”

Patton sat up straighter and turned to his friend, surprised. “But… I thought you closed off all the doors?” He had been working on that for a while, starting a couple of weeks after he’d rescued Patton. Once he’d been settled in, Virgil had started leaving about one day per week to work on closing off the doors. Emile had reluctantly allowed it since it didn’t require leaving the walls, and Virgil surely wasn’t going to disobey in this case. Virgil had finished the job some time ago.

Virgil shifted at his side. “I left one,” he admitted quietly. “For emergencies.”

Patton felt a flutter of excitement. “You’re sure about this?” he checked.

…

Virgil knew he shouldn’t have made the offer.

The humans that Patton had been trapped with were just that: humans. Practically synonymous with the word “danger”. But as Virgil watched his friend’s eyes light up, he felt a bit better about his decision. What he was offering really didn’t invite a lot of danger: they were not going to let the humans see them, and they were not going to get close enough to get caught even if that did somehow happen. They were certainly not going to talk to the humans. Virgil was only offering a look at them, to show his friend that they were okay. Something he would definitely not be offering had the humans shown any sign of seriously looking for Patton. Either they had given up quickly, or they were almost hilariously incompetent at searching for him. Good news for the littles either way.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Virgil assured, getting to his feet. “Consider it an apology for upsetting you.” He adjusted his crutches and put out a hand to help Patton up. His friend took it with a small smile; and Virgil pulled him to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that he could still feel the thick, slightly raised line of the scar across his friend’s palm. “Let me be clear, though—we’re not talking to them, or letting them see us. Just looking in on them. I left a doorway in the living room, where we can see them and stay hidden.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Patton said.

“I know. But if it’ll make you feel better, and we don’t take any risks… why not?”

[weeo]

The last time I saw the sun

Pairing : Tommy Shelby x Freddie Thorne

Summary : The 179th Tunneling Company works under the Flanders fields. At the end of November 1915, the tunnel collapses, blown up by a German camouflet. All the company is buried alive, with the sole exception of three tunnellers.

Warnings : War, Mentions of death and asphyxia, Lack of air, PTSD, Survival, Anxiety attacks.

AO3 link

Flanders, end of november 1915

My breathing is stopped for a few moments, when my chest crashes violently against the ground. It’s dark. I can’t see anything and the metallic taste of the dirt fills my mouth, as I’m attempting to catch my breath. There is no air around me and I’m starting to feel dizzy. I’m trying to flounder but my limbs barely move. I know where I am. Buried under kilometers of earth, squashed by tons of clay. The good news is that I’m going to leave France. Finally.

———–

Tommy’s hand is pulled brutally and urgently. He’s being freed from the ground’s claws, lifted painfully of the clay by the undersides of his shoulders. The two topple over backwards, caught up by the force used to pull him out of the ground. They inevitably drag Tommy down with them. His face and his chest are prepared to hit the soil once again, but they bounce back with less force against the torso of one of his rescuer. Instinctively, Tommy inhales a big gasp of oxygen and the air fills up his lungs wildly. While his shaky breathing takes a few seconds to steady, he forces his eyes to open and discerns again an ounce of light through the damp clots of mud which stick to his face. It’s while moving slightly his body, that he notices an arm encloses his waist. Another covers the side of his head, pressing him more in this familiar chest, which starts vibrating all of a sudden.

“You’ve been lucky Tommy,”

He could recognise this voice among millions. He has already made him come to his senses several times. Freddie is always the first to speak, after miraculously getting out of troubles.

“A damn lucky bastard!”

In another situation, Tommy would have smiled against his friend’s chest. He wouldn’t have in any way needed to make the effort to lift his head, to be sure that Freddie was doing the same. However, they aren’t the children they used to be anymore. They aren’t in Small Heath, swimming from one side to the other of the canal banks or running to avoid being taken home by a panting police officer. So, there is no smiles today.

Danny coughs quietly, alerting them of his presence. Tommy forces himself up self-consciously, laying eyes on him.

“Danny, where is the bird ?”

Danny points the cage hanged on the wall. The canary isn’t panicked and even twirls peacefully, as if he has already forgotten the vicious dread he felt when the tunnel collapsed. Tommy would like to take its place, in order to feel that intangible serenity again. The fear, he is feeling since he set down a foot on this land, doesn’t ease with the time. Rather, it’s increasing, every nightmarish incident pushing it further, one notch at a time. A notch that never goes down, which is becoming your permanent level of fear. The more you know what can fall on you in this hell, the more you have reasons to let the terror consumes you from head to toes.

“I’ve already checked. The bird’s doing fine, Sir.”, Danny answers, sat against the wall of the tunnel.

Tommy completely pulls away from Freddie’s body to sit, still a bit dumbfounded by his underground stay. He dusts faintly his clothes, before realizing that it’s totally useless. The sight of their condition softens the movement of his hand. He is covered by dirt on his entire body. No corner of his skin is spared. Tommy raises his gaze, blinking through the candlelight coming from Danny’s hands.

“Good. We’re at least safe from the gas for now. And how is the air ?”

Freddie straightens himself, trying to see through the dim light as well.

“The light’s steady and won’t go out, but it’s dim.” Danny said, trying but failing to disguise the anguish in his voice.

Freddie lays his hand on Tommy’s collarbone, pressing soberly. The blocked air in Tommy’s contracted chest is released gently, in a sigh of relief. His gaze, that Freddie seeks to share, isn’t disturbed by this soothing gesture. Tommy stares stubbornly the canary in his cage, hanged on the wall in front of him.

“We couldn’t have expected better air, half buried in the ground.”, Freddie reassures them, unsure if he says it more for himself than his friends.

Danny’s hands, which tighten the candle with strength, are trembling. It creates a sinister moving light inside the tunnel. Their faces are worthy of a chiaroscuro painting. The light giving him a even more serious look, Tommy adds without blinking : “The rescue team might already be on the way. We’re not too far from the exit. We just have to hope that those fuckers didn’t dig a second counter tunnel to blow them up.”

To his own words, Tommy’s jaw is clenching. Freddie noticed that he does this often lately, when he can’t allow himself to start panicking. When he’s feeling caught in a vice and is looking for a quick solution. Gritting his teeth with all their strength prevents him to scream the frustration, which is already dripping from his furrowed eyebrows.

“What will we do… if-if they blow us up too ? …. Or if they can’t find us ? Di-did you think… about that ?” Danny panics, with an unstable voice. “And… And all those guys who’re buried… dead in-in the clay. We could pray for them”

“Yeah, we could have if it meant something here.” Freddie mocks. This isn’t a surprising answer coming from him, the only God he believes in is named Karl Marx.

Imperturbable, Tommy can’t take his eyes off the canary, which is a bit agitated in his cage. All the attention of his eyes is focused on the animal, but the part of his brain which controls his mouth is still with his teammates : “Now, we just have to sit and breathe slowly to keep the air pure, Danny. Just sit and breathe the fucking air slowly.”

Danny brings his right hand to his skull, to salute his superior.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I can already hear them dig. The rescue team isn’t far away. Breathe slowly.”

The ambiance is calm but stressful. The canary starts to grow agitated in his cage, but seems also a bit dizzy. It hits the bars and goes back to his perch.

Shattering the heavy silent atmosphere, a distant explosion is heard and makes the tunnel shakes. Gravels are falling on their heads and are tumbling on the walls of the tunnel. The wet timbers creak and the light of the candle is swirling. Tommy’s eyes leave the canary’s cage and he protects instinctively his head, as well as Freddie’s, by throwing them both on the ground. The timbers keep up and the silence settles again. They stay a few seconds petrified in their position, being on the lookout for a second explosion.

“It was just a shell up there.” Freddie mutters, patting his friend’s back.

Danny’s gasping breathing obliges them to come to their senses quicker than they would have liked. It’s not a pretty sight that they discover in front of them, but strangely familiar at the same time. Danny is shaking like a leaf, shudders rattling his whole body. Suffocating breaths are squeezing out of his thickening throat, choking the life from him second by second. Intermittently, he shouts baffling sentences and punches randomly, cutting the air with strength. Tommy and Freddie exchange a very brief look and jump on Danny, each on a side to try to control him.

“1,2,3! Down!”

Freddie blocks relatively easily Danny’s left shoulder on the ground. The other arm slips from Tommy’s hands and he receives a violent punch in the jaw. He attempts several times to block his right arm while avoiding punches in the face and finally ends up to tackle it on the ground.

“Danny, breathe !” Freddie orders, pressing harder on his shoulder to stick it against the ground.

Tommy brings his head closer to Danny’s ear, while tightening his grip on the biceps which is still struggling with energy. A few drops of blood mixed with saliva drip of the corner of his mouth, when he opens it to talk.

“Breathe, Danny! Breathe slowly. Listen to me ! Try to keep the rhythm of my own breathing.”

Tommy takes deep inhalations he’s releasing slowly, in order to encourage Danny to mimic his breathing. Danny’s gaze drifts unconsciously for a moment, lucidity bleeding in slowly. When his eyes meet a glimpse of Tommy’s, they finally focus. Tommy slows down his speech speed and the volume of his voice, to help him to calm down faster.

“It was just a shell up there. Breathe slowly. It’s just noise. You’ll get use to it, Danny. Follow my breath. It’s just noise that can’t harm you right now.”

Danny struggles to get back to his senses, his breathing easing, although it’s still agitated. Freddie and Tommy release him after a brief look of consultation and sprawl themselves on the walls behind each of them. There is still air all around them, but it feels tight, and diminished. A bit as if they were strangled bit by bit.

“I can hear them. They’re closer, they’re coming for us. Now we don’t move to save the remaining air !”, Tommy orders.

“I’m sorry, Sir. It keeps happening lately and I’m afraid to go mad.”, Danny apologises while fiddling on his clothes.

“Just the nerves, Danny. There is plenty of men like you in here. A fucking stressful place, it sure is. Stop talking and breathe slowly.”

Danny has his mouth opened to claim that the orders had been understood, but no words can leave it. A sudden noise was added to the rescuers’ shovels. The sound they hoped they wouldn’t hear since the tunnel has collapsed. The hollow sound of resonance against the wood that anguishes them all. The sound that Tommy were looking out for with apprehension when he was staring at the cage of the bird. The sound of the canary which falls from his perch.

The three men are petrified by this noise, which resonates in the tunnel. They turn their head towards the cage, to confirm that it isn’t their minds which were playing a trick on them. Tommy reacts suddenly with panic.

“PUT YOUR GAS MASKS!!”

The three men unhook a fabric pocket of their belt with shaking hands. They grab the masks out in a haste, pulling them over their faces. They received them a few weeks ago. After the gas attacks at Ypres, the British army started to produce protections. Calling it a gas mask is a big word. This is more a hood with a soaked compress in the area of the mouth. He never used it but he heard a lot about it. The men of the front line don’t discuss so much their feelings and fears, but are inexhaustible when it comes to criticizing their equipment and superiors.

“These new masks are easier to use but they’re deep shit.” Tommy remembers a discussion with the infantry men. “The other day, a soldier fainted in only 20 minutes.”, their words resonates in his skull more than ever.

Tommy gets up roughly to pick up the shovels at their disposal, which are lying in the tunnel, while Freddie and Danny still set up their masks.

“Tommy, what are you doing ?” Freddie hails.

“The only thing we learned here, digging”, on his last word, Tommy throws a shovel to Freddie’s feet. He clears pieces of wood, formerly parts of the tunnel timbers, and then digs with willingness in the clay.

“We don’t have a lot of time in front of us if we wanna get out of here alive, come on Freddie!”, he shouts and waves his hand.

Freddie joins him. His eyes wide and his hands shaking, he tries to help Tommy by alternatively digging and pushing annoying pieces of timber. His gestures are wild and uncoordinated.

“I’m digging, pick up the parts of timber you can save and make us safe!” Tommy instructed, seeing Freddie doesn’t really know how to manage the situation.

Behind them, Danny tries to stand and help, but his legs give out on him as he’s hit by a dizzy spell. Freddie glares annoyingly at him.

“Tommy, Danny isn’t feeling well…”

Tommy turns his head towards Danny, without really interrupting the work of his hands.

“Danny, listen to me ! Fucking stay down and breathe slowly ! We gonna get out of here.” Tommy shouts, without worrying about the noises the Germans could catch for once. His words echo in the tunnel, which is a really unusual thing for the three tunnelers.

An unknown voice can be heard behind the wall Tommy is digging in : “Is there someone here ? How many are you ?”. The tangled crumbled timbers let appear some small holes, enabling the communication with the rescue team behind the wall. They just need to shout what they have to say.

“We’re three. There is gas in here ! One man is already down. We need to be quick !” Tommy answers despite the distress, managing to keep a disconcertingly cool head. Freddie is persuaded that he wouldn’t have been able to explain their situation as quickly as Tommy had.

“You heard! We need to be quick, there is gas inside!”, the rescuer screams to his teammates.

Tommy is unable to stop digging. He’s choking on his breath, suffocating more with every hit of his shovel, but he can’t pause. A fatality he doesn’t have any power on would make him go insane. The rescuer’s tools hit harder and harder on the wall. They’re close.

While Freddie is blocking a piece of timber on the side of the wall to stabilise it, a strong headache is striking him and makes him see blinding glitters all around. He’s leaning against the wall, but the blurry lights assaulting his vision, blind him more and more. His legs are supporting him only precariously and he sits to regain a bit of strength. The air is increasingly unbreathable and burns his throat. He invests his few remaining forces in an effort to stand up, but Tommy places his hand on his chest to prevent him to do it.

“The air is better near the ground, just fucking stay down !”

Tommy brings his head nearer to the wall and shouts with strength : “We have a second man down ! I’m digging alone, we need to be quicker !”.

After another dozen hits of shovel, a hole is starting to form in the wall and some light is radiating from it. His survival frenzy seizes his body even more. Tommy hits violently the wall with his shovel and the small hole is now large enough to let a human pass.

The adrenaline prevented him to feel the nausea rising, but he experiences it full force now. The shape of the rescuer emerging from the hole is all blurry. The lips of the man move, and his voice is barely perceptible. It resonates to a low volume, muffled by his knocking headache. Only the piercing buzz, which is ringing vigorously in each of his ears, seems clear. He remembers he was shivering some seconds ago, but now, an unpleasant heat is spreading in every single one of his limbs. His face is burning and there’s no part of his body that isn’t sweating. The heat should have no impact on this but it seems to further deteriorate his vision. His head is spinning and he suddenly feels his body emptying the last bit of energy he had left.

Tommy forces his eyes open, realizing he must’ve closed them at some point and finds himself in the arms of the stranger who was facing him just before. He notes that the breathing of the man is really very noisy, before understanding that it’s amplified by the oxygen tanks he carries on his back.

“We only have two stretchers, Sir!”

“Put the two thinnest on the same and the strongest on the other, quick ! They need to breathe fresh air, they don’t have for long if they stay here”

He has no recollection of these voices. He still arduously breathes, his lungs burned by the gas. “Am I still in the tunnel or already in hell”, Tommy wonders, before realising that his eyelids are shutting down on their own. Everything is dark again.

It’s an aggressive light which brings Tommy to open his eyes one more time. His inflamed bronchus welcome the fresh air with some difficulty. He coughs and his irritated throat doesn’t spare him of strong pains. His lungs are raw, burned by the gas. However, the sun is caressing his body and warming his shivering skin. The pestilential effluviums of the tranchees are lightly covered by a familiar scent, tickling his nose. Tommy feels Freddie’s whole body pressed against him on the stretcher, shaking to the rhythm of the paramedics’ steps. He would never have noticed that his hands were trembling, if Freddie didn’t enclosed them discreetly between his own. Usually, it was Tommy who held Freddie’s hands when they were children. Freddie was so upset against everything and everyone, that he got in a lot of fights with petty boys. Occasionally, some things they said hit him right in the heart and the stables were a good place to drown all the sorrows. But today, it’s Tommy who needs Freddie.

Under the bright rays of sunshine, Tommy forgets for a while his burned throat and his erratic breathing. All he can think is : “It’s been months since I last saw the sun. How beautiful it is. And if I die today, I’m glad it’s while looking at the sun one last time with Freddie.”

—————————————

A few weeks later Military hospital, december 1915

Tommy strikes a match thanks to the abrasive part of the box. It’s gone out as quick as it ignited. The chilly squalls, along with the ambient humidity caused by the torrential storm, are surely to blame. He’s leaning against crates of God-Knows-What. The rain is dripping abundantly from the eave over his head. The smell of the rain is comforting and the deluge covers the sound of the shells crushing far away. An extinguished cigarette hanging out between his lips, he’s fascinated by the drops of water which are crushing against the soil, lost in his thoughts. So fascinated, that he didn’t even notice Freddie’s arrival. His gaze absorbed by the spectacle of the nature, he takes a second chance, by covering his matchstick more with his hands. The wind blows it out once again.

Freddie walks to Tommy to position himself in front of his friend with his back to the wind. He takes the match box from Tommy’s hands and lights one to the level of his cigarette. Tommy brings his hands around the flame too, brushing lightly Freddie’s fingers. Tommy takes some deep drags of his smouldering cigarette.

Freddie steps back to his side and also leans on the crate.

“The nurse tells you your lungs work well again and the first thing you do is smoke ?” Freddie asks bluntly, a small smile decorating the corner of his lips.

“Why are you here then ?”

“Who knows ?”

He looks up to the sky, while tapping lightly his pack on his other hand to slide a cigarette out.

“Sergeant Major Shelby now ?”, Freddie asks, turning his head towards Tommy, searching his eyes.

“Seems like it”, he replies as he takes a drag of his cigarette, without bothering to look to his friend.

“Finally, some good news !”

“Sounds more like a poisoned gift. You’ll all hate me before the end of this.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Tommy puts his hands on the top of the crate to stabilise him, while he moves his legs in a more comfortable position.

“They’re sending us off to the Somme. The british troops from Gallipoli are also mobilised there. I guess they’re preparing something big.”

Freddie pauses for a few seconds.

“You don’t seem happy to see your brothers again.”

“Not really. I wished it’d be somewhere else.”

Tommy’s sentences are simple and short, but Freddie always thought they have the ability to crush your heart with their melancholia. For a few moments, they smoke their cigarette silently, just enjoying this taste they missed and the presence of the other.

“We can’t wear it often but the uniform suits you well. Yours looks even clean.”

“I don’t think that the same can be said about you.”

“You mean the cleanliness or my incredible charm in uniform ?” Freddie asks with a wide smile in his gaze.

“Choose what you’d prefer to hear.” Tommy glances at him on the corner of his eyes, smiling lightly and teasingly to his friend. A little muffled laugh escapes both of their mouth. But the pleasure is only of a short duration, their faces become serious again quickly after.

Freddie throws his stub on the ground and crushes it with his foot. He tilts his head in the direction of the door.

“Let’s go inside. The wind gets up. It’d be too stupid to go through all this shit and die knocked over by a flying branch.”

Tommy nods and crushes his cigarette on the ground too, before following Freddie inside.

Notes : Here is my first attempt at writing a fic! This piece was written for the @peakyblindersexchange and you can find all the amazing works of the collection here. It includes a lot of different pairings and kind of stories.

Thank you to the lovely @tinypinetrees to have helped me to make this fic written in proper English ❤

You can leave me a comment if you enjoyed this, I’ll be pleased to know it! If you liked it, I’m really willing to continue this story to get to their disagreements/arguments.

(For the people with a soft heart, the canaries were used to detect the presence of carbon monoxyde, an imperceptible lethal gas which terrified the miners during WW1. It was produced by the explosion of mines or the firing of a gun in a tunnel. Usually, the birds only fainted and were saved. If they had lived that a few times already, they were sent to retirement.)

[shesdangerace]

The Long Winter

Happy Holidays! This is the full piece I wrote for the @aftgholidayzine which I still URGE you to check out and buy for Lost-N-Found Youth. So many wonderful contributions were made, and everyone involved made me feel so welcome. So please please support the zine, and I hope you enjoy the tale of Andrew Minyards’ first winter post-NeilPalmetto

(also available on AO3) 

He’s standing in Boston Logan International Airport at some terminal or another. There’s snow outside the windows and Christmas everywhere else. Andrew has his noise cancelling headphones on again, and the silence is as effective as usual.

It’s December, obviously, and he feels it in his bones where the cold leaks through the glass surfaces of window and skin. His eyes feel it too, held open and vulnerable by the winter. Standing inside the airport doesn’t help much. His body always did have trouble letting go.

Someone a few feet away starts to scream, a child. Shrill enough to break through the noiselessness and Andrew wonders not for the first time if he wasted his money, then if he wasted his time making his money, then why he’s wasting his quiet thinking about it at all.

The child is still screaming but it’s a dull sound in the background of Andrews' own dullness, staring out the window with his hands in his black coat pockets.

He’s preparing himself for feeling. For fear. He doesn’t have time to scream. Never has.

In the corner of his eye he sees a woman, with a bag full of Christmas presents at her feet as she sits speaking into her phone. She looks like the past. She reminds him. So he keeps her hidden in the corner of his eye. Before him is the airplane he will soon be boarding, and there’s a man in a flight attendants’ uniform and a Santa hat. He reminds Andrew too.

So instead he stares at the snow, at the white white white and the footprints and the bare dark ground where it’s been shoved away. He stares at the window itself, where the winter has crept along the glass like spectral fingertips, pleading.

He remembers why he’s here.

He’s not quite prepared yet, but the fear is nearing anyway, and the woman and her presents are gone. The dim reflections in the glass are melting together as they move. Andrew lets the noise back in, follows the mass.

He keeps his eyes firmly closed, his fists tightly clenched, and his memories auburn and orange. By the time Andrews' feet touch dry South Carolina ground, he’s ready to face the fear.

-

Neils' eyes when he opens the store wrapped camera box are cliff edges over an open ocean.

---

It’s just turned January, there are Foxes yelling, and it’s all rather excessive. There’s silver and gold confetti in the air and booze spilled onto the pavement outside Fox Tower. On Neil’s face are a giant pair of metallic pink glasses, a quiet grin, and lipstick stains the colour of Allison and Dans’ laughs. Andrew is relatively sure he has glitter in his hair.

It’s something like a reunion, new Foxes not included because frankly who cares. Robin would have been the only exception if it weren’t for the flu she’s currently bedridden with. Kevin is neck deep in a bottle of something, Nicky is attempting to lift Aaron and spin him, and Matt is running around the group in circles hollering. Renee stands quietly next to Andrew, watching him watching Neil being crushed by the dual embrace of Allison and Dan.

It’s almost like going back in time.

Andrew lasts another half an hour with his bottle of whiskey. Someone brought speakers with them, and the noise makes it easy to hide. He’s thinking about his flight today, about Aarons' right before his, about Germany and Exy stadiums and distance. He’s thinking about how much he doesn’t want to think. For once, Andrew would rather feel.

All it takes is one finger linked through another and through those stupid glasses Neil looks at him and smiles. They leave those glasses behind.

Andrews' new year starts at 1:00am on the rooftop, when Andrews' hands smear with lipstick and Neils' sigh bleeds into Andrews choked breath, and Andrew feels feels feels.

---

‘I miss you.’

It’s still January, and Andrew is knee deep in bitter snow outside his building.

‘I’ve never had to miss someone before.’

He watches his exhale hit the air, watches it spread like a cloud of smoke.

‘At least not like this.’

Andrew reaches his hand in front of his face to watch his gloveless fingers turn red.

‘I think I hate it.’

His eyes close with the heaviness of his lashes, and he lets the snowflakes fall from them as they please.

‘It’s just…not the same.’

Maybe he should have worn a coat.

‘I think I’m lonely Andrew.’

He definitely should have worn a coat. Boston winter is so unforgiving.

---

The snow is falling into Andrews' hair and it’s early February. His team issued practice bag swings at his side, reminding him with every nudge against his body that this day has been long enough already. He catches his reflection in the glass of a bookstore and sighs.

He doesn’t particularly feel like doing this.

There’s a balloon drifting past him, lost by a slender young hand as its owner wraps her arms around her new fiancée. He finds himself caught by that balloon, watching it fade into the open night sky, forgotten.

The air is biting at his skin and there are no stars out tonight.

He really doesn’t feel like doing this.

He listens to the crunch of his boots in a fresh snow bank as he passes, stares ahead of him at the patches of dusty white on the sidewalk. Everything in the winter is so bare.

A gust of wind parts around him, leaving tiny icicles in Andrews' lungs. He can see the sign up ahead.

When he opens the door the ice on the ground blows in with him, and when he sits down opposite a steaming hot chocolate he looks up into his own reflection.

-

It’s not like Andrew doesn’t already know, it was obvious from the phone call, Aaron’s voice saying ‘I need to tell you something. I think it should be in person’. He still feels though.

‘She said yes.’

And he looks happy and scared and defensive all at once, but Andrew can only say:

‘I’ll be there.’

The silence that follows is as fragile as the look on Aarons' face.

It’s been a while since the last time they did this, just the two of them. Since the last time they looked each other in their hazel eyes. There’s still snow in Andrews lashes. The ice in Aarons' has already melted.

‘Do you miss him?’

Andrew’s not sure why Aaron even bothers asking when he doesn’t seem to want to. He has that sharp turn to his lips. He must be looking for something. Andrew doesn’t deign to answer, and the next words that come seem to be more resented than the last. More fearful. More longing.

‘Do you miss me?’

What an interesting, stupid, pointless question. Andrews' reply comes with a slow blink of his eyes and a twitch in his right hand under the table.

‘Do you miss me?’

‘No.’

There’s something to be said about being twins. Because for two brothers raised apart, they have remarkably similar tells when they lie.

---

Mid-February finds two young men, one blonde one burned, buried in the snow. They’re not making snow angels because they don’t believe in them.

It’s a Saturday morning, and Andrew spent the day before watching Neils' face change. Sometimes his smile would match the bright glare of the snow. Sometimes his eyes would match the frost. Sometimes the turn of his lips would match the dark winter sky.

Today, nothing about Neil matches the world. His presences disrupts the stillness of the cold like a blazing sun.

‘Shouldn’t you have practice this weekend Captain?’ Andrews' voice is muffled by the snow, but they’re so close underneath it all that it doesn’t matter.

‘Not exactly.’ Neils' voice says the words while the set of his sharp jaw says a little bit more.

‘Why?’ escapes Andrew like a breeze.

Neil doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Andrew with something terrible in his eyes that looks an awful lot like a feeling echoing somewhere in Andrew.

The winter is awfully long in Boston. At least compared to South Carolina.

There are thick black gloves on Neils' hands, a gift from Nicky himself this time. Andrew was the one to throw them at Neils' head this morning though before they left. Now, he studies the thread of a fingertip.

He must have fought to be here, fought those young Foxes and Wymack. Even then, it’s not for much longer.

‘Neil.’

It’s almost a whisper, it’s almost angry, and they push that slightest bit closer through the snow till their noses brush together.

When Andrew closes his eyes he feels their lashes tangle.

---

March arrives and the winter is refusing to die. There’s glass in the air of Boston Common.

Andrew is sat on a bench covered in frost, feeling it seep into his coat, watching the brave skate on Frog Pond. The wind is missing, the sky is blindingly blue and bare, and there’s a voice in his ear.

‘So yeah that was my week. Oh except that I forgot to tell you that um, Erik says hi. And um, how was it?’

‘How was what?’

‘Andrew come on, how was practice?’

‘It was practice.’

‘Andrew seriously. Last time we talked remember, you promised? You promised me you would actually talk more.’

Some bird is valiantly trying to sing through the cold, nestled in the branches of a leafless tree overhead.

‘I promised nothing of the sort.’

‘Okay well I took your silence as agreement.’

When will birds learn when to stop singing.

‘That’s not how promises work Nicky.’

‘I know Andrew. I know.’

Maybe there is a little winter wind left, Andrew thinks he saw some branches move. A dead leaf stirring on the ground.

‘Hey Andrew, have you talked to Kevin recently? Neil said he wasn’t sure when you guys last talked.’

No, it’s just a dead leaf.

‘We’ve spoken.’

‘Okay well, maybe speak again? Soon? I just think it’d be nice. For both of you. Also has Neil gotten taller? Or maybe he’s just gotten cuter. It’s hard to tell over Skype. You saw him recently right?'

‘In February.’

‘Oh. I miss that kid.’

-

By the time Andrew leaves Boston Common the sun is already setting on the frozen surface of Frog Pond.

Now, he’s sat with his bag rattling along on the number 7 to City Point, almost there. The wind is still absent but the chill batters the bus anyway, and by the time it jolts to a stop Andrews' bones are sore.

As soon his feet hit the icy ground he begins to walk, slowly, through the ache. He watches South Boston pass by in shades of grey and black and white, the grey of his demeanour, the black of his coat, the white of his skin passing through it all silently. It takes six minutes and he’s there.

For a building full of semi-wealthy inhabitants, its’ elevator still feels like a slow death, so Andrew takes the stairs all the way to the top. The snow breaks off his boots a little more with every step, and the last remains get left to melt on the mat inside his door.

His coat he hangs up next to the side table where he throws his keys, and as he crosses briefly to the open living space for the remote, the TV begins to play.

‘Tonight’s game is one we’ve all been waiting for…’

His boots come off next, replaced by charcoal slippers because Neil knows better then to give him orange. The kitchen light floods the counter-tops as Andrew reaches up to the cupboard. The cocoa, cinnamon, and vanilla all meet quietly on the granite.

‘Do you think the crowd is ready…’

From the fridge Andrew grabs the milk, and he measures it out in a mug with Nickys' face on it.

‘…He’s the greatest striker the sports ever seen!...’

It heats on the stove, and Andrew leaves it to close the curtains and turn up the thermostat.

‘…I’m just excited, I don’t know what to tell you. I get chills every time...’

Andrews stands there and stirs. The room starts to warm, the ingredients start to mix.

‘…Okay here we go, the teams are about to step onto the court…’

Andrew grabs a handfuls of marshmallows and drops them in until the mug near overflows. The steam rises up past the white, and Andrew allows the heat to burn his hand as he settles on the couch. His body always wants to hoard the cold.

‘Are you ready to see Kevin Day in action?’

---

The winter in Boston is long. The cold of it reaches where cold never should, and it sets white fire to the hollows of Andrews' chest.

Everything is ice and snow, wind and hail, chill and white white white. Andrew could disappear in the snow if he wanted to.

It lasts until early April. That’s when the ice starts to thaw, when the snow starts to shy away. A few leaves start to appear on the trees of Boston Common and no one is skating anymore.

When winter ends, Andrew has learned to survive it.

---

He’s standing in Boston Logan International Airport. There’s snow outside the windows and Christmas everywhere else.

It’s December, obviously.

There’s still snow on Andrews' boots that hasn’t melted off yet. It’s dusting his black woollen hat too, drifting down from it into his eyes just a little bit. He’s still cold, hands still shoved in his black coat pockets, but it’s ebbing away ever so slightly.

He waits.

He stares at the busyness surrounding him.

The snow that clung to him before melts away.

And Neil is here.

He’s just staring at Andrew, because of course he is. And he’s so present, so blue and grey and auburn, one bag slung over his shoulder and one hand reaching out from his side. Andrew moves because of course he does.

Their fingertips meet, then their fingers, then their palms, then their eyes. Andrew tugs and Neil follows and they’re both caught.

---

‘They’re still not Foxes.’

‘They don’t need to be.’

‘I know.’

There are three blankets and a Neil keeping Andrew warm. The blankets rest around his shoulders, and Neil rests his hand on Andrews' ankle. Neils' camera has taken four pictures already, and it rests on the arm of the couch.

‘Have you ever considered a Christmas tree in here?’

‘I have one. Several actually.’

‘Those marshmallows Nicky sent you don’t count.’

‘I don’t care.’

Neil is smiling, quietly. He doesn’t seem to notice. Andrew knows that Neil has missed him.

He rests his head against Neils', watches those bright eyes blink slowly closed. He feels Neils' sigh against his skin, places a kiss over the subtle parting of his lips. When Neil opens his eyes again, he looks proud and happy and stunned like he always does these days.

‘Neil.'

It’s almost a whisper.

Neil just looks at him, body held still. Those bright winter eyes.

‘I missed you.’

This is Andrews' second Boston winter, and he knows how to survive it better this time.

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command (Ep - Part 4)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Just wanted to say that you guys are continuously kind people, and I appreciate every read, like, kudos, ask, comment, and reblog on this ridiculously long story! :D

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |

Epilogue Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 

Tag List: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic  @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @a-faekindagirl @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera

Indy walks ahead of him, her leash tugging him along, while Emma walks beside him, their steps matching up as their feet move over the pavement in the gardens. The dullness of the winter plants, brown and gray trees barren of leaves, are fading away and blooming into lush greens and vibrant colors. It’s still cold outside, temperatures dipping low, so he and Emma are bundled up as they take their early morning walk, something they’ve taken up together in the past few weeks.

He finds it relaxing with the simplicity of it all, and he knows that Emma feels the same. It’s a way for them both to get some exercise on days when the gym in their home goes unused as well as a way to give Indy more space to run. She’s calmed as she’s gotten a bit older, but she’s still rambunctious and would likely need acres and acres of land to roam and be completely happy with her running space. Maybe they should travel up to Norfolk and go to their country home so she has a larger backyard and he and Emma have more privacy to go out and about outside of their home without the interference of photographers and reporters aching for a picture of Emma’s stomach.

The last two months of their lives have been, quite frankly, some of the most hectic of his life. Finding out Emma is pregnant was honestly one of the best moments of his life, even if how she phrased it was a little cheeky after such an awful scare. God, when she fell on that stage, he felt his heart drop to his stomach. He’d never been more terrified of anything in his entire life. Something was wrong with his wife, his best friend, and he didn’t know what it was. She was conscious the entire time, but she just wasn’t right. And the two hours between her fall and her telling him that they were having a child, well, he felt as if they’d never end.

Now he knows he was being a bit dramatic, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty instead of the blurry, faded vision that comes when you’re in the moment. Emma and the baby are just fine, growing like a weed really. She’s got the smallest of stomachs, something she woke him up and showed him just a few days ago. She was so excited, her eyes lighting up and practically sparkling under the bathroom’s lights, and sure enough, there was the slightest curve to her stomach, more physical proof that they’re having a child, not that he really needed anymore. But it was something special, and he was just as thrilled to get to see the changes in her stomach.  

And in her breasts, but that doesn’t seem to be a very fatherly thing to think. He thinks it, though, and he really appreciates the growth and how her libido has come back in full force in the past few days. That’s simply something he won’t be sharing with the child one day, but he hopes she (he’s absolutely convinced they’re having a little girl even if he can’t seem to come up with the reason why) can see how enamored he is with her mother. If not, he’s failed them both.

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” he questions, reaching his hand out and twining their fingers together while they continue to walk together, nearing Liam and Abigail’s apartment.

“I think we should go on a babymoon.”

“What the bloody hell is a babymoon? I’m pretty sure that’s not a phase of the moon they taught us in primary school.”

She laughs before taking a step closer to release his hand and tuck her arm around the crook of his elbow while resting her head on his shoulder. He knows she’s being affectionate, but he also knows that she’s not willing to admit that her hands are cold because he suggested she wear gloves before they went out and she didn’t. She’s stubborn as hell, his love.

“I mean, it’s just, like, a vacation before the baby is born. The name is a ridiculous thing. I know it’s super trendy and all, but maybe we could get away for a week or a weekend before I’m not allowed to fly anymore. I think something different might be good for us. Something warm.”

“So before you’re heavily pregnant? When can you not fly? Six or seven months?”

“Yep, I was thinking next month or May. Maybe June if we don’t travel too far away.”

“Well next month is busy.” He runs through the plans he knows they have, trying to remember everything off the top of his head while attempting to get Indy to move away from the rose bushes. “We had to push back the Kidding a Goal two-year event already to May, and Liam’s fortieth birthday party is happening. I’ve also got the trip to Poland. Those are just the big things, I think. We’d also have to work around our engagements, but the middle of May would probably work.”

“We could do it for our anniversary. Just earlier.” “True,” he agrees, continuing to run through his calendar in his head while tugging at Indy’s leash again, the dog finally deciding to move on with her explorations. “Why don’t we work on it when we get home this afternoon?”

“Sounds good to me,” she sighs, nuzzling her head into his shoulder before laughing at Indy attempting to chase a bird that’s flittering between bushes

The three of them return back to their apartment twenty minutes later, Indy’s tired legs and the cool air winning out, in order to shower and get ready to drive to Hounslow for their St. Patrick’s Day activities. Emma’s stylists work on her hair and makeup while he gets ready, dressing in his Irish Guard uniform as he did for their wedding. He catches Emma looking at him in the mirror, and he throws her a wink, smiling while bobby pins are attached to her hair to keep her hat in place over her blonde curls.

This is one of his favorite events and though it’s technically Emma’s responsibility, he always joins her for this particular engagement. It’s likely because he gets to pal around and drink a Guinness with members of the Guard afterward, but he enjoys it all around. It’s relaxed and informal, despite the military aspect of it, and those are always his favorite things to do. State dinners and other diplomatic events are not usually enjoyable, but he understands he’s there for the country and his father, not himself. He can help better Britain even if he’s really there to smile and shake hands while telling a cheeky joke that would get him in loads of trouble if his father ever caught wind of it.

(He’s still eternally thankful Brennan has no idea about the joke he once made while slightly intoxicated about the size of his father’s ego having a negative effect on other parts of his anatomy. It’s not the 1600s, he has a good relationship with his dad, and he feels like he still might get beheaded for that one.)

Thomas drives them to Hounslow, and they get out of the car to go and greet the crowds outside, shaking hands and accepting gifts. Over the years he’s grown accustomed to accepting flowers and letters, the occasional handmade jar of jam after he was once pictured as a child with raspberry jam all over his face, but lately it’s been all baby gifts all of the time. They have quite the collection of baby shoes, which he doesn’t understand because infants don’t need them, but they are damn cute. And tiny, so tiny. How can a human’s feet be so small?

He’s obviously well prepared to be a father if he can’t get past the size of infant shoes.

Sure enough, he’s handed several booties and outfits, the colors ranging as everyone tries to guess if they’re having a boy or girl and bugging him as if he’s going to share the private news with everyone. He and Emma don’t even know yet. She’s not far along enough, though he has a sneaking (see: strong) suspicion they’re having a girl. Emma thinks they’re having a boy, and he’s choosing to think that he knows better.

He very rarely does.

“Thank you,” he tells everyone, handing some of the gifts, including a miniature version of his uniform, to their aides, “this is so sweet of you all. Emma and I give you all of our love.”

He finds Emma near the end of the line, sliding his hand around her waist and pulling her closer while she fumbles with a few gifts too, stuffed bears and clothes along with a few flowers that are already causing some of her allergies to kick in.

“You ready to go inside, my love?”

“Yep,” he whispers in her ear as a camera flashes behind him, “we’ve got some Shamrock to hand out and beers to drink. Well, at least I get to do the second part.”

“Shut up,” Emma playfully whines, waving to people as they walk by, “you’re being rude reminding me of that.”

“Well, I do so enjoy pushing your buttons. Maybe I’ll let you kiss me later so you can taste the alcohol.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you should be counting yourself at getting lucky today, no matter how many four leaf clovers you find.” She kisses his jaw before pinching his cheek, and he barks out a laugh while they walk inside to get situated for the parade and the rest of their duties.

He wakes to kisses up and down his arm, soft lips and softer skin pressing into him as the haze of sleep fades away and the darkness of their bedroom comes into view. He can barely see a thing, his eyes still adjusting to the lack of light, but he can feel the heat of Emma’s body pressing into his back and sending pinpricks of pleasure throughout his body.

“W – what time is it, love?”

“A little past two.”

She kisses the back of his neck, right at his hairline, and the pressure of her breasts and her stomach pressing against him while her foot is running up and down his calves is already too much when he hasn’t been awake for more than a minute.

“Emma, love,” he grumbles when she starts inching down his back, her tongue tracing his spine, “you’ve got to give a man a moment.”

She stops then, rolling off of him and onto her back, the mattress slightly bouncing under her weight, and he groans at the lack of heat between them now. He didn’t mean for her to stop completely, but she’s obviously taken it that way. So he scoots over and kisses up her shoulder and her neck, fast flickers of his lips until he’s slanting them over hers and hovering above her.

“Hey, why’d you stop?”

“You told me to give you a moment, figured you weren’t quite ready or in the mood or something.”

She shrugs, her mused hair moving up and down as her eyes blink and her lips tick up on one side. His hand finds her face, caressing her cheek, and he smiles softly when she smiles back up at him.

“First of all,” he begins, pressing a kiss against each of her eyelids, “I am nearly always in the mood to be with my knock-out of a wife, so don’t get it in that head of yours that I’m not.” He moves to kiss behind her ear then, gently nibbling on the lobe. “Secondly, all I needed was a moment. It’s been awhile since I’ve been woken up in the middle of the night when you’ve already kept me up late.”

She laughs under her breath, the smallest, sweetest sound, before twisting her head and kissing him, slow and sweet so that he feels it in every inch of his body.

“Yeah, well, you can blame your kid for that.”

“Yes, I’ll tell her right as she’s born that she’s made mummy and daddy’s sex life slow down before she’s even born. I’m sure she’ll totally get that.”

“First of all, we still don’t know, and you are being super stubborn with the girl thing. And second of all, since we’re making points, our sex life is fine. We literally had sex three hours ago.”

“I said she’s slowing it down, not ruining it.”

“Semantics.”

“Romantic.”

“What?” She laughs, her eyes crinkling up on the sides as her smile stretches across her face. “That’s in no way romantic.”

“Oi, I think it is. Don’t you think sex is romantic?”

“I mean, obviously.” She rolls her eyes before rolling onto her side and pulling the comforter up over her. “But not in this context no. What I was doing before we got into this discussion was romantic sex.”

“That wasn’t sex.”

“It was the preface to sex, which is sometimes the best part. I was doing naughty things to you.”

“Did you just use the word naughty instead of dirty? Darling, you are officially British. Next thing you know you’re going to speaking with an accent.”

“I have an accent,” she protests, scrunching up her nose. “It’s just not the same as everyone over here, which I think makes me unique in all of the best ways.”

He rolls back over on his stomach and hooks his arm over Emma so that she can rest her chin on his forearm while he rests his on his pillow next to her head. “So do you think the babe will sound more like you or me?”

“You.” “Why?” “Because they’re going to grow up around people who sound like you. That’s what influences the accents, not necessarily just the parents. Think about it. I have an American dad and a British mom, and I have an American accent because that’s where I grew up.”

“True,” he hums, moving his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Does that bother you at all?”

“Nah, not at all. It’s like the opposite of how it was in my house growing up. It’s kind of weird when you think about how similar it is.” She tilts her head and smirks at him. “Plus, your accent is damn sexy.”

“Really now?” he purrs, inching closer to her before crawling over her and propping himself up on his forearms and knees, making sure not to press his weight down on her stomach. “You think I’m sexy?”

“I think your accent is sexy,” she corrects, her lips ticking up on one side while her hands frame his cheeks, cool fingertips inching up into her hair and tugging him down so that he can feel the heat of her breath brushing over her lips. “Would you like to get back to where I was trying to go earlier or can I cross off doing naughty things to you?”

“Whatever the first thing was, most definitely.”

He wakes later that morning while Emma slumbers on her side of the bed, hair tangled and falling down her bare back from where the comforter shifted in her sleep. He quietly gets out of bed, attempting not to wake her or Indy who must have wandered into the room while they were sleeping, and makes his way into the bathroom, turning the water in the shower on to get ready for today.

He should have woken an hour ago, but the bed was too comfortable and his body too tired, so he rushes through his morning routine, using Emma’s blow dryer to fix his hair instead of letting it dry naturally. He slips into a suit, putting on a pair of his ever-growing collection of cufflinks, before spritzing on his cologne and grabbing his already packed suitcase out of the closet, letting the wheels trail along the hardwood until he’s back in the bedroom.

Stepping over to the bed, he scratches behind Indy’s ears, the dog opening one eye to look at him before cuddling back into bed as he sits down next to Emma.

“Love,” he whispers, pushing her hair off of her forehead until her eyes flutter open, the green hazy and sleep-ridden, “I’ve got to go.”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, leaning down and kissing her forehead, “my flight is in two hours, and Mum likes to travel early.”

Emma yawns before sitting up, pulling the comforter over her and looking every bit like the girl he met nearly eight years ago with her crazy hair and pillow creased face and complete lack of care if she looks put together or not. “Okay,” she sighs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug, “but you two be safe. Call me when you land, when you come home, if anything interesting happens, if anything boring happens.”

“I know the long-distance drill, sweetheart.” He brushes his lips against hers then, feeling the softness that comes with Emma. “But it’s only two days. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Ugh, I know. Two days doesn’t give me nearly enough time to have my affair.”

“You’re a cheeky little minx, so I’m sure you could figure it out.”

“Damn right.” She kisses him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He reaches down and touches her stomach, her skin warm beneath his touch. “And you, little love.” Indy barks then, walking up the bed until she’s breathing in his face. “And you, Indy girl, even if you’re not supposed to be in this bed.”

He and his mother fly to Poland that morning for a dinner the British ambassador is hosting in honor of Liam and his birthday in a few weeks time. They were given short notice on the event, and since Liam couldn’t attend, Killian and Allison agreed to attend, knowing it would be no trouble for them. The morning flies by as all of these official visits do, in a flurry of handshakes and small talk, everyone attempting to fill his head with as much information as they can. It’s been awhile since he’s done an event with his mum, something he used to do when he was younger, but they fall into a natural rhythm. His mum is an expert at things like this, using her quick wit and kind smile to make everyone comfortable, and if there’s ever been anyone he’s tried to emulate, it would be her.

“Oh, this is gorgeous,” Allison compliments as they walk into the dining hall, her hand wrapped around his elbow. “We should decorate one of the rooms at home more like this. It’s more modern.”

“Well then we’d have to get rid of the ancient furniture that no one is allowed to sit on.”

She chuckles next to him as he pulls her chair out for her and waits for her to sit down before taking his own seat next to her. “You and your brother get cheekier the older you get, I swear. I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“Well, you can’t take away our video game privileges now, mum.”

The dinner is indeed wonderful and full of Polish dishes and traditions celebrating Liam. He takes a video to send to his brother, making sure to capture the cake he knows Liam would be stuffing into his face and flipping the camera around to show the smirk on his face that he got to eat it.

Should have shown up to his own pre-birthday event.

Later that night he and his mum are driven back to their hotel, and while they have separate suites, she joins him for a cup of tea, settling down into the living room with the television playing the local news. His phone buzzes just as a segment on their visit begins, and he’s thankful for the excuse to mute the sound.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets Emma, his lips stretching into a smile as he props his feet up on the coffee table, his socks practically falling off next to his glass, “did you miss me today?”

“Obviously. However could I survive twelve hours without you?”

Her voice is dripping with disdain, and he chuckles to himself as he imagines the roll of her eyes and the absolute disinterest she has when he’s being cocky. “You could at least act a little sad.”

“I can cry if you want me to, if that would make you feel better and boost your already inflated ego.”

“So you’re just as cheeky as you were this morning then. What’d you do today, love?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she sighs, the happiness seeping through the phone speaker. “I got dressed in pajamas, took Indy out, and then we settled down in the darkness of the bedroom and watched Gilmore Girls just to relive all of that nostalgia.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sure Indy has a lot of nostalgia about Stars Hollow.”

“Of course she does,” Emma laughs, and he can hear the theme song playing in the background. “Ruby came over for a few hours with food from the restaurant. I may save some leftovers for you.”

“Yeah, I already know that won’t be happening.”

“Hey, I don’t eat that much! I haven’t even gained any more than regular pregnancy weight.”

“Love, you and the Gilmore Girls all have amazing metabolisms. I’ve gained more pregnancy weight than you simply because our walks aren’t quite the same as our runs.”

“I can still run, you know? Dr. Hudson said so as long as it’s just a jog and not too much.”

“I know. We’ll have to do that when I get home. Mum and I ate a lot of cake tonight.”

Emma hums, sighing into the phone. “I’m jealous. Tell Allison I said hi when you see her in the morning.” “She’s sitting with me in the room right now actually, so if you were going to talk bad about her, now probably wouldn’t be the time.”

“Damn. That’s obviously what I was about to do.”

He and Emma chat for a few more minutes, but he knows he has to let her go so as not to be rude to his mother. She’s been fiddling with her phone and watching the muted television, so he’s sure she’s regretting coming over only to be usurped by a phone call.

“Hey, darling, I’ve got to let you go, okay?”

“Okay, is everything alright?”

“Everything is perfect. I’ve just been boring Mum making her listen to our conversation. I love you. I hope you, Indy, and little love have a good time binging the rest of Gilmore Girls and eating all of my food.” “We will,” she promises. “I love you, too. Bye, babe.”

He hangs up the phone, smiling at the picture of he and Emma that pops up afterward, before shutting it down and placing it on the arm of his chair. He looks up at his mother then who is softly smiling at him as if she really was listening to his conversation.

“What?” he laughs, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable.

“Nothing,” she smiles, pulling her legs up underneath her and curling into the chair, “I was just thinking about how happy you are.”

His lips twitch, and he swallows the small lump of emotion in his throat. “Well, I am happy, Mum. I’m nearly always happy.”

“I know, I know,” she waves him away, tucking her long hair behind her ears, “but you’ve just been through so much and sometimes I look at you and wonder how I got so lucky that you’re my baby. And now you’re having a baby, and I’m emotional about it all of the time.”

“Mum,” he softly laughs, getting up from his seat to cross the room and crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his, “what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m simply a crazy old woman.”

“Well, we all know that’s not true,” he promises, guessing that it’s not the time to be making jokes. “You’re bloody brilliant and completely and totally young.”

“Thank you, Killian. It was just that I was watching how natural you are with Emma, how good you’ll both be as parents. And I guess sometimes I feel so much regret over not getting to see you both together for all of those years. You were so cheated.”

“Hey,” he soothes, running his thumb over her knuckles and ignoring the ache in his thighs from the squat, “it’s all okay. I know that a lot of it was bloody awful, but if I’m honest, I liked having those years with Emma. We got to fall in love in peace, and as wonderful as it would be for you to have gotten to know her sooner, we can’t change that. So let’s be happy, yeah?”

“I know, darling. I’m sorry, but being a mum and a grandmother, all you want is for your kids to be happy. And you feel a bit accomplished when you realize they are. You’ll understand that soon enough.”

“Well, once we get over the terror and get used to having a person’s entire life depend on us, yeah, sure, I’ll focus on the happiness.”

His mum releases his hand to stroke his forehead, pushing the hair back. “You two are going to be wonderful, and your baby is going to be the most beautiful little thing.” “Can you say that again for me to send to Liam and Abigail? I’d like to have it on record for bragging rights for the rest of eternity.”

His mother winks at him, smiling before leaning back in her chair and asking him what movie he wants to watch. It’s been a long time since he simply spent time with his mum with no one else, so he savors it, laughing with her and talking about anything she wants until she decides to go to bed in her room next door.

The following day is full of engagements, but the two of them manage to slip away to dinner and sightseeing that evening, covering themselves in the cool early April weather and hiding away from anyone who may recognize them so they can have a normal night. Overseas visits, even with all of their setbacks and frustrations, are some of his favorite things to do if only because he can sometimes slip away and be himself in a place where fewer people know him.

Of course, he managed to slip around London for a few years as well, but he’s decided that was some kind of bloody miracle.

Early Wednesday morning they board their flight and make their way home, the four-hour plane ride seemingly stretching on for double the time until they touch down on land again and he and his mother separate into their different vehicles to make their ways back to Kensington and Buckingham, respectively.

Walking in the front door, he knows Emma won’t be home as she’s at the opening of a youth theater, so he takes the opportunity to let Indy in from their garden, indulging her in her excitement over him being home, her tail wagging so furiously she could create a windstorm. After she’s calmed, he settles down into the living room and pulls up his laptop, answering emails and organizing his schedule all while watching the shows he missed.

Multi-tasking in the best way possible, really.

It’s hours later when he hears the front door open before closing and clicking into place as heels click on their hardwood floor, the sounds getting louder the nearer she gets.

“Hi,” Emma sighs when she walks into the living room, immediately walking toward him and straddling his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs, while she presses a lingering kiss to his jaw and scrapes her fingers through his hair, “I’m so, so, so glad you’re home.”

“Hmm, me too,” he smiles before slanting his lips over hers once, twice, three times. “As much fun as I had with my mother honoring my brother, I quite prefer your company. And I was promised leftovers.”

Emma laughs against his lips as the heat of her breath washes over him and he settles into contentment. “Babe, I hate to break it to you, but those did not last.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to figure out a different way to welcome me home.”

She smirks before burying her face in his neck, her words spoken against his skin. “A foot rub would be fantastic, thanks. Those heels are a killer.”

Without his permission, not that it has ever been that way before, the first few weeks of April pass in the blink of an eye. He wants his life to slow down, for moments to pass like waves crashing into the shore, continuous and only quickly during a storm, but that’s simply not how things work.

Of course, there are times when he’d like life to speed up the slightest bit, and right now is one of those times.

He’s been sitting on the bed thumbing through his phone for twenty-seven minutes now, half of it spent reading an article about hair loss genes being passed down simply because that’s what was at the top of the page, but he’s gotten a bit bored. There’s also the fact that they’re going to be late for Emma’s doctor’s appointment if she doesn’t hurry up. She always takes longer than him to get ready, but it’s never like this, especially when they’re just hopping over to the doctor’s office and then coming back home to get ready for Liam’s birthday party tonight.

Sighing, he rolls over on the bed until he’s standing, pulling his jeans up so that they rest on his hips, and walks into the bathroom to find it empty of Emma but with clothes strewn across the floor. He tentatively steps over them, keeping himself from picking them up and throwing them in the basket, and makes his way into the closet where Emma is stretched out on the floor with her arms over her face and her jeans on but unbuttoned and unzipped.

Bloody hell, it’s a mess in here.

“Hey,” he tentatively begins, kicking at her bare feet with the tip of his boot so that she uncovers one of her eyes, “what’s happening here?”

“My jeans don’t fit. Not a single pair of them except for the ones that have yellow paint on the ass because mom decided she wanted to have a sunny yellow living room.”

“And this is surprising to you because?”

“Because last week my jeans fit, and this week they don’t. That is some kind of fucked up thing.”

“I believe that’s called pregnancy.”

Her eyes slant and every bit of joy that was remaining on her face disappears while she stares up at him like she’s five seconds away from murdering him. “I will stab you with the first earring I find if you don’t wipe that smug smirk off your face.”

He chuckles under his breath, knowing that she’ll likely do it, before squatting down and lying on the floor next to her, emulating her position. The hardwood hurts his back, but he imagines they won’t be here for long. If they are, he’ll just have to suck it up until this all important jeans situation is resolved.

“So your jeans won’t fit, love?”

“Nope. And I don’t really think I’ve gotten that much bigger. I still just kind of look like I ate too big of a meal when I’m wearing clothes. I don’t know why this is bothering me so much. Obviously, I can just do the hairband trick until I buy new jeans, but I love wearing the damn things. They make me feel normal.”

“What? Wearing heels and a dress that perfectly matches your coat with a hat that was specifically dyed to match that coat and dress doesn’t make you feel normal? I never would have guessed.”

She snorts beside him while her hand finds his, and she wraps her fingers around his palm before pulling it up and brushing a kiss against his skin. “Surprisingly, no, that does not make me feel normal. That makes me feel like a barbie doll.”

“You’re not a barbie doll, love.”

She sighs next to him, but it’s really more of a huff. She’s frustrated, that much he knows, and a part of him is pretty sure that it’s not only because her jeans don’t fit. So he squeezes her hand, silently encouraging her to share her thoughts as he so often does with a touch or a glance.

“That’s just how I feel sometimes, you know? And I know that’s not how it is with you and me. But to the world it’s like I’m this girl who plays dress up and is a wife and an expectant mother and nothing else, which is fine if that’s what you want. And babe, I love that. I love being married to you and having a baby with you who I am so in love with it’s basically an obsession, but if I have to answer one more question about if I think you’re going to change a diaper or wake up in the middle of the night if the baby’s crying, which is literally what a parent does, while you stand next to me and answer a question about global relations, I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

“I know,” he mumbles, the weight and unfairness of her words settling into him. “I’m sorry that you’re so frustrated, and I’m sorry that some people are stuck in an old-timey world view.” He releases her hand and twists on the ground, propping his head up in his hand while looking Emma in the eye. “Why don’t you take up a patronage or two dealing with women’s rights or something similar? I know everyone was on the fence of that because they thought it was too political, but fuck that, Emma. If that’s something you want to do, you sure as hell should do it. It’s not political. It’s human, and you would be an incredible ambassador. You should do things that make you happy.”

Her eyes light up, lips twitching into a smile. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. The fact that we don’t have any specifically for that is bullocks when we support nearly everything. You could help so many people, and I think you’d be a bloody rockstar at it.”

“I know I would.”

“That’s the spirit,” he encourages, leaning over and brushing a kiss against her lips, letting it go a little further than either of them should when they have to be somewhere soon. “But right now we’ve got to go see if I’m going to win our bet because we’ll finally see that our little love is a girl.”

“You keep thinking that. Also, there was no bet, and if there was, I never lose.”

“Oh shit, that’s cold,” Emma gasps as Dr. Hudson applies gel to her bared stomach, her bump only sticking up the slightest bit while she wears her jeans buttoned together with a hairband, the determined lass. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.”

“Most people never do,” Dr. Hudson assures them. “So all of your tests look good, everything in normal levels. Are we having any dizzy spells?”

“No,” Emma answers, her eyes focused on the screen that’ll show the baby in a few seconds, “I haven’t. And my diet and eating times are so regularly scheduled and planned thanks to the obsessed man next to me, so I’ve been feeling really good.”

Her hand finds his so much like earlier, and he clasps it between both of his hands before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “She’s been doing well, not a lot of symptoms.”

“Well, she’s in that wonderful sweet spot of the pregnancy. It usually only gets worse from here.”

“That’s not very encouraging.”

Dr. Hudson laughs before focusing all of her attention back on the ultrasound, the baby’s heartbeat suddenly sounding throughout the room. God, the first time he heard it, the rhythmic beat so much calmer than his own, he nearly cried. Okay, so he might have cried, a few tears slipping from his eyes. Emma didn’t even cry until later when she came home with the picture and fell apart saying she couldn’t see the baby and felt like Rachel from Friends.

But he’s grown accustomed to the sound of their child’s heartbeat now, and as the picture pops up on the screen, she’s as clear as can be.

“So we’re looking really healthy, heartbeat is good, growth is good. And you’re eighteen weeks now, so while sometimes I can’t tell, I can tell you the gender today, if that’s what you want?”

He looks down at Emma to find her already looking up at him, a smile gracing her lips as she nods in confirmation. “We want to know.”

“Alright,” Dr. Hudson smiles, looking at the monitor one last time, “you two are the lucky parents to a boy.”

A boy.

He’s going to have a son.

Holy shit, Emma’s never going to let him live this down, but he doesn’t care at this point. They’re having a boy.

“I told you so,” Emma chuckles, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. “I am never letting you live this one down.”

“I know.” He dips his head down to brush his lips against hers, squeezing her hand as tightly as possible as this begins to sink in even more. “Maybe I’ll get the next one right.”

“One human coming into the world out of my vagina at a time please.”

“You have such a way with words.”

“Just being honest,” she laughs, the sound as beautiful as the heartbeat still playing on the monitor. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And the little lad.”

“Yeah, and the little lad.”

He and Emma walk across the gardens to Liam and Abigail’s apartment, Emma’s heels clicking against the cobblestone. He already knows that she’ll be wearing his shoes on the short walk home, but she’d insisted she wear the heels for the portrait they’re taking to commemorate Liam’s fortieth birthday. It’s apparently a major milestone in life, deserving of an official portrait, and as much as he loves his brother, he thinks Liam’s a tad bit over the top.

But he and Liam differ in a lot of ways, Liam’s penchant for large celebrations and dinners with several courses while in evening wear one of those things. They were both raised this way, to expect and want dinners and parties like this, and maybe once upon a time had he never met Emma, that’s how he would celebrate all of his birthdays.

His wife, God bless her, is a fan of the simple things in life. She likes eating takeout on the couch with her feet tucked under her legs which are likely clothed in leggings that have a hole on the inside of her thigh. She enjoys sitting around watching television in the darkness of their bedroom for hours on end, sometimes an entire day (or two), and if she could, she’d probably spend the rest of her time in the garden throwing a ball for Indy to chase. For his birthday, all they did was a small dinner with friends and family, and it was perfect. He couldn’t have asked for anything more.

But he doesn’t mind the party Liam and Abigail are having. Everyone can enjoy what they want, and this day isn’t about him. It’s about his brother.

He and Emma step up to their front door, the towering black wood with moss looming above them, and he’s just about to knock on the door when Emma stops him with a hand on his forearm.

“What?” he laughs, turning to face her, their height difference almost gone with her heels.

“You have to be careful with how you talk about the baby. We’re keeping the sex a secret, remember?”

“Darling, I think they know we had sex. That’s not a secret.”

Her face scrunches up, and he leans down to brush a kiss against her lips before leaving a trail of kisses across her face, making her laugh under her breath.

“You’re going to make dad jokes. I already know.”

“I’ve been preparing for it with my humor for my entire life.” He grins, kissing her again simply because he can. “But I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, and I won’t mention our joyful news. As far as anyone in there knows, we know nothing.”

“That’s right Jon Snow.”

“Hey,” he chuckles, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her into his side before knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell, “he lived in the series, so that’s totally not an insult.”

The door opens before Emma can say anything else, Liam appearing on the other side of the door in his suit. “Hey guys,” he greets, a bright smile on his face as he takes a step back, “why don’t you come on in?”

“So nice of you to invite us into your home when we were supposed to be here,” he snarks, knowing it’ll rile Liam.

“Well, I was going to say I’m glad to see you, but I’m apparently only glad to see Emma. Hello, love,” he smiles before leaning into kiss Emma on the cheek and wrap her in a hug. “How are you today?”

“Good, great really. Happy birthday, old man.”

Liam barks out a laugh before releasing Emma, clapping her on the shoulder and throwing her a wink. “Has Killian been calling me older brother, emphasis on the older, all day?”

“Surprisingly not, but that’s just because he calls you an old wanker all of the time anyways.”

“No bit of that surprises me.”

Liam embraces him then, wrapping his arms around Killian’s shoulders as Killian does the same. “Happy birthday, olderbrother. What’d you buy for your midlife crisis?”

“Saving the sportscar for the fiftieth birthday. I’m not old yet, thank you very much.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Emma laughs, walking past the both of them and down the hall where he spies Alexander and Elizabeth running between the archways.

“Are we?” Liam questions, patting him in the back before following Emma. “I don’t think anyone has ever described us that way.”

“There’s a first for everything.”

The two of them find everyone in the dining room, roaming throughout the table and the bar that’s set up through the next room. Emma’s animatedly chatting with Abigail, her hands moving all over the place while Lizzie tugs at her dress until Emma picks her up and rests her on her hip. There’s several of Liam’s old military friends as well as a few of he and Abigail’s friends who he recognizes from events over the years. Their home is packed, chatter filling his ears while he goes around greeting everyone before stopping at the bar and ordering a glass of rum.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in solidarity with your wife?”

He turns to the side and smiles down at Abigail, kissing her temple after he finishes his sip. “Hello, darling. Did Emma send you over here to tell me that?”

“No, but I remember being pregnant and my husband’s lips tasting like whiskey after a party.”

He chuckles under his breath, finding Emma talking to his parents before turning back to look at Abigail. “The only problem with that statement is that Liam drinks whiskey instead of rum. Bloody awful drink. And I’ve cut back on the coffee and tea in solidarity, thank you very much.”

“Oh well look at you Mr. Big Shot,” she jokes, squeezing his bicep. “You’re just so kind.”

“Someone is awfully sassy today, love. Is it because you’ve realized you’re married to an old man and are compensating?”

“Exactly. I’m trying to cope with his ancient age.” “That’s what I thought. I’m going to go kiss Emma so she tastes the rum since I’m just that evil.”

Abigail snorts next to him, and he leaves her with a smile before making his way to Emma and kissing her before she gets a chance to say anything. He lets his tongue flicker out so she can taste the rum, his own little private joke, but he doesn’t think she minds from the way she hums into it. His parents probably mind from the way they cough next to him, but they can wait.

“Hi,” Emma whispers when he pulls back, “did you forget we’ve got company, tiger?”

“No. I just didn’t bloody care.”

His parents laugh behind him, and he turns to greet them then, hugging his parents and asking them how they’re doing before they get called off to chat. Liam really should have held this dinner somewhere other than his home for how many people are in here, and Emma asks him to go sit in the other room, quiet surrounding them until Alex runs in and practically jumps on Emma’s stomach with all the force of his bony limbs.

“Mummy told me that you have a baby in your belly, Emmy.”

“Well, your Mummy is a smart lady because I do have a baby in my belly.”

“Wow,” Alex gasps, his eyes lighting up as he puts his hands on Emma’s stomach before looking up at her and speaking in the cutest little voice with his broken words that are constantly getting better. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We don’t know yet,” Emma lies, and Killian chuckles next to her, rubbing up and down her back. “That’s going to be a surprise.”

Alex huffs and crosses his arms, obviously cross at them for not letting him know if his cousin is going to be a boy or a girl. It’s likely a good thing he wasn’t old enough to understand this all when Abigail was pregnant with Lizzie because he would have been up in arms about all of the surprises and secrets. “What’s its name?”

“We don’t know that either, buddy,” he answers to try to take some of Alex’s blame off of Emma. 

“I think you should name it Fish.”

Emma snickers next to him, biting her bottom lip to try to contain it. It’s then that he gets an idea, sticking out his stomach as far as he can and making himself look bloated. “What about me, buddy? Does Uncle Killian look like he’s having a baby?”

“Uncle Killian looks like a silly goose,” Abigail coos as she steps in the room, squatting down next to Alex, “and you look like someone who needs to go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to. It’s bedtime.”

Alex’s bottom lip starts quivering while his eyes begin to water, the meltdown imminent. Within seconds Abigail has him on her hip walking out of the ballroom and meeting Liam and Elizabeth by the doorway, the two of them walking away to put their kids to bed like some kind of well-oiled machine.

“You know, Abigail isn’t even my mother, and if she told me it was time to go to bed, I’d listen.”

Emma giggles beside him, leaning back into the couch and into him before resting her head on his shoulder. He kisses her hair while he rubs her back, knowing she’s likely tired when they’ll still be here for awhile, but it’s only a short walk home if she asks for it.

“You are a very smart man because you listen to all of the women in your life.”

“Damn right. Even Lizzie. She’s two, but she’s the boss.”

“Who’s the boss?” Brennan asks them, settling down on the couch across the coffee table from them. “Because the answer better be your mother or Emma. If not, you are lying, son.”

“Lizzie,” Emma answers for him, patting his stomach before her hand rests on his thigh, squeezing a little too high as if she’s trying to rouse him. “Lizzie is the boss.”

“Damn right,” Brennan laughs, echoing Killian’s words from a moment ago even if he didn’t hear them. “I’ve never seen a kid with such spunk.”

“Oi, I had that kind of spunk, dad. Still do.”

“Yeah, but you’re old now. I don’t remember these things.”

“Your firstborn is forty! I’m still barely in my thirties! How can you call me old? You’re the oldest person at this party.”

“And the most handsome,” Allison adds in, sitting down next to Brennan and brushing a kiss against his cheek. His parents were never affectionate before, and as happy as he is with everyone’s changes, his fifteen-year-old self is cringing watching them be that way. But it’s only in the best way, his family having felt like a family for two years now, and no part of him would trade things to go back to how they were.

Eventually dinner is served and everyone sits down at the large table, silverware clicking against plates and the laughter and chatter in the home only increasing the more people drink (except for he and Emma of course because he does abstain in solidarity sometimes). There’s several stories about Liam told, some he’d never heard before, and his stomach hurts from laughter. God, his brother was such a crack up, something he never really knew, and he wishes they’d gotten along all of those years.

But they didn’t. There was too much of an age discrepancy, too much of a difference in wants out of life, and most of all, too much hostility. He loves his brother, something that took him a long time to admit, but Liam’s not perfect. He can still be a bloody git and they still argue over some things, but he’s changed. And while there are still flashes of the day he came to this very home to confront his brother, to try to work things through only to be rejected and told that Liam’s only trying to do better for his children, he’s come to terms with it. They can’t change the past. They can’t take things away or add words left unsaid, but forgiveness even when the other person doesn’t deserve it is a powerful thing.

Or so he’s been learning over the past few years.

This is infinitely better than any life he could have lived away from his parents and his brother. And he’d have given it all up for Emma. There’s no doubt about it, and he still fully believes that. She’s worth it all. But this is better.

“Hey,” Emma whispers, rubbing between his shoulder blades before her hand finds the hair at the tape of his neck, causing shivers to run down his spine, “what are you thinking about? You’ve zoned out.”

He hums, closing his eyes before leaning over and kissing her temple, the vanilla of her shampoo invading him. “I was thinking about you.”

“Cheesy.” “Absolutely. But also the truth. I just…all of these stories about Liam, they make me realize how glad I am that we went through all of that to fix it and came out better on the other side because now I have stories to tell about him like that.” “I thought you were thinking about me.”

“Well, that came after thinking about my brother.” “That’s kind of gross.”

“Yeah, well, I was thinking about how I’m glad we’re here, but I’d still give it all up for you. And for the little love, my love.” “Well,” Emma smiles, tangling their fingers together under the table, “the good thing is that you don’t have to. We’re all a big, messy, wonderful package that you get for the rest of your life whether you like it or not.”

[btsjfans]

Love Me pt 2

Summary: After breaking off your 4 year romance as you make your way onto your 3rd year of college, you don’t expect to fall back in love’s grip so soon…

Namjoon x Reader, fluff, lil angst, maybe a lil smut later on

masterlist

part 1 

a/n: y’all it’s been like a million years since I’ve even last posted, and it’s been about 9 months since I posted the start to this. I truly can’t explain myself I’m just busy. Oops, xoxo, and thanks for all your support and requests, it keeps me on here :) love you all. ALSO guys i really really love this man look how ADORABLE HE IS GHDJKFJHDSFB

Laughter echoed down the hall from the living room, where 6 rowdy boys sat, disturbing your focus. You smiled as you heard Jin’s laugh clearly through the rest. You pushed your chair back and walked out to the living room, leaning against the wall and crossing your arms. Before you sat the 6 men boys, bent over, faces red, from their laughter. The coffee table had been moved over to make room for them all to sit criss cross on the floor with the Game of Life in the middle of them. 

“Y/n-Y/n, Yoongi just had his 9th kid, they have to have two vans!” Jin shrills, laughing, slapping a very stressed Min Yoongi on the back. 

“I don’t know how we’re gonna afford this kid, I just lost my job last roll,” he mutters, shoving kid #9 in his new blue van. 

“You should join us Y/n!” Jungkook grins, popping a chip into his mouth, while patting the spot next to him with the other hand.

“Ah she can’t, she has her big math midterm tomorrow. She’s gotta study.” Namjoon smiles and gives you a look, reminding you of your priorities. 

“Yeah he’s right, I just came out here to remind you punks to be quiet,” You grin, snagging the chip bowl from Jungkook, who whines in protest between the chips in his mouth. 

“Good luck,” the boys chorus, turning back to the game. Except for Namjoon who sends you a little smile matched with a playful wink, lighting a fire in your heart. You send one back, still smiling as you close the door to your room, leaning your back against it and clutching the chips to your chest. To be honest, you had started to catch feelings for your roommate, which you knew was completely inappropriate. It hadn’t happened right away though, it took time like any real crush does. 

You’d been living there for 4 months now, it was almost halfway through December now. It took time to get over Wonho, and Jenny. About 2 months actually. You had to rewrite your life, and this time without the people you had held most important longer than you had anyone else before. But writing Namjoon into your life had been the easiest thing you’d ever done. He was like your perfect other half. When you were shaky, he was stable. When you were sad, he was happy. When you were ecstatic, he hyped you up but still kept you on Earth. He was there to take you on morning and evening walks. He was there to bake cookies at 2am when you couldn’t sleep. He was there to lay in bed and talk until you guys fell asleep. He was the most constant, perfect person you had ever met. For all the times you burdened him with every little struggle, he rarely told you his. Instead, he opted to make sure you were well taken care of before even beginning to open up. He was everything Wonho was not, and in the best way possible. 

You first started to develop feelings for him in November. The day it started was a brisk fall morning, when he was walking with you to get coffee. You were both bundled up in jackets, and linked arm in arm. You were walking when a giant leaf the size of your head flew into your face, blinding you and making you shriek. He laughed and watched you knock it off your face, pulling it out away from the tendrils of hair it had caught on. He grinned and brushed the hair from your face, his fingers gently skimming your cheek. Your body had felt like it was on fire, despite it being 40 degrees out. You don’t know why but that’s really what started it all. After that, every little thing he did for you felt so much more personal; every little habit of his and every little thing about him was so much more adorable. 

Butttt of course you knew you could never pursue things with him. You couldn’t jeopardize the healthiest friendship you’d ever had, and plus it wouldn’t be fair to Taehyung when he came back into town. 

You shake yourself from your thoughts, rushing back to your desk, and hunching over to study. You were going to ace this exam, even if it killed you.

“Y/n?” Three knocks at the door. “Y/n get up!” Three more. You opened your eyes and sat up, pulling your pencil off your cheek. You glance in your vanity and wince at the sight before you. Your hair was a mess, there was a red mark where the pencil was on your cheek, and your eyes were bloodshot. Your desk was in even worse condition, chips were crumbled and scattered all over, your papers were wrinkled, and there was what looked like a little puddle of drool smeared across the smooth wood. Namjoon pokes his head in, eyes widening at your state. “Your final is in 10 minutes come on!!! I made breakfast, so you get ready and then we’ll run you over,” As quickly as he came, he was gone. You threw your clothes on, just leggings and one of his sweatshirts that somehow always ended up on your floor. You grabbed your bag and ran to the kitchen where an egg with toast waited at the table. You scarfed it down and bolted out the door, Namjoon on your tail. The two of you sprinted through the campus, a cold sprinkling of rain misting your faces as you panted and dodged passerby's. You start to feel panic well up inside as you check your watch and see you have 30 seconds.With the building still a minute away, you feel a tear come out and slow your pace, knowing it’s futile. You stop and catch your breath, trying to remain calm, when you see Namjoon speed up past you, hitting a full sprint. He gets to the building and busts through the doors, running up to where your class is. You grin knowing he made it, and start sprinting too. As you run up the stairs you hear him talking to the teacher. “No sir are you sure this isn’t Improv Comedy? This has to be it, they said the final was here today!” You grin and listen to your annoyed professor repeat exasperatedly how it is not in fact Improv and he is mistaken. You slide through the door and into a chair nearby, catching your breath and smoothing your wet hair. Your friends grin at you and shake their heads. Namjoon glances back, seeing you’ve made it. He throws you a wink before sighing, “Alright, thanks sir.” As he walks out he mouths to you, “I believe in you,” before disappearing. 

You walk out of the final, flanked by your friends. You guys joke about how you definitely failed, but you feel a pit in your stomach knowing you probably did honestly. You guys stand in the lobby, watching the rain pour outside and decide to wait for it to pass over before heading out. 

“God is someone actually out there?” One kid says, squinting and looking out the windows into the torrential rains. You all run over to the windows, laughing as you watch a kid sprint with an umbrella that’s fighting him. You grin until you realize you know that umbrella, because it’s yours. 

The kid, now identified as Namjoon, finally gets through the doors, absolutely soaked despite his attempt at an umbrella. 

“What are you doing here?” You grin but shake your head at your friend, before noticing the soaked, and partially mutilated flowers he holds. 

“I wanted to bring you these after your final.” He smiles sheepishly and holds out a bouquet of wild flowers, some drooping, some missing petals, and some in perfect condition. 

You feel your heart flutter, and gingerly take them, hugging them to your chest. 

“Aw I love them Joon, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you so much,” You grin and gaze at the flowers lovingly before realizing what you said. 

“I love you too Y/n,” He grins, his dimple teasing his face, before pulling you in for a warm, albeit wet, hug. You wrap your arms around him and close your eyes breathing in his smell. You really do love him.

“I’m so excited for you to meet Taehyung, he’s so so so funny and smart and you’re gonna love him.” Namjoon rambles as he putters around, excitedly awaiting Taehyung’s arrival. Tae had been on a study abroad in England for the last semester working on his English degree. From what the boys had said about him, he was a really good guy. You hoped he’d like you. You’d even prepared a little gift for him, all his favorite American foods in a basket to welcome him back to the states. Hoseok had even pitched in a 2 liter of Sprite, despite that not even being on Taehyung’s list. 

You would miss your time alone with Namjoon, all your quiet nights in on the couch, talking and laughing. Everything about this life here had been perfect, like a sweet escape from the rest of the world. As much as it embarrasses you to think, you’re worried that Taehyung being here will ruin everything. It was his home first! Who gave you the audacity to want to keep him at bay? 

You cast a smile at the boys as they enter, all excitedly twittering about Taehyung’s arrival. You lean against the cupboard, trying to calm yourself before he arrives. You close your eyes and take a shaky breath, sucking that air right back in as warm hands suddenly engulf yours. 

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon is there, his warm eyes twinkling and a small smile flirting with his dimple. 

“I-I don’t know,” You laugh a little, your face on fire, “What if he doesn’t like me?” He laughs in response, which was not the response you thought this kind of situation merited. “What the heck?” You try to tug your hands away, not impressed with him at the moment. 

“It’s just, how could he not like you? You’re amazing!! And worst case scenario, I like you enough for the both of us. And uh I don’t know if now is the right time to say this, or if there even is a right time, but I have feelings for you, like more than a friend. And I’ve felt this way for a while, a long, long while. And I know I might have just ruined things with us but please, if you don’t feel the same way just tell me, I won’t ever pressure you okay? Just tell me things are okay,” His smile weakens, but his eyes stay alight with hope. 

You feel a smile light your face and you let out a soft laugh. “Namjoon! I feel the same, I-”

“PIP PIP LOSERS I’M BACK!” The door busts open as a deep voice bellows through the room, all of you jumping. The boys run over in a testosterone filled sentimental mob.

“We’ll have time later princess,” Namjoon’s voice drops suddenly, his breath hot on your hear, sending chills over your body in a wave. As quickly as his intimacy came it left, and he was among the boys bear hugging Taehyung.

“Now lets meet this new roomie,” 

[jae-daddy]

Holic (6)

Jaebum AU

one / two / three / four / five / seven /  eight / nine /

Characters: Im Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Drama, Romance, Mature

Plot: After your older sister bails on her wedding day, Jaebum and you tie the knot. You weren’t always so bad, at one time you were kids who were true friends, but I guess time is a horrible thing.

a/n: help tried to make steamy

You were fifteen years old when everything between Jaebum and you changed. He had always been a little shithead, but he was also your friend. Something happened and you both were never the same again.

You stood outside of Jaebum’s house, hiding behind your parents as they talked.

The adults were saying their farewell to each other, as the kids stood idly beside them, trying not to show their sadness. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at Jaebum, whose gaze you could feel on you.

You didn’t want to see him leave. He was such an important part of your life, just the mere thought of him not being there sent chills through you.

Your parents stepped away from you and went back into the house leaving the kids behind. The three of you stood there at the bottom of the steps that led to Jaebum’s old house. You didn’t move from your spot and kept staring at the ground.

Your sister said her goodbyes first, being as gracefully as ever, leaving after a quick hug. You stayed the back, awkwardly rubbing your arm, still refusing to look up.

Saying goodbyes weren’t really your thing. Actually saying anything emotional wasn’t much of your thing. You didn’t talk to people unless it was small talk or a sarcastic banter battle.

“Y/n,” Jaebum’s soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You finally looked up from the rocky cement to find his warm brown eyes focused on your red face. The spring breeze rushed through your hair, warming up your hands, but your heart felt cold.

“Will you stay if I ask you to?” You whispered, tears pricking your eyes.

Jaebum took a step towards and stood close to you, as a sad sigh left him. You felt his heat envelope you, as the smell of clean laundry and something that only Jaebum carried surrounded you.

“You know I can’t even if I wanted to,” he held your wrists, as his eyes meeting yours. “But I can make a promise.”

You watched as his lips turned into a small smile.

“A promise?” You asked, meekly. Jaebum’s smile grew as he held your hands in his.

“I promise I will come back to you.” His words made your heart feel lighter, as more tears escaped you.

“You promise?” You peered into his eyes, your eyelashes wet from all the crying.

“I promise.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

You grunted as you pulled at the plant, but ended up falling on your ass. The plant mockingly stayed in its place, not even swaying at your attempts.

You heard light laughter behind you, as you saw Jaebum make his way towards you. His hands were rolling the sleeves of his business shirt, as he took long strides that led him to stand above you.

“Need help?” He asked, with a mocking smile.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you replied, simply, instead of being mulish.

He moved in front of you and tried to pull at the plant. After a few tries, he ended up beside you with a terrified yelp, falling on the soft green grass beside you.

A little giggle escaped your lips, as you saw Jaebum’s face contour between terror, defeat and surprise.

Slowly, your giggles grew into a tummy aching laugh. Tears began streaming down your cheeks, as you remembered Jaebum’s horrified look over and over again.

You pointed at Jaebum and laughed harder as he brushed the dirt from his palm, frowning.

He looked over at you, his frown slowly starting to dissolve and turn into a chuckle, as he saw you dying from your laughter.

His lips whirled into a loopy grin, as his eyes closed into tiny slits of joy. He grinned widely, light laughter leaving him, as he watched your laughing face.

This was the first time Jaebum had seen you laugh so freely since you were kids. He realised how much he had missed it, and how badly he wanted to see it again. He cherished your face so free, not hiding behind a pretence of a heartless princess.

He watched as your hiccups began dying down, and you wiped the tears that escaped your eyes.

“Come on, you little demon,” Jaebum patted your back. “Let’s try it together.”

You both got up and counted to three, as you held the plant.

“One, two, three!” And then, you both went flying through the air with broken leaves in your grips.

You sighed in frustration and threw the leaf at the plant.

“Why is this so hard?!” You pouted angrily, cursing the plant.

“Why are you even gardening all of a sudden?” He asked you instead, turning to look at you. You cleared your throat, not wanting to reply.

But when he nudged your side, you crumbled and groaned.

“Fine. I read somewhere that it’s good for relaxing. I’m hoping it will help stop the nightmares.” You muttered looking at your hands.

Jaebum pursed his lips in deep thought, before studying your uneasiness.

“What exactly do you dream of?” His voice came out careful.

“I’m getting kidnapped,” you blurted out, the fear that squeezed your heart tightened, as you took a deep shaky breath. “Again.”

The last part was barely above a whisper as it left you. It was almost as if you had just breathed it, but Jaebum seemed to hear it loud and clear.

“Again?” He asked, surprised and serious.

You nodded, chewing your bottom lip. “It happened when you went to New York with your family. My parents covered it up from going out to the public, the kidnappers are in jail, but that doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”

“I didn’t know-” You cut off his pity party before it could even start.

“It’s okay, my parents didn’t realise too,” you turned to face him, with a wickedly bright smile. “Not until three days later, when I wasn’t ready for my sister’s birthday party.”

You removed your eyes from Jaebum’s pitiful ones and looked at your palms dark with dirt instead. You began rubbing it together to clean them, watching as the dirt circled together then fall down at once.

“Maybe,” you took a deep breath, trying to lighten up the heavy mood. “We should try wetting the area around it, and then pull it out.”

Jaebum turned to you, his normal-lazy smile slowly coming back.

“To soften the soil,” he added, nodding.

“I’m a genius, I know.” You rolled your eyes, before pushing him to go fetch the hose.

He reluctantly got up, and you made your way towards the stubborn stub. It was prickly and had pretty white flowers, but it wasn’t what you wanted.

All it was, was a stubborn little plant in your greater scheme of a tiny strawberry farm.

“Hey, so like this?” Jaebum called out making you turn around to face him. You were greeted with a spray of cold water hitting you blank on your face.

You tried to save yourself by holding your palms in front of you. You tried to protect your self from Jaebum’s cold attack, as a loud squeal left you when the water soaked your clothes.

“Jaebum!” You tried to be mad but failed as a small giggle left you. Jaebum stopped and put his hands on his hips. He took in the work he had created, as you stood there, water dripping down your back.

“You’ll pay for that,” you muttered, as you lunged at him. You won the hose, thanks to the element of surprise. Jaebum shrieked as you returned the favour, showering him as he tried to get away from your reach.

“Give that back!” He laughed, trying to get it off. You both began struggling over the control of the hose, which resulted in you both getting more drenched with every passing second.

A raspy laugh left you, before Jaebum took your wrists that gripped the hose, and held them behind you. You felt the beads of water run down inside your shirt, and sliding down from your hair.

Droplets of water slipped off Jaebum and landed on your cheeks as he towered over you. He hands pulling you close, attempting to hold you in place.

Jaebum’s wet hair stuck to his forehead, as a wide wicked grin of sheer joy adored his lips.  

When you tried to free yourself from his grip, his arms roughly pulled your body against his. Holding you closer to him, making it impossible for you to move.

Your laugh instantly sobered up when you realised how close Jaebum was to you. The warmth of his body, and the nostalgic smell of Jaebum with a hint of cologne wrapped around you, as heat escaped from his skin and hid into yours. His breath fell over your cheeks, making your cheeks flush with nervousness,  as your eyes locked with each other.

You could see the two moles above his eye that always made your heart flutter. You saw the little kink in the corner of his eyebrow, that he got when you were kids.

You had mistakenly hit him with a paddle during an intense game of ping pong.

It was barely visible now, but it was there, and it crinkled slightly with his slightest smile.

Your breath got caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, and his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t understand.

You felt his grip on your wrist tighten, as your chest pressed against his.

You gasped in return, welcoming the pain of his searing hold on your wrist.

Jaebum’s gaze dropped to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

Despite everything that has happened; your past, and the reasons for why you were here today, you wanted the kiss.

You really really wanted to kiss Jaebum.

You rose a little on your tippy toes and inched closer to Jaebum.

“Y/n,” Jaebum breathed, his voice dark and low. His eyes searched your face looking for something, as his eyes lingered on your lips before meeting your eyes once again.

For the first time in a very long time, a real smile lightly danced on the corner of your lips. Jaebum noticed and his eyes swirled with tenderness, as his lips reflected your loving smile.

“Jaebum!” A voice called out pulling you out of your trance. You both to jumped away from each other and turned to Cynthia running towards you. “I got a fork!”

Your heart that had forgotten how to beat a few seconds ago, was beating fast, as the real world slowly caught up with you. Your cheeks burned brighter, as Jaebum’s gaze burned in your mind.  

“Thanks, Cynthia,” you gave her one of your classic smiles and took the fork of her. “I can handle it from here.”

You turned away from them, trying to hide your uneasiness.

You avoided Jaebum’s eyes that refused to look away from you and stared at the garden instead. You began digging around the prickly-white-flowered plant when someone began pouring water over it.

“We should still soften the soil first,” Jaebum said, before bending down next to you.

“And, y/n,” His melting brown eyes gazed softly into yours. “If you ever get those nightmares again; I’m less than a door away.”

You stood outside your old apartment feeling nervous as you talked to Jihyo over the phone.

“Are you sure I can go in?” You asked for the fifth time.

“Yeah, its fine,” Jihyo answered, her patience holding strong. “I ran it by them yesterday, that you’ll come to collect a few things.”

You hung up your phone after saying goodbye, and turned to see the familiar white door of your old apartment. You lifted a hand and briefly knocked on the door, holding your breath.

“Coming!” A voice called out, it sounded strangely familiar.

The door opened to show a man a few years older than you on the other side.

“Hi, I’m Joshua.” He said, holding up his hand. You shook it, introducing yourself before going inside.

You told him you forgot a few files that you kept somewhere, and began making your way towards the bathroom.

Once inside, you stood on the bathtub and lifted the secret section of the roof up. You grabbed your files and got off the tub.

You were about to leave when you saw something glint from the corner of your eyes.

You looked between the bathtub and the vanity to find a photo frame.

Your lips parted as a gasp left you, and betrayal washed over you.

You picked up the photo of the boy and girl and made your way to the living room where Joshua sat, looking anxious.

You snorted as you saw the guy rubbing his hands together, the worried look evident on his face.

“Treasure hunts were always my favourite. Especially if the price is so rewarding,” your lips curled into an ugly smirk, as you held up the photo.

Joshua’s lips parted in terrified shock as his eyes travelled to the photo of a couple on their wedding day.

A photo of Joshua and your older sister on their wedding day.

not edited

[kiradillinger]

“Grab the... Snitch!”

Words: 1579

Pairing: Lapidot

Summary: To be a good Seeker, you must watch only at the Snitch. Not at your girlfriend. Also Amethyst is a great commentator.

From the author: baced on THIS art from @kaiken23 Hogwarts AU and this ask I did before but had zero desire to write xD (also this fic on AO3)

If you ever would like to read some more HP Lapidot, you can find a fic HERE and HERE

"So, team, in the next match we will definitely have problems," the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team says a bit irritably, throwing a broom on her shoulder. "The first problem is their newcomers. I've seen their training, and I have to admit that they fly pretty good for second-year students. The second problem is that our Seeker is still in St. Mungo's hospital after his stupid attempt to drink his own stupid potion.  This means that in the next match Peridot will be our Seeker.”

Peridot yawns, all showing that this is absolutely not a problem, and she will cope with her task perfectly, as well as with any other task that is assigned to her.

"The third problem sounds the same as the second one. Peridot will be our Seeker…” the captain of the team sighs and looks as if she is ready to eat her broom so Peridot won't be their Seeker in this game.

"And what's the problem?" Peridot snarls, not understanding what is going on. She is a good Seeker, and let her not so often go to the playing field in this role, no one complained before.

"The problem is that the Ravenclaw Seeker is Lapis Lazuli, and all damn Hogwarts already knows that you two are together, which means that you can't play as usual against your dear girlfriend."

Peridot does not know whether to blush because the captain said it out loud, or be insulted, because she was never going to succumb to Lapis. At least in Quidditch. They, of course, played against each other many times, but never both were Seekers.

"We're not toge....Okay, we're together, but that does not mean I'm going to say "okay, Lazuli, take the Snitch, I don't need it. It's stupid and insulting. For both of us. So shut up and wait. I'll bring you a Snitch.” Peridot adjusts her glasses and angrily sits down on her broom, rising into the air. “And then I'll throw it in your face. Let's start training.”

***

"I can't believe she really said that! She seriously thinks that I'm going to just give up in the very beginning, because you will be my opponent!" Peridot goes back and forth, gesticulating and kicking the autumn leaves underfoot. "Can you imagine it?!"

Lapis only snorts, raising her eyes to the clear sky. The autumn day turned out to be very warm, and it was impossible to sit in a stuffy living room, as well as arrange a date in the Room of Requirement. They decided to take a walk in the part of the forest where they're allowed to go, and the only thing that clouded everything was Peridot's exasperated mood, whose pride was clearly hurt.

"Do you know what the captain of my team told me?" Lapis hides a smile in her striped scarf. "Kick her ass."

Peridot stops walking back and forth.

"That's exactly what the real captain has to say. Of course, I understand that Lapis Lazuli is the fastest in the whole Hogwarts, but hey, I'm not a snail either.” Peridot grins, although she can’t be sure that she will be able to defeat Lapis. Yes, she does not intend to give up, but Lapis is really faster than her.

"We'll see..." Lapis gets up from the fallen tree on which she sat and approaches Peridot. "We can play for a wish. Who will win, can ask another about anything. This will be an additional incentive. What if you decide that I'm too fast for you."

"Deal. Be ready for anything, Lazuli." Peridot answers confidently, but then blushes a little when Lapis touches her hair and takes out a small orange autumn leaf entangled there.

"Autumn is beautiful. Not as beautiful as you, but still.” Lapis smiles smugly, looking how Peridot blushes to the very tips of her ears. Seeing this, Lapis is not sure that she will not succumb to her.

***

The day of the match is cloudy, but still warm, and despite the clouds, both teams have a wonderful mood for the game and for the victory. And although both captains of teams look at each other with hatred, the rest of the players greeted everyone cheerfully and managed to joke about the "sweet couple" on the playing field.

"Good luck, miss "I'm the fastest in the whole Hogwarts," Peridot grins, looking into Lapis' blue eyes.

"And good luck to you, miss "I'm going to be faster than the fastest in the whole Hogwarts." Lapis smiles, yawning and sitting down lazily on the broom.

And when they epically rise into the air and wait for the whistle, all the players almost fall to the ground when they hear a loud voice:

“Sup, dudes, today I'm your commentator! Hold on to your brooms, the game promises to be hot!”

Peridot has no idea who allowed Amethyst to be a commentator of the game, but she makes a note in her head to thank Amethyst for everything, because even from a flight altitude on a broomstick Peridot sees Professor Pearl's magnificent angry face.

“AND WE’RE STARTING!”

For the first few minutes of the game, it seems to Peridot that their captain was mistaken and the Ravenclaw new players are not so cool, but when they score three goals in a row, doubts about their playing skills disappear. This year they have three newcomers, the others, apparently, decided to concentrate on something else and left. And damn, the new Beaters are so good that Peridot several times almost faces the Bludgers, evading it at the last moment.

The Snitch doesn't show itself anywhere about 40 minutes, and Peridot peers into the sky, into the field, and glances at Lapis, who has been motionless in the air for the last five minutes, as if deciding to take a nap right on the broomstick.

And yet, after a long time waiting, they notice Snitch. Simultaneously. And at the same time they rush after him, making the stands to burst into joyful cries.

"Looks like our Seekers noticed the Golden Snitch! Finally, we have already begun to fall asleep here! As you can see, we have a very interesting couple of Seekers here, make your bets, friends, who will win!"

Peridot tries not to listen to Amethyst (although it is practically impossible), and to ignore the fact that Lapis is flying next to her. The Snitch dives down, and Peridot's heart also falls down, because she knows that if Lapis can fly off the very ground, Peridot most likely will break her glasses and face. But, fortunately, Snitch just begins to fly low over the ground, giving both Seekers a chance to chase after it.

Whoooooosh, the Bludger flies past, forcing Lapis to dodge and slow down a little, passing Peridot ahead.

"Look, Perdactyl is now ahead! Lapis is catching up! Come on, Lapis, grab this bo..."

“AMETHYST!”

"Snitch, grab Snitch! Prove that you are still the fastest!"

Peridot at the moment doesn't mind paying someone so Amethyst will always be a commentator.

The Snitch is already very close, but Lapis is close too, and Peridot tries to look only at the Snitch, only at the Snitch, only at the Snitch...

Just for a split second, for a brief moment she looks at Lapis and realizes that Lapis is looking at her too. Eyes meet, and it seems that this is the end for Peridot and Lapis will now grab Snitch, but... If Peridot had not looked at Lapis, she would not have seen the flying Bludger.

If Lapis looked only at the Snitch, she would have noticed this Bludger.

In one second everything is decided. Peridot jumps from a broomstick for the Snitch, landing on the sand face down, Bludger bumps into Lapis, knocking her off the broom and dropping her a few meters from Peridot. Tribunes and players freeze in anticipation.

"Come on, Peridot, stop eating sand, show us if you caught the Snitch or not!?" Amethyst screams, and Peridot slowly rises, shaking herself and sitting down.

"Where is my stupid captain, I promised to throw it in her face!" she says and shows Snitch in her fist.

The tribunes cheerfully (and disappointedly) scream, and Peridot, limping, approaches Lapis and sits next to her.

"Are you okay?" She asks gently, to which Lapis smiles and sits down, leaning on Peridot's shoulder. "I hope it does not hurt much."

"Your Beaters are still better than ours..." Lapis laughed faintly. "It seems like my arm is broken. Not a big problem, but I can’t fulfill your wish right now..."

Lapis is not at all upset because the game was honest, and her mistake was distraction, and in general she is now very curious about what Peridot can ask for. But the hand still hurts...

"And now the winner must kiss the loser!" Amethyst screams from the tribune, and, oh hell, the other students do not seem to mind that either.

For Peridot it was a challenge to show at least some closeness in public, like simple embraces, what to say when the entire stadium is looking at you.

"Go to hell!' she growls, and Lapis tiredly nuzzles her neck, and quietly, so that only Peridot can hear, says:

"I would do this, but it hurts. And your face is still in the sand. I prefer our usual place and my non-aching body."

Peridot sighs, covering her red cheeks with her hand.

Now she needs to think about a wish.

[terraclae]

[Late Night Lessons]

Lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue @rasvimhia

Arodan finally decides to start teaching Dmitri some magic.

'Well, you sure came in late, didn't you?' Dmitri was standing by the kitchen counter and was cleaning the plates. Arodan’s attentive gaze slid from his book on the table to Dmitri who was smiling at him. ‘At least you were on time for dinner.’

‘I lost track of time a little.’ Arodan started. ‘I know I said I was going to be back in the afternoon but I met some people.’

‘What sort of people?’ There was a mild clattering of plates. ‘Were they nice to you?’

‘Yeah, overly social. I’m not used to being approached so boldly.’ Arodan responded. He quietened, watched Dmitri do his work for a few seconds, then cut to the chase. ‘So have you practiced magic before, do you have any memory of that?’

‘Nope. Are we going to practice that now?’ Dmitri immediately dropped his plates with a clatter. He checked once more if he hadn’t unintentionally shattered any and then ran over to Arodan. He wiped his hands on his apron along the way. ‘I’m very much a novice, I hope that isn’t a problem-‘

‘Stop apologizing for not knowing anything. There’s so many people that start out that way.’ Arodan grunted, laying Mimir our in front of him. Dmitri sat opposite to him. ‘It’s fine to not know anything yet.’

‘... Okay. Got it.’

‘Good.’ Arodan nodded along with Dmitri. He focused on Mimir instead. He needed her mostly to advise him on what would be the easiest to teach but secondly as emotional support since he couldn’t call himself magically adept either. ‘We’re starting with making a light. This should be easy for you since you have the element to back it up.’

‘Element?’ Dmitri thought, then finally caught on to what Arodan meant. ‘Flight right, has something to do with eye color?’

‘Yeah, That.’ Arodan answered. Perhaps now wasn’t the moment to call Dima clueless as much as he wanted to. ‘You have golden eyes so I’m assuming you’re light aligned.’

‘So, how does that work?’ Dmitri gestured at the air and then at Arodan. ‘How do the elements work on this continent? I’m sure I’ve seen it but I kind of forgot.’

‘Like most things but that happens.’ Arodan sighed and rapped his knuckles rhythmically against the table trying to stretch his patience. ‘This continent is divided. The Eleven all have their patch of influence and in those territories their element rules the land. Eggs take on the element of the land but of course can be displaced and hatched elsewhere. It doesn’t change their element.’

‘I think I understand that.’ Dmitri mumbled. His hands ran briefly along Mimir’s pages which remained waterlogged. ‘So how does this figure into magic?’

‘Well, since I’m an ice dragon, you’d say I’d be able to cast associated magic. There are dragons however that just are deeply untalented at casting magic. It seems I’m one of those.’ Arodan grumbled. He waved his hand and at his fingertips a magical light flared up that illuminated the both of them. ‘I taught myself what I know and use charms to aid my casting. Now, I want you to focus your energy to your fingertips.’ He reached out to Dmitri with his free hand and grabbed his so he could hold it up. ‘Imagine a light and let it flow from your chest to your hand.’

‘Wait, you’re untalented by the standards of this place?’ Dmitri waved his hands a few times to no avail. He attempted to create a light a few more times. ‘Is that what you think of yourself?’

‘Magic isn’t my strong suit and you know, I think I’m fine with that.’ Arodan hummed. His free hand drifted to Dmitri's jaw and he turned it back to his hand. ‘Focus.’

‘I’m trying.’ He held his hand stable this time around. As his focus intensified his brow knitted further and further until it looked downright painful. ‘But you’re at least decent at magic.’

‘Decent doesn’t quite do. Decent doesn’t save myself and others and I’d prefer not to rely on charms.’

That quietened Dmitri. He took to keeping his focus on his hand for a long time. He did not speak, Arodan swore he stopped breathing sometimes when he focused. He sat there and focused on his own flow of magic and breath, time passing slowly around them. Outside the night was heralded by cicadas, the oncoming storm by thunder. Arodan’s gaze drifted down to Mimir who had written something.

‘You’re not going to sit here all night with him trying to teach him how to create a light, right?’

Arodan internally shrugged as he read it. He retrieved a pen and wrote a response. ‘I don’t intend to. I want to go out in town again tomorrow and I can’t do that if I’m tired.’

‘Why tell him you’re not good at magic though if you’re going to teach him magic?’

‘What are you, an inquisition?’ Arodan wrote back. His brow knit tightly as he wrote. ‘I just don’t want to get his hopes up that I can teach him how to shoot beams of fire and bring the sky down.’

‘Fair enough, but it isn’t fair to yourself either.’

Arodan paused. He would wait with his response for a bit. He looked up at Dmitri again. He sat there, a faint drifting light at his fingertips. The light bounced and he could see he had tears in his eyes. Arodan shot up. ‘Hey, what happened? Are you okay?’

‘I… I had a sister. I had a sister and I abandoned her.’ Dmitri started, smiling. ‘I don’t know what happened but this… I remembered. We used to practice this.’

‘Wait, What?’ Arodan geld his hands up in abject confusion. ‘Okay. Slowly tell me what you remembered and why.’

‘I traveled with her alongside a caravan. With her, I came to this continent.’ He rubbed the tears from his eyes, embarrassed at the brief slip of composure. ‘At night we’d sit and talk I think, and we’d practice magic like this. We couldn’t do that before because where we came from it was a taboo.’ The light at his fingers grew brighter until it was as bright as Arodan’s magic. ‘We made lights just like these. I can’t remember where she is now.’

‘Did something happen to her?’

‘I don’t know.’

Arodan looked down at Mimir again. She had written down what had been said, good. ‘Why say that you abandoned her?’

‘That’s what it feels like. I… Well, it’s easier to say that it’s my fault. Maybe it isn’t.’ He met Arodan’s eye shyly. ‘But I won’t have a way to know now.’

‘So what will you do with this information?’ Arodan asked. ‘You said you wanted to remember.’

‘I feel like it probably is going to be painful to remember.’ Dmitri shrugged and sniffled again. ‘I guess this is a start. I can think on this.’ He lowered his head. ‘I wish I knew her name.’

‘Well… It’ll come to you with time.’ Arodan reached out to pat Dmitri. He hadn’t seen him really cry yet and it wasn’t a good expression on him. It wasn’t a bad show of his emotions despite this, there were worse ways to display hurt. ‘And hey, you’ve made a light. The memory helped.’

‘O-Oh, wow, you’re right.’ Dmitri shot up and looked at his hand. As soon as his attention fell on it the light fizzed out with a disheartening sizzle. ‘I don’t know if it’s a good thing if I’m gonna get emotional every time you teach me magic though.’

‘I don’t mind. It’s okay to be vulnerable around friends.’ Balam and the others weren’t Dmitri’s friends but they were allies at the very least. They had left their distrust in the boat. That would be enough for Arodan to keep mediating. ‘If you get emotional, you get emotional. If you remember something, you remember. Maybe that should be it for today.’

‘Are you sure? Just a light?’ Dmitri asked, his eyes wide. ‘I kind of want to try once more.’

‘A light is a basis. You already took a while on that and might need some more time to practice. You have the feeling but now it needs to become natural.’ He pat his hand idly and leafed through Mimir. ‘Try it again then.’

Dmitri did as asked but it did not work a second time. When it seemed he pulled from the memory it came more easily but still with difficulty and it yielded a faint light. ‘Oh, Okay, I get it.’

‘Exactly. It needs to come naturally first, okay? That makes it easier to learn the rest.’ Arodan said. ‘How does it feel?’

‘Honestly? I am…’ He laughed nervously and the light at his fingers flickered. ‘So scared right now. I’m doing magic. I’m not supposed to do magic and I don’t even know why.’

‘Maybe you’ll remember like you remembered your sister just now.’ He looked at Dmitri’s light and it gently fizzled out again. ‘What does she look like? Maybe we can make a sketch and see if she has ever been to Glasir, ask around.’

‘You can draw?’ Dmitri asked. Arodan shook his head and instead held up Mimir who had drawn another enthusiastic looking face on her page. ‘Can you draw her Mimir?’

‘If you give me traits I can try!’

‘Okay, So… She has the same sort of face as me. Square jaw, straight nose.’ Dmitri started. He gestured at himself as he spoke and traced his own jaw. ‘But her eyes are sharper, also golden. I remember she got one of her ears pierced trice for earrings. Wore her hair in a braid, broad shoulders, ears like mine, and always smiling.’ On the page a person appeared that greatly resembled Dmitri. She was pretty, that was certain, her eyes held experience. How Mimir had drawn her so accurately while filling in the blanks was her incomprehensible. ‘That’s her.’

‘I feel like I’ve seen this woman before.’

‘... What do you mean?’ Arodan picked up Mimir. ‘You’re a book, we haven’t met her.’ Mimir didn’t respond then but did correct some points on her drawing. ‘You’re being weird.’

‘It’s not important. Nevermind.’

‘Well, you are helping me.’ Dmitri gently took Mimir from Arodan’s hands before he could question her further, running his fingers along the spine. ‘I said I was going to repair you so I will do that now if we’re not practicing magic.’ He pulled thread and additional leather from his apron pocket. ‘I intended to do that earlier.’

‘So you’ve been running around with the utensils for it?’ Arodan watched Dmitri start with the cover. Leather that had started to fall off was scratched off fully and he patched up the empty space. Mimir’s cover became a quilt of leather. ‘I should have repaired her myself earlier perhaps but I kept forgetting it. Sorry Mimir.’

Dmitri flipped her open once he finished mending the cover. On a page there already was written “You are forgiven”. Dmitri reattached the loosened pages. ‘Hey Dan, can I ask you something?’ Dmitri spoke softly, as if he was afraid to be heard.

Arodan looked up, his eyes darting between Mimir and Dmitri. ‘What do you want to ask?’

‘Can I come along with you tomorrow?’

‘Well…’ If Arodan really thought about it he would have rather heard Atlas ask this question. It seemed like fun to spend some time flying over the city with Atlas. He could ask him to come along when he got back to his room. ‘I guess it won’t hurt to have some company. You can come along.’

‘Good. I’m excited.’ Dmitri spoke through a yawn, quickly finishing up his work. He put Mimir down. ‘Okay, Done. Does that feel better Mimir?’

‘It’s a lot better than falling apart.’ Popped up on the page. ‘Thank you for repairing me!’

‘It’s no problem at all.’ Dmitri said with a sleepy grin, looking on the verge of yawning again. ‘I think I’m gonna tap out for the night. I can barely keep my eyes open sitting here.’

‘Sleep, it’s been a long day.’ Arodan said. His words were met with an affectionate shoulder pat from Dmitri who was grinning brighter now. ‘Okay, yeah, that’s enough.’

‘It’s all in good fun friend.’ Dmitri chuckled, closing his eyes. ‘Thank you Arodan. Goodnight.’ There was a change in body language and breathing immediately. Sachairi breathed more heavily than Dmitri did and his shoulders slumped further. ‘Ugh.’ He blinked a few times, wearily so. ‘Yo, One-Eye. No one else is around?’ His form flickered and danced at the edges.

‘Yeah, it’s just us. You doing alright?’ Arodan asked. Sachairi shrugged idly in response. ‘It’s pretty late so you should get to bed.’

‘Sheesh, yes, I’m going.’ Sachairi groaned. He got up and kept his stare on Arodan. ‘Is there anything you and Dim discussed that I need to know?’

‘He wants to join me in town tomorrow. It would be faster to get into the city if you woke up early too and flew with me then tap out when we're on location so people don't get suspicious.’ Arodan rubbed his temples. He picked up Mimir as he got up. He followed Sachairi out of the kitchen. ‘He doesn’t know how to shift into his natural form, I believe.’

‘Fine, But you’re not gonna like me. I’m not a morning person.’ Sachairi grunted, his tail swinging behind him. ‘It’s hard to sleep the last few days.’

‘Do you need anything for that?’

‘No, it’s just dumb dreams.’ Sachairi rubbed over the soul ruby that dangled from his neck. ‘It feels as if Raz is tugging at my heart lately and it’s difficult to not think about it.’

‘Do you think he’s in trouble?’ Arodan asked, his brow furrowing. They stopped by the stairs briefly. ‘Sachairi, I need to tell you something.’

‘He’s not in trouble. It just feels like he’s calling to me.’ Sachairi responded, all the while staring off at something invisible. ‘What is it you want to say? Is it important?’

‘I had… A connection of sorts. The day we arrived in Glasir Raz reached out to me.’ This immediately caught Sachairi’s attention who whipped around. ‘He said he escaped and is heading in our direction.’ This addition was met by Sachairi taking his shoulders and almost crushing him against the wall. ‘Hey, hold on-‘

‘Where? Where is he?’

‘I don’t know, he couldn’t tell me!’ Arodan squeaked. ‘Sachairi, you’re going to break my shoulders, let go!’

He let go then, folding his arms immediately. Arodan dropped to the floor with a thud and he took to rubbing his bruised shoulders. ‘I… I’m sorry, I guess I was...’

‘You should be, are you always going to do that?’ Arodan grunted. 'Well, I understand.' His eye darted around and then to the top of the stairs. The little hiccup in their conversation must have drawn Carmen’s attention as she was standing at the top of the stairs. ‘Just… He’s heading towards us, that much he said. Don’t go barreling off into the desert without warning.’

‘I’m not going to. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wanted to go to him.’ Sachairi murmured, his voice holding a lot of anger and impatience. ‘The question is, why you? Why did he tell you?’

‘It’s what Dan says.‘ Carmen interjected this time and answered Sachairi’s question. ‘Let’s be honest Sachi, you’d run off without second thought.’ She came down the stairs quietly. ‘Why are you two still downstairs? You guys should sleep.’

‘We were going to.’ Sachairi grumbled. Carmen’s hand slid into his and he took hers pensively. There was a find familiarity to the look they shared. ‘Sorry, I woke you up.’

‘I can’t sleep anyway, my arm hurts.’ She nudged him with her elbow. ‘Come on doofuses, lets go upstairs.’ She turned to Arodan. ‘Is there more info on Raz that you have, Dan? We need to tell Balam and the others tomorrow.’

‘No, that’s all.’ There was the detail Raz was Altair’s child and that made him sweat all over again. He came to the realization that this tidbit made him a little less eager to meet Raz. ‘We definitely have to tell them.’ He waved his hand. ‘Go ahead. I’ll come upstairs in a moment, I just need to catch my breath.’

‘That’s fine. Take care Dan, okay?’ Carmen hummed. There was a brief moment her brow sank, as did she and she hugged Arodan. It was light and she navigated her bad arm away from his reach so she wouldn’t bump it. She pulled back as quickly as she had hugged him and pulled Sachairi up the stairs. ‘Good night.’

‘... Good night.’ Arodan said, waving after her shyly. She and Sachairi disappeared in the dark of the hallway upstairs. Arodan sat there in the silence rubbing his shoulders once he didn’t hear them anymore.