#i don’t see anything wrong with leaving stories unfinished

[dovewingkinnie]

Are you gonna stick to one story till finishes entirely or you just gonna jump each stories you got? How many ocs do you have exactly??

i have a lot of completed stories, i just don’t really share that

i make so many because my stories are actually all really short, because one day i want to animate a lot of these stories (like a small series) and i’d prefer a shorter story over a longer one

i’ve never tried making a long story with a lot of characters and lore honestly

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Just Another Thursday...

Summary: Lloyd Hansen's a dick.

A/N: Listen y'all this NSFW 18+ should be par for the course at this point. So like….just don’t okay?

As always, the inspo is thanks to the Goosecord and my beautiful partner in crime @ken-dom who constantly receives messages from me in the dead of night needing reassurance or “Hey what about if THIS happened?!”

Bless you my new found chosen sister for putting up with my antics! (Yes I copy pasted, yes it's still valid don't come for me)

This latest part is a little stabby so please my duckies, proceed with caution

This is a continuation of what I've affectionately titled the Nurse Series, read previous parts 'Hello Nurse' and 'Unfinished Business' here.

Like I said last time, this won’t be the last you see of SIx

Enjoy my loves! <3

@odessa-is-my-queen you asked for a tag <3

You groaned, head throbbing as you blinked the blur out of your eyes, the dim room coming into focus. 

“There she is” the unfamiliar voice reminding you of your very unpleasant encounter before you were knocked unconscious. 

You were bound to a chair, both hands and feet; in some sort of dingy warehouse with flickering fluorescent lights. 

You tried to fight past the throbbing headache to figure out an escape plan. Six was gone, he had no idea where you were or how to find you. You were on your own. You were on the wrong end of this transaction and that terrified you. Six had never told you the whole story, but he had told you enough; this man was capable of murder. 

“A dirty warehouse basement is a little cliche don’t you think?” You asked softly with your head dropped, you were trying to avoid making eye contact with him. 

That plan had been short lived as Lloyd grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. 

“God,” you winced “At least buy me dinner first” 

Lloyd scoffed with amusement “She’s witty” he quipped to the dark figure standing in the corner not speaking 

You took a deep breath in through your nose “What do you want Lloyd?” 

He didn’t answer, instead, he struck you hard across the side of your face, the heavy ring on his pinky splitting skin. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting the inside of your cheek. If you had learned anything from Six’s incessant teachings “just in case” it was to keep your mouth shut. You had reassured him again and again nothing would ever happen, but he had insisted, and you complied…he was never going to leave you alone again.  

“Where did you send him?” you asked as he circled around the front of the chair you were sitting in, letting go of the hold he had on your hair. You kept your eyes forward, but off of him. 

He pulled a chair over in front of you, letting it scrape across the dirty cement before sitting down. 

“Oh honey, he should be the last of your worries…” he clicked his tongue in disapproval. 

“Where” you repeated 

“On a wild goose chase”  he answered, tipping his head, forcing your eyes to meet his “I owed him one” 

“He’s too smart for that” you muttered, knowing you were grasping at straws and only hoping you were right, praying he wouldn’t just run off halfway around the world without at least giving it a second thought. 

“Surprised he left you all alone,” Lloyd continued “Unprotected” 

“I can handle myself” 

This made him laugh out loud, he threw his head back, hand resting on his stomach. “Can you?!”  His voice a little too cheery at the concept He leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped together between his knees “I’d like to test that theory” 

Another hard backhand across your other cheek made your head snap harshly, making you bite your tongue. 

You had no way out, there were at least four other men scattered around the room, bigger than Lloyd, probably told to shoot first and ask questions later. Even if you could get out of your impossibly tight bounds you didn’t stand a chance. The zip ties bite into the skin of your wrists and ankles as your joints move, testing them. 

You just had to hope you could survive long enough to tire him out. 

“What’s the matter Lloyd?” you asked, eyes meeting his in a challenge “Some girl tell you that mustache makes you look like a pedophile?” 

You knew taunting him wasn’t the smartest idea, he was very obviously a loose cannon, but if beating your face bloody was the worst he was going to do, you could manage. 

As if to prove your point, the heel of his hand made contact with the bridge of your nose, eliciting a loud crunch as the bone broke on impact, causing blood to pour from your nose like a faucet. 

You saw stars briefly as he got to his feet. “Don’t worry, cupcake, I’ll make sure you’re nice and recognizable when he finds you back at home in a dead heap on the porch” 

As he spoke, he pulled a switchblade from his pocket and your heart slammed in your chest. You didn’t know how long you had been gone, how long you had been here, or how long it would be before he caused enough bodily harm for you to start to really panic. 

Lucky for you, Lloyd was big on the grandstanding; especially when he knew you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Lloyd asked as he sat back down in his chair “I could give us matching wounds” he held up his hand and you realized he had been missing two fingers.

You said nothing, trying to breathe through the pain of your broken nose as he continued; taking a hammer from one of his minions. 

“Did he tell you about Prague?” He asked, rocking the hammer back and forth between his hands.

“You mean did he tell me about how you killed Don Fitzroy?” you asked, “Yes, he told me”

“Would have killed him too” he muttered 

You scoffed with a laugh “You could certainly try” 

“Thought for sure he’d bleed out in that damn fountain” 

You frowned with a realization; Lloyd had been the reason Six had shown up on your doorstep that night. 

As your mind processed the fact, you felt Lloyd’s hand close around your bound wrist, not really realizing what he was doing until it was too late. One swift swing and the hammer came down hard on two of your fingers, fragile bones, crunching against steel as they separated. 

You groaned, mindful not to scream, chin tucked into your chest as your eyes squeezed shut as long as your broken nose would allow. Tears stinging your eyes as you looked back up, Lloyd very obviously pleased with himself. 

“That was you.” you said simply, breathing through the screaming ache “So that’s what this is” you nodded understanding 

“What?” Lloyd scoffed pacing in front of you “Don’t pretend like you know what this is” 

You laughed as much as your pain would allow “It’s revenge, because he kicked your shit in and did a better job at it” 

You watched as he set the hammer down, picking back up the switchblade. “It all makes sense now,” you said, your voice low  “You know you can’t beat him, you tried and you failed, so why not go after someone smaller?” 

“Think you’ve got me all figured out huh?” He asked, pressing the tip of the cool steel against your collarbone. 

You rolled your eyes “You’re not that complex Lloyd, you’re pathetic” 

You winced, feeling the blade pierce your skin as he sliced across your shoulder. “Hmm” You groaned as you took in a deep breath through clenched teeth, dropping your head for a beat before chuckling softly leaning back in your chair “He is gonna tear you apart” 

“You keep saying that, and yet…” 

His hand came down swiftly, blade of the knife burying itself in your thigh; that scream you’d fought so hard to hold back ringing through the room as you threw your head back trying to breathe. Lloyd laughed appreciatively next to you as he pulled the blade back out making you gasp trying to find your breath. 

“He’ll be here” you whispered, swallowing hard; trying to convince yourself more than Lloyd at this point. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it”

This time the blade buried itself deep in your shoulder, again making you cry out against your will as he pulled it free.

This carried on for what felt like an eternity, stab after stab, slice after slice.

He stopped to give himself a break, your breathing was shaky and shallow as you tried to calm yourself down, slow your heart rate, keep the blood from pumping too hard.

The next two…maybe three? Sliced your ribcage and you had given up on keeping your composure, your head hung as you cried, tears dripping off the end of your nose. 

“That would be serendipitous wouldn't it, killing you both with the same knife?” Lloyd’s voice was cool and measured over your head "Had enough?"

You ran your tongue between your lips, swallowing hard before he jerked your head up; you just glared at him

“Well?” he asked 

You were fighting to keep from passing out, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction if you could help it. 

“Go fuck yourself” you whispered, your eyes slipping closed. 

“I don’t see boy wonder anywhere” Lloyd quipped “Maybe he decided you’re just not worth it after all” 

You didn’t answer, just focused on your breathing. Now you had an idea of how Six must have felt that night he stumbled through the front door. How he had managed it you’ll never understand. 

A commotion outside caught Lloyd’s attention and he leaned over the back of the chair next to your ear “Ohh, maybe I spoke too soon hmm?”

You hoped against all hope. 

“Let's give him a show, shall we?”

Lloyd buried the tip of his finger into one of the gashes on your arm, making you scream in pain. 

The gunfire rang off the walls as someone got closer. 

Lloyd stayed behind you, using your body as a shield. 

The last of his minions dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes as Six appeared in the doorway. 

“Thank God” you whispered, letting yourself relax as much as you could. Your eyes met his across the room, you could only imagine what you looked like, but his composure didn’t falter. 

“And here he comes to save the day” Lloyd sneered. “It's about time you got here…almost cut your girl to pieces”

“I told you he would kill you” you whispered letting your head drop, feeling dizzy. 

“Let her go, Lloyd, this has nothing to do with her” 

“Put the gun down and I'll consider it”

Their voices sounded muffled and far away as you tried to fight to stay awake. 

A sharp stab in your thigh as Lloyd buried the knife there and left it as he walked around the chair. 

“Hold on to that for me would ya?”

All you could do was scream in pain, tears streaming freely down your cheeks before you slipped away.

[campbyler]

u don’t have to reply to this but no i definitely meant no harm, or even to tell you guys to hurry up or anything like that. i should’ve used a tone indicator maybe, it was 100% lighthearted lol. i come off a little wrong/rough/serious etc etc through text sometimes (i’m really not good with words + my first language isn’t english + i’m very autistic) but i will apologize since my ask clearly upset you, it was just my weird way of saying that i hope nothing like that happens and i’m really excited to see whats coming. sorry again

i completely understand it was lighthearted and not intentionally harmful! i am autistic as well and very sensitive to tone but it was not the tone or wording that was upsetting — it was moreso the subject of the ask. i get wanting reassurance that we aren’t going to abandon this fic and leave it unfinished, but it comes at the expense of putting pressure on us to get an update out. again, we completely 100% know that wasn’t your intention at all, but when we are already feeling pressure over a chapter being late, it just adds to it. i hope that makes sense.

we are so glad you love the fic and are invested in the story and seeing it to its end, and i want to be super clear that we are as well! it’s why we are posting every day, we’re answering asks, we’re trying to give content like the timeline to hold you over while we all wait for the next update. if we are radio silent, that’s when i’d start to be a little worried — but we’d sooner post our entire outline than leave everyone wondering how acswy ends!

no hard feelings :) i hope you enjoy ch06 when it drops this week!

[dasher85]

cooking

featuring our Inexpressible duo

Kamisato Ayato x reader | y/n | you

A  short story

just cooking with Ayato...

[ He could effortlessly understand instructions but is hopelessly disastrous at the kitchen ]

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

It was just a normal weekend for you but apparently it's a special moment for someone and he's particularly happy about it. It's the beginning of late afternoon and you've already started to prepare the ingredients for today's dinner.

You're not supposed to be the one who's cooking at the Estate's kitchen but after saying one time, just a mere mumble to Ayato yesterday that you'd want to cook something tomorrow, he sends half of the servants a day off. Just like that.

So breakfast, lunch and now including dinner was all fully under your responsibility for today. You only need to prepare food for the two siblings, Thoma and the few workers that were on duty at the estate today. It's not difficult at all, in fact you find it rather enjoyable because you haven't cooked anything major in a while.

However it seems preparing dinner doesn't seem how you planned it would be unlike breakfast and lunch because Ayaka and Thoma were the ones who helped you.

"Aya- no… .no-" You somehow managed to stop him from adding too much sugar into the mixture of flour. It was so shocking that you're not able to say proper words. Fortunately, your hands were quick to caught the heap of sugar on your hands.

"Sorry…" 

"Are you sure you're not busy? Perhaps it's better if you do the unfinished reports?" You've been questioning him ever so often whenever he's making mistakes especially when he’s adding a completely bizarre amount of ingredients into literally everything that you've been meticulously trying to cook. It's the third time now.

"Come on now…" he smiled, seeking compassion from you.

"Just chop these then. That at least I know you're good at" you lead him to the chopping board and show him where the basket of vegetables and other ingredients were kept. 

"Use a kitchen knife, alright? Here… and don't cut the matsutake too thin" you frowned worriedly before handing him the kitchen knife.

"Understood."

He smiled reassuringly while you could only sigh. Initially you didn't want him to step any further in the kitchen at all but after seeing how happy he was just to inform you that he finally had the time to help you out, you didn't have the heart to stop him.

"I'm leaving you with that, while I cook the other dishes"

So you went on cooking just fine on your own, adding ingredients and progressing through each dish as planned.

"Ayato have you finished chopping the matsutake?" You finally turn to his side of the kitchen.

"Mmm… Not quite there yet"

You helplessly stared at his work progress. There's nothing wrong about his knife skills but he was being overly cautious about the thickness of each cut before actually chopping the matsutake. As if he's measuring every cut with a ruler, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. 

"You don't have to be that accurate with the thickness"

"Should we make haste? The sun hasn't even begun to set." He calmly questions, seeking more time from you. 

"Yes we do. The matsutake needs to be washed again and soaked for thirty minutes before it can be boiled along with the vegetables."

His frown deepens, "I'm on it, not to worry"

Well, he tried to cut it a little faster as required but the faster he gets the thinner the piece becomes. A perfect paper thin cut and you couldn't believe how he even did that? 

At some point, he returns to a slower phase because he knew it wasn't a good idea for him to chop too fast and you quietly start helping him with cutting the other ingredients because he's beyond your help. 

"You're so terrible at cooking. I can't even complain"

"I know…"

"Remember, you're not allowed to cook in the kitchen without me around."

"Understood"

Despite it all, the both of you were just smiling while working side by side to cut away the dinner's ingredients.

The Commissioner wasn't supposed to be at the kitchen either but he really did went on focus mode just to finish off his office work today. Surely he has the most time spent with you right after he finishes his work on a daily basis but it seems he wouldn't want to miss having a cooking session along with you either. So he's here, making an appearance in hopes that it'll ease up your cooking progress. Although in truth, he couldn't do much.

Your other two reliable helpers have offered to help you for dinner as well but they purposefully didn’t come by the kitchen after seeing that the estate’s owner had already beaten them to it. 

"I'm done with the vegetables"

You informed and started helping him with the other half basket of the unprepared matsutake.

"Has it been alright with your work recently?"

"Mmm… Nothing concerning. You, on the other hand, have you had enough rest today?"

"I did and-" you quiet down due to the sudden sharp pain you felt. Your face twisted in a frown before you carefully placed the knife inside the sink and washed the trace of blood from its sharp edge.

'Should’ve focused!' you angrily thought, instantly blaming yourself for being careless and unskillful. Red crimson blood dripped through the small cut on the tip of your ring finger.

"What's wrong-" he looked over towards you, "...let me get some bandages" He was quick to notice the situation right after seeing you running cold water through your fingers. 

"I'm used to getting cuts during combat practice but it's been years. It hurts now" you casually admitted.

"I'm sure it hurts even then… it's just that you didn't have the thought of feeling the pain" he returns after getting the small wooden box filled with medical items just by the shelves nearby.

"You could say that… All I thought about was winning against my opponent. Although it's not a competition" you smiled at the thought of past memory.

Ayato took hold of your hand as he inspected the cut on your ring finger.

"Who was your opponent? Your brother?" He curiously questions as he glanced away from your hand to meet your gaze.

You smiled, "It was my mother."

He let out a chuckle upon receiving the answer, it wasn't really what he expected but considering your background, he wasn't surprised at all. He has already personally met the person a few times before and fortunately he was considered an acceptable suitor upon first glance otherwise things would be difficult.

"Did you win?" he took a bottle of antiseptics solution from the wooden box and gently applied it on the cut with a cotton. 

"Obviously I didn't...oww! That actually stings." You replied to his question but was soon feeling the slight pain.

He quickly brought your hand closer to his lips before he started blowing the small cut as if it was going to instantly remove the pain away. His left hand held your wrist while the other was holding on to your fingers.

"Does it still hurt?" He questions and you only shook your head.

"I didn't know she's also better than you when it comes to combat" he then casually continues the conversation while taking a strip of clean linen using his other hand.

You laughed at the thought, "Oh please… you should be glad that she didn't complain the first time she saw you"

"Perhaps I was well prepared" he smiled confidently before covering the cut on your finger with a linen.

"Mmm… I guess I'll give you that…" You eventually agreed at the thought of it. After all, he literally ventured all the way from Inazuma to your homeland without being given any information from you. It was all his own effort.

"...now I'm curious, if your parents were still around, wouldn't you be married into an actual arranged marriage?"

Ayato ponders at the question as he ties a neat knot to secure the strip of linen in place but was careful to keep it at a comfortable position. 

"Most likely… but I'm married to you now. It's too late, I can't imagine that outcome" After casually replying, he pulled your hand once more before gently kissing the tip of your fingertips. His eyes admiringly locked into yours with overflowing confidence. 

"I know…" you eventually smiled at his affectionate gesture, "...but I don't think they would agree to your choice either considering I wouldn't be beneficial"

"I think, the only reason why I couldn't be with you is, if I were never given the chance to meet you."

Upon receiving his answer, you could only let out a laughter in literal denial over his exaggerating interest towards you.

"Surely, I'm not that interesting at first glance..." you jokingly replied.

"Not interesting? In what terms, beauty, intelligence or status?" He asked with genuine curiosity in his eyes. 

"Personality." In which you replied that wasn't included in his list of options. 

"Listen, if you want to get to know someone your eyes see what's visible first"

"Ohh… so if I'm physically unattractive-"

"and that's the point, you're not." He cuts through your words. 

"...if that's the case, then you only decided to approach me just because of the way I look?"

"Hmm… do you think so?" He suddenly smiled, seemingly amused about the question itself.

"Well, considering it's you, your eyes probably see something else"

He simply nods and keeps your hand within his secure hold. 

"Then what did you actually see the first time you met me?" you add, somewhat getting a little more curious although you knew you're probably falling into one of his sly traps. 

"The ripples of your beating heart" he unhesitatingly replied in a whisper. 

You scoffed and shook your head in complete disbelief. 

"Alright… let's get back to cooking now."

"You don't believe me?" He laughed. 

On most days you spend your time writing or reading and sometimes painting on a canvas, so you barely even talk. The household is often quiet but occasionally you would hear footsteps and distant whispers. The servants never once disturbed your current study room at the estate but it still gets to you sometimes.

If you didn't venture out into nature, you would be at your own residence. Simply because of this, you would be returning to your own residence especially during the day because your residence would provide the atmosphere you need.

"I believe you. How could I not?" You smiled but was keeping in a laughter. For once, you didn't. 

But just like any other day, you wouldn't miss a chance to have a nice conversation with him. In most conversations it would be something totally random and sometimes it's about politics. Obviously all the political issues or internal affairs are all coming from him but you're there to give him an idea or two. You're basically his unofficial advisor and nobody would know even if that entire idea about capturing someone for interrogation was all your suggestion.

"I could clearly tell that you're not" he suddenly brings his face closer towards you, as if deliberately trying to check the flickers in your eyes. 

You courageously stared back at him as you brought your face even closer than he did by only leaving a few inches apart.

By a mere second he was surprised but slowly copied the same smile displayed on your lips. Just a heartbeat before he could even react, you had already retreated away. A little too fast for his liking.

"Did I finally get your attention? Now we need to really get back on schedule. Dinner won't be ready on its own" You finally revealed the reason behind your actions and yet had not even the faintest idea how emotionally devastating it was to the person opposite you.

He could only sigh to temporarily dispel his unrequited desire that was only a grasp away just to abide with your instructions. 

"Indeed my attention is all yours now"

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

Check out the [ Story List ] for other sequence in the Inexpressible Series

A/N: I actually have too many Ayato shorts in drafts but I’m not sure if it’s interesting to read because its all about Inexpressible duo. 

[the-eevee-experiment]

9-37 (the final page of the chapter)

Well. I’ve thought about this a lot over the past day or so. But long story short, I am going to be ending this comic. It breaks my heart to do so, but the facts of the matter are...

1) My motivation and time set aside for this has plummeted. I tried to push through, and could keep up for a while, but the full truth is it was feeling a bit like a chore, week to week. This page above has been sitting unfinished for months, just a sad sketch with a frame. The story I have planned would have taken much longer. Which leads to my second fact.

2) things are just changing and coming out too much. While I still love a lot of the individuals at AH/RT, this comic was sort of a celebration of... everything that goes into it. So with many people leaving and reporting horrible experiences, it’s become almost shameful to continue this little celebration, since it includes a lot of the company... Yeah. Anyway.

For those who are interested, I am including my notes for this comic, so you can kind of see where it was heading. The notes don’t necessarily go that far ahead (there were things I was going to plan when I got closer to it, e.g.) and some old art and notes that aren’t necessarily applicable anymore. But I’d hate to leave you guys with an unsatisfactory Nothing! I had twists planned and I am bummed i couldn’t make them come to life and see all of your reactions.

In the end, I love you guys so so much. You have all been so good to me, even when I stopped producing as much, and your support has meant SO much to me over the past few years. Please never stop being kind and supportive of each other. I’ll still be in the community, at least for the time being (as i said, I still love a lot of the individuals). But I can’t monetarily support them anymore, and this comic feels wrong to continue.

Once again, I’m sorry I couldn’t see this all through. This has been such a wonderful experience and a great learning opportunity for art/comic making, and I will remember it fondly.

If you have any questions for me, about my notes, or about anything related to the story, the side blog’s ask box will remain open. Thank you for reading. 💜💜 💜 

-The Author

My OneNote (the bulk of my notes. Very messy!!! some parts very old! TW for JRH)

My Google Doc (TW for brief mention of JRH, and mentions of Mad King)

[whumpinthepot]

This or That tag game

Thanks for the tag @verkja <3

Historical or Futuristic

I’de honestly have to say historical but I do like futuristic if it’s science related or post apocalyptic so it may be a tie it just depends on how its done or what genre it is. My own writing usually takes place present times with some futuristic technology added in, just because I would be too nervous of messing up anything historically related.

Opening or Closing Chapter

Closing chapter. I love it when things end its my favourite it just feels like checking something off a to do list, otherwise im left with an empty unaccomplished unfinished feeling and that mental list in my head never gets checked off (im looking at you manga i never finished reading)

Light and Fluffy or Dark and Gritty

Dark and Gritty is always my go to, but certain genres I do like just nice fluff- Like most G/t related things. Hamster story is pretty light compared to most of my other works… TSATS is verging on concerningly harsh.

Animal Companion or Found Family

Found family <3 I love <3 especially when it represents the queer community. Animal companions I never really felt anything for… Like an anime mascot. Clarence reminds me of a mascot character since they’re sadly outnumbered by humans.

Horror or Romance

Horror. Idc about romance pretty much at all, like I have ships, and its cute and a common story element but im pretty ace (probably aro) and it just isn’t in my top interests. I have done romance rp’s which I adored but horror is always my top pick <333

Hard Magic System or Soft Magic System

My world building has a hard magic system with some loose rules if that makes sense… Especially my small elves they have a lot of set rules that I try to follow, especially with how their magic works and what they can do.

Stand-alone or Series

I like both, but series does have more impact a lot of the time. Pretty much all of my own stories are meant to be one book though. Theres already so much detail and world building and stuff for me to remember its easier for me to keep it at a manageable length. TSATS is by far my longest story but I don’t really know how long it really is in a book format…

Edit- I didn’t understand this last night at 2 am LMAO, I definitely like a series better than stand alones.

One Project at a Time or Always Juggling 2+

Im juggling so many things its actually disastrous. Its too much. Hamster story is taking priority right now because I seem to have a steady follower base for it and I want to keep it going at a nice pace ^_^ the other ones I don’t know if I will post so they’re really not in any rush. I would like to finish rats race though just for myself because I want to move onto better things and move away from the boxboy-esque genre.

One Award Winner or One Best Seller

Doesn’t matter either way. I don’t want to get too well known because I am uneasy about people forming negative opinions on me, which tends to be unavoidable for many many famous people, even if they’ve done barely anything wrong.

Fantasy or Sci-Fi

Both :) I do have to admit I lean more towards fantasy most times because it’s usually pretty and whimsical and foresty which is all mesmerizing to me. TSATS has both which I still don’t see too often so I find that really fun to play with. It still definitely leans on the fantasy side since its from my small elves perspective.

Character Description or Setting Description

Character description. I read things for the characters and like to know what they look like and know their quirks and such. Honesty I always have to look at my writing and try to see where I can add more setting descriptions because im always so focused on the characters and forget that people kinda need to know their surroundings… The characters aren’t just standing in a white void 😭😭 I swear. Sometimes I its more vague because I will not remember the colour of Ratty’s car, or what Kats house looks like for example… so I leave the details out…

First Draft or Final Draft

I only ever do first drafts and trying to get more comfortable with doing second drafts and editing but I would really love to have a final draft someday hoo boy… someone teach me how to do it haha 😂 /srs/gen/pls go into my dms

Tagging who ever want to join!!

[terrainofheartfelt]

🛒⛔️👀🤲✅ please!!! <3

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc. Well, might as well pick a theme for your ask here, and go with: the dilf!dan cinematic universe. I guess there are lots of reasons for it, the first being that there is a real, evolutionary phenomenon that makes the image of a beautiful man being good with a baby irresistible. And, of course, there’s the heartbreaking precedence of canon, that opened this can of worms of Beautiful Man That’s Good With a Baby and slammed it shut quickly after, thereby forever leaving my imagination dissatisfied. And too, with GG specifically, parenthood and how children are shaped by their parents/haunted by the ghosts of their parents’ past and visions of their parents’ futures, and how there is really only one (1) good father in the dramatis personae and he’s only good to like, half his children, the narrative potential of a main character like Dan stepping out of the GG cycle of parenting and building a life and a family that defies it is sooooooo….delicious. The Milo plot specifically, in a show that emphasizes bloodlines and genetics and biological links, breaking that down to say, Dan is not the bio-father, but that doesn’t matter because the love and the connection is real—a marked contrast from say, bart and wvdw, who use their bio-dad cards as get-out-of-jail free ones all the time. Just…everything this theme says about family and parenthood being earned. And choosing to be there. And choosing to stay. 

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped? Oh, sure. I am kind of a — stickler, I guess? That if I start something I want to have finished it, so I am trying to be better at forgiving myself for the fics I don’t write. That being said, there is one. So I started a fic a couple months ago that was a story based off of these headcanons (dilf!dan AND dilf!nate cinematic universe!) but then a few things happened: I went on vacation so writing wasn’t really a thing that was happening because my big brother and I were having too much fun, then I contracted COVID whilst on vacation so when I got home I was too sick to anything but watch Netflix and drink water and lay around moaning, and then, I was beginning to emerge from the brain fog, the supreme court (fuck em!), and it was like…so the whole thing that the fic revolves around is adoption — which is great! It’s a great practice don’t get me wrong — and I just…didn’t have it in me to write an adoption-at-birth plot after that particular devastating political event. I still like the idea, so I guess I haven’t scrapped it completely, but it’ll probably be a while if I ever circle back to it. 

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please! Ohhhhhh you are just trying to get me to talk about it publicly, I see you, S! But that’s fine, because I’ve been dying for an excuse. 

Okay so the recent discourse in my ask box — spurred by Sena’s posts (ty sena I owe you my life tbh), and then prompted by you, actually, S (wow, this is so your fault <3) — was about Blair’s pregnancy arc on the show and the Grimaldis shitty behavior and I mentioned an abandoned LJ fic where to get away from Chuck and out of her engagement and free of the Grimaldis forever, Blair enlists Dan to help lie for her and say that the child she’s carrying is actually Dan’s. Ever since I read it and then was heartbroken to find it unfinished, I’ve wondered how that story was gonna go, and now I can’t stop thinking about it…so here we are. 

I haven’t had much of a chance to make an outline and a plan, but generally what I am thinking now is starting in the weeds of 5x10 — the epicenter of everything that spurs the story for the rest of the season, honestly — and following through until the time that s5 ends (with a much happier ending for my faves, of course). Blair decides she wants out of the royal pipeline, and that she needs insurance/insulation from Chuck, and Dan is so stupid in love with her he’ll go along with any idiotic plot. Also like, as we’ve all joked, Dan WILL raise your baby no questions asked. 

But it’s just…it’s gonna be a bear of thing to pull off. It will definitely end up longer than I mean it to be (hello, it me), and to do it I know I’m gonna have to deal with the Dair + Serena of it all, plus save Nate from the Spectator (#notmynate), get chip whiskers out of the fuckin way, acknowledge the train wreck of Ivy/Charlie/Lola, not to mention all the things about her pregnancy & motherhood that Blair avoids grappling with until she’s suddenly Not Pregnant. PLUS Dan’s choice being all tied up in the Milo Debacle and his novel and his love of Blair. Which is all gonna be hard. 

But! The potential for the ROMANCE. Dilf!dan. Dair roommates. Dair doing three men and a baby except that it’s two-best-friends-who-are-in-love-but-don’t-know-how-to-handle-it and a baby.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip? Well, I’ve barely written much prose on the aforementioned wip, it’s just been basic outlining, stream of consciousness notes, and pitching scenes in your dms, but I’ll share a tidbit of the tiny bit I’ve written so far in my bullet points…

Rounded and big and unwieldy, she knows she’s well-past the benchmark of desirable now, but Dan holds her like she isn’t, touches her like she’s worth wanting, and kisses her until she wants to believe it.

✅ What’s something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don’t mean to? musical!Humphreys my beloved! Sometimes it is very much intentional and is the basis of the plot (see: orchestra au & date valentine oneshot), but sometimes it just creeps in. Like I said, my writing is very based in music, and even though my parents are amateur musicians, I related a lot to the Humphreys right off the dat because music seems such an integral part of the culture of their family, if that makes sense? And my brother and I growing up the way we did, with all the music literacy and piano lessons (later guitar for him) and everything that came with that, I cannot really imagine Dan and Jenny not being skilled musicians, even though they’ve chosen a different genre of art as their career path. It’s one of their character pillars, a piece of their personality that’s shaped them, so musicians!Humphreys always comes into play in a story whether it’s intentional or not

fic emoji asks!

[norisbeinghuman]

What can you do for nature?

As a civilisation, we seem to be painfully aware of all the shortcomings in our contact with nature. Stories about all we have destroyed, and where we have failed, permeate our culture. Truth is, we don’t even believe anymore that we could do any good. Most of us feel like the best thing we could do for nature, is to leave it alone. But that kind of thinking is wrong. And dangerous.

How can we do good, if we can’t even imagine it?

If I asked you how humans are affecting the nature, I suspect you would tell me about all the bad things we are doing. About the pollution, the deforestation, about the insecticides and herbicides, about microplastics, and mining, and species loss. And you would, of course, be right.

But is that all of it? Is destruction all we are capable of?

Most of us actually do think so. Growing up in our culture, we absorb the image of pristine nature and of the horrible effect we, the humanity, have on it. We talk about nature and wilderness as something pure and good – and completely separate from us. We think the best we can do is to leave it alone.

If we can’t even imagine that our interactions with the rest of the natural world could be beneficial for it, how can we hope to actually do anything positive?

How are we supposed to find a way to live on this planet in peace and harmony with the rest of the life on it, if we assume from the get-go that we are only capable of doing harm? How are we supposed to be looking for solutions, if we don’t actually believe there are any?

I was thinking about all this as I was reading George Monbiot’s book Regenesis. While he had some good points, I found myself strongly disagreeing with his conclusions and solutions. I might write about it more some day, but not today.

I think George Monbiot got it wrong from the premise. For him, the number one problem of agriculture is land use. And so his solution is to use as little land as possible. Everything he suggests is considered from this point of view, arriving at dubious solutions such as using factory-grown bacteria as the chief source of fat and protein for people around the world.

It is clear that George Monbiot can’t imagine that humans could actually be useful to the rest of the natural world. And he definitely can’t see us as a part of it. He takes it even further, and as many of his fellow vegans, he even sees domestic animals as inherently damaging to nature and something that should be removed. It’s as if cows and sheep and other domestic animals have lost their status as part of nature in his eyes. It’s as if they were tainted by their contact with us.

Humans are nature too

We have been thinking of ourselves as separate from nature for a while now. The concept of nature came to be after the Middle Ages, during the period of Enlightenment. It is even more recent to think of ourselves as only being capable of natural destruction. But thankfully, our culture does not represent all the people in existence and definitely not all the people in history. We might have forgotten about it, but the truth is that humans can live in peace with nature. And not only that, we can even help it prosper.

One of the main ideas in the (absolutely wonderful) Ishmael trilogy by Daniel Quinn is the fact that humanity is much, much older than our civilisation. While it’s a fact fairly obvious to most of us, it has some implications that we don’t usually realise.

Our genus, Homo, is almost 3 million years old. Homo sapiens – modern humans, that were anatomically and physiologically identical to us – appeared some 300 000 years ago. Compared to either of these numbers, our agriculturalist, city-building, less than 10 000 years old civilisation, is like a blink of an eye. Humans have been here for a long time, living just like all other creatures do – as part of the ecosystem.

We tend to think about our prehistoric ancestors as not-quite-human; as if they were somehow unfinished. We assume they didn’t have our curiosity, our intellect and our drive, because in our eyes they were not yet living the way humans are supposed to. Yet, they were just like us, and yet they managed to live in peace with the world around them.

They knew they belonged to the world, just as much as rhinos and mites and sequoias do; and they knew that just like any of those other creatures, they had their role to play in it.

How can we know what they might have been thinking? Well, fortunately, there are still people living in this world now, whose lifestyle is closer to that of our hunter-gatherer ancestors than to our “civilised” ways. We still have a chance to learn from them. If we are ready.

Myth of the wilderness

The truth is that Indigenous peoples have been modifying and managing the nature around them for millennia. Many of the areas that we would classify as wilderness were shaped by human activity, including places such as the Amazon rain-forest, or the Australian aridlands. While this is still far from the mainstream perception, scientist are actually starting to point to how the whole concept of “wilderness” is inappropriate and how certain biomes rely on human input for their preservation (great article on this is Indigenous knowledge and the shackles of wilderness).

Picking sweetgrass

In her beautiful, gentle book Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer – a Native American botanist – reveals a lot about how her culture approached the natural world. She talks about the sense of belonging and feelings of community with all the life around them. She talks about the Honorable Harvest, which is a set of rules to make sure that people don’t take more than their fair share, and that enough is left to keep the cycles of nature going. (Rules like: Never take more than a half. Never take the first, nor the last. Take only what you need. Always give back in return.)

From her stories it becomes clear that the bounty of the land that the European colonisers encountered when they first arrived to the Americas was not an accident. It was not wilderness. It was the result of many millennia of careful cultivation at the hands of the Indigenous peoples.

One of the moving examples she gives, is that of sweetgrass. This plant was, and still is, used for ceremonial purposes among her people and is very important to them. Unfortunately, the sweetgrass populations are steadily declining. Various tribes have different ways of harvesting sweetgrass, and everyone, understandably, thinks their way is the better one. Robin Wall Kimmerer enlisted one of her botany master students to do a thesis about the sweetgrass harvest, trying to determine which harvesting technique was better for the plants – either pulling it out with its roots, or cutting it off, leaving the root in the soil.

She had trouble convincing the faculty to approve the study. They thought it rather useless, saying the result was known from the beginning, as it was obvious that harvesting would lead to decline regardless of the method. But nobody expected what actually happened.

The student spent two years harvesting from three different sweetgrass patches (following the rules of the Honorable Harvest) and documenting the results. She would pinch some of the grass from one of them, pull it out from the other, and the third one was left as a control. At the end of the study period, only one of those patches was not doing well, its population declining. It was the control patch.

As it turns out, sweetgrass needs to be picked. If it isn’t, if space isn’t made for new plants, they get smothered under the tall growth. The decline of sweetgrass goes hand in hand with the disappearance of the peoples who value and harvest it. And the patches that still thrive are, not surprisingly, located in the areas where the people still live and interact with them.

The ciiiircle of liiife

We often feel like it’s somehow morally wrong to be eating other living beings. We are sceptical to the beneficial effects that predators have on their ecosystems, and completely blind to the benefits they provide to their prey (not on the individual, but on the community level).

Lions picking out a sick zebra can save the herd from a disease spreading. Chasing the zebras around ensures they don’t spend too much time in one place, which protects the land from overgrazing, and the zebras from getting parasitic infections from infected manure of their buddies.

Big herds of grazing animals are what prevents grasslands from turning into deserts or forests. The shrubs and trees get eaten before they get a chance to grow big, and the grass gets thinned to make space for new growth, fuelled by the fertiliser left behind by the animals. Some ruminants, like the buffalo, even have an enzyme in their saliva that stimulates grass growth.

While there is nothing wrong with forests, grasslands are a different ecosystem, supporting an equally diverse network of plants and animals that can not thrive in a forest. Despite people who call for “rewilding”, and believe that the only valid landscape is a forest, grasslands have always been here. There is now even evidence that about half of Europe was covered by grasslands and meadows before the arrival of modern humans. But just like in the case of sweetgrass, the European grasslands now rely on us to help them thrive.

In the end, everyone eats and is eaten. Microbes, fungi and plants feed on death just as much as herbivores and carnivores do. Being lower on the food chain does not make one more virtuous. And being higher up on it does not prevent one from contributing to the community of life. Every ecosystem is a network where everything is attached to everything and each creature is needed, however cute or yucky or weird.

You find what you are ready to look for

I have been reading (and thinking) a lot about agriculture lately. It is our closest and most important point of contact with the cycles of life and of nature. It definitely seems like we got a lot of it wrong, and we need to make some changes.

I think it is important that we look for solutions with the right mindset. It is difficult to notice things that you aren’t looking for, let alone ones you can’t even fathom. I think it’s time we started looking at ourselves as creatures that do belong in this world, and that can work with it, care for it, and protect it, while receiving what we need to live. We have to believe it is possible first, before we can even start finding out how to do it. Thankfully, we humans are fast learners, and we still have someone to learn from. And while there is no going back to the Stone Age (not that I want to), we can surely find a way to practice some Honorable Harvest in our world.

The change, if it happens, will come from the bottom. From people with a new vision. From people like you and me.

Originally published on https://noriparelius.com/post/what-can-you-do-for-nature/

[joesoups-art-archive]

Zira Pup’s Adventure

(Original) (Unfinished)

authors note: this story has a continuity issue regarding Zira (Mud Foot) and Shadow Pup’s relationship as they weren’t always brothers in the canon (though they are now) and also a few of the characters named here have been renamed (such as Dragon Pup) or are in a grey area of existence (Ginger Pup) (i don’t know what to do with her). this is about Mud Foot’s vivid dreams of the past and the past as his dreams show him the death of Dawn Star and the life of Colt Foot (at the time Colt Pup). i’m definitely going to rewrite this one and finish it in the future.

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“Hey everyone look it’s dirt pup” yapped Shadow Pup. There were giggles across the nursery. Zira Pup bowed his head. “Aww is Dirt Pup going to cry” yapped Dragon Pup “Now Shadow Pup and Dragon Pup stop being so mean to Zira Pup” growled Dove Feather. She licked her son’s head and he lay next to Ginger Pup and slept. “Are you okay Zira Pup” whispered Violet Wing “I’m fine” Zira Pup replied. Violet Wing was Zira Pup’s foster mother since his mother abandoned him and left him in the dirt. Zira Pup lay at the round curve of her belly. He nestled into her soft belly fur and drifted into a sleep were a horrible nightmare came over him.

Zira Pup sprang awake shaking violently tears in his eyes. His fur was bristled from the top of his nose to the tip of his tail. When he suddenly awoke Pine Barb and Claw Face we’re visiting there pups. Violet Wing sprung to his aid licking his bristled fur flat or as flat as it would stay. Zira Pup was panting and was shaking so much he felt sick. He fell back he could feel Violet Wing’s soft fur on his back but his vision was blurred and there was a ringing in his ears. He wanted it too stop soon because the pain us unbearable. The she wolves and there mates crowded round him. “Someone get Flame Foot” cried Tober Wing. Pine Barb rushed out the den his foot steps fading into the night. Then everything stopped the pain suddenly vanished his vision became clear and he stood on his paws. The she wolves stood there in shook at the sight of the pup who lay on the floor a few seconds ago in horrible pain arise to his paws like nothing had happened. Pine Barb and Flame Foot rushed in to see the pup on his feet in no pain. “Come with me Zira Pup” barked Flame Foot “O...o..okay” Zira Pup stuttered. They both marched out the nursery into the night.

The forest was dark Zira Pup turned to see the Nursery being swallowed by the darkness before disappearing into the night.  

Flame Foot cheeked Zira Pup over but there was nothing wrong. He had never seen anything like it. Flame Foot turned away from the pup and started to sort through leaves and berries. The den was silent no words were spoken, no birds singing and no stars shining just the frost that hung in air from there breathes. “I had a nightmare” whispered Zira Pup breaking the silence. “You did?” replied Flame Foot “Yeah it was horrible” he said a chill ran down his spine at the thought of it “There was a she wolf and a male wolf and there was a flood and and it it the she wolf went under the water and I could hear the ringing in her ears and I could hear the males cries and howls from above and it was really blurry and she died and the male wolf kept crying her name I I think it was Dawn Star but I could barely hear it over the ringing” “Dawn Star” repeated Flame Foot. “Dawn Star is dead and has been for many many moons”. Zira Pup looked up at the Medics deep red pelt. “You mean I I dreamed of a dead wolf” he whispered in fear. “It’s fine Zira Pup... I’m just puzzled I have never seen something like this” he barked “Let me know if it ever happens again” he added. “Now lets get you back to Violet Wing will we” he said heading to the exit “Okay” Zira Pup yapped running to Flame Foot’s red paws. The dawn chorus sung there song as the early morning sun was rising they trotted to the nursery were Violet Wing lay waiting. 

The sun was high in the sky and the pups were wide awake playing with there litter mates and having fun. Zira Pup lay at the curve of Violet Wing’s belly his head resting on his paws. “Are you not going to play with Meadow Pup, Dawn Pup and Ginger Pup?” Violet Wing asked “No I don’t wanna go playing with feathers” he replied “How about you play fight with Dusk Pup, Shadow Pup and Dragon Pup?” She added “No they don’t like me playing with them they said I was to weak to play” he barked. “I’d rather stay with you” He barked rolling onto his belly to stretch. 

Zira Pup was awoken by Violet Wing that night. He looked up at her to see she was in great pain. “Violet Wing are you okay” Zira Pup whispered “No Zira go get Flame Foot” she barked. Zira Pup rolled out of the leaf nest and dashed out the den heading down the same path he took last moon high. “Flame Foot Violet Wing needs you!” Zira Pup panted. Flame Foot turned and ran out the medic den Zira Pup trotting at his heals. They arrived at the Nursery were Violet Wing lay panting “Tober Wing!” barked Flame Foot. Tober Wing opened her eyes to see Flame Foot standing over her “Oh... Brother what is it?” Tober Wing said half asleep “I need you to take care of Zira Pup tonight” he whispered. Tober Wing looked over at Violet Wing before she replied “Of course” she replied. “Zira Pup you’ll be sleeping her tonight” she whispered making a space between Cloud Pup and Berry Pup “But I want to be with Violet Wing” he barked sitting down. “Come on over” whispered Tober Wing. He was to sleepy to say no so he went over and laid between Cloud Pup and Berry Pup and dozed off. 

Zira Pup was awoken by Cloud Pup fidgeting in his sleep. He lay his head on his paws looking out at the forest that was covered in a light layer of frost and shone in the early dawn sun. Dawn Star he thought Who was Dawn Star? His thoughts were interrupted by a shadowy figure standing at the entrance blocking the early morning sun. “Cloud Pup get up we’re going out” said the figure. It was Claw Face of course Cloud Pup was his son so it would make sense Zira Pup thought. A nightmare passed through his mind while he was awake it was of Clod Pup and Claw Face in the meadow Claw Face was fighting another wolf Cloud Pup watching from the cover of a bush and then Claw Face sunk his fangs into the other wolves neck and blood cover the shore and turned the surrounding water red the words flew throughout head as Claw Face uttered Grey Swipe is dead. Cloud Pup sprung to his feet breaking Zira Pup’s thoughts. Zira Pup pretended to sleep as he could feel Claw Face’s eyes piercing through him. Claw Face turned and walked out the den with his son walking beside him. Zira Pup tried sleeping but he couldn’t find comfort against Tober Wing’s rough belly fur. Zira Pup also couldn’t sleep knowing that Claw Face was a murderer but then he found himself dozing of in his own thoughts.

When Zira Pup awoke he realised that Flame Foot and Violet Wing we’re back in the nursery. Zira Pup sprung to his paws slowly walking over. By his surprise there were 3 small bodies laying next to Violet Wing’s belly. “Zira Pup come here” whispered Flame Foot. Zira Pup came closer not making a noise he crouched down and sniffed the pups “They are your new siblings” barked Violet Wing softly. “That one looks like you Flame Foot” Zira Pup barked pointing at a small red pelted body “That’s because they are my pups to” he replied. “Do the pups have names yet?” questioned Tober Wing “They do” whispered Flame Foot. “This one is Red Pup” Flame Foot said licking the small wolves head “And these two are Chaos Pup and Sunny Pup” Violet Wing barked pointing at the golden pup and black pup.

Zira Pup could see the joy in Flame Foot’s eyes as looked at the pups. Zira Pup lay at Violet Wing’s tail and looked at the pups. My new siblings he thought They would never leave me he added. He soon found himself drifting of to sleep as the sunset over the forest. 

Zira Pup woke up. He had an other one of those dreams. Zira Pup could feel a pain in his foot he looked to see what was wrong but there was nothing there. It must be part of the pain the wolf was feeling in his dream he thought. Zira Pup looked at the nursery around him but he didn’t recognise it it wasn’t the same it was different. He looked around at the she wolves in the den and he didn’t recognise any of them, he didn’t recognise any of the pups either. There was a small hole in the roof of the den a puddle lay below it Zira Pup looked at his reflection. He was speechless he couldn’t even recognise himself. “Colt Pup what are you doing up” yawned the she wolf behind him “W..w..where am I?” Panted Zira Pup “Your at home of course” she replied. “You must be excited for the naming tomorrow” she said softly walking over picking him up and laying him back down. “Dove Pup and Wisp Pup are excited to but you need your rest” she said her voice was soft and comforting. Zira Pup looked at the other two pups the lay at the curve of her belly. 

One rolled over on to her belly the other yawned and blinked. “Is it time yet” yawned the white pup “No not yet Dove Pup” she said softly licking her head. Dove Pup’s bushy tail brushed passed the other pup and she sneezed and woke up blinking. “Well maybe now we are all up we can go a walk in the forest” she suggested. The pups jumped around in excitement. “Ok then let’s go” she stood up and stretched and trotted out the den this sent the pups dashing and trampling over each other to spend time outside the den.

It was moon high and the sky was littered with glowing stars. “Wow look at them Colt Pup” yapped Dove Pup pointing her stubby paw to the sky “Wow” said Wisp Pup. Zira Pup looked at the sky and he saw outlines of wolves dancing, playing and looking down at them. “Those are our ancestors all of them are dead some died long ago others died not so long ago” said the she wolf staring at the sky. “Eagle Breeze!” Shouted a voice from down the path “We’re are you going” they panted “I’m going to take the pups on a walk with the pups”Eagle Breeze told him. Zira Pup had never seen this wolf before he was skinny and was bald in some patches and it was hard to say what his pelt colour was because of the moonlight streaming down. “But Eagle Breeze your pups are due any day now” he panicked “It’ll be fine Breeze Fern I’ll be fine and the pups will be fine too” she said calming him down. “Come on pups lets go” she said nudging Wisp Pup to her paws.

The forest was filled with new smells and new sights Dove Pup pounced ahead excitedly Zira Pup raced beside her. Wisp Pup stayed at Eagle Breeze’s Paws never straying a step from her mother. “Look at that” barked Dove Pup who was staring out onto the sandy shore of The RiverSide Pack’s Territory “We can go there can’t we?” asked Dove Pup curiously “No that’s not our territory that is RiverSide’s Territory” she whispered dragging Dove Pup from the edge of the territory. “Mama look”whispered Wisp Pup. A tall male Wolf was headed toward them Zira Pup fell backward and the pups hid between Eagle Breeze’s forepaws as she crouched down trying to be unseen. The wolf stopped in front of them “Eagle Breeze?!” he tilted his head in confusion “Patch Fur?!” she gasped Patch Fur ran over to see Eagle Breeze who was no longer crouching but sitting up.

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to read the writing posts in chronological order you can find a reading order in this post here! (link to be added)

[dsmutp]

Learning Curve (C!Charlie Slimecicle x Reader)

Teaching Charlie was a delight.

When Quackity had put you up to the job, you hadn’t been too sure about it. Teaching someone how to be human (whatever that entailed) seemed like more than you had signed up for when you had become a resident of Las Nevadas - just imagining long hours of helping someone learn the intricacies of human life made your head ache. But Quackity had insisted, and you really had nothing better to do.

Three months into the job though, and you were quite attached to Charlie.

He was a wonderful student - eager to learn and bright enough that it never took him too long to grasp new concepts (though, as with any student, some things came more naturally than others) - and an even more wonderful friend. It was amazing how a sentient piece of goo (though it was really hard for you to think of him like that anymore) could be more kind and caring than half of the actual people you knew. 

You were pleased to say that Charlie had become quite fond of you as well. Though you were only supposed to spend six hours a day with him, oftentimes you wound up just spending your days together, wandering around the unfinished Las Nevadas after you had completed his schooling for the day, talking about whatever crossed your minds. Charlie was always eager to hear stories from your day to day life, and the amount of history he had seen just from being around for that many years never failed to make you gaze at him with wonder. 

It wouldn’t have been a stretch to say that he had become your best friend.

You certainly liked him enough - that goofy smile never failed to brighten your mood, even on the worst days, and though the slight fluidity of his skin had been off putting at first, through the amount of daps you shared, you had gotten used to it - come to enjoy it even, something that was uniquely Charlie.

For all his wonderful attributes though, there were still some times that you got a little exasperated with him. 

“Nope.” You sighed, watching as his arm bent the wrong way again. “You can’t just bend the joint that way, Charlie, that’s not how bones work.”

“But you said to hit the lever behind me..?” Charlie asked, righting his arm again. 

“Right, but with humans, remember, the joints don’t bend all the way around because of the bones.” You reminded him. “Just because your body can bend that way, doesn’t mean mine can.”

Charlie nodded slowly, but the confused look was still hovering in his eyes. 

“Do you want to go over joints and movement again?” You asked. 

Charlie smiled sheepishly. “Yes please.”

You stepped forward, extending your arms. You had done this exercise a few times before, just to help Charlie learn which body parts worked together and which joints moved in which directions. It was easy for him to forget though - his body didn’t really have limits to movement, being slime - and he had a bad habit of just throwing human joint movements away in exchange for what was the most easy at the time. 

Charlie placed his hands on your elbows, and you bent your arms, letting him feel how the joints moved and worked. “See? One way.”

“Right.” Charlie said, nodding now. His hands moved to your shoulders. “But these ones go all the way around?”

You rolled your shoulders, moving the ball joint in a circle. “Correct.”

His hands wandered down to your wrists. “Same as these?”

You rolled your wrists, nodding. 

From there, Charlie’s hands found your hips. “But these ones only go forward and backward.”

“For walking.” You said, nodding. “They can go out, a little - nothing too far though.” 

Charlie nodded, his eyes wandering over your body innocently. The first few times you had done this with him, you had been a little uncomfortable - it was strange, to be treated like a scientific model, slightly slimy hands running up and down your skin, asking what each of your joints and muscles did. But over time, you had gotten used to it - Charlie was only curious to learn, after all, and you were more than willing to help.

A hand over your crotch startled you, and you broke out of your train of thought, raising an eyebrow at Charlie. He only blinked at you though, saying, “You never said what this part’s for.”

You closed your eyes, steeling yourself. You had known this day would come, eventually - sex was a large part of human life, after all. You didn’t really want to be having ‘the talk’ with a sentient piece of goo that you had come to know and love, but you supposed it had had to come at some point. 

“It’s for sex, Charlie.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up. “You have a stripper pole on you?”

The comment was so out of place that you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “What?”

“A stripper pole.” Charlie repeated. “Like the one in the casino? Quackity said it was for sex-”

“No, no.” You said, cutting him off, still laughing. “Sex organs Charles, for the actual act. They’re part of basic human anatomy - everyone’s got some.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed as he nodded, and movement under his pants caught your eye - the fabric shifted and pulled until it filled out a little more - like his very skin was reshaping itself to include what you had just told him. 

It was then that you realized that Charlie might be the answer to every sexual fantasy you had ever had. 

---

It didn’t take much convincing to get Charlie into bed with you.

You had always known that he had had something of a puppy dog crush on you - just from the way that he hung on your every word, even when you weren’t teaching, and followed you around like a little duckling. You had stopped yourself from doing anything about it though, telling yourself that it would be wrong, that he was your student - but those sentiments had faded the more time you had spent together outside of the teaching. 

They were completely gone now, as you tossed Charlie’s pants over the side of the bed. Though you were both naked as the day you were born, he was perfectly comfortable, sprawled out on the pillows like he owned the place. 

“So, again,” He started. “You want me to put my dick inside you? But not detach it? And thats sex?”

“The basics of it.” You said. “Simple stuff, really. You tell me if you don’t like it though - I don’t know exactly how it’ll feel for you.”

Charlie nodded, arranging his arms underneath his head with a smile. “I am ready to sex.”

You laughed as you straddled his hips, gently wrapping a hand around his cock and aligning it with your hole, just pressing his tip against your entrance. “Promise you’ll tell me to stop if it feels bad, okay? Just because I wanted to try this doesn’t mean you have to suck it up for me.”

“Promise.” Charlie assured you. “I won’t pretend to like it just because you do- hhh.”

You sank down on his cock, reveling at the feeling - there was almost no stretch as he entered you, the slime of his body simply moving like a liquid, filling out your insides completely without having the painful stretch around your entrance. Every nerve ending in you lit up at the contact - the slime filled every space without pushing too far - Charlie’s cock had molded to you completely, hitting all your spots without even trying.

“Wow.” You breathed, placing the palms of your hands on Charlie’s chest. “This is- wow. How’re you feeling Charlie?”

Underneath you, Charlie was in a daze, eyes glazed over as he stared at some point past your shoulder. His mouth moved, but only a long string of syllables came out - more like a moan than any real words.

“Descriptors, love.” You prompted, shifting to place your hands on either side of his face. 

Charlie let out a breathy whimper, his hands finding purchase on your hips, squeezing the skin there. “Good.” He said. “Very very good, uh, sort of tingly? And warm? I-I don’t really know words for it…”

You smiled, caressing his hair. “Good.” You said. It was good to know that it felt pleasurable for him - you weren’t quite sure how slime anatomy worked, and if human sex was something that he would enjoy, but now that you knew it felt as good for him as it did for you, you had no intention of holding back.

You began to rock, slowly, rolling your hips over Charlie’s and letting his cock begin to rub against your walls. Charlie’s fingers dug into your hips more as his breathing canted upwards, instinct taking over as he bucked up into you a few times. You welcomed the movement, using the momentum to fuck yourself down on him harder, savoring the feeling of him running over your nerves, lighting you up from the inside. 

Charlie let out another whimper, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, still keeping your hands framed gently around his face. Charlie kissed back eagerly, releasing his little whimpers and moans into your mouth now, the hands at your hips moving up to your lower back, holding on for dear life.

“You’re doing so well.” You cooed, feeling that familiar coil begin to tighten in your gut. “You’re a natural, Charlie.”

“Really?” Charlie said, a grin overtaking his features. His slimy complexion really didn’t allow for a blush, but you could see the flushed pride just in his expression.

“Really.” You gasped out as a particularly good thrust made your head spin. Your hands fell from Charlie’s face as you instead buried your face into the crook of his neck with a groan, rolling your hips down with more intensity now, chasing your orgasm. Without the painful stretch in the beginning, you were reaching it so much more quickly now - though it probably also helped that Charlie’s cock had become a perfect fill for your insides too - leaving no nerve ending spared.

“Mmmm.” Charlie tipped his head back as he moaned, lips pressing together into a thin line. “It feels different now.” He said, voice shaky. “Bigger, I think?” He tried. 

“That’s supposed to happen.” You said, speeding up your thrusts, for both your sake and Charlie’s. You were getting to the brink of orgasm now, the pleasure making it’s way all the way down your legs and to your toes. It was only a moment more before you were shaking with it, the rolling of your hips slowing as you rode out your high. 

Charlie groaned underneath you, tipping his head back into the pillows as the slime inside you rippled, the sensation making you moan at the strangeness of it. You hadn’t really known what his orgasm was going to look (or feel) like, but you hadn’t been expecting that. 

For a moment, you just laid there, head still tucked under Charlie’s jaw as you both caught your breath, just feeling him breathe.

“That was pretty fun.” Charlie said. “It felt weird, but good weird.”

You sat up, rolling off him to sprawl out on the rest of the bed, his cock sliding out as easily as it had gone in. “Glad you liked it.” You said, letting yourself stretch out into a boneless heap. “For your first time ever, you were really good, Charlie.”

Charlie beamed at the praise, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek. You were definitely going to be doing that again.

[spideykaiparker]

Not Your Average Field trip

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Field trip trope

warning(s) : slight smut, fluff

summary : peter's decathlon team are going on a field trip to Stark Industries, but peter wasn't allowed to go, long story short, they bumped into peter in the hallway, catching peter in a slight compromising situation.

author's note : okay, so this is my second peter parker fanfic, this is your typical peter parker field trip trope but with a slight twist, i had this idea for a while, so i hope you like it! it's okay if you don't, cause i just wrote this for my own entertainment, hehe. english is not my first language, so sorry if there's any grammar or spelling mistakes.

I'm really sorry if it's bad, but i promise it gets better along the way!

anyways, happy reading! ^_^

it was noisy in the decathlon room, Mr. Harrington was in the principal's office because apparently there's some big news for the team.

about 45 minutes later, Mr. Harrington came back to the room with a bunch of papers, wearing an excited face. immediately all of the noise stopped and the focus was on Mr. Harrington.

"okay everyone, i have some exciting news here" Mr. Harrington said, practically shaking because he couldn't contain his excitement. "we're going to Stark Industries on Friday!" he continued with a huge grin.

"what?!"

"how?"

"we're going where?"

all of peter's decathlon teammates were freaking out, excited by the news, but peter, he was freaking out because of the fact that they were going to his work place.

but then again, his teammates except ned and mj doesn't even believe that peter got an internship at Stark Industries, they think that he's lying about his internship, hell, even some of his teachers doesn't believe him, even if he already gave them the legal documents, they still won't believe him, saying that he's forging the documents. where in reality, he really got an internship. Mr. Stark has gave him a real internship seeing as he's really intelligent, some might even say he's on par with Tony Stark himself. Mr. Stark made him his personal intern, but he could still work with the other interns.

"okay calm down everybody, I'm going to hand out these forms for your parents or guardians to sign, make sure to hand it in to me on thursday" Mr. Harrington explained while handing out the forms, still a bit excited himself.

"okay you may go now"

just as peter was heading out, Mr. Harrington called him over. "pete can you come here for a second" he said while gesturing with his hand for peter to come over.

"yes Mr. Harrington? is anything wrong?"

"ah yes, unfortunately, because some of the teachers don't believe that you really have an internship at Starks Industries, they decided to not let you go, they said that your lying has gone too far, and should be punished for it, therefore you can't come on the field trip"

"what? but I'm not lying, Mr. Harrington" peter questioned, a bit hurt that his teachers don't even believe him, but also a bit relieved, because he wouldn't have to go on a field trip to his own work place.

"i know you're not pete, but unfortunately the other teachers don't think so, but you can just stay at home instead of going to school" Mr. Harrington explained, feeling sorry for peter.

"okay, Mr. Harrington, thanks for informing me" peter said while walking outside.

peter went straight to Stark Industries after that, because May finally agreed for them to stay at Stark Industries after a lot of provoking from Mr. Stark.

once he arrived at Stark Industries, he went straight up to the living quarters, more specifically to Y/N stark's room, without needing to scan his badge because the employees there already knows him.

when he reached the top he went straight to Y/N's room, only to see her sleeping in front of her desk with a bunch of unfinished projects that she's working on.

smiling at the sight, peter slowly made his way to Y/N, picking her up gently, and carrying her to her bed, then getting inside under the covers himself. Y/N automatically snuggled closer to peter, feeling his warmth, inhaling his familiar scent.

"mm.. you're back" Y/N said while rubbing her face in peter's sweatshirt like a cat.

"yeah i just got back, baby" peter replied while stroking the back of her head, smiling down at her.

"what time is it?" Y/N questioned whilst rubbing her eyes.

"uhh, i think it's a little past four pm"

"let's head to the kitchen, I'm hungryy" Y/N suggested while slowly getting up from the bed, still gaining consciousness.

~

once they reached the kitchen, Y/N sat down on the counter, while peter made a sandwich for both of them.

Y/N, who was still a bit drowsy from sleep, noticed the sad look on peter's face while he was making a sandwich. she made her way to peter, hugging him from the back, resting her chin on his shoulder, but can't quite reach it because of the slight height difference. so she opted to just snuggle her face on the back of his right shoulder.

"is everything okay?" she questioned, tightening her grip around his waist.

"yeah.. it's just- i was supposed to go on a field trip here on friday, but the teachers wouldn't let me go because they think I'm lying about my internship" peter answered with a frown.

"what? how could they, they can't just do that, you gave them the documents, proof that you're really an intern here" Y/N said with anger clear in her voice, hugging peter a bit tighter.

"i know, but they think that I'm forging the documents" peter answered with a defeated look on his face.

"let's go talk to my dad, I'm sure he'll do something about it"

"no, it's okay, i don't care if they don't believe me, it's fine if i don't go on the field trip, i literally live here, why would i want to go on a field trip to my own home" peter retaliated

"but still—" she got cut off by peter turning around in her hold, hugging her back, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"it's fine, Y/N, I'm okay" he said with a small smile.

still a bit mad, Y/N just nodded her head with a small pout, resting her head on his chest, hugging him tighter.

peter laughed at her cuteness, resting his head on top of her's in return, rubbing the back of her head lovingly.

they spent the rest of the day watching netflix, talking about random stuff, just enjoying each others company.

~

thursday, they were supposed to hand in their forms to Mr. Harrington, and while his teammates excitedly talked about going to Stark Industries, peter was just resting his head on the table, waiting for the day to go by. ned offered to not go on the field trip and just hang out with peter, but peter couldn't do that to ned, so he insisted for ned to go the field trip.

peter just couldn't wait to go home, flash has been taunting him every second about his internship, saying that he couldn't wait to prove to the whole school that penis parker is lying about his internship.

"why the sour face, parker? scared that your fake internship would be exposed?" flash taunted.

peter didn't reply, instead he just buried his head in his arms, wishing for this to all be over so he could head home and cuddle with Y/N.

"not answering, are we? afraid that I'm right?" flash continued taunting peter with a smirk.

"just leave me alone, flash" peter answered, with a tired look.

"tch, fine, I'm going to prove everyone I'm right tommorow anyways"

"whatever you say, flash" peter said while rolling his eyes.

when it was time to go home, peter practically sprinted out of the room, can't wait any longer to go home and spend time with Y/N.

~

when he reached the tower, he went straight to Y/N's room, finding her working on a project she's been working on for weeks.

"oh peter, you're here" Y/N said, getting up from her desk and immediately hugging peter.

peter hugged her back tightly, burying his face in her hair, inhaling her comforting scent, immediately forgetting about today's events.

~

when nighttime came, they laid on the bed, talking about each other's days. but peter got distracted by the way her lips move, thinking about how her lips wrapped around him, taking in his entire length in her mouth, teasingly playing with the head with her tongue.

"—pete? are you listening?" she asked with a slight smirk. she knows that peter has been staring at her lips for a quite while, she could practically see what he was imagining in his mind.

"huh? y-yeah? what?" peter breaks out of his trance, looking into her eyes that held a mishchievious glint.

"i said, were you listening?" she asked with an innocent look.

"y-yeah, i was" peter stuttered back.

"really? i could've sworn you've been looking at my lips for a while then" she climbed onto his lap "probably imagining how it would look wrapped around your pretty cock, aren't you? how i would lick the head like a lollipop, or how i would take you whole, slowly rubbing your thighs.." she trailed off, kissing his neck, running one of her hand down his chest, resting it on his growing bulge.

peter gulped, looking up at her with doe eyes, gripping her waist tightly.

"i know you said that you're fine about the field trip peter, but i could see the look on your face everytime someone mentions it, so, let me take care of you, okay?" Y/N said, slowly rubbing his growing erection through the material of his pants. she tugged on his shirt signaling him to take of his shirt, he did it almost immediately.

she got off him, only to go down in front of his erection, slowly unbuttoning his pants, sliding it down his legs, leaving his boxer briefs behind.

she kissed the insides of his thighs, leaving bite marks on her way, slowly making her way to his clothed erection.

she rubbed him through the material of his briefs, teasing him while kissing his stomach and hips continuing to leave marks.

peter couldn't contain his moans, he threw his head back moaning loudly not caring if anybody hears, gripping the bed sheets, he couldn't wait for Y/N to finally wrap her lips around him.

Y/N went up in fornt of his face, kissing him roughly, still rubbing her hand up and down his shaft. then slowly making her way down, kissing his neck, leaving marks, going down to his chest.

she wrapped her lips around one of his nipples, swirling her tongue around it, slightly biting it, while her free hand went to his other nipple, pinching it slightly with her index and thumb, occasionally switching to rolling it with her thumb.

peter was absolutely losing it, the feeling of her lips around his nipples, combined with her hand slowly rubbing his hard on. he feels as if he's going to explode if she doesn't put him in her mouth immediately.

she then continued her way down, hooking her fingers around the waistband of his briefs, finally letting it out of its confinement. his member sprung up hitting his lower abdomen, precum leaking out of the pink tip, twitching when she wrapped her hand around it.

she slowly moved her hand up and down his hard shaft, her thumb gently pressing down on the head, immediately getting a loud moan out of him.

she leaned a bit, giving small kitten licks on the head, then finally wrapping her lips around the head first, swirling her tongue around it, then slowly went down further, until her nose brushed against the base. one of her hand playing with his balls, kneading it.

peter moaned loudly, throwing his head back, one of his hand making its way to her hair gripping it tightly, guiding her head to move up and down. peter couldn't hold his hips back from thrusting into her mouth roughly, hitting the back of her throat.

this slightly surprised Y/N, choking her slightly, but doing her best to keep up with his pace.

his thrusts becoming sloppy, his member twitching inside her mouth, indicating her that he was about to cum.

"i-i'm cumming" peter said, eyes closed, his thrusts becoming even more sloppy.

with a few more thrusts, he came inside her mouth, she removed herself from him, swallowing his load, helping him with his high, running her hand up and down his shaft, with some of the cum going onto her face.

when he was done, they were both panting, looking into each others eyes with blush coating both of their faces.

he leaned down and kissed her, slightly tasting himself on her tongue. the kiss was slow, and passionate, opposite of their kiss earlier.

they pulled back and smiled at each other, until peter remember something.

"wait, i didn't get to return the favor"

"it's fine peter, i told you i was the one who's taking care of you today, you can make it up to me some other time, okay?" she said, cupping his cheeks with her hands, kissing his lips one more time.

"okay..."

"okay, I'm going to wash my face now, then we can go to sleep" she said once again, while getting up from the bed heading to the bathroom. peter just wore his briefs, too tired to do anything else.

once she was done, they cuddled the rest of the night, with her head on his chest, her arm wrapped around his neck, and one of her leg was thrown over his thighs, while his arms wrapped themselves around her waist, burying his head in her hair.

~

the next morning, they woke up around 10.30 a.m, because of last nights... events. after they woke up, they decided to stay a little longer in bed, just talking, maybe sneaking in some kisses in between. they were both too distracted by each other that they forgot it was friday, a.k.a the day when peter's decathlon team have a field trip to Stark Industries.

~

the decathlon team arrived not too long ago. usually, Stark Industries doesn't allow school field trips to go higher than the general labs. but, their tour guide, harley keener, was specifically instructed by Tony Stark himself to allow them to go to the higher levels, where tony's and bruce's labs were at. but not only that, that's also where the avengers living quarters, common rooms, and training room/gym were at. just so he can prove everyone that peter is not lying.

"okay, so just a reminder, you are not allowed to touch or take anything from here" harley informed the team while walking down the hallway after going out of the elevator.

"so as you can see, these are some of the avenger's rooms, each of their names are labeled on the door"

the team was in awe with everything, they couldn't believe that they were allowed to go to the higher levels.

"woah is that Y/N stark's room?!" one of the kid's exclaimed.

just as they were about to pass Y/N's room, the door suddenly opened, and out comes peter, only wearing some gray sweatpants, his neck and bare chest littered with hickeys, and Y/N with an oversized t-shirt —probably peter's, with some short's that almost covered by the t-shirt. "yeah i was thinking about pancakes—"

"—peter?"

"—Y/N Stark?"

the decathlon team's mouths hang wide open shocked by the scene infront of them, even ned, mj was slightly surprised but didn't showed it. they couldn't believe that penis parker the nerd was coming out of Y/N Stark's room, shirtless, with hickeys littered around his torso, and has abs.

"huh?" they —peter and Y/N, turned their heads, and when they saw who made the noise, their eyes widened.

"harley! what are they doing here!, they aren't supposed to be here!" peter exclaimed, covering his chest, standing behind Y/N.

"i don't know man, Tony told me they were allowed to go here" harley answered with a shrug.

"but i see you had some fun last night" he continued with a huge smirk on his face.

peter blushed, wanting to just bury himself in the ground and forget this ever happened.

"peter! you really work here?" one of his teammates asked.

"well yeah, i did already told you guys, didn't i? you guys just didn't want to believe me"

"i believed you since the beginning, peter!" ned exclaimed happily.

"and thank you for that" peter smiled, still can't grasp the fact that this is actually happening, his teammates caught him coming out of Y/N's room, with him looking like that.

"peter! are you really dating Y/N stark?" one of his teammates asked again, wanting to know as much as possible about the situation right now.

"umm.." he paused, looking at Y/N, silently asking her if he should tell them, when Y/N nodded with a comforting smile, he continued, "yeah.."

hearing his answer, his teammates were once again shocked by the fact that peter was really dating Y/N.

"why?" a voice asked from the back, they all looked behind them, making way for the person to come forward. the person walked forwards confidently, with smug look on his face.

"why penis parker?" it was flash. once again not wanting for peter to have such a nice life.

"what did you just called him?" Y/N asked, daring him to call peter that again, her smile immediately turning into a scowl, eyes practically boring in flash's skull.

"penis parker, why him? out of all the people you could have, for example me" flash answered, still looking smug, but a slight fear crossed his eyes. his teammates were silently watching the scene unfold infront of them, slightly scared for flash, but also knowing that he deserves it.

"why, you ask? why not? he's smart, kind, selfless, caring, got a body to die for, a face that's cute and hot on the same time, i mean how is that even possible? he's perfect, he's everything you're not ever going to be.' Y/N answered, venom practically lacing every word she utters.

before flash can utter a word, she continued, "—you think you're perfect for me? have you looked at yourself? you think you're all that, flaunting all that money, but in reality, that's just your daddy's money" she said with a mocking pout, "but after this, are you sure you're still going to have money?, you better be scared for your dad, because after the stunt you just pulled here, I'm sure dad's going to take action about it. and before you say anything about me being a daddy's girl, having her dad take care of her problems, using all of her dad's money, no. unlike you, i actually help here, i actually earn the money that's been given to me, infact, most of the avengers gears were designed with the help of me." she ended, arms crossing infront of her chest, looking intimidatingly at flash, daring him to argue.

but flash couldn't even utter a single word, mouth opening and closing like a fish, embarrassed, not looking so confident now.

peter's teammates who were just observing, was also shocked by the words uttered by the Stark girl, feeling embarrassed for flash, and admiring her intimidating aura. peter looking at her with heart eyes, practically falling in love all over again with her.

when flash didn't utter a single word, she smirked, "so now that that's settled, peter and i are going to head on our way now, bye bye~" she waved her fingers with one hand, the other pulling peter away from his teammates.

"oh yeah, one more thing, you're all going to sign NDA'S to make sure, none of this is going to get out, if you were to even utter a single word about today to anyone, you better watch out because we are going to take action." she walked out, dragging peter with her, slightly swaying her hips, peter behind her looking at her with admiration.

his teammates were once again left shocked by the whole encounter, looking back at their retreating bodies with a new found astonishment.

it was silent for a second, then all of a sudden they all started freaking out, talking about the encounter.

"okay, so that happened, come on now let's continue the tour" harley cuts, silencing everyone.

~

peter and Y/N decided to have breakfast, or probably brunch, and then deciding to train for a while. they headed to the training room. they changed into their workout clothes, peter just wearing a tight t-shirt, kind of like the ones steve likes to wear, paired with some shorts, and Y/N wearing a sports bra, with some matching leggings on.

they continued sparring for a while, too distracted by each other, that they didn't realize that the decathlon team was once again at the door, watching them spar with each other with astonishment, still having the difficulty to grasp that penis parker was actually cool.

somehow, they ended up with peter being pinned down on the ground, with Y/N straddling him.

Y/N smirked, leaning down, her hands still bunched up around peter's collar, using that to slightly pull peter up, making him lean his body on his elbows, then kissing him. peter kissed back almost immediately, one of his hand coming around to grip her waist.

the decathlon team who was watching the scene unfold infront of them, was once again shocked.

"...okay, let's just leave them alone now." harley awkwardly suggested, ushering everyone out.

one by one, they left the training room with shocked looks on their faces, leaving peter and Y/N in their own worlds.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The Hell he’s been through;

The Knights have no clue of the suffering Merlin has endured… until one day, they do.

TW: Scars, panic attacks, nightmares, PTSD except they don’t have a word for that, non-graphic description of scars/injuries

Part 2(final part)

It was the height of summer, the bright blue sky was utterly free of clouds and the noon sun beat viciously down onto the training field.

Only the central six knights, their King, and Merlin braved the exhausting heat, the other knights had chosen to train later in the day, when it was cooler, so the field was empty of anyone else. Merlin was sat cross-legged in the shade of a tree, jacket and neckerchief removed (not that Arth- anyone noticed. Definitely not.), though his sleeves were still pulled low over his wrists and his tunic was fastened high up his neck. Despite that, the lack of an extra layer definitely displayed Merlin’s surprisingly broad shoulders more than normal (another thing that Ar-no one noticed). 

The knights were shirtless, despite Merlin’s warning of sunburn, sparring semi-playfully with wooden dummy swords, the type squires train with, and no armour.

Merlin rubs absent-mindedly at the dull, almost gone ache in his ribs, just below his armpit, as he rolls his shoulder. The injury, if it could even be called that, had never been serious and hadn’t even hurt that much when he’d gotten it on the last patrol (a stray mace swing from a bandit just clipped him), at least, not compared to other injuries he’s sustained over the years, but it was an annoyance that made his shoulder stiff on occasion.

Unfortunately, the movement caught Arthur’s eye, and the King frowns, stopping his observation of Elyan and Mordred’s spar to lay a crudely hidden concerned gaze upon his manservant. 

He’d fussed endlessly when he found that Merlin had bandaged his own torso after the fight, demanding that he let someone help next time; Merlin just rolled his eyes at that. The other knights had wisely chosen not to comment, knowing that the attack, and Merlin’s subsequent injury, had already put Arthur in a bad enough mood; though admittedly, the only thing stopping Gwaine from ruthlessly taking the piss out of Arthur’s mother-hen tendencies all the way home was Percival harshly clamping a hand over his mouth and pushing him away.

Merlin looks up to see Arthur staring at him, and the King quickly covers his concern with a look of annoyance when the manservant raises an eyebrow:

“If you’re not going to do anything useful Merlin, get up here, you clearly can’t be trusted to even cower effectively, so you’re going to have to learn to defend yourself.”

Merlin’s eyebrow just rises higher as the rest of the knights’ attention is drawn to the conversation. Lancelot and Mordred hide knowing smiles, well aware than Merlin was more than capable of defending himself, if he really needed to. Gwaine went to open his mouth with teasing grin, though quickly pouts when Percival punches him on the shoulder, and Leon and Elyan smirk at each other before moving their amused gazes to Arthur.

When Merlin doesn’t move, just stares at him disbelievingly, Arthur rolls his eyes and gestures at the half-empty rack of wooden swords:

“Come on, Merlin, up on your feet, grab a sword.”

Merlin just snorts in amusement and shakes his head, settling back against the tree trunk even more:

“Absolutely not. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much.”

The knights (bar Lancelot and Mordred of course) raise their own eyebrows. Gwaine snorts out loud, stepping up next to Arthur and dropping an overly-friendly hand on his shoulder, much to The King’s displeasure:

“I know you can hold your own in a tavern brawl Merls, but that’s not the same thing as facing bandits and assassins and shit. Princess is right, it might be worth it for you to at least know how to use a sword.”

Arthur turns an accusing gaze on Gwaine, shrugging his hand off as he says:

“And I presume all the tavern brawls Merlin has apparently been getting into are your fault?”

Gwaine grimaces slightly before shrugging with a smirk, and Merlin hides his laughter with a cough before inserting:

“Entirely his fault. Gwaine starts the fights, promptly passes out, and I have to finish them.”

Arthur laughs incredulously; Mordred has to hide the angry clench of his jaw and Lancelot has to hide his sorrow when Arthur replies in a taunting tone:

“I’m meant to believe that you are regularly winning Gwaine’s unfinished fights, am I?”

Merlin shrugs in mock defeat, a grin on his face:

“Believe what you want, Sire, I’ve faced worse than you lot and come out singing, I don’t need training.”

Arthur resists the urge to smirk at the appealing way Merlin manages to make his title sound insulting, and he instead raises his eyebrows:

“You’re not getting out of this, Merlin. I can’t have you bruising yourself every time we leave the city.”

Merlin takes in a deep breath, settling a disconcertingly assessing gaze on The King for a few moments before he sighs and stands up, walking towards the equipment and picking up a sword before turning back to Arthur:

“I suppose you’re right, I doubt any of the other servants would be willing to put up with you if I got too injured. Who would you like me to spar, My Lord?”

Arthur scoffs and shakes his head as the others step back, looking upon the whole scene with fond amusement, bar, once again, Lancelot and Mordred, who are looking an odd mix between concerned and proud. They know that Merlin is capable of more than he lets on, even with a wooden blade.

“You can’t spar with any of us, Merlin, that would be far too dangerous. We’ll start with some basic moves, and then maybe we can move on to a slow, choreographed spar.”

Merlin twirls the sword expertly in his hand, and he’s vaguely away of Gwaine nodding approvingly and Leon raising an eyebrow out the corner of his eye, though he pays them no mind, raising an eyebrow of his own at Arthur:

“Surely starting with a simple spar will tell you my exact skill levels so you can tailor the lessons? You need to know how crap I am before we start.”

Lancelot hides a snort behind a hand, knowing full well that Merlin is just trying to goad Arthur into letting the servant show off his skills without too much effort beforehand. Or without giving Arthur the satisfaction of thinking that he was the one who taught Merlin how to fight. Thankfully, Arthur takes Lance’s snort as a teasing one aimed at Merlin, as opposed to what it really is, so waves him into the ring with a smirk.

Merlin just rolls his eyes, moving to stand opposite his best friend and muttering, just loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Fine, but I’m not taking my shirt off, I’m not as arrogant as you lot.”

Lancelot widens his eyes as Arthur freezes, dread growing in his stomach at the knowledge that The King would take that as a challenge. Arthur turns slowly, a shit-eating grin on his face, and Lancelot grimaces as Arthur claps his hands together:

“Right! I wasn’t going to mention it, but you do have a point, Merlin, if you are to train, you must train as one of us. Come on, tunic off.”

Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine just laugh, but Leon rolls his eyes exasperatedly, and Mordred and Lancelot frown in concern. Neither of them have seen Merlin’s scars in their entirety before, but knowing about the servant’s secret second life had definitely made them more observant than the others, and they had seen hints of old injuries here and there. That’s not even mentioning the times he’s shown up in their chambers, bloody and bruised and in need of treatment, but not wanting to worry Gaius.

Merlin just flushed and stared at him indignantly and Arthur’s teasing grin grew:

“Don’t be shy, Merlin, I’m sure whatever horrific mole or ugly birth mark you’re ashamed of isn’t that bad.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, stepping away from Arthur when he moves towards him. The demand to de-robe, even partially, had immediately put him on edge, and he had gone from playfully annoyed to genuinely irate in a split second. He crosses his arms over his chest protectively when Arthur gestures at him demandingly:

“I don’t have a weird mole, Arthur, you Clotpole, but unlike you lot, I’m not all that keen to show off my old scars.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Merlin was hoping that mentioning his scars in passing would appeal to the knights’ warrior sides, would make them sympathetic to his… shy-ness. It did not. It just made them laugh, even Leon, and they all began to point out various scars they had on their chests and back, remarking that he couldn’t have worse than them. 

Gwaine twisted to the side, patting a pink, jagged circle halfway down his back, a grin on his face:

“This beauty is from when I propositioned a lovely fella who was, apparently, already taken. Man’s wife smashed her bottle on the counter and damn near took my eye out with it.”

Elyan cackles at Gwaine’s story, pointing to a perfectly square burn on his shoulder-blade:

“Yeah, well at least you didn’t fall back into a red hot brand at the ripe old age of fifteen because a girl smiled at you.”

Merlin’s back-up plan, which was sneakily sulking off whilst the knights compared their most embarrassing scars, was cut short basically immediately when he heard Arthur yell out:

“Absolutely not, Merlin, I’ve already told you that you’re not getting out of this. Tunic off, spar Lancelot.”

Merlin huffs, annoyed, feeling rather like he was backed into a corner, and Mordred walks forward, to be between him and The King, quietly saying:

“You don’t have to Merlin, just fight with it on.”

Arthur narrows his eyes in suspicion, but before he can say anything, Merlin squares his shoulders and looks at him defiantly, dropping his sword to the floor as he begins unlacing his tunic, his words coming out harshly, his tone dark:

“No, no it’s fine. The King wants to see my scars, and we all know that The King gets whatever he wants.”

The smiles melt rather quickly off the knights’ faces as Merlin speaks, and Arthur flinches slightly at his tone, starting to realise with just a little guilt that maybe this wasn’t funny anymore. He opens his mouth to take it back, to tell Merlin that he was only teasing and he could keep the tunic on if he really wanted to, but before any words come out, Merlin is gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head swiftly and screwing it up before tossing it to the side, not once breaking his stare on the now pale King.

Arthur lets out a sharp breath at the patchwork of scars that cover Merlin’s chest, and he’s vaguely aware of the various low cries and gasps of outrage coming from the knights behind him. There are so many, some are large and some are small, some look to be from clumsiness, but others look like they should have been fatal. Arthur’s eyes can’t focus on just one, he’s barely taking in each scar before his gaze is drawn to another, and then another, and then another; it’s a little overwhelming, and it’s only when he starts to feel a little woozy that he remembers to breath.

When he finally comes to the conclusion that his brain isn’t going to able to process this for a while, he looks up to Merlin’s face, instead taking in his resolute expression and hard eyes:

“Merlin, what… what happened to you?”

Merlin raises a slow, mocking eyebrow before breaking his statue-like stillness and picking his sword up again, turning to face a distraught looking Lancelot. This movement only reveals the second mosaic of scars covering his back, but he speaks over the next round of gasps and muffled curses, his tone still unbearably dark as he gestures Lance to get into position:

“I told you, I’ve faced worse than you lot and come out singing.”

The knights are so distracted by the myriad of scars covering Merlin’s torso that it takes the servant’s first harsh, well-aimed blow with his sword to break them out of their stupor. They watch the ensuing spar with morbid fascination, finding that not only can Merlin hold his own, he’s winning. Lancelot loses his breath and rhythm much quicker than Merlin does, and the fast-paced spar only lasts around three minutes before Merlin lands a strong punch to the centre of Lance’s chest and the knight stumbles back in shock, lowering his sword just enough for Merlin to step forward and trip him up.

The scarred servant’s chest rises and falls deeply, but not too rapidly as he lowers his sword and offers a hand down to the beaten knight. Lancelot takes it with a slightly shocked smile, patting Merlin on the shoulder as he stands. Merlin flinches away from the touch, no one misses it, clearly not too fond of people touching his bare skin, and Lance drops his hand rapidly, frowning only briefly before he smiles again:

“Bloody hell, Merlin. I knew you were good, but not that good.”

Merlin gives him a strained smile, grateful for the distraction. Everyone sees the moment Merlin’s mask goes up again; he gives Lance a smug grin and twirls his sword once again as he shrugs mockingly:

“I’ve been watching you lot train for ten years, and I’ve been in a few sword fights in my time. I picked up a few things.”

Arthur finally reacts, scoffing as he shakes his head in disbelief, scars momentarily forgotten:

“There’s no way that you can- that was a fluke.-”

He looks smug as he says it, like he’s figured out some great secret, and Mordred lets out a low, annoyed growl; no one notices thankfully, but Merlin shoots him a quick frustrated line across their mental link:

“Please try not to antagonise him any further.”

Mordred looks to him, keeping his face blank as he nods almost imperceptibly. Lancelot and Gwaine look openly disapproving of Arthur’s assertion, but Leon, Percival, and Elyan look almost convinced. Arthur nods decisively, picking up his sword once again and waving it in Merlin’s direction:

“-My turn. And once I’ve beaten you, you’re going to tell us about all of… that.”

Merlin’s eye twitches, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods slightly as he holds a placating hand out in Lancelot’s direction when it becomes obvious that his best friend is going to start trying to defend him.

Arthur takes Lancelot’s place in the ring and Merlin grips his sword tightly, his shoulders tense and his face showing only mild annoyance, despite the anger that Lancelot and Mordred were sure was simmering under his façade. At Arthur’s nod, Leon reluctantly counts them in, and the match begins.

This one is somehow even more fast-paced, though no one is surprised. The last ten minutes had caught Arthur extremely off-guard. An off-guard Arthur is a grumpy Arthur, and a grumpy Arthur is, unfortunately, still the type to take his frustrations out on others. Arthur wasn’t good at dealing with his emotions, meaning the disturbing mix of horror, guilt, and anger at Merlin’s scars, slight… shock, (because he refuses to call it anything else) at his deceptively strong physique, and surprise that apparently his servant can take out one of his best knights without all that much effort, all together have The King bursting with adrenaline. 

He throws blow after blow, but Merlin’s defence is incredibly strong, and Arthur has yet to land a hit anywhere other than the opposing sword. After a couple of minutes, Merlin switches styles, and Arthur almost trips when he realises his servant has, in the space of a second, gone from fighting like Arthur, to fighting like Leon. The knights notice it as well; Gwaine lets out a low whistle and Elyan smacks Leon on the shoulder, pointing incredulously at a sequence of complicated footwork that usually only the First Knight can manage so gracefully. Apparently Merlin can do it too.

Arthur adapts to this quickly; Leon was his sparring partner most often, meaning that he was accustomed to switching between their styles, and they were the most similar fighters in all the group. 

Another minute passes, and the pair still don’t slow, seemingly unbothered by their dumbfounded audience and the sweltering heat, and this time Merlin suddenly starts fighting more like Gwaine. Instead of staying on the defensive and trying to trip Arthur up, he goes on the attack, landing heavier and heavier hits as The King barely manages to defend himself in time.

Merlin is quickly growing tired, his stamina not nearly as good as Arthur’s, but The King grows complacent, even with the vicious pace, certain that he just has to wait Merlin out. He was wrong. Arthur finally gets an attack of his own in but Merlin dives to the side instead of blocking it, rolling and coming up to Arthur’s left before the blonde has time to regain his balance and turn around. He freezes in place when Merlin touches his wooden sword to the side of Arthur’s neck. He can feel it shaking, but it’s undoubtedly a killing blow, and when Merlin drops the sword to the floor in favour of bending over, one hand on his knee and the other on his side again as he pants, Arthur turns around faster than he thinks he’s ever moved before:

“How the fuck did you do that?”

Merlin is vaguely aware of the knights all clapping and shouting encouragement at him, but he doesn’t look up, just waves dismissively in Arthur’s direction:

“I told you, I’ve been watching you lot train for years. It’s easy to imitate you after a little practice.”

Arthur just stares at him in disbelief, but Leon hands the servant a water-skin, ripping his gaze from the whip marks on his back with clenched teeth before schooling his tone and face into something more friendly:

“Merlin, you switched styles twice in as many minutes… you beat the best swordsman in the Kingdom after already being tired from another spar, that’s… that’s incredible.”

Merlin drinks the entire skin as Leon speaks, looking up with another playful mask on his face:

“Well believe me, I’m so sore I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do it again.”

Merlin’s smile drops when he realises everyone is back to staring at him, more specifically, his scars. He steps away from the curly-haired knight, who furrows his brows in concern and resists the urge to reach a comforting hand out to him. Merlin crosses his arms over his chest defensively, hunching his broad shoulders slightly as he frowns at the floor.

Lancelot quickly throws his tunic to him, and Merlin scrambles to pull it on as quickly as possible, but before he can even get his arms through the right holes, Arthur snatches it away, a stern, angry look on his face. Though every one of then can see the badly hidden concern as well:

“No, you agreed to tell us.”

Merlin makes a move for his tunic, but Arthur jumps out of his reach. The servant huffs, annoyed and close to tears all of a sudden as he petulantly replies:

“Actually, you said once you beat me, I had to tell you. I won.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, taking another step back:

“I’m happy to go another round if you are, Merlin?”

Merlin glares at him angrily for another few moments before completely sagging, staring at the floor with sad, tired eyes as his arms drop to dangle at his sides. Arthur and the knights are completely taken aback at Merlin’s sudden change of disposition, though it heartbreakingly strikes them as less of a change and more of a... reveal. A reveal of some kind of sadness that’s been there all along. How did they not notice this??

Arthur’s breath hitches and his tight clutch on Merlin’s tunic loosens slightly as he all but whispers:

“Merlin... who did this to you?”

Merlin finally looks up at him, letting out a humourless chuckle as he rakes a hand through his sweat-dampened hair roughly:

“Does it matter? Most of them are dead, I-”

His eyes narrow and his voice lowers. The knights hear it nonetheless:

“... I made sure of that .”

Arthur lets out a huff of frustration, not bothering to hide the desperation in his eyes as he pleads:

“Please, Merlin, you’re my... subject, you’re meant to be under my protection. And don’t lie, none of these are more than eleven or twelve years old at most and you got here ten years ago, so they happened in Camelot, under my watch. Please, Merlin.”

Merlin sighs, walking towards the tree’s shade once again. For a moment Arthur panics, thinking he’d pushed Merlin too far as he turned away, knowing that if this conversation wasn’t had now, their relationship would never be the same. But before The King can say anything, the servant slumps back into place against the tree trunk, sitting cross-legged again and biting his lip as he looks at Arthur expectantly.

Before anyone else can move, Mordred and Lancelot take the places either side of Merlin, sitting protectively close. Lance gives Mordred a pointed look, to which the younger knight nods before settling a blank expression on the side of Merlin’s head. Merlin doesn’t look back at him, but pats the knight’s knee as the corner of his mouth turns up briefly in a barely-there smile.

Arthur narrows his eyes, but stores that odd exchange in the back of his mind to deal with at a later date before sitting across from Merlin; the other knights look to each other, worried, before settling in the empty spaces to complete the circle. The group is silent for a while, all staring at a statue-still Merlin who in turn is staring at the grass in front of him; he doesn’t move even when Lancelot brings his hand into his lap, stroking his thumb over the servant’s knuckles absent-mindedly.

It’s Percival that finally breaks the silence, asking in a quiet voice:

“What happened, Merlin?”

Merlin looks up suddenly, as if he had forgotten he had company, taking in a deep breath and tightening his grip on Lance’s hand. He gulps before once again running his free hand through his hair, shrugging slightly as he mutters:

“I don’t recall all of them in perfect detail, just ask about... whatever catches your eye I guess, and we’ll see what I can remember.”

The knights all nod, looking to each other expectantly, no one really wanting to go first. Eventually Leon clears his throat, his voice gentle:

“Why don’t we start with the whip marks on your back?”

Merlin nods, grateful that they were at least starting off with the non-magical injuries. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he speaks, his voice croaky and quiet:

“The newer ones are from Cenred, from a few years ago. He wanted information and I spat at his feet and told him to fuck off. He... he didn’t take too kindly to that.”

Gwaine lets out a quiet curse, and Arthur sits up straight, saying in a crackingly authoritative voice:

“Merlin, if anyone ever tries to extract information from you again, you give them anything. Everything. We’ll deal with the fall-out afterwards, it is not your job to withstand torture.”

The other knights nod approvingly but Merlin just looks up at The King with a raised eyebrow:

“Like hell. I can put up with a remarkable amount, I’d never sell Camelot, or you, out. Never, Arthur.”

Arthur huffs and resolutely ignores the tears gathering in his eyes, but Elyan beats him to the mark:

“That’s not... you shouldn’t have to put up with anything Merlin, it’s not necessary. You just... keep yourself safe. We’ll worry about everything else.”

The other knights nod again, but Merlin scowls and tenses even further, even as Lancelot squeezes his hand comfortingly:

“I’ve been through literal hell, multiple times, in order to protect my home and the people that are important to me. I’m not going to stop that just because it makes you lot uncomfortable, and you have no right to tell me to it’s not my place.”

Everyone looks desperate to argue, but they can’t deny that, after what they’ve seen today, in the last half a candle-mark only, Merlin is evidently a lot stronger than they’ve ever given him credit for. Both physically and mentally. Leon just gives Merlin a small smile and nods; he’s the only one here who has known Merlin just as long as Arthur, and he may not be as close to the younger man as The King or Lance or Gwaine or Mordred, but he’s seen his loyalty in action several times over the years:

“You said the newer ones were from Cenred. You’ve been flogged more than once?”

Merlin nods at the knight, grateful for his understanding and change of subject, even if said change of subject was back to his scars. His expression turns slightly guilty as his gaze moves to Arthur, and The King has a feeling he’s going to feel incredibly terrible at whatever it is Merlin is about to say:

“The others are from... uh.... Uther.-”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath as the tears he had just about managed to get under control gather again. The other knights just look angry, bar Leon, who, though miserable, looks as though he sort of expected it:

“-He didn’t like me very much.”

Arthur whispers his response:

“When? Merlin, when and why did my father have you flogged, and how did I not know about it?”

Merlin tenses his jaw, going from guilty to angry in a split second, snapping his response:

“Why do you think?!-”

Arthur recoils and Merlin closes his eyes briefly as he takes a deep breath, looking back to Arthur with a blank mask and speaking in a monotone voice:

“What did you think he would do every time I took the blame for you missing a meeting or a meal or a training session because you were entertaining a woman or pissing about with your knights? I had to walk into the council room and apologise for your absence because I slept in or I forgot to tell you or I sent you on a hunt on the wrong day. Uther was in the habit of burning people and chopping off an alarming number of heads, did you really think I would get away with it punishment free??

Arthur goes pale as a sheet and his hands tremble with the understanding. He shakes his head slightly as he looks to his lap, ignoring the tears on his cheeks as he murmurs:

“Merlin I am so sorry, I didn’t... I didn’t think... if I had known I would have duelled him in the damn town square to protect you.-”

Arthur looks up sharply, wiping his face clean as he settles an assessing gaze on his servant, ignoring Gwaine’s murderous glare as he slowly continues:

“-... which is exactly why you never told me, isn’t it?”

Merlin shrugs, a small smile on his face:

“You may never admit it, Arthur, but you were protective of me, even then.”

Arthur flushes slightly, before frowning again and shaking his head:

“You should have told me, it’s my job to protect you.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly:

“I think we’ve already had this conversation.”

Arthur huffs and narrows his eyes again, good-naturedly this time, and Merlin just rolls his eyes before seeming to sag again, speaking quietly:

“Come on, next one.”

Elyan raises his hand slightly before pointing to the centre of Merlin’s chest:

“How the hell did you get a burn like that?”

Merlin tenses, rubbing a hand over the roughly circular, pink and white scar in the centre of his chest. The flesh looked melted in places, white scar tissue spider-webbing out from his sternum, beginning to fade just before it stretched around his sides, and stopping a few inches above his naval:

“Witch threw a fireball at me. Hurt like hell, but there was quite a lot of adrenaline at the time so I didn’t really notice the pain until later.”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow, evidently trying to control his anger as he asks, in a shaking, though forceful, voice:

“And what were you doing fighting a witch powerful enough to throw fire around?”

Merlin stops rubbing at the scar when Lancelot tugs his hand and Mordred mutters “You’re going to hurt yourself, Merlin.” in his head, curling his hand tightly in his lap instead and speaking slowly, as if he were choosing each word individually:

“Only Leon and Arthur were in Camelot for that. Arthur was dying from the Questing Beast bite, I... went to the Isle of the Blessed to speak to the followers of the Old Religion. There was said to be someone there who had power over life and death and I... Arthur was dying, I had to try.-”

Arthur’s eyes widened at Merlin’s words, mostly the mention of such a power, but stays silent, nodding at him to continue:

“-But the Old Religion requires balance, a life for a life,-”

Leon releases a deep breath, looking to the floor at the implication with his eyes closed, and Arthur lets out a whispered whimper, knowing the depths of Merlin’s loyalty:

“-I offered my own in exchange for Arthur’s. She, Nimueh, that is, accepted,-”

Arthur opens his mouth to say something, he’s not sure what, but before he can yell about Merlin’s self preservation, he notices the darkness on his dearest friend’s face and his voice catches in his throat. Merlin stares at the floor, his face drawn and angry and his voice stormy and clipped:

“-but she tried to trick me. I didn’t appreciate that, we fought, she died. Her life for Arthur’s: the deal was done.”

An audible gasp goes up around the circle, and Percival, who is (other than Merlin and Mordred of course) the most well versed in Magic Info, responds breathlessly:

“Merlin... Nimueh is a High Priestess, The master over Life and Death, she’s very very powerful.”

Merlin looks up at the gentle giant sharply, his gaze unforgiving and his tone harsh:

“Yeah, and she’s also very very dead, because she pissed me off.”

Percival gulps and lowers his gaze, but Arthur seems to have missed everything the two of them just said as he stares blankly at his servant:

“You’d barely known me a year, and I’ll admit that I was an arse back then, and you tried to give your life for mine. Why?”

Merlin looks at him curiously, not responding for a few moments as his anger dies down and his pride grows:

“I had it on good authority that you would become a Great King one day. It only took a little squinting to see it, you were a good man, a man I was, and still am, prepared to sacrifice myself for. You were an arse, yes, you still sort of are, but I have faith in you, always have, always will.”

Lancelot and Mordred smile fondly at him as the other knights stare dumbfounded, but Arthur clenches his jaw, ignoring the shaking in his voice as he says:

“Well, I... I forbid it. You are officially forbidden from sacrificing yourself for me, legally.”

Gwaine perks up slightly:

“Out of curiosity, do we all get the same-”

Arthur interrupts him with a forceful, though slightly amused:

“Shut up, Gwaine. And no, you’re a knight, your entire job description is to jump head first into danger so I don’t have to. I have every faith that you’ll die for me one day.”

Everyone lets out quiet snorts at that, bar Gwaine of course, who looks jokingly affronted before he nods and shrugs, quietly muttering “Yeah, fair enough,-”, the rest of his sentence (”especially considering you’re in love with him but not any of us.”) goes unheard and unchallenged.

Merlin chooses not to respond to Arthur’s demand, but everyone knows that’s his way of not committing to anything, knowing full well that Merlin had never listened to Arthur’s orders before, and sure as shit wasn’t going to start now.

“Next one.”

Merlin’s face had fallen slightly, knowing he wasn’t going to get away with explaining only two sets of scars, and Gwaine asks next, his eyes being drawn to Merlin’s gesturing hand:

“The red bands around your wrists and neck. They look like burns, but not very deep ones. How did they scar if they weren’t deep?”

Merlin looks down at the scars on his wrists, resisting the urge to absent-mindedly claw at the one he knows sits low on his neck. They’re about two inches wide, pale pink and almost impossible to see in the dark but impossible not to see in the light of the noon sun, even sat in the shade. The edges were clean cut and perfectly straight, and Merlin winced slightly at the memory of his magic being contained in such a way.

He looks around the circle, speaking easily. Though it was painful, it was no where near the worst Merlin has ever had, and even if he couldn’t tell the full truth, it felt sort of nice not to have to hide these ones:

“Some sort of enchanted chains, they drained my energy, made me sick and tired, but the magic in the metal sort of... stung, I guess. I don’t really know. I’d been captured by Morgause (is Morgana not mentioned in this entire fic but still Good? Yes.) again and I suppose she didn’t want to take any chances.”

Everyone looks shocked at his casual admission, and Leon is the first to break the tense silence:

“When were you captured by Morgause?”

Before Merlin can respond, Arthur pipes up incredulously:

“Again. You said again. Merlin, how many times have you been kidnapped by Morgause without anyone realising? How many times have you been kidnapped in general?!”

Merlin winces slightly, speaking in a slightly defensive tone as he stares at Arthur as though the answer is obvious:

“Arthur... I’m The King’s personal manservant. I have the power to overrule the Steward and the Housekeeper if I wanted to; as far as servant’s go, I have the most authority, even more than some low level nobles, especially when it comes to running the citadel. I’m sort of... a big deal. I have access to pretty much any information I could want, even more than this lot-”

He gestures to the knights around the circle. Mordred and Lancelot look a little proud once again, Leon is staring at Arthur, shocked that The King didn’t know this, and everyone else stares at Merlin, only just realising that... Merlin was right. None of them have considered it before, but he practically runs the castle.

“-most of the time, and I’m the only one who knows every single state secret, simply from my proximity to you and your council and your paperwork. That is rather... desirable to people like Morgause, people who want to attack Camelot.”

Merlin purses his lips awkwardly as everyone stares at him blankly, but Gwaine is the first to break the silence:

“... and we’ve just been letting you walk around, unprotected.”

Merlin raises as eyebrow:

“I think we’ve already established I don’t need protection.”

Arthur huffs and throws his hands up awkwardly:

“Well you obviously do, if you’re getting kidnapped so often. When even was this?? You haven’t disappeared for a while, and we haven’t had any trouble from Morgause in months.”

Merlin’s face falls, and the knights are taken aback at the reappearance of the... cruel darkness in his expression:

“Believe me, I know. She... won’t be bothering us any longer, I wasn’t fond of her repeated attempts to kill me or you so I... took care of it.”

The knights go pale at Merlin’s casual admittance of killing yet another High Priestess of the Old Religion. He smirks into his lap briefly until Lance once again squeezes his hand, as if reminding him of the mask he should be wearing. Arthur stares at his servant and long time friend, struggling to reconcile the clumsy ideal he has in his head with this... hardened, tortured protector:

“How? Nimueh and Morgause... just... how??”

Merlin’s eyes slowly move up to meet Arthur’s gaze, and The King gulps at the assessing way the servant tilts his head:

“Playing the role of clumsy rural idiot can be a little demeaning sometimes, but it also means that people tend to underestimate me. They think I’m an easy target, and by the time they realise I’ve played them, it’s too late.”

Arthur recoils slightly, and Merlin once again changes dispositions, shrugging casually and smiling easily, his tone light:

“You can get away with a remarkable amount when people think you’re stupid.”

The circle lets out an in-sync breath. All of them knew that Merlin wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but they didn’t realise just how smart he is. None of them would admit it, but Elyan, Leon, Percival, Arthur, and even Gwaine on some level, still subconsciously considered Merlin “just a servant” in the back of their minds. At least... they did. 

(Not that that old thought process made them think any less of him, they just didn’t think of him as complicated, as a warrior.)

Merlin takes a deep breath, knowing that his friends would never see him in the same way, but sort of hoping that that was a good thing, gesturing vaguely to the circle once again. Arthur asks the next question, touching his hand to the back of his own neck softly:

“There’s a cut on the back of your neck. It looks deep, like it was reopened over and over, what is it?”

Merlin grimaces slightly, wiping his free hand over his face in exhaustion as Lancelot squeezes his other hand, and Mordred pats his knee comfortingly:

“That one was a few years ago, courtesy of Morgause again. She put something called a Fomorrah in me-”

Percival gasped slightly, harshly whispering “Gods.” under his breath. Arthur spares him a quick glance, making a mental note to question how his knight seems to know so much about sorcery at a later date:

“-so she could try to make me kill Arthur; it sort of... controls you. Makes you only able to focus on whatever instruction you’re given when it’s first put in you. Gaius kept having to cut it out of me, it wouldn’t stop re-growing until we killed the rest of it’s body, and that was with Morgause somewhere out of the city.”

Arthur looked a little outraged, hiding the worry of “I now know that Merlin could kill me without any trouble at all so how the fuck am I alive?”. Apparently he doesn’t hide it well; Merlin gives him a comforting smile and shrugs his shoulders slightly:

“I fought the compulsion pretty well, kept coming up with increasingly complicated assassination plans instead of just... stabbing you in your sleep or something.”

Arthur goes to respond, but he’s interrupted by Leon loudly cursing, his eyes wide as he stares at Merlin with flushed cheeks:

“I just... gave you a crossbow!! You said you were going to kill Arthur and I thought you were joking and I let you walk out the armoury with a crossbow and a handful of bolts!!”

Merlin chuckles, a blush of his own rising as he responds, rubbing the back of his neck again:

“Yeah... I don’t really remember it, but Gaius and Gwen filled me in on what had happened. To be fair, it’s kind of flattering that you never considered that I was the assassin, despite the repeated attempts being made on Arthur’s life and the fact that I admitted it to your face.”

Leon stares at the floor with wide eyes, seemingly trying to process the fact that he had pointed a would be assassin in the right direction, muttering something along the lines of “oh my Gods oh my Gods oh my Gods” over and over until Elyan awkwardly patted him on the back, breaking him from his embarrassed horror.

Arthur clears his throat, staring at Merlin with an almost unreadable expression:

“I did wonder why the attempts just... stopped?”

Merlin understands the question in his tone and nods slightly before replying:

“Hmm. Gaius and Gwen figured out it was me, found a way to paralyse the thing in my neck until I managed to get back to Morgause’s little lair and kill the main body.”

Arthur nods distractedly. How many times had this happened? “This” being something entirely ridiculous and/or incredibly dangerous right under his nose.

Percival clears his throat and Merlin looks to the nervous man, nodding at him to ask whatever it was that was on his mind, despite his growing discomfort:

“There’s... on your back, it looks like a stab wound but... worse. The veins around it are black and it looks painful despite it’s obvious age and... well... it looks like a Serket Sting, but it... it can’t be, right?”

Merlin tenses, back to looking as exhausted and scared and as ready to bolt as he had at the beginning of the conversation. Lancelot squeezes his hand again, tightly this time, and Mordred takes his other to stop him from clenching it too harshly, murmuring:

“You don’t have to, Merlin, not this one.”

Arthur clenches his jaw at the knowledge that two of his knights had known about this. Had known the collage of agony on Merlin’s body, had known what he’d been through and done nothing. Hadn’t prevented it, hadn’t brought it to Arthur, hadn’t protected him. But equally, with how protective and loyal and secretive Merlin is, and how heartbroken the two of them had looked when Merlin first took his tunic off, they likely hadn’t known the full extent of damage.

Merlin just sighs and shakes his head, sensing the curious stares of the others before rising to his knees and turning around, running a shaking hand over the scar briefly before dropping his hand to his side again. The others stare, astounded. They’d only caught brief glimpses of it before, but now they could see it properly it was undoubtedly a Serket Sting. 

The deep puncture mark on his lower back had closed up, but the skin was still sunken in slightly, red and angry looking with hints of purple towards the middle. Percival was right: dark veins, as if permanently poisoned, stretched out from the centre of the wound, dipping below the waistband of his trousers and fading about halfway up his back. 

After a few moments, Merlin turns around again and sits back down, placing his still shaking hand back in Lance’s lap without prompting. Arthur’s one-word question is whispered and cracked, and no one judges him for the tears in his eyes; most of them have tears of their own gathering and falling at their friend’s pain:

“How?”

Merlin gulps, not looking up as he leans slightly into Mordred’s shoulder. The young knight presses back, knowing how fond the servant is of warm pressure, not minding the sticky sweatiness of their still uncovered torsos in the noon heat:

“Morgause again. She got annoyed with me always ruining her plans, getting in the way. Left me chained up in the middle of a nest of... in the middle of a nest.”

Leon takes a deep breath, rubbing his eyes harshly and sniffing before asking, his voice strong despite the slight waver:

“How did you survive that? I’ve... I’ve seen men get stung by serkets and it’s not... nice.”

Merlin breathes shakily, his mouth open slightly as he stares at the floor, memories flashing through his mind and the scar on his back twinging uncomfortably. Again, Percival was right, despite it’s age, it did still hurt. He takes one last deep breath, clenching his eyes shut tightly before looking up at the curly-haired knight, not quite making eye-contact:

“I uh... a lot of screaming, and the help of an... old friend. I was out of Camelot for a few days whilst I recovered, my friend didn’t fancy being executed for helping me, for just existing.”

Arthur furrows his brows but the others, bar Leon, nod in understanding, looking only slightly guilty and not looking to The King as he asks:

“What do you mean? If someone has found a way to cure a Serket sting then they most definitely wouldn’t be executed for it.”

Elyan snorts and Mordred and Lancelot frown at the floor as Merlin stares at Arthur with poorly concealed contempt:

“Arthur... the cure for a Serket sting has been around for centuries, it just involves very strong, very complicated magic. I didn’t fancy dying in absolute agony, and my friend didn’t fancy being executed for the act of saving my life so we stayed away from the city whilst he treated me.”

Arthur looks at his servant, dumbfounded and confused, and the knights stay silent in their awkwardness. Leon, a lifelong citizen of Camelot, is the only other person to look surprised at Merlin’s explanation, though he nods after a few moments, conceding that it... makes sense. Of course it does.

Mordred frowns when he notices Merlin’s knee begin to bounce up and down slightly, but it’s the way he gulps and tightens his grip on Lance’s hand that has the two knights begin to properly worry. They share a quick look, obviously agreeing on something, before Mordred takes Merlin’s other hand and settles a soft touch on his vibrating knee whilst Lancelot looks to Arthur:

“I think we’re done for the day. This has been... a lot.”

Merlin is getting paler by the second and Mordred can sense the man’s distress, shooting Lance a desperate look before subtly trying to shuffle closer to Merlin, who leans even further into his touch. Arthur doesn’t seem to notice, looking annoyed at Lancelot’s assertion and rolling his eyes before moving his gaze back to Merlin’s quivering form:

“No, Merlin’s suffered and I need to know why. There are mace wounds on both your shoulders, I remember one, but not the-”

Arthur is interrupted by a low whine from the back of Merlin’s throat as he thumps his head back against the tree, eyes still shut tightly. His words out come quietly and broken, as if it were a struggle to breathe, let alone speak:

“Can we please stop now?”

Mordred ignores Arthur, moving to kneel in front of the servant whilst Lancelot glares at The King. Arthur just huffs slightly, though he obviously completely underestimates the distress his friend is in, looking concerned, but not letting up:

“Merlin, we’ve barely gone through a third of them, we can’t stop-”

Lancelot lets out a low growl, letting go of Merlin’s hand and moving towards Arthur, glaring as he says:

“Arthur, we need to stop. Now.”

The young King looks taken aback, though the argument is stopped in his throat when Mordred’s quiet voice interrupts him:

“Merlin, you need to breathe.-”

He peers around the young knight as best he can, but Lance’s still vicious glare stops him from moving too close. Mordred brings one of Merlin’s hands up, pressing it against his chest and continuing his soft instructions:

“-Copy my breathing, alright? Can you tell me where you are right now, Merlin?”

The knights all stare on in horror at Merlin’s pale skin and ragged breathing, staying still in their places when Lancelot gestures at them firmly. It’s Merlin’s next word, cracked and whispered, that trigger another round of tears to gather in their eyes:

“C...cave.”

Mordred shakes his head slowly and Lancelot curses under his breath, kneeling back next to Mordred and retaking Merlin’s other hand, holding it between his own securely. Mordred’s soft voice floats in the wind, and if the knights weren’t so distracted by their friend’s pain, they would think it sounds almost magical:

“No, you’re safe, Merlin. Think, listen, feel. Can you try to tell me where you are again?

Merlin shakes his head roughly, his still-shut eyes not stopping the tears from squeezing out as he flinches, strikes of lightening-like agony shooting out from the scar on his lower back. Lance worries his lip between his teeth, rubbing one of his hands up and down Merlin’s shivering arm; a nod from Mordred has Lance speak, his words soft and low despite the waver in his voice:

“Merlin, you know where you are, and me and Mordred are right here with you. You need to open your eyes buddy, tell us where we are.”

Merlin’s breathing instantly seems to calm a little at Lancelot’s voice, and he cracks his bloodshot eyes open, immediately sighing when his blurry gaze lands on the canopy above him, whispering:

“Tree... sky... Camelot.”

The others can see Mordred let out a relieved sigh, and they force themselves to relax slightly. Merlin’s body sags again and Lance frowns, but the young servant’s stuttering words as he stares blankly up into the tree interrupt any reassurance he could have offered:

“Please, I can’t... I don’t... please don’t make me-”

Lance stills his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, not even paying the slightest bit of attention to anyone else as he replies:

“No one’s going to make you, Merlin, we can carry on another day-”

Arthur’s interrupted “But-” is quickly shut down when Lance turns around to glare at him, a sharp “-I said we’re done for the day.” sent his way.

Merlin flinches again, the pain in his back getting worse and worse and making it harder to keep a grasp on reality, so damning the consequences, Mordred presses a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes and he mouths the words to a sleeping spell as quietly as he can. Thankfully, everyone’s attention is on the glaring contest between Lancelot and The King, so no one immediately notices the way Merlin falls forwards into Mordred’s arms, not until he nudges Lance in the leg and mutters:

“He passed out. We should get him to Gaius, he needs proper rest and pain medication.”

Lancelot nods his head firmly, back to ignoring Arthur and the others as he moves to Merlin’s side, pulling his arm over his shoulder as Mordred does the same on the servant’s other side. Mordred’s eyes scan over the knights, searching for whoever looks the most likely to help without question; his gaze stills on a terribly worried looking Gwaine:

“Gwaine, run ahead to warn Gaius, tell him that Merlin had a really bad episode and then passed out.”

Gwaine gulps but nods, gathering his tunic in quick hands and putting it on haphazardly as he sprints back to the castle. Mordred and Lancelot adjust their grips, standing and bringing Merlin up with them as they turn in the direction Gwaine had ran and begin the careful journey back to the citadel. The knights follow behind them closely, hastily dressing themselves and desperate to ask questions, but knowing that now was not the time. Elyan jogs ahead of them to open doors and clear a path, and Percival had grabbed Merlin, Lancelot, and Mordred’s tunics as Leon put all of the swords away before catching up.

Thankfully they don’t come across many people, though Lance and Mordred still do their best to conceal Merlin between them, knowing that he would be distraught if anyone else saw his scars. They make good time to Gaius’ chambers, and they find the Physician preparing a few strong pain potions and sleeping draughts as Gwaine paced.

Gaius looks incredibly worried, but unsurprised, and Lance and Mordred carry Merlin up to his room without prompting; the sick feeling in Arthur’s stomach tells him that they’re practiced at this. The King goes to follow them, but they kick the door shut behind them so they can have at least a little privacy whilst they settle their friend in his bed. They leave the covers off, knowing that he’d just overheat or kick them off in the nightmares that they know are coming. Lance nods knowingly at Mordred, and the younger of the two moves swiftly back into the main room, shutting the door behind him again softly, avoiding eye contact with anyone bar Gaius, even as Percival hands him his tunic.

The elderly Physician raises an eyebrow, and Mordred answers the wordless question quietly, though not quiet enough for the other knights to not hear him:

“Not yet, but soon, he’ll definitely need a sleeping draught to get him through it. It was his back, so he’ll need the strongest pain one you’ve got.”

Gaius nods, picking up two of the many concoctions he had prepared, not reacting to Arthur’s desperate questions, leaving the conversation to Mordred:

“What are you talking about? Get through what??”

Mordred sighs and frowns slightly, unable to get over all of his anger at the King for pushing Merlin so far:

“The nightmares. He always gets them, especially after an episode that bad.”

Arthur recoils, just a little horrified, but Gwaine beats him to the mark, asking in a shaking voice:

“Episode??”

Mordred moves his gaze to the worried knight, a little more sympathetic to the man he knew was more loyal to Merlin than he was to The King:

“Flashbacks, panic attacks. Merlin has been through... a lot. Chronic pain or difficult conversations sometimes trigger a sort of... breakdown, he struggles to differentiate between memories and reality. Normally he can just wait it out with a little help. When it’s really bad we put him to sleep, it’s the only way to stop him from hurting himself accidentally.”

Everyone looks horrified at that, their focus on Mordred rather than Gaius, who was stealthily ascending the steps to Merlin’s room, potions in hand. Arthur is the first to break the tense silence:

“How long? How long as he been getting these episodes, and why the hell did no one think to tell me?!”

Mordred moves his harsh gaze back to The angry King, glaring at him when his voice rose:

“With all due respect, My Lord, lower your voice. Merlin needs rest, he needs to not be disturbed.”

Arthur looks annoyed, though still heartbroken, but nods slightly, almost whispering as he responds:

“You didn’t answer my questions. How long, and why wasn’t I told?”

Mordred sighs, looking to the floor briefly as he crosses his arms over his chest . After a few moments of considering his answer, he finally looks up again, suddenly appearing exhausted and resigned as he replies softly:

“I don’t really know. He didn’t tell us, we just... found out. It took us a while to convince him to explain it properly and let us help. He didn’t want anyone worrying or treating him like glass; it doesn’t happen very often at all, and this is... this is the worst one I’ve ever seen.”

Arthur frowns and shakes his head slightly, but it’s Leon that speaks next:

“Why not tell us, at least? What if something had happened and you weren’t with us? We wouldn’t have known what was wrong.”

Mordred takes a deep breath and shrugs, nodding slightly, obviously aware that he couldn’t tell them about his and Merlin’s mental link:

“We tried telling him that, but he wouldn’t have it. We were maybe one more conversation away from convincing him to tell Gwaine or Guinevere, but I guess that’s not necessary anymore.”

Arthur pushes down the twinge of jealousy that Merlin had never even considered telling him, but it obviously shows on his face; Mordred scowls slightly, clenching his hands to try and cover his annoyance. Before either men can say anything, Lancelot comes back down from Merlin’s room, leaving Gaius with the young servant:

“It’s starting, Mordred we need to go, everyone else, out.”

Percival throws Lance’s tunic to him as the knights move to the door, albeit reluctantly, but Arthur doesn’t move, glaring down at Mordred angrily when the younger man stops him from going into Merlin’s room:

“He’s my manservant, I want to be there when he wakes up.”

Mordred narrows his eyes, and Arthur kicks himself for never realising how much Merlin meant to him before now, but before the knight can say anything, Lancelot steps up next to him, answering in his stead:

“No, me and Mordred will be there, that’s all he needs. You need to go, My Lord.”

Arthur gears up to argue, to pull rank, squaring his shoulders and snarling slightly, but an angry Lancelot is something he’s never seen and never had to deal with before, so he’s far too surprised to say anything when the knight interrupts his posturing:

“I said no, Arthur. He has to pretend in front of you. You’ve already done this to him,-”

He gestures angrily to the door to Merlin’s room:

“-he needs to not tense up and stress out immediately upon waking up.”

Arthur steps back slightly, but clears his throat, pushing through the slight heartbreak and guilt to argue:

“Oh, and he doesn’t have to pretend in front of you two?”

Mordred rolls his eyes, giving Lancelot a pointed look before stalking up to Merlin’s room, leaving the older knight to deal with the angry King. Lance clenches his jaw and lets out a harsh breath, looking away briefly, as if trying to stop himself from saying anything cruel, before giving up and glaring back at Arthur:

“No. He doesn’t. Because we, and Gaius, are the only people who actually know the first thing about Merlin, and he trusts us. He needs space, and time to heal, and comfort, not the demanding presence of a King whose already pushed him too far, who treats him like shit and forces him to think he has to hide who he is. For God’s sake, Arthur, can you please, for once, think of anyone but yourself.”

Arthur widens his eyes, and though Lancelot looks a little like he regrets what he said, he doesn’t back down, nodding to the door behind Arthur and not moving away until The King steps back again. Arthur takes a deep breath, turning to exit the Physician’s chambers before the knight could see the guilt on his face and the tears in his eyes. He leaves without looking back, ignoring the gaggle of knights waiting worriedly in the hall and stalking straight to his chambers, only just managing to shut the door behind him before the tears finally started falling.

Back in Merlin’s room, the servant thrashes in his sleep, whimpering despite Mordred’s comforting whispers in his head, Gaius’ hand in his hair, and Lancelot’s soft lap as a pillow. 

This... was going to be a tough one.

~

The End of part 1!!!

This was legit supposed to only be one part buuuuuuut we can all see how that went. Part two will follow on really quickly, but it was getting far too long to leave all as one 😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it, link to part 2(the final part) at the top!! :)

[minty-malfoy]

“would you still love me if I turned into a worm?” | blurbs

🌱 pairings: reader x blaise zabini, cedric diggory, draco malfoy, fred weasley, george weasley, harry potter, hermione granger, luna lovegood, neville longbottom (sorted in alphabetical order)

🌱 warning tags: language, probably

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Blaise Zabini

“A what, now?” your boyfriend asks, halting the movements of his quill to look up at you; brows furrowed as if it’s the most absurd thing he has ever heard in his entire life.

“You know, those wiggly things that—”

“I know what worms are, (y/n). But what the hell?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “I’m bored.”

“So you thought about what it’d be like to turn into a worm?” his eyes narrow out of pure bewilderment, blinking once, twice, as he finally turns back to his unfinished essay. “Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that head of yours.”

“Not my fault you’re taking so long with that assignment,” you grumble as you begin to shift on the puffy couch, feeling somewhat annoyed by how cold and empty it is without the other boy in it. “And besides, you love me.”

An amused chuckle escapes his lips. “Can’t say that I don’t.”

“Even as a worm?”

“Will you stop asking if I said yes?”

You nod happily, giving him the answer he needs— or well, wants, really. Even though Blaise couldn’t quite understand the pointless question, he knows it’s significant to an extent.

“Yeah, alright. I would. Now give me five minutes and we can get out of here. Deal?”

A glint of satisfaction flashes through your eyes as you give him a hum in return, thinking to yourself that maybe the silly questions could be more useful than you thought.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cedric Diggory

The moment the words leave your mouth, Cedric's first reaction is to laugh. He didn't mean for it to come out in a condescending way. He hadn't even meant to laugh, to begin with. But judging by the way you pout with both arms crossed, that might just have been how it came accross.

"I'm sorry," he offers sheepishly. "you were saying?"

"You heard me. I said what I've said," you grumble, despite not being genuinely upset at the hufflepuff boy you've grown to love.

"Wait, I need to get this straight," he takes another breath of air. "You're serious?"

"What do you think?" you pout once again, turning away slightly from your boyfriend. This only seems to ignite his amusement as much as it does his guilt. A second or two later, his arm finds its way around your shoulder, the other brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

"You really haven't figured it out yet?" he asks with a genuine grin on his face. You begin to eye him curiously, appreciating the charm of his pearly white teeth as you wait for the boy to go on. Soon, he pulls you into his lap where his arms craddle you lovingly.

"Sunshine," he begins. "I'm surprised you still have to ask. But if that's one way of putting my love for you, then yes. You'd be my favorite worm in the entire world."

"Promise?" you present your pinkie finger as a final means to seal the deal.

With one last chuckle, he wraps his fingers around yours. "Promise."

Everything that happens next is a flurry of innocent pecks and kisses planted along your skin, coupled with the security of two warm arms holding you in place.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Draco Malfoy

"And what exactly do you expect me to say to that?" comes his first response after a long moment of trying to figure out just how in Merlin's name your mind came up with that question.

You, on the other hand, can't help but giggle at the slytherin boy's confusion. "Whatever's on your mind right now will do."

"Well, to be honest with you, I can't quite stomach the idea of my own girlfriend turning into a bloody worm." he nearly spits the words out, softening his edge only when your eyes meet once again. "If you were expecting a different answer, I suggest moving on to the next bloke."

Draco wasn't lying about that first bit. Worms have always been an insignificant, unseen creature in his world; wiggling in the muckiest of places where they could easily be stepped on. Hence, he doesn't like to imagine you—someone so perfectly ethereal and quintessential in every single way; the only source of light shining into his pathetic excuse of a life—to be compared to a dirty worm, of all things.

"That doesn't mean I don't love you, though," he adds in a bit of a guilty tone; voice much, much softer this time. He brings your hand to his lips, dropping a few kisses on its skin. "I just much prefer having you as you already are."

You snuggle deeper into him, indicating that you already know exactly what he means.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fred Weasley

“A worm!” Fred exclaims, nearly forgetting the food on his plate altogether. "What a brilliant idea!"

A few seats away, you can already see Ginny clamping her mouth shut as to not burst into fireworks of laughter. You mirror her gesture, eyes now on Fred once again, watching him announce this idea of yours to your entire group of friends.

Ron, who's not that thrilled to see his brother's public displays of affection, lets out a groan. "Wouldn't have asked him that if I were you."

"You think so?" comes your reply. "He seems to be having a lot of fun with this." you both glance at Fred, who is indeed already coming up with some sort of thrilling plot.

"Did you hear that, George?"

"Sure did, Fred."

"I reckon we could come up with a potion for that," he muses, turning back to look at you. "Give me a week or two and we can start living out that worm dream of yours, love."

"Wait, Freddie, you're getting it all wrong," you begin explaining, tugging on the boy's sleeve slightly to keep his attention on you, "It was just a silly little question. I don't actually plan on turning into a worm or anything like that."

At this point, you half expect his enthusiasm to die down from the grounding effect of your words. In reality, it doesn't.

"S'that so?" he replies, earning a nod from you. "Looks like you're missing the bigger picture to me, (y/n). Isn't that right, George?"

"Right you are, Fred." the said boy affirms. "Sorry, (y/n). I'm with him on this one."

With a sigh, you turn back to Ron, who's busily stuffing his mouth with a look on his face that says I told you so. You shake your head with a small smile at your boyfriend's shenanigans. You're not sure how you can both dread and anticipate the day of his worm adventures.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

George Weasley

"That's a new one," he asserts with an amused laugh. The boy rests his head against one of his palms, feeling instantly intrigued by your proposition. "Now tell me more about this worm business of yours."

"That's about it, actually." you admit sadly.

George frowns at this, wishing he could hear more worm stories and whatnot. Mostly he's just happy to see the way you talk about things passionately. Makes him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside in a way he can't ever get enough of.

"That's quite alright. I'll do the talking, then." he offers, rubbing his chin to think of what to say next. You light up in your seat, eyes wide in anticipation. Now it's your turn to eagerly wait for his response once again.

"I've got an idea. We could run off and start a new life— as worms!" he beams all of a sudden. You raise a brow for him to go on, not exactly complaining about your boyfriend's excitement towards the topic. "I'm only turning into a worm to make sure I can properly take care of you, of course. Wouldn't want to—er—squash you between my big human fingers, now do we?"

You both erupt into a chorus of laughter at the conjectured image, melting into one another like two fitting puzzle pieces. When you finally catch your breath again, you pose the main question once more, "So I'm concluding you're still going to love me, then?"

"Love you?" he repeats. "Oh darling, I'll be marrying you in a grand worm wedding!"

You can't hold back the gasp that escapes your lips, more than thrilled to have the first mention of marriage between you. Not too long after, you transform into a complete fit of giggles when George continues. "Then we'll happily live our worm lives, 'till death do us apart. Or when, you know, some bloke accidentally steps on us. Whichever comes first."

You lean into him lovingly to steady yourself after all the laughing. Taking a deep breath in, you mumble a soft, "You always know how to make me laugh, Georgie."

And the truth is, he wouldn't have it any other way. Worms or not.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hermione Granger

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand the point of this question."

"Which part, exactly?" you inquire, watching your girlfriend pull out another book from the wooden library shelves.

A few seconds pass before you get your answer. "You're not a worm," she states simply, eyeing you up and down as if to prove her point.

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out, 'Mione," you follow her to the next section. "Which is why I said if I turned into a worm."

The girl looks at you again, analyzing your words and expression briefly before coming to another conclusion. "I still don't understand." she pauses to think. "Unless you might be interested in becoming an Animagus? Even then, opting for a worm wouldn't be very... effective."

You roll your eyes, speeding up to block the girl's way. She lets out a non-committal "Hey!", only for you to quickly muffle it with a warm kiss. A moment or two later, you pull away with a smirk that makes her heart melt. "Just answer the question, would you?"

Still slightly caught off guard from the contact, Hermione finally caves in. "Alright, you cheeky flirt. I love you. Even as a notional worm."

Satisfied with her answer, you plant another peck— this time on her cheek, before announcing a gentle "I love you, too."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Harry Potter

The way his lips purse into a straight line tells you that Harry doesn't exactly understand the question. Not really, at first. Aside from being an entirely foreign concept to his ears, it also seems like an odd thing to ask someone, unless— "Oh! You're an Animagus!"

The smile on your face instantly drops at this. "What? No—"

"Why didn't you just say so, (y/n)?" he begins what—at the time—you don't know is going to be a nearly endless ramble. "I was planning on telling you this for a while now, but I know someone who's an Animagus, actually. In fact, I think you two would get along fantastically!" he lights up at the sudden idea, flailing his arms in the air out of excitement. "Yes, maybe I can try getting the both of you to meet up. No promises, of course, but what do you think?"

"I think you've got it all wrong," you frown; knowing you would have to disappoint your boyfriend and how you're not very fond of the idea.

"What do you mean?" he asks, albeit barely giving you a second to reply. "(y/n), it's alright, really. You know you don't have to hide yourself from me. Besides, I think it's brilliant!— what you can do, I mean."

The smile he gives you is the epitome of love itself, and now you're not quite sure how to handle the messy situation without pulling out the rug underneath Harry's feet. All you can do is squeeze his shoulder with a guilty smile, promising to talk about it again after dinner.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Luna Lovegood

"Of course. Worms are lovely, don't you think?" she says with a dreamy smile. You gape at how easily the answer could be pried from your girlfriend; no questions asked. But then again, it's not like you hadn't expected this exact outcome already.

"Really?"

"Mhm," comes her gentle hum as she begins to stir her honeyed chamomile tea. A soft smile stays glued on her features, as if she's enjoying the conversation. "What kind of worm would you like to be, (y/n)?"

"I haven't really thought about it that far," You admit. "Are you sure, though? We won't be able to hold hands or anything like that."

You can't tell if you had just imagined the almost-frown tugging on her lips, because when she looks back up at you again, her sweet signature Luna smile is back in its place. "I suppose you're right. But I could carry you around everywhere with me. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

"It would be," you nod. "but can a worm even fit into that pocket of yours?" you question, noticing how hers are stuffed with unknown items; blades of grass sticking out ever so slightly. Flowers, perhaps.

"Oh, there's nothing to worry about. See?" she pulls out a couple of daisies and fairy foxgloves to reveal a now empty pocket. "Now, would you like some tea?"

You eagerly join her on the table, snuggling against your girlfriend ever so slightly as you both begin to talk about your day. The entire worm ordeal is slowly slipping out of your mind already.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Neville Longbottom

Neville stops in his tracks at your question, taking a moment to toss the idea back and forth in his mind before he can give you a proper answer. You nearly giggle when his face scrunches up, brows knit and lips parted as he innocently asks, “But why would you turn into a worm?”

"Neville, love, no. It's a hypothetical question."

His entire body relaxes at this, releasing what you assume is a breath of relief. "Oh. I thought you were being serious for a moment there."

You shake your head with a giggle, taking a step closer to adjust the scarf around your boyfriend's neck. "I'm just curious is all. Would you still love me, then?" you ponder.

"Yes! Of course!" comes his instant reply, hands balled up into fists that match the determination on his face. "I would get you a nice worm house with all your favorite flowers in it," he bends one of his gloved finger inwards, beginning to keep count of this hypothetical to-do list. "Would you still be able to have human food? Well, either way, I promise to feed you every single day!"

He pauses, only for a second or two. "Oh! And I'll sing you worm songs! Or maybe we can sing them together? I don't know if you would still be able to talk as a worm though."

You swiftly pull him into an affectionate hug, effectively bringing his rambling—as well as the entire worm topic—to an end. His hands sheepishly find their home around your waist, where he places them softly as if it's his first time hugging you. After all the months of being together, it certainly isn't.

"What was that for?" he dares himself to ask, avoiding your eye contact shyly.

"For being the most loving and adorable boyfriend I could ever ask for," you lean in to plant a soft, gentle kiss on his cheek. You don't miss the way he pulls up his scarf to hide the blossoming blush afterwards.

I have no idea why I wrote this either lol <3

🌷 draco taglist: @arossebyanyothername @kawaii-angelanne @thefandomplace @yuosmi @bbeauttyybbx @mywellspringoflife @slytherinsunrise @avatarbeeb @scarlet-says-hi @lunars @coldlilheart @beiahadid @justmimithings @soundsquid27 @youknowiloveyou-so @n3ssm0nique @ochrythum @explxsion @yaanasluv @autumnpleaves @booksmione @drxcomvlfx @the–queen-of-hell @aspiringsloth20 @runninglownad @snitches-at-dawn @badfvith

🌷 harry taglist: @teheharrypotter @badfvith

[simping-hours-are-24-7]

Last Night, Good Night, Dear Husband Mine

[Spoilers for CH 20]

[Scene: It’s been a few hours into the farewell party when MC realizes there is a missing brother. Taking care not to be noticed, they slip from the attic and instead wander the hall, hoping to find Lucifer soon. Then, from the secret study within the library, the faint sound of music floats by. They hesitate at the door, not sure if they should go in or go back to the attic.]

Lucifer: Instead of lurking outside, why don’t you come in?

MC: Ah! You caught me! 

Lucifer: Well, it wasn’t particularly hard not to, you weren’t being subtle in the slightest. Come, sit. It sounds like there is quite a party in the attic. And with everyone busy up there, I can stay here and enjoy my music in peace for once. 

MC: *sits down and tilts their head in thought* What is it you're listening to? It sounds familiar.

Lucifer: I’m not surprised you recognized it. It’s nice, don’t you think? It’s the cursed The Tale of the Seven Lords vinyl soundtrack, which you managed to get from Levi for me.

MC: Isn’t it the type of curse that says that you’ll die if you listen to it?

Lucifer: That’s right. I see you haven’t forgotten the story behind it. Still, while it is true that all the humans involved with its creation died under mysterious circumstances, it was nothing but a mere coincidence. And even if it was a cursed record, look who you are sitting with right now. You’re here chatting with one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. So you don’t have anything to worry about, now do you. Simply put, it means that you can stay here with me a bit longer and welcome to stay and listen.

MC: Thanks Lucifer, I appreciate it.

Lucifer: …

MC: …

Lucifer: It was in this very room that I chose you for the exchange program. When you first arrived, I only welcomed you here for Lord Diavolo’s sake. I thought as long as you managed to survive a year here in the Devildom without any incidents, that was the best I could ask for. Even when things didn’t go as planned, as long as you weren’t eaten by lower-leveled demons, everything would be all right. At least, that’s what I thought...

Lucifer: *sighs* But somehow I managed to choose a troublemaker of a human that almost defies all belief, wouldn’t you say? There were many times when I have thought that I made a mistake choosing you.

MC: *with a small frown* That’s a little bit rude. And now? Was it a mistake?

Lucifer: *smirks* What do you think? I believe that you know the answer by now. In the end, you were the right choice for this program. You and your antics have kept me quite entertained over the past year. In fact, it was probably the most entertained I’ve been in centuries. 

MC: *smiles* I’m glad that I’ve kept you entertained. It seems like you needed it. 

Lucifer: Perhaps. So then, MC, have you finished all that you set to do here in the Devildom? No loose ends or unfinished business? 

MC: You know, I’ve still haven’t made a pact with you yet.

Lucifer: A pact? I see. You have made pacts with all my brothers. Truly, do you wish to make a pact with me? I don’t know how my brothers felt when they went about making a pact with you, but I am more than just another name to be crossed off your list. I will not have you lump me in together with everyone else. That won’t do. 

[Lucifer rises out of his seat quickly, easily transforming into his demonic form. MC, in response, also shoots up into a stand and stands their ground, easily staring back into Lucifer’s ruby red eyes.]

Lucifer: Ho? Not going to run, are you? You certainly have guts. That aspect of yours is something that I’ve found particularly irritating. But just as irritating it is, it’s even more endearing. Now listen here, and listen well human. *He leans forward and stares into MC’s eyes with a stern gaze* I will not your possession. I will not belong to you, you will belong to me. So, what will it be? Will you make a pact with me, MC?

MC: *steps forward and takes Lucifer’s hands into theirs* Of course, I’ll make a pact with you Lucifer. 

Lucifer: *a surprisingly gentle smile rests on his face as he kisses the top of MC’s hands* I am Lucifer, Avatar and Lord of Pride, the Oldest of the Seven Sins. By this name and blood shall our souls lay bound together. From now until the end of time, MC, you are mine.

[A flood of Infernal magic buried itself into MC’s soul, another claim inscribed deep. As he feels his magic lay claim to MC, Lucifer smirks, pulls away, and sits back down in his chair, his demon form once again hidden.]

Lucifer: Now then, I assume that takes care of everything then?

MC: *smirks in return and leans down towards Lucifer, both arms resting on the armrest of his chair essentially trapping him in his seat. And when Lucifer leans back slightly, their smirk grows* There is still something I have to do, Lucifer dearest.

Lucifer: *a small blush lights up his cheeks as his eyes widen slightly at the closeness* Oh? Is there?

MC: There is. *they lean forwards slowly as if waiting to see Lucifer’s reaction before properly leaning in to kiss him*

Lucifer: *he melts into the kiss before pulling away slightly* MC… I’ve always known that you wanted to do this. I wonder how long you have waited.

MC: *laughs softly* That’s something I’ll never tell Lucifer. Or should I say husband dearest?

Lucifer: Husband, huh? I suppose that makes you my spouse as well. And I believe you know what married couples do on their wedding nights? 

MC: *they smile and shift their weight onto one hand, the other gently running up his arm up towards his shoulder.* Luci, I believe that you have it wrong. I don’t belong to you. This pact is of us two at an equal standing. 

MC: *their fingers skim the little skin showing on Lucifer’s neck before grabbing hold of his tie and pulling him closer* So listen well, husband mine. I am more than happy to “consummate” our marriage. But remember that you don’t own me. I have long known of your desire for me and we won’t be leaving this room until morning. Is that alright with you dearest?

Lucifer: *smiles softly as he pulls them in for another kiss* I wouldn’t have it any other way love.

[My Vow to You Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]

[AN: So that's all seven brothers and completed at last ^u^. but if y'all want me to continue with this series with the now dateables, let me know and I'll see what I can do!]

[stillebesat]

Code: Blanket (part 2)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Remus, Virgil, Janus, Patton Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Prompt: “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” with Anxceit? (platonic is 100% good for me) Blurb: A friendship doesn’t stop just because one person decides to act like a dick. Especially when said dick is obviously in trouble. Overall Fic Warnings: Homophobia talk, Neglectful/Abusive Parents implication, Capitol Riot references, Injuries Taglist in Reblog

Part 1

“Your son is sneaking out.”

If the weight of his husband settling on top of him in the bed hadn’t been enough to fully wake Logan from sleep, the gleeful tone of Remus’s voice in his ear and the words he spoke were certainly enough to do so.

He tilted his head to the side, squinting up at his husband’s shadowy figure looming over him, ignoring how his heart had jumped into his throat, leaving an aching cavity in his chest. “If our son is sneaking out after dark, Sir Night Owl.” He said, working to sound calmer than he actually felt. “Then that’s obviously your influence at work and your problem.”

Remus gave a low chuckle, kissing his cheek. “Lion Kinging me, Messire Early Bird? Fair enough. I accept.” He shifted to roll off the bed, only to pause as Logan grabbed his hand.

“Virgil’s never snuck out before.” He whispered, flinching as he heard the front door close. Why would his son feel the need to do--sure teenagers were known to be rebellious, but he’d been clear that Virgil could talk to him about anything, anytime. To have him just suddenly leave without a word to them, without any indication that anything was wrong--

Remus squeezed his hand. “I heard him say ‘The offer still stands, D.’ as he walked by our door, sooo~ secret relationship?”

Logan pushed up onto one elbow, breath catching. “You heard him say Dee?” He demanded. “You’re certain?” He hadn’t known the two were still in communication. The end of their lifelong friendship last year had been...volatile. Virgil had been miserable for months afterwards.

“Yes?” His husband tilted his head. “You know them?”

Logan nodded, rolling over so he could grab his glasses from the night stand. “So do you. It’s Janus. Son of the Daemons.”

Remus stiffened, hissing like a broken teapot. “What offer could Virgiepoo possibly make to that horrible family of--”

“They were childhood friends.” Logan interrupted his husband before he went off on yet another long winded swearing spree about the Daemons. “Janus didn’t always approve of his parents...antics.”

Remus snorted, pulling Logan to his feet. “Antics? Those Ultra Christian Karens on Manbaby Cheeto Horse Steroids nearly cost both of us our jobs because they couldn’t stand the thought of their son knowing two gay men.”

Logan smirked, shrugging on a robe, placing his phone in the pocket just in case Virgil called. “And how did that turn out? With them facing the best lawyer in the country?”

Remus leaned in for a kiss. “Not good.” He breathed against his lips.

“Exactly.”

“Soo…” Still clad in only his boxers, Remus entwined his fingers in Logan’s, pulling him out of their bedroom towards the front door. “Son of our Enemy. Virgil sneaking out in the middle of the night to see him. What exactly is this offer that he’s offering to the Villains who aimed to destroy our happily ever after?”

An offer that Logan had believed had been firmly taken off the table over a year ago. “Simply put. Sanctuary.”

Which begged the question. What had happened in the Daemon household to convince Virgil to offer their home, after everything the two families had gone through, to their son once more?

“Sanctuary.” Remus repeated like it was a foreign word. “To one of their spawn? Are you serious?”

Knowing how much of a giving and forgiving heart his son had? Logan pulled open the front door, unsurprised to see the two teens standing frozen on the porch.

He had good timing like that.

“Boys.” Logan greeted, attention drawn immediately to Janus as he tried to hide behind his son only to be stopped by Virgil’s tight grip on his arm.

Janus swallowed, a tremor visibly going through him as met Logan’s eyes. “Mr. L.” He whispered, the porchlight throwing his face, and therefore, the stark purple bruise and cuts by his eye into sharp relief.

Sanctuary. He could now totally understand why Virgil had chosen to reach out.

The crumpled state of the boy’s clothes, the mask -an unusual accessory for the known anti-masker, anti-vaxxer family- the greasy hair, all of the obvious signs of neglect, Logan mentally catalogued as he immediately reached out, drawing the boy closer to him. “Janus.” He breathed, hating how the boy flinched at his movement, how he trembled under his touch even as he leaned into Logan’s hand as he cupped the boy’s uninjured cheek. “What happened?”

“Well, I hope what’s happening is that we’re kidnapping the demon spawn for ranso--” Remus cut off, inhaling sharply as he too caught sight of the facial disfigurement. “Lo, lemme see that.” He demanded, gently pushing him to the side so he could take the boy’s chin into his hands, tilting his head this way and that in the porch light.

Virgil relaxed, even as Janus visibly tensed, trembling under Remus’s scrutiny.

For good reason. The young Daemon had to feel like he was stepping into the Lion’s den by coming here.

“It’s okay, Dee. Remus is a surgeon. The best. You’re in safe hands.” Virgil said softly, keeping a firm grip on his friend’s arm as the boy shifted his feet like he was debating about turning tail and running.

Something he’d never thought Janus would do. The boy took after his parents in being willing to face confrontation head on, no matter the odds.

Something definitely was wrong here.

“What happened?” Logan repeated, unable to hide the concern in his voice.

Janus’s eyes flickered between him and Remus, breath hitching as he opened his mouth. “I--I--”

Remus growled, eyes flashing as he turned to Logan, gesturing wildly with his free hand. “What happened?! He’s lucky the wound isn’t infected, Lo! It’s obvious it’s been untreated. Obvious that he’s been neglected, mistreated, abused!”

Janus flinched at every word. “Yes.” The word ghosted over his lips, barely heard.

Virgil shook his head, eyes burning with quiet fury. “It’s worse.” He slipped his phone out of his pocket, tapping on the screen and flipping it so Logan could see the tweet there. “His parents locked him in their unfinished attic for FOUR months, Dad. And then they left him to go harring off to D.C. to storm the Capitol!”

They…WHAT?!

Logan saw red as Remus swore, his husband pulling Janus into a tight hug, the boy letting out a startled squeak at the action. “I changed my mind, Lo. We’re not kidnapping him, we’re adopting. Surprise, my little rebel. You’re mine now.”

Janus’s eyes went wide, shimmering with unshed tears as he stood stiffly in Remus’s grip, fingers twitching. “Y-yours?” He whispered, in such a small voice that had Logan wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders as well. “I--I--but I’m---I’m--”

There’d been a time he’d considered Janus almost like a second son with how often he and Virgil had hung out at their house as kids. Logan wasn’t at all opposed to rediscovering that sentimeint.

“It doesn’t matter.” He whispered in the boy’s ear. “You have a home here, Janus, for as long as you need one.”

The boy shuddered in their hold, breath hitching as he bowed his head, not quite resting it against Remus’s bare chest. “I--I tried to---I couldn’t get out! I tried everything to bre--to break free and then they just….left me. Their SON. They--” He broke off as Remus pulled him closer, a soft sob escaping as his husband carded his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“It’s okay, Janny-boy.” Remus whispered. “You did what you could with what you had.”

Janus shook his head. “I--i should have---sooner. I couldn’t--I didn’t think they’d actually!! My own parents.”

Virgil pressed in on the group hug, gently freeing the face mask from the boy’s ear. “Dee. You couldn’t have known.”

“I SHOULD have though!” He growled, twisting his head to stare at Virgil, cheeks streaked with tears. “We’ve been friends for years, Annie! I KNOW you and Mr. L. and...and…but when things,” His eyes flickered to Remus and back. “Changed. The pandemic and everything---I didn’t...I sided with them and thought they had to be RIGHT this time, but then things...stuff happened and THEY LOCKED ME UP and treated me like I was A NUT CASE when I--I--” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “They wouldn’t listen to me.”

Logan exhaled, squeezing the boy’s shoulder as he met his husband’s furious eyes. “I’m sorry, Janus.” He said, keeping his tone soft. “Your parents have had their...good...qualities at times,”

Remus snorted, but kept silent as Logan shot him another look.

“And I know...they’ve only tried to protect you from their perceived evils in the world, but Janus.” He shifted his position so he could cradle the boy’s injured cheek. “What they did to you was wrong. So very wrong.” And bound to be worse when the whole story was told. “It’s monstrous that they chose to treat their own flesh and blood in such an abhorrent and inhumane manner just because you disagreed with them and I will not stand for it. You deserve better and you will be treated much better here than you have been there. I promise you that.”

Janus abruptly twisted in Remus’s arms to cling to Logan, resting his head against Logan’s chest, fingers digging into the folds of his robe, his thin body shaking with sobs. “Don’t make me go back.” He whispered.

Logan shook his head, pressing a firm kiss against the boy’s greasy hair. “Never.”

“I won’t let him.” Remus added, a growl in his voice. “I’ve adopted you, Jan. My word is law. No take backsies.”

Janus looked between the three of them, before focusing on Remus, licking his lips. “But. You...don’t know me--”

“You don’t know me either, kiddo. But no worries. We’ll fix all that.” His husband winked as he gathered both Virgil and Janus under each arm, letting Logan take a careful step back. “But FIRST.” He pointed a finger at the boy’s eye. “I’m getting you clean and stitched up while Logie here makes a little call to his Work Wife to figure things out. With luck, and I am rather lucky, there’ll barely be a scar when I’m done.”

Janus stiffened, glancing over his shoulder to Logan. “Work Wife?!”

Virgil chuckled, twisting Janus’s mask in his fingers. “Not an actual wife, Dee. Dad has a fellow lawyer friend.”

“Rival.” Logan corrected.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Rival that he constantly works with, so Rem calls him his work wife since he’s usually either with him or us.”

That wasn’t exactly true. He did go to other places and work with other people that weren’t Patton or his family. It just so happened that Patton ended up involved in a lot of the same sort of cases as him and so collaboration made more sense than going it alone.

Logan pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. “Needless to say. I’ll take care of it, Janus. You can trust me on that.” He smiled to the teen before turning his attention to his son. “Virgil, send me a copy of that tweet as soon as you can. And Remus,” He grimaced as his husband paused, raising an eyebrow. He could see him practically vibrating with the need to stitch the kid up now. “I know you want to treat Janus ASAP, but I need photographic evidence of every single injury and sign of neglect before you do anything.” An unfortunate delay, but he needed the evidence recorded before it vanished. He hit call, placing his phone by his ear. “As soon as you’re done--”

“It’s straight to the shower, JanJan. Or a long hot bubble bath. Either way.” Remus said, ushering the teens towards the door. “We need you to get squeaky clean while Lo here does his thing, and then I can treat those wounds of yours without them getting infected. Okay?”

“I--I---uh...Okay?” Janus asked, sounding half strangled as they vanished inside.

The phone clicked. “Hello?” A sleepy voice asked over the line.

Hopefully Virgil could smooth over any further confusion for Janus until Logan could come back and reign Remus back from going full Mama Bear on the boy. “Hello, Patton.” He said, leaning against the wall, listening as the crickets began chirping again. “It’s Logan.”

“Lo?” He could hear his fellow lawyer and work rival stifling a yawn. “Wassup?”

“My apologies for calling so late, but I need your help with a case. Right now. If you’re able.”

The silence on the other hand wasn’t at all encouraging. But then again. It was late.

“...My help? With a case? Now?”

“Yes.” He’d already said that. Hopefully Patton’s brain would kick into a higher gear sooner rather than later or else this conversation would be lasting ten times longer than necessary. “You remember the Daemons?”

“Mmm….yah? Your fight with them had you fired up for ages with all their nonsense.”

“Exactly.” Logan exhaled. “Their son, Janus, just showed up at my house in an obvious state of neglect. Injured. Possibly abused. More than implied that it was his parents who put him in his current state. And I am, unfortunately, too visibly involved with the Daemons in a negative light to be considered an adequate impartial representative for him, especially if I house him in my home for the duration.”

Patton made a noise of surprise. “House him?”

“Virgil was--is a friend of his and he offered him sanctuary here when he discovered that Janus was in trouble. I’m not refusing him a safe place.”

“Safe? You just said--”

Logan closed his eyes, resting his head against the side of his house. “I know. I’m not on good terms with his parents.” They could go rot in a tar pit for all he cared about them. “But I’ve known the boy since he was six, Patton. He’s been to my house multiple times before. Been friends with my son. I won’t hold a grudge against the child for the actions of his parents.”

“Ha. I doubt his parents would appr--”

“His so-called parents Locked. Him. In. Their. Attic. For. FOUR. Months.” Logan interrupted, unable to hide the fury in his voice.

Patton sharply inhaled. “They WHAT?”

Exactly. It was good to hear his work rival taking the same tone. Patton had a soft spot for kids. “They locked him up and then abandoned him, Pat. I don’t know the exact circumstances just yet on why they felt that this was justifiable behavior, but no child should be treated like a prisoner by their family and no so-called parent’s opinion on where or who their son stays with should hold any weight if they’ve failed to provide decent care for their child in the first place!” Logan took a breath, forcing himself to relax his fingers on his phone before he cracked the screen. “Regardless, if the boy wishes to go elsewhere I won’t fight it. But he needed a safe place to go to and he chose to come here. That has to mean something considering the history between our two families.”

“It--I’d have to look into it.” Patton whispered. “This isn’t--the circumstances--”

“Are abnormal. I understand.” Logan nodded, staring off into the night. “Will you come?”

Patton huffed a laugh. “It’s not every day--ah night--you say you need me, Lo.”

That was true. They were more often rivals in the courtroom than collaborators these days. But still, he wouldn’t want any other lawyer to represent the boy if he couldn’t do it himself. “I need you, Pat.”

The sound of keys jangled in his ear. “Be right there.” Patton promised as the line went dead.