#my little baby's all grown up and causing dash chaos!

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holy shit ??? my mj turns ONE on saturday :''''')

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 1: The Queen

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Y/N is betrothed and her kingdom is in chaos.

Word count: 7.6k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

A/N: 

I know my characters can be frustrating sometimes because every single one of them is flawed and makes stupid mistakes. I want them to feel real, and real people are always frustrating. So please, for me, keep the comments fun and lighthearted, because the main purpose of fiction is to entertain and I really don’t want you guys to argue over my writing. Let’s not be mean to each other and my characters - because they’re basically my children and it pains me when someone’s mean to them 😂

I’m looking forward to seeing your theories and questions about the plot ✌🏼

Also, the series will be updated WEEKLY instead of biweekly, so the next chapter comes out next week on Wednesday (July 22, 2020).

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Prologue: What Happened To Harry?

The night was wet and dark. Heavy snow was lashing against the windows of the carriage as the moaning of the wind muffled the shouting of men and neighing of horses. Kennedy Rowley hugged her little girl, who was wrapped in a soft fur blanket, to her chest. This was their first time travelling to the North, and Kennedy had worried that her child wouldn’t be able to bear the cold. To her surprise, the little one had been an angel for most of the trip. She would eat and sleep and listen to her mother’s story even while the snowstorm was raging on outside. It was the same story all over again, and yet the baby never got bored.

“Once upon a time,” Kennedy began, rocking her baby gently in her arms. On her left, her husband had dozed off, snoring softly with his head leaned to the side.

Once upon a time, there were one hundred kingdoms living in harmony. The largest, strongest and richest kingdom in the North was ruled by an old king. The King had four sons: Lokesh, Kashvi, Reagan, and Aalam.

While The King and Queen were kind and admired by their people, the princes were spoiled, arrogant, and greedy. All four had grown up to become strong and great fighters, but the one with the most potential was Lokesh, the eldest. And the King was very proud of his heir.

The year Lokesh turned eighteen, the Queen died of a terrible illness, and not so long after that, grief killed the King. Lokesh became King in the North. At first, he was happy; his father’s crown was everything Lokesh had wanted since he’d been fourteen. But now that he’d got it, he wanted more. And so the new king came up with a plan to become the almighty ruler of all one hundred kingdoms. With the help of his four brothers, his army started invading the neighbouring kingdoms. Villages were burned. Innocent people were killed. Dynasties crumbled. And soon, all ninety-nine kingdoms had surrendered to Isolde.

The war was over, or at least that was what Lokesh had thought. As clever as he was, he hadn’t expected that the same greed which had driven him to start the war had turned his three brothers against him. A civil war broke out with four sides fighting each other for a year. Thousands of lives had been taken, yet no one won and no one surrendered. When the year had passed, the brothers agreed to call it a truce and divide the land into the North, the South, the West, and the East. Each brother would rule the largest kingdom in their region. Lokesh in the North - Isolde, Kashvi in the South - Theros, Reagan in the West - Attwell, and Aalam in the East - Rouxvania.

Twenty-four small kingdoms in the North now became the low courts which, despite having their own rulers, took orders from the high court of Isolde. Same for the twenty-four small kingdoms in the South, the West, and the East.

Legend has it that there was a time when the weather would change constantly in a year, but because the brothers had angered the Gods, it's always sunny in Theros, flowers always bloom in Attwell, and the leaves are always red in Rouxvania. As for Isolde, the land ruled by the tyrant Lokesh, the people must suffer from an endless cold.

By the time Kennedy had finished her story, the carriage slowed down and came to a stop. Her husband stirred awake as they heard a knock on the window. The door was opened, and a guard announced that they had arrived.

Kenny carefully wrapped her sleeping baby in the blanket as she stepped out of the carriage and took in the white scenery surrounding them. The sky was pearl-grey even though the sun had risen and the wind had stopped whirling around empty branches. The baby whimpered as a snowflake landed gently on the tip of her nose. Meanwhile, her mother kept spinning around with her mouth open wide; this was not only her first time seeing the North castle, but also her first time seeing snow. When she and Harry had been little, they’d always talked about travelling North just to spend a whole day playing snow fight and building snowmen.

This was not what she’d meant. She didn’t want her first time seeing snow to be without him.

“Your Majesty,” Stefan Russo said and nudged his wife, who started and immediately turned around. Kennedy curtsied when she saw the King of Attwell marching toward them with two guards in black armours following right behind, the silver hilts of their swords shining in the crystal clear sunlight. The King was also dressed in black. He was even more handsome than the rumours. His hair was short and wavy and as black as a starless night sky, and she could envision a raging snowstorm just from looking into his mysterious grey eyes. He was powerful and regal, but at the same time, just a young man of twenty years old.

“So you’re Stefan and Kennedy,” he said, his voice raspier than she’d expected. “Guests of the Queen are also guests of mine. You don’t have to bow to me.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Kennedy and Stefan both said.

“You can call me Kenny. Everyone does,” Kenny added. Only her mother and late husband had called her Kennedy. She shivered at the thought of them; she didn’t want to think about them now.

“How is...Her Majesty, Your Grace?” Stefan ventured, his palms trembling; he wasn’t used to talking to a sovereign.

The King’s expression remained unreadable. He didn’t look at them when he said, “She’s with Harry at the moment.”

Stefan and Kenny gaped at each other, then at the King as if they’d just heard something extremely outrageous.

“Harry?” Kenny blurted. “We were told that he–”

“A lot has happened since we sent our men to deliver the news to you,” Lance Devany cut her off. “But we still need you here, as you might be able to help us.”

Help them? How could two peasants help the King and the Queen?

Neither Kenny nor Stefan got a chance to question when Lance told the servants waiting by the carriage to take their luggage to their chamber. To the couple, he said, “Come. I’ll try to explain as we walk.”

“W-Where are we going, Your Majesty?” Kenny asked.

Seeing the horrified looks on their pale faces, Lance sighed and spun on his heels. “To the dungeon.”

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Chapter 1: THE QUEEN

Ten months ago

Y/N woke up screaming. Outside, the sky was still dark. The snow was falling down lazily, and the only sound she could hear was the whistling of the wind through bare branches and her laboured breathing. She was alone in bed, dressed in her sweat-soaked nightgown. Her hands weren’t bloody, and Egon wasn’t on top of her with his rotten fingers wrapped around her throat.

The door swung open, and the warm glow of firelight from the corridor washed over the colourless carpet as a figure dashed into her chamber, sword drawn with a sharp whoosh.

Harry’s horrified eyes locked with her own. “Is everything all right?”

She nodded, her shoulders slumped. “Just a nightmare.”

Harry heaved a sigh as he put away his sword and looked around the bed-chamber to make sure it was really empty.

“Were you outside the whole time?” she asked when he turned away.

He looked hesitant, glanced at the bright corridor and then shook his head as if to say, ‘Fuck it’. He closed the door, allowing darkness to engulf them once again as he strode toward the bed and sat down in front of her. Beaming, he brushed her damp hair out of her forehead and planted a kiss on it. “Go back to sleep, Peach.”

“Harry—“

“I know, I know,” he said tiredly. “I was worried. That’s all.”

“You’re not my guard. You could just ask someone else to keep watch.”

Harry tilted his head, his mouth quirked a little. “I don’t trust the other guards. What if you decide to sleep naked?”

She smiled, hating herself for feeling relieved that it'd been him who'd guarded outside her door. It was riskier now that Lance was returning tomorrow; still, it wasn’t tomorrow yet.

“Can you stay with me until sunrise?” she asked, taking his hand and kissing his palm.

He considered her for a moment, but she already knew he wasn’t going to say no. Eventually, he nodded his head. “Scoot over.”

She giggled and made room for him under the covers. Harry slid in beside her, lying on his back with an arm behind his head, the other wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her in. She rested her head on his chest and snuggled close, feeling much safer now that he was here to keep bad dreams away.

Closing her eyes and counting his heartbeats, Y/N gradually fell back to sleep.

The next time she woke up was to Jo shouting at Harry to get out of the room. Harry launched himself out of the bed and combed his fingers frantically through his messy curls as Jo continued scolding at him. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Y/N realised that the sun was already hanging above the tallest trees outside her windows. Harry had overslept.

“No one has come in, right? Just you?” she calmly asked Jo, who stopped shouting to answer, “Yes, just me. What were you thinking, Y/N?!”

“Hey, you’re talking to the Queen, woman,” Harry said.

Jo smacked him hard on the arm, causing him to yelp and bounce back. “You slept in her bed,” Jo snapped. “You don’t get to speak morals here. Now get out!”

“Stop it. Both of you,” Y/N yawned as she swung her legs to the side of the bed and stretched her arms tiredly. Harry somehow managed to duck around Jo and pecked Y/N on the cheek before he sprang to the door, shouting, “Love you!”

Jo gasped and placed her hands on her hips, eyes widened at Y/N. Y/N only shrugged, unable to stop the smile blooming on her face. She stood up and leaned against a bedpost as Jo came to shut the door.

“Relax. We’ve been doing this for two months already.”

Jo rolled her eyes and repeated the same thing she always said, “You have to be more careful.” Then, she paused and wetted her lip. “Lance is returning today.”

“I know,” Y/N sighed, crossing her arms. “I get chills just from hearing his name.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Jo didn’t laugh.

“You’re going to marry Lance. Are you going to keep Harry around forever?”

Y/N shrugged. “Our people don’t care who’s in my bed every night or who’s in Lance’s, as long as I’m married to a king and he to a queen.”

“But does Harry care?”

Jo’s question froze her to the spot. She swallowed and lifted her shoulders. “He was the reason I agreed to marry Lance.”

“He did that for the sake of our kingdom, you know that. No man is happy that their woman is married to someone else, even just for an alliance between two kingdoms.”

Y/N looked at her friend funny. “I thought you hated Harry.”

“I hate both Harry and Lance,” Jo scoffed and stepped forward to cup Y/N’s face. “I’m worried for you. If this goes wrong, you’ll get hurt the most. I don’t want you to lose more than you've already lost.” When Y/N didn’t reply, Jo pressed her lips into a tight smile. “Now, let’s get you dressed to welcome your obnoxious future husband.”

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“I'm hoooome! Where’s my beautiful bride?”

Y/N exhaled as all eyes in the room pinned on her. She was standing at one end of the table, her palms fanned out on the map of Isolde. They were in the middle of an important meeting, and the last thing she wanted was to be interrupted, especially when the interruption was called Lance Devanny. She could hear his voice all the way from the courtyard as soon as his retinue had arrived. For someone whose whole life was a huge question mark, Lance Devanny really did love the attention.

She cast a silent glance at Harry, who was standing beside the chief minister. He instantly knew what it meant and excused himself to leave the room so he could stop Lance before he got here. Before Harry could even reach the door, however, it swung open and Lance strutted in with that mischievous crooked grin on his stupidly handsome face.

“Are we having a celebration without me?” he asked, looking at Harry and then Y/N, who rolled her eyes and murmured, “It’s always a celebration without you.”

She saw Harry scowling at the King, who brushed right past him, straight toward her and swept her into his arms. She didn’t have a chance to react when he pressed his lips firmly against hers. Her eyes shot open, and she could see Harry’s jaw twitch as he turned away.

It felt weird, kissing Lance. He’d never kissed her on the mouth. Their charade had only included fake smiles and hand kisses and the most scandalous thing she’d done had been allowing him to put his hand on her back for the whole night, and even then, they’d had a loud fight afterwards.

How dare he kiss her right here in front of all her court?

Still, she couldn’t help but notice that he smelt like flowers. She’d expected him to smell like sweat and horses. After all, it’d been a long journey travelling on the road from Attwell to Isolde. But he smelt like flowers, and his lips were warm even though he’d just arrived in the cold. Strange. Well, at least now she knew Lance Devanny had a heart that was pumping blood to keep his body warm like a normal human being.

He drew back, her eyes locked with his for a second before he looked over his shoulder at Harry. Y/N didn’t know what it meant. Was that supposed to be an apology for kissing her in front of him? Or was it to flaunt that Lance could kiss her in front of Harry? Whatever the King’s reason was, Y/N would kill him after this.

“Is my baby dove happy to see me?” he asked and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She almost snorted. It was a joke between the two of them. He’d told her that he should call her lovely names like a man in love would call his consort, and she had hated all the options he’d proposed, like ‘my love’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘darling’, because those were for Harry to call her. So Lance had said, “How about ‘baby dove’?“

“Why a dove?” she’d questioned.

“Would you prefer ‘baby chicken’? Either is fine with me.”

It had been funny the first time he’d said it, and their guests at the time had looked so confused and uncomfortable (they probably weren’t used to a couple of monarchs who were actually fond of each other). But now that Harry was glowering at Lance and possibly her for looking more delighted than she should, ‘baby dove’ wasn’t so funny anymore.

All the courtiers in the room were watching them; Lance was putting up too good of a show for them to miss, and so she must play along. She cleared her throat and faked a smile as she pinched his cheek. “I’m so happy you’re here safe with us.”

Lance’s eyes popped open as she pinched as hard as she could, knowing he couldn’t cry out in pain otherwise they would know. When she released him, his cheek was so red she had to lean in and pretend to kiss it, only to whisper to him, “Do not kiss me again or I’ll make sure that’ll leave a bruise.”

She pulled back, smiling, and Lance rubbed the spot on his cheek as a corner of his mouth turned up; there was a fascinated look on his face.

Harry broke the silence, his tone flat and dry, “We’re in the middle of a meeting, Your Majesty.”

Y/N truly admired him for having kept his calm the entire time. If she’d seen someone kiss Harry, she would have jumped on the person like an angry bear.

“What about?” Lance asked. His joker character had been replaced by a stern expression – his mouth formed a straight line and his forehead puckered slightly. She wasn’t sure which version of him was the real Lance. Probably neither.

The chief minister spoke, gesturing to the red circles drawn on the map. “There have been some uprisings in the villages at the northern border.”

“The low courts were in on this?” Lance asked.

“No, not the low courts,” Y/N said. “Their people. I don’t know who started it but villages were burned and innocent people were killed.”

“When did it start?”

“After the Queen’s coronation,” Harry said. “You were in Attwell.”

Lance grimaced as he rested his right hand on his sword-hilt. She’d noticed that he did that a lot, as if touching his sword would bring him a sense of comfort, to which she could definitely relate. “So...two months ago, and no one bothered to write to me?” he asked, sounding a little betrayed.

Lance had left Isolde right after her coronation to return to Attwell. The people there were more open-minded than those in Isolde; they had actually welcomed Lance home with open arms, whereas her people had started burning villages and killing each other the second she’d been crowned. Sometimes, she wondered if it had anything to do with her sex. If she were a man, would they treat her like a hero instead of a sinner?

“This is my kingdom,” Y/N said, her voice rougher than she’d wanted it to be, and everyone started eyeing Lance. Maybe they didn’t expect their Queen to talk to her betrothed with such ferocity.

Despite her breaking character, Lance remained calm. “Your kingdom is my concern, too,” he said. “Just like how mine is yours. If your people are protesting against you, they’re protesting against us.”

Y/N stared at the red circles on the map and only dipped her chin in response.

The chief minister drew a breath. “A week ago, Commander Joaquin led our cavalry to put out the protests, and...he was killed on the way home.”

“Fuck,” Lance muttered, not caring who had heard him.

“Harry is our new commander,” said Y/N as she scratched the tip of her nose with her index finger, not looking at anyone. “He was the only one who stayed and fought to save Joaquin.”

“I’m sorry I failed,” Harry mumbled.

“It’s all right, son,” said the Lord Chancellor. “You did your best.”

Lance cast Harry a look. “Good job. I was wondering why you were here.”

Harry responded with a dry smile. “Funny. I was wondering the same thing about you”

Everyone was puzzled, but Y/N paid attention to neither of them. “Tomorrow we’re heading out to the border to bring supplies for the people in those burned villages. Winter is coming and they would not survive alone in the cold now that their homes are gone.”

It was the first time Y/N had seen Lance and Harry share the same look of concern. If they weren’t in a serious situation, she would probably tease them for it.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” asked Lance, tentatively. “It’s just a way of saying, right?”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “You’re not actually going, are you?”

“I am.” Y/N narrowed her eyes at both of them. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. My commander died for me.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t be out there,” Lance cut her off. Was it genuine concern that she saw in his eyes, or was it just her desperation to find some sign that he was capable of having human feelings? “I’m going with them,” he asserted. “You stay home.”

She stepped toward him. He was a head taller yet she showed no sign of weakness. “Do not give me orders in my own court. You stay home.”

He pursed his lips, pretending to think for a second. “No, I don’t think so, baby dove.”

“I agree with the King, Your Grace,” said one of her advisors. She and Lance both turned to the man. “It’s too dangerous. We must keep you safe at all costs.”

Y/N shook her head. “If I showed fear to my own people, then it would prove that they were right about me. If I want their trust, I must trust them first.”

“You’re talking about the people who took innocent lives and burned down villages because they hate you,” Harry said; his voice was calm and steady yet fearful somehow.

She hated it when he sided with Lance.

“I’ll carry a sword and wear armour,” she told him. “And I can fight better than many of our men. Whatever it takes, I’m going.” Looks were exchanged, yet no one dared to object. “Meeting adjourned.” With that, she swept out of the room.

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The door fell shut behind Y/N and the room erupted with whispers. Harry exchanged worried looks with Lance; he hadn’t thought there would be a day when he agreed with this bastard, and yet, the life in court kept surprising him.

While the chief minister was giving orders to the guards about protecting the Queen on the journey tomorrow morning, Harry slipped out of the room in silence. There were footsteps following him into the corridor. He kept on walking, but Lance was quick to catch up with him.

“Can you convince her to stay here tomorrow?” Lance asked.

Harry appreciated how passionate this man was about keeping Y/N alive. Still, it was irritating that he'd sounded sincere. Sometimes Harry actually believed this wasn’t at all an act to Lance and that he truly cared about Y/N. Would Harry prefer him not caring about Y/N?

“I can try but she won’t listen,” Harry said coldly.

Lance heaved a breath. “That woman is enjoying her power way too much.”

“And that frightens you?” Harry asked, this time, unable to suppress a smirk.

“Since she's going to be my wife, yes.”

Lance's answer pulled him to a stall. He spun and finally faced the King, who appeared too confident for Harry’s comfort.

“You do know your wedding to her would be fake, right?”

“I do.” Lance shrugged. “But do you?”

Harry pretended like he hadn’t heard the question. “I’ll find her and try to talk her out of it,” he lowered his voice. “But don’t ever kiss my girl like that again.”

Lance stood there with his shoulders squared and hands behind his back. Harry could feel Lance’s eyes on him as he walked away.

After having wandered all around the courtyard, he found Y/N at last and fell into steps beside her. She acknowledged him with a sideways stare and nothing more as she continued walking.

“You’re mad at me,” he said, breathless. She didn’t answer, her expression ice cold. “Hey, I’m sorry for what I said back then, I shouldn’t–”

“You shouldn’t have said anything at all,” she cut him off and whipped around, stabbing a finger at his chest. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on the side that wants to keep you alive, Peach.”

“No, you’re on the side that underestimates me,” she snapped, crossing her arms and stretching to her full height. “Do you think Lance cares about me at all?”

Honestly? Yes, Harry thought, even though he shook his head in answer to her question.

“That’s right.” She nodded slowly. “That bastard doesn’t want me to go because he thinks I cannot defend myself. The only reason people are protesting is because they don’t want a queen to rule them. They don’t trust me to protect them if I can’t even protect myself. If only I can just show them–”

“Do you think the uprisings will stop once you’re married to Lance?”

She paused and blinked. “Are you saying that my people suspect that we’re faking it?”

“Probably.” He shrugged. “It’s been two months and you’re still not married.”

“There are so many other things to take care of,” she sighed and combed her fingers through the black waves of her hair. Sunlight filtered through the glass window on their right, making the gems on her crown sparkle like stars. He hated how they would be in the middle of a conversation and he would notice something pretty about her and get distracted. He snapped back to reality as she was saying, “...it’s a tradition that the royal wedding must be in the first month of Winter.” When he didn’t respond, she stepped closer and whispered as if she was afraid someone might be eavesdropping, “Are you...fine with this?”

He blinked. “With what?”

“Me marrying Lance,” she said, studying him with her eyes. “I just realised that I’ve never asked you how you felt about this.”

“I was the one who made you accept his proposal,” he said, working up a grin, which failed to distract her.

“You’re dodging the question.”

He pushed his hair back. “Well, as your most humble servant, I’m happy that you’re marrying Lance to secure the alliance between Isolde and Attwell. As your...lover in the dark, however,” she rolled her eyes and turned away to hide a smirk, “I want to smash his teeth in.”

Y/N covered her mouth as she let out an unladylike snort. “He’s got a pretty punchable face, hasn’t he?”

A grin stretched Harry’s lips. “I’m glad you agree.”

Y/N reached out and touched the hilt of Harry’s sword with her index finger, and he suddenly felt the urge to grab her hand and lace their fingers together. Still, his hands remained at his back.

“And the kiss…” she trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“It’s all right,” he said despite himself. “Even the chief minister seemed convinced so…”

“Mmmm,” was her response before she withdrew her hand and her arm dropped back to her side.

Harry knew it wasn’t a good idea to turn the ship around after he’d just driven through a storm, but the longer he gazed at her, the more his heart ached as he couldn’t stop imagining her lying among the corpses on an open field. She hadn’t been there when they’d been ambushed. He’d watched people die all around him. Tomorrow wouldn’t be a fun excursion, and he didn’t want her to put her life at risk just to prove a point.

“Please consider not going tomorrow.” She threw her arms in the air as soon as he’d said it and yet he continued anyway, “You don’t know what it’s like. I was there when they killed Commander Joaquin. I couldn’t save him and I don’t want to lose you the same way.”

When their eyes met again, her smile had vanished, and now she looked furious. “And I was there when we thought we were losing the war against Calanthe’s family. My father was fighting side by side with his men on the battlefield while my mother and I were hiding underground with all the women in court. Why is it that my father had to be on his horse with a weapon in hand, and I have to stay home and wait for all my men to die before I do?”

Harry was tongue-tied at that. He felt like whatever he’d say next would only upset her more, even though it seemed quite impossible now. She worked her jaw, her gaze sharp and intense as she said, “Don’t ever give me orders in front of my court again. Not you, not Lance, not even my second-in-command is allowed. When I’m there, my decision is final.”

Her dress slapped the air with a whoosh as she stormed off, and Harry decided not to follow.

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A feast was held to celebrate Lance’s visit, or return. Isolde would be his second home once he and Y/N had been married. Y/N felt bad that he would have to travel back and forth while she had not once visited Attwell, then the guilt shrank as soon as she remembered he’d been the one to propose this fake marriage.

There’d been so many times when she’d meant to ask him the same question she’d been asking herself – How long was he planning to do this?

Would he actually sacrifice his youth and a chance to marry someone he actually loved for the sake of his kingdom and do it so willingly? As annoying as he could be, she (like most people) was curious to find out who the real Lance was. But every time the question about this ‘foolproof plan’, as he’d called it, was about to roll off her tongue, Y/N would notice something that made her think Lance cared about nothing but himself. Sure, he cared about Attwell, but it was his kingdom. So it was also for his own benefits, wasn’t it?

Now they were sitting at the high table, watching a dance performance which wasn’t really that great. Y/N supposed it was more entertaining for the men to watch pretty ladies wearing masks and tight corsets (that made their bosoms look bigger and rounder) dancing in circles. Her eyes searched for Harry at one of the courtier tables and sighed in relief to see that he wasn’t watching the performance but laughing with one of her advisors. Well, at least one of us is having fun tonight, she thought.

“Hey, I’ve just discovered something.”

Y/N sighed, turned her eyes heavenward as Lance leaned in closer.

“That you’re extremely annoying?” she whispered back. “If so, then congratulations.”

“Adorable.” She wasn’t looking, but she could hear his obnoxious smirk. “No. I’ve just discovered the reason you wanted to go to the border with us.”

“With you?” She scoffed. “Darling, you’ll be going with us. We’re not yet married and you’re still a guest in my home.”

He didn’t argue with her this time. “To prove to your people that you’re unafraid isn’t the only reason, is it?” he pressed on. “You want to protect him.”

Y/N stiffened in her seat, still, she managed to keep a straight face as she picked up her goblet and took a sip. The wine stung her throat, and she grimaced slightly.  

Lance didn’t care if she was ignoring him on purpose; he casually went on, “You weren’t there when he almost lost his life saving Joaquin, so you want to be there this time to make sure he won’t die a hero and a fool. Unfortunately, you cannot tell him that, because he'd have another reason to believe that you shouldn't go. So you'd rather let him believe that it's all because of your pride and that you're doing it for you, not him. Am I correct?"

Yes, she wanted to say, but that's not the whole reason.

Y/N couldn’t tell Lance that, ever since the day Harry had returned with her commander’s blood on his clothes and a wounded leg as a reminder for what had happened, she’d been having nightmares about losing him. They’d be in the middle of a battle, stumbling over muddy corpses, and she would witness someone drive a shiny blade through Harry’s chest. She’d run toward him but she could never reach him in time.

She hadn’t told anyone about those dreams, because after all, they were just dreams. But she’d had many dreams where she’d killed her brother and bled out beside him. Now her brother was dead, and the invisible wound deep inside of her never stopped bleeding.

She couldn’t tell Lance any of that, and so she sneered at him. “So you figured it out? What do you want as a reward? A ribbon?”

Lance tilted his head. His cheeks were a bit red and his eyes weary from the long trip and lack of sleep. At this moment, he looked more human than he’d ever been, far from this mortal God everyone kept portraying him as.

Y/N didn’t realise she was staring until his mouth curled to its favoured side. “Hey, I’m supposed to be the snarky one here. You’re stealing my show.”

He reached for his goblet but she seized it and pulled it toward her. “I think you’re drunk and talking nonsense.”

He let out a chuckle, resting his chin on his knuckles. The way his eyes bored into her made her uncomfortable. “You told me you’d protect him,” he said. “You said that when I recruited him for the army.”

“So?”

“Remember what I said to you?”

She averted her eyes, looking back at the dancing girls. The music was too loud and the people were too drunk; no one cared enough to eavesdrop their conversation. She licked her lip and finally answered, “That you’d protect me.”

“That’s right,” Lance said. “For you, I’ll keep him alive tomorrow so you don’t have to go.”

“Thank you,” she replied flatly, glaring sideways at him. “But I don’t trust you. I couldn't even trust you to saddle my horse without stealing the reins.”

Her comment made him toss his head back and laugh. “Your man is the con artist here. Not me.”

“You’re a pirate.”

“Captain.” He smoothed his hair back.

“Big difference.”

“And I was. Not anymore.”

“You still didn’t tell me about it. I know nothing of your past so I cannot trust you. How am I to know you won’t be the first person to put an arrow through his heart the second we’re under attack?”

Lance’s face grew grim as he exhaled. “No matter what you believe, my lady,” his voice lowered, “we’re very alike.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Y/N snorted. “Your people love you.”

“Do you think they’ll mourn for me when I die?”

“They’ll have to. You’re their King.”

Lance shook his head slightly. The fun Lance was gone, and instead, she saw the solemn face from the meeting today.

“Mourning for someone because you have to and doing it because you care, are two very different things,” he said. “Your family is as dead as mine, but you’ve got Jo and Harry. Even though they don’t understand what you’re going through, at least they’ll be by your side to pull you up every time you fall. I’ve been on my own since I was born. My mother died before she even knew me, and my father never wanted me.”

He stopped at that, and from his troubled expression, she realised he hadn’t meant to reveal so much about himself. It wasn’t a lot. He hadn’t told her his birthplace or his favourite food or anything private, and yet it was probably more than he’d ever revealed to a stranger. Was she a stranger? Did she care? They weren’t here to make friends; they were simply sitting together because of their mutual enemy.

“I wonder what you were like as a boy,” she said, changing the subject.

His playful smirk reappeared. “What are your theories?”

Her mouth twisted as she regarded him. “I imagine a younger version of you, but with the same bothersome attitude.”

“Ahhh, that is quite true. I was born holding a dagger. My first word was ‘murder’ and I joined the army as soon as I learned to walk.”

To both his and her surprise, Y/N burst out laughing. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her maids at the threshold whispering to each other, hinting at her and Lance. It might be strange to them that she and the King of Attwell didn’t seem like they wanted to murder each other. No, not each other. Like she wanted to murder him.

She gave him a nudge. “I expect you to go straight to your chamber after this. No fooling around with my maids.”

The King raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused. “What’s that? Is my baby dove jealous?”

She did a disgusted face. “I’d only stopped hating you for one second and you just had to ruin it. No, I don’t want them to think they’ve got a chance to become your mistress and my equal. That’s another rule for this marriage of ours. No mistresses. It’ll get too complicated.”

Most of the kings in history had taken mistresses. Y/N’s father and uncle had been the only ones she knew who’d had only one woman for the rest of his life.

Lance narrowed his eyes as he said, “Not fair if you get to fool around with Harry.”

“Harry and I are in love.”

“So when I fall in love with someone, I’m allowed to make her my mistress?”

“You’re allowed to see her behind my back. I won't have mistresses in my court.”

Lance stuck out his bottom lip. “I never thought one day I’d get to hear my betrothed say, ‘You’re allowed to see another woman behind my back.’”

“Aww,” Y/N said with feigned pity. “Did baby Lance really think he’d get to marry for love?”

Lance laughed drily and said nothing as he retrieved his goblet from her side of the table. She watched him finish the wine with one go and wave at a servant boy to pour him some more. Maybe she was just drunk, or maybe he seemed a bit wounded by her harmless joke.

.

.

.

Harry was just about to call for a servant when a lady’s skirt swept right past and obscured his view. Fluttering a fan in her hand, Jo smiled down at him, and he rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t want to dance with you.”

She shoved him aside and flopped down onto the seat beside him. “I wasn’t going to ask,” she said, her smile gone. “I don’t even want to touch you.”

He folded his arms on the table and arched an eyebrow at her. “It’s not my fault that I was born with male parts.”

She looked him up and down in a condescending manner. “Were you? Sometimes I really can’t tell.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned his eyes back to the high table where Y/N and Lance were chatting. It was odd that they actually seemed to get along tonight. Harry knew the laughing was real because he could tell when his Peach faked it. He knew her too well, which was more a curse than a gift sometimes.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Jo asked. She was also glaring at the King and Queen.

“Hopefully not me,” he murmured.

She snapped her head to him. “What did you do?”

“I said something during the meeting and she got upset.”

“She’s the Queen, moron. You don’t get to speak to her like you sleep in her bed.”

“I do sleep in her bed–Ouch!”

Jo didn’t look at all guilty for hitting him with her fan. “You know what I meant. You don’t get to contradict her. That job belongs to her advisors. People already underestimate her abilities as a ruler, she can't have just anyone tell her what to do. ”

Harry already knew that, but when they were discussing the matter of her life and death, he could not just standby and regret it afterwards. Instead of admitting it to Jo, he sighed and changed the subject, “What are your thoughts on him?”

“You mean...do I trust him?” She shifted her gaze from Lance back to Harry, her forehead puckered. “The answer is no for both of you. Men, in general.”

“I’m serious,” he scoffed. “I think he’s got feelings for her. You should have seen his reaction to Y/N saying she’s going to the border tomorrow.”

“She’s going to the border tomorrow?!”

“Exactly.” Harry pointed a finger at Jo’s face. “That.”

“Well, she can’t go! She’ll get killed!”

“I’ve tried to convince her but...you know her.”

“Maybe she’ll listen to me,” Jo said.

“You cannot tell her, Jo. I don’t think I’m even allowed to talk about it to you.”

“Right, right.” Jo breathed out in frustration. To his surprise, she touched his arm, gently. “Promise me if something bad happens you'll protect her.”

“Of course,” Harry said. What he meant was, ‘I’ll try.’ Commander Joaquin had died in his arms, and he’d also tried to save the poor man. He’d have to try twice harder if they were ambushed again. This time, unlike the last, they knew what to expect.

“Lance will come with us, too,” he said, trying to sound hopeful. “He’ll also protect her.”

“I thought you didn’t trust him.”

“I don’t. In general.” Harry lifted his shoulders. “But I trust him to protect her.”

Jo’s jaw tightened as she rubbed the back of her neck and traced her fingertip around the rim of her goblet. “Come to think about it,” she began, “they’ve got a lot in common. He was always the black sheep of his family, never thought he’d fit in, was a rebel who travelled from place to place, murdered his own brother, and now at twenty years old, he’s ruling a kingdom on his own and his family’s dead. Sometimes I fear there are things about her that he can understand better than we’ll ever be able to.”

Through the dancing crowd, Harry caught Y/N’s eyes and returned a beam as she waved at him subtly. He forced himself not to think about what Jo had just said, but the last sentence kept lingering in his mind.

.

.

.

When the bell in the courtyard chimed twelve times at midnight, Y/N was sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace, back against her bed. She was wearing a nightgown, her hair falling loose down to her back. She should have gone to sleep early so she could wake up before dawn, but instead, she sat there and watched the hypnotising flame licking at the wood. The door of her chamber creaked open at last, and a dark figure slipped inside. His footsteps were light, but she knew who he was the second she heard it.

She didn’t look until he’d sat down beside her, crossing his legs and leaning back against the foot of her bed. In the warm orange glow, his cheeks looked redder than she assumed they actually were. She could smell the wine wafting from his clothes, and he seemed to have noticed the tiredness in her eyes, because he stroked her cheekbone with his knuckles and asked, “Are you feeling well? Should I get a physician?”

“No, I’m fine.” She took his hand and held it with both of hers. “I just...I just want to talk to you,” she said. “And apologise for the way I reacted this morning.”

“You don’t have to apologise for anything.” Harry beamed at her. “I should apologise for crossing the lines. Sometimes I forgot that you’re a queen and I should love you like I should love a queen.”

“How do you love a queen?” she asked, teasingly.

He shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never loved a queen before.”

“I can tell.” Her eyebrows wiggled and he snorted as she scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder.

They were quiet for a long moment, and the only thing that told her he hadn’t fallen asleep was his tight grip on her fingers. “This reminds me of that night in the cave,” she said nonchalantly. “It was easier then, wasn’t it?”

“Peach,” he said with a light chuckle. “We nearly got lost, died in a snowstorm and froze to death.”

She felt her smile growing. “Still easier than this. It’s always easier when there’s just the two of us.”

There was a pause, and when he spoke, she could sense that his smile was gone. “You’re right. But as long as we’ve still got those memories, we can revisit them when things get rough.” Then he kissed the top of her head. “Now get some rest. We’re leaving early in the morning.”

She pulled back to look at him. “You’re not staying?”

“I can’t risk it. I might oversleep again,” he said with a hand at the back of her head. When he saw her frowning, his brows pinched together. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She could already feel her lip quivering as she clutched his fingers a bit too tight. “What if this is a terrible idea, Harry? What if I’m not...meant to be Queen?”

“Hey.” He cupped her face with both hands. “You are meant to be Queen. You’ve gone through a lot to be here. You deserve this.” As though he could read her thoughts of self-doubt, he schooled his face and went on, “I’ll tell you who you are in case you’ve forgotten. Your name is Y/N. First daughter of King Willem. The rightful heir to the throne. The rightful ruler of the high court of Isolde. The saviour in the prophecy. And most importantly, you’re my Peach, the love of my life. And whatever’s going to happen tomorrow, we’re going to be together and we’ll fight together just like we’ve done before. Whatever happens, I believe in you, all right?”

She mustered a smile and nodded once, reaching up to place her hands over his. He pulled her in for a passionate kiss and when he let go, she craved for more. She wanted to beg him to stay as he got to his feet and the nightmares crept back into her head like shadows waiting for the lights to go out so they could turn on you.

“I love you,” she blurted, sounding hopeless for a reason she could not explain.

Harry stopped at the door, turned around, and smiled. “I love you, too.”

Then he slipped through the gap and disappeared into the firelit corridor.

(end of chapter 1)

[lyrazehedgieboiii]

Sonic Babies! (Oneshot)

I still have some asks, and don’t worry, I will get to them, I just had a sudden urge to write this story, and I just couldn’t help myself tho-

    “WHAT. THE. HELL. JUST. HAPPENED?!” 

Amy and Tails stood in shock as three baby hedgies and a baby echidna were on the floor, gurgling at the sight of the older hedgehog and fox.

    “T-They just turned into babies...” Tails murmured. “I told them to stay away from the machine. What do they do? Go near the machine. Chaos, now I have to fix this...Amy, I hope you’re not ma-” Tails turned around to find Amy laying on the floor, while baby Sonic was nuzzling Amy’s cheek, baby Silver was climbing onto her stomach, baby Knuckles was chewing on Amy’s thumb, and baby Shadow was rested on Amy’s legs. 

   “I had no idea they were so CUTE as babies!” Amy gushed as Silver giggled at her. Amy got up and scooped them all up into her lap and cuddled with them. 

   “Hey Amy, do you mind watching them while I find a way to reverse this?” Tails asked the pink hedgie, who had stars in her eyes.

    “Yeah! Don’t you have a stroller from when you were younger?” Amy replied, and stood up. She saw a red chaos emerald, and assumed that it was Shadow’s, so she gave it to Tails to keep safe. 

    “Yup, it’s under that table, Cream used it last week for Cheese’s kids.” Amy nodded, and grabbed the stroller, and put everyone in, or at least three of them in...

    “SONIC!” Amy screamed. Baby Sonic had wires in his hand, and even though he was a baby, he still had that annoying smirk of his. “Put the wire down, or you will be in time-out faster than you can run!” Sonic dropped the wires immediately and Amy could see tears starting to make its way down his cheeks. She ran to him and hugged him close to her. “I’m so sorry, Sonikku. I promise I won’t yell at you like that, again. Or at least while you’re a baby. All you have to do is be a good boy to me. That applies to you three as well,” Amy looked at the infants which were playing with the stuffed animals in the stroller.

    “M...Mama!” Everyone suddenly went so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Sonic giggled and continued to babble. Even Knuckles, and Silver started saying ‘mama.’ Shadow only grunts, and mutters something that sounded like “momma.” Amy squealed and scooped them out of the stroller and hugged them once again.

She put them down into the stroller, again, and gave them pecks on the cheeks, and then giggled.

     “Your older selves would kill me if I did that.” Amy walked out of the workshop, leaving Tails processing everything that just happened.

- In The Village -

    “Now listen here, boys. You have to be on your best behavior, and no crying. Got it?” She commanded the boys, but they only tilted their head. “. . .Let’s just you do.” She walked with the stroller, earning many odd stares from the villagers, but Amy didn’t seem to notice. “Let’s see, Shadow likes oranges (LMAO IDK) Silver likes honey, Knuckles likes grapes, Sonic likes chilidogs...There isn’t any chilidog flavored baby food...I’ll buy some of this, and if he doesn’t like it, I’ll just blend up the chillidog!” She bought everything, until she saw Blaze, Rouge, and Lyra standing near a boutique. She walked over to them (Let’s talk about her outfit first)

 She’s wearing a Ditsy Floral Print Square Neck Dress (Link to dress on Pinterest) With a white sun-hat with roses on the side.

     “Why do these little guys look like our boys?” Rouge asked with interest, focusing mainly on Knuckles.

     “Oh, you know, I fucked all four of them and gave birth to their kids. Their names are Dash, Emo, Weed, and Steroids.” Amy sarcastically said. Blaze and Rouge looked frightened for a moment before they realized that she was only kidding. “They’re the boys, I have to take care of them. Long story short, they got into an age-changer invention thing, and they all turned into babies. Aren’t they the cutest? Especially little Sonic.” She bent down and started cooing to him. “Yes? Who’s the cutest little baby in the whole universe? You are! Yes you are, yes you are~!” The girls watched as Amy fangirled over her crush as an infant.

    “Wow, Pinky. I’m guessing if you and Big Blue were to have a kid, he’d look just like that.” Rouge smirked. Amy blushed.

     “That is, if he actually likes me...” Amy muttered. “But what about you and Knuckles, hmm?” Amy smirked back at her. This time it was Rouge that had gone the same color as her favorite red echidna. Amy giggled at her reaction. “Anyways, we should buy some clothes, because they’re only covered by their normal outfit, but the sports tape was there, and Amy was worried they’d wrap it around their necks and suffocate.

    “I have some baby clothes from when I was taking care of Cheese’s children. Maybe that could fit on them?” Blaze asked. Amy nodded eagerly.

   “Yes please! I don’t want to waste money on something that won’t even come to use later on!” Amy squeaked out in agitation. They all separated to retrieve everything they needed for the boys. They all met back at Amy’s house.

    “Okay, now, we should feed them. Yes~, we should feed your chubby wittle tum-tums!~ Yes, we should! Who wants chilidogs, and grow so big and strong, and have your little Ames swoon over how handsome you are?~” Amy continued to baby-talk to Sonic, as he only giggled and fell over to his side. This made all the girls go crazy over how adorable and pure he was acting. The others, desperate for attention, dragged themselves onto the girls’ laps. They all fan-girled because the boys they’ve wanted since, well, FOREVER, crawled into their laps submissively! 

    “OH MY ASS, THE DAY HAS FINALLY COME, KNUXIE IS ON MY LAP! I mean, not the way I wanted, but YES.” Rouge squealed with excitement. She stroked his dreads, while Blaze was running her hands through Silver’s quills. Lyra was gently traced the red stripes on Shadow’s quills, being very light, so he wouldn’t get all moody and fuss about it. Sonic noticed this and grimaced at them. He climbed up on to Amy, and nipped at the top of her dress.

   “Oh my goodness! Uhh, what am I supposed to do? SONIC! Stop nipping at my dress, little gummy bear!” Amy said, grabbing baby Sonic’s torso and lifted him up, while he flailed his arms and legs around. “Stop it! Do you want any chilidogs?” Sonic immediately stopped and smiled with his mouth open. He put his tiny little hand in his mouth and gurgled. Amy inwardly swooned, her cheeks heating up. Even as a baby, Sonic was still a ladies’ man. She put them on a floor, after putting a plastic tablecloth cover under them, and prepared their food. Amy mashed up the chilidogs, making sure it wasn’t too spicy, and fed it to Sonic.

He happily ate it with no complaints, but you couldn’t really say the same for Knuckles and Silver. Silver constantly kept rejecting the food, and Knuckles wouldn’t pay attention. Knuckles seemed to look at something else, which wasn’t exactly food...

   “WOAH MY CHAOS! KNUCKLES! I’M NOT FOOD!” Rouge yelled as Knuckles pounced on Rouge and attempted to pull down the heart on her outfit. After a few minutes of squirming and yelling and Lyra having to pry Knuckles’s hands off with a crowbar, Silver and Shadow seemed to be enjoying the show in front of him, and Sonic was laughing hysterically and clapped his hands. After all that happened, the girls decided that the boys needed a bath. 

Amy filled the bathtub up, strapping Sonic to her with a scarf, seeing as she didn’t have those baby-body carrier things. (I’m not going to look it up to confirm its name) The bathtub was too deep for the kids, and they couldn’t exactly sit on their own, so the girls got their swimsuits and went into the water with them. They used washcloths to cleanse them, covering their eyes when they got to the lower body. They gurgled and giggled. (Lmao I keep repeating the same words over and over again) Shadow, being Shadow, only huffed, while his tail wagged. Lyra chuckled at his reaction.

Now, you might be wondering, ‘Doesn’t Sonic hate water?’ Why yes, he does. I forgot to mention that Amy had a hard time getting him into the bathtub, he kept spindashing out of the tub and Amy had to catch him before he fell on the ground. 

    “Sonic! Get in the bathtub, NOW.” Amy gave a deadly glare to Baby Sonic, and he widened his eyes, a little creeped out by her, but didn’t obey her. He tried to run, but only being around six months, he had a little trouble crawling. Amy picked him up, and distracted him by kissing him on his bare stomach, while he laughed. While he was chortling, Amy quickly bounced right into the tub. Silver was making the bubbles and water float. As if sensing Sonic’s fear of water, he made the water fall onto Sonic. Blaze scolded him, while Amy glared at him.

Sonic smirked at Silver, while Shadow did something that wiped the smug look off his face. Shadow took a toy that could soak in water, and he squeezed it, causing the water to fall all over Sonic. He whined, splashing water into Shadow’s eyes, and before the girls could even blink, they started a water fight. They got the babies out before the fight got physical.

Amy got a call from Tails that the age reverse mawas face, and they quickly took them to Tails’s workshop. 

    “Are you girls ready?” Tails asked. The girls were internally crying. They had grown emotionally attached to the babies during the one hour they had them. Perhaps it was because the boys gave more attention to them more than they had when they were adults.  They brought the kids in blankets, so the neighbors wouldn’t start rumors.    

     “Can we just say goodbye?” Blaze asked in a depressed tone. Tails nodded.

     “Take all the time you want. I don’t think anything’s gonna happen, anyways.” He replied. The girls smiled.  

   “Even though the babies are far more charming, cuter, kinder, and actually appear thankful when we do something for them.” Amy sighed as she snuggled Sonic into her arms. “But I love him more as his normal self. Even if we have to endure their dumb, cruel behavior, we still love them. Don’t tell them we said that, or else.” Amy continued, before glaring at Tails to keep the secret. Tails nodded rapidly. They placed the babies in the invention, after giving them kisses on the cheeks and forehead. 

   “One...Two...THREE!” And with that, the boys were back to normal. The girls ran up to them, and hugged their favorite boy, from Amy to Sonic, Blaze to Silver, Rouge to Knuckles, and Lyra to Shadow. Sonic didn’t know what to do, Silver hugged her back, Knuckles was blushing by the ‘you-know-what’ squishing against his chest, and Shadow was trying to push Lyra away.    

  “Sorry, Knuxie. It’s just that...we missed you!” Rouge cried as she jumped on Knuckles once more. Once Tails explained what had happened, Sonic grabbed Amy’s waist and whispered into her ear. 

  “By the way, we could see and hear everything while we were babies. We could also control ourselves.” Insert a blushing Amy Rose processing everything he had just said.

[maliblus]

which muse of yours do you think you are most similar to?

SEBASTIAN KING??!??!??!?!?! i have literally played sebastian since i was super dumb & young at like 14 ( i don’t wanna discuss it i was so stupid & never used proper grammar back then thanks ) & i think i have just grown up alongside of him bc when i was so young i didn’t know what else to do besides incorporate my own life into sebastian’s so like when i was sad he was sad?? when i was happy he was happy??? he will always have a special place in my heart bc i rly think we did experience things alongside of each other & i just have truly watched his life from when he was a fetus to where he is now & all of his relationships & struggles & i need to stop this right now before i actually sit here & cry on the dash over him bc he truly is my baby & i would die for him & i want the best for him even tho he does not deserve it but he really does try his hardest to be the best he can be like me & sometimes those intentions get a little lost in the chaos he causes for himself but he tries !!!! he tries so hard & all he wants is to feel love & spread love & show love & be loved ok  

[lonely-bored-writer]

Casper High Ch. 2

Danny Fenton hadn't expected to make a friend that day. He wasn't having the best of days- he had spent the early hours of the morning taking down any straying ghosts, trying to make sure that less ghosts would interrupt him during school. The less he missed school, the better his grades would be, and the more people would get off of his back.

That's how it's been since Sam and Tucker moved away. He didn't have his friends helping keep his secret just that. He remembered when it had happened; Sam was the first one to go. It was after a particular brutal battle between Technus, Skulker, and him. The Manson's couldn't take it anymore. They were tired of the damages and danger, so they packed up their belongings and their daughter and moved. Sam was the first domino to fall, and just like that more families had moved away. Tucker had moved after the house next to their's collapsed after Danny had been thrown into it. Luckily the house wasn't occupied by it scared the Foley's enough past the tipping point.

Casper High School was still the bustling school it was to start, but now so many familiar faces had been replaced by strangers, those whose families either didn't care about the danger or were interested in the town's so called ghosts. However Amity Park wasn't as lively as it once was. The town had an unspoken curfew, and not many were out after ten at night, the town's park the first to be deserted at night.

The constant ghosts attacks had not only taken a toll on Danny, but on the town as well. Danny's body oftentimes mirrored his town nowadays.

Danny was happy to just make a friend who didn't think he was a freak, or know of his parent's reputation. The day was nice, even if all he and Sam did was stay in the motel room and just hang out after school. Danny and Sam had spent hours just talking about anything and everything, Danny even helping Sam catch up on the few lessons he showed up in the middle of. Dean popped in two hours later with Nasty Burger, which had led to a long discussion between all of them about the merits of such a name correlating to food.

It was safe to say that Danny had the best day of his life since his friends left. He wasn't used to sitting and talking for hours in person with people who he barely knew about topics so diverse. It was nice to unwind for a few hours and just let himself be. He didn't have to worry about what the others were thinking or having to broach topics that needed to be covered. It was nice and Danny could get used to it- that's why going home was like a slam of reality to him.

"Hold up. This, this is where you live?" Sam's stuttered out response came out once the impala pulled to a stop in front of the monstrosity that was Fenton Works. Danny gave a sheepish smile before rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh yea. Weird, I know." Danny slipped out of the car, only for Dean to speak before he could walk up his steps.

"It's fucking cool." Dean grinned, looking up at the odd UFO sitting on the roof. "You've got to give us a tour one of these days."

"Really?" Danny looked up shock, blinking rapidly, surprised that the older man actually seemed to like his house. Dean nodded enthusiastically in response to the question. Glancing back, Danny noted the glowing neon sign was on signaling his parents were home. "Yea, maybe we can do that sometime soon if you want."

"That'll be fun." Sam smiled from the other side of the car, leaning closer to the driver-side window. "Maybe you could show us some of the stuff you've built." It wasn't much if Danny was being honest, just some small functioning robots and edits to his parents weapons to protect himself, but Sam's interest created a warm feeling in him.

"Sure. Anyways, I hope you guys have a good night, drive safe." Danny traded goodbyes with the duo, waiting until Dean drove off in the Impala before jogging up to his door. The moment the front door opened, Danny knew where his parents were based on the dim lighting and the noises coming from the basement. With a sigh, the teen made his way into the kitchen and glanced around. Surprised to see it clean, Danny concluded that his parents probably forgot to eat anything. Pulling out four slices of leftover pizza, ignoring the soft growls and glow emitting from the bottom drawer, and shoved the food into the microwave.

When he entered the lab, he found both his parents bent over a table. A trembling ectopus sat in a small cage, his mother extracting samples from him. Danny bit his lip and the uncomfortable feeling that swelled through him at the thought of the experiments, his chipper mood dampening a bit.

"Mom, dad." Danny called over the sound of his dad soldering away, pulling his parents away from their work. "I brought you some pizza."

"Oh Danny, when did you get home?" Maddie asked, pulling her hood down to expose short auburn hair. "That's sweet of you, thank you baby." Maddie smiled politely, hugging her son softly as she took the plate and placed it nearby. Her husband was the exact opposite of his mother's gentle approach.

"Danny boy!" Jack greeted loudly, pulling his son into his infamous 'Jack Fenton Bear Hugs' once the food was safely out of the way. "You should see what we're working on! Your mother and I were about to figure out a way to cause ghost energy to-"

"I just got in." Danny cut his dad off as nice as he could- he didn't really want to hear this. "I would love to sit and chat, but I really should look over an essay due tomorrow." Danny explained, dislodging himself from his dad.

"Education is important." Maddie smiled, waving him off before turning to her husband and joining him in the conversation about their new device. Danny almost turned away when he caught eyes with the ectopus and guilt filled him. Quietly, he reached a hand out and pressed the release button before turning and speed walking out of the lab. Luckily Danny always seemed to be invisible, even before his powers came to be. Even in his own house Danny was often overlooked; Danny just learned to use this to his advantage. Releasing ghosts was just one way he could use his inherent constant invisibility to his own benefit.

The moment he stepped out the door, he could hear the chaos ensue- his father's yelling and his mother's quick orders bounced of metal walls, echoing up the stairs and up into the normal house. A soft smile took over his features, his parents were really were something else. Humming softly as he made his way to his room, passing by the empty room that once occupied his sister, who was currently off to college. He sent a quick text message to his best friends to be online in two minutes.

"Hey guys." Danny greeted when the two faces appeared on his screen.

"Danny!" Sam called, her black headboard behind her.

"Dude!"

Danny laughed at the different greetings he got, before taking in the appearances before him. Tucker hadn't changed all that much from when he was in Amity Park, aside from his hair now being grown out and his attraction to hoodies. Sam had actually cut her hair, shaving one side in protest of the move. The buzz cut had actually grown on her, the teen keeping it, determined to not grow it back out. Sam's style was still gothic, not changing one bit as the years passed since she has made the decision to delve into this genre.

"How was your day?" Sam's voice crackled through the headset, "Mine was boring, I spent all day with my mom going over everything for the gala." Danny smiled at the reminder of that, he knew Sam was going to pull a fast one on her parents and wear a dark red and black lace dress to the event over the shy blue one her parents picked out.

"I spent my day with the robotics team. Perry almost has all the programming done for the medic bot, while Becca and I are almost done with the framing. Now all we need is to figure out the best tracks to use and it'll be fully functional." Tucker beamed from his screen, a grin on his face before his expression soured a tad. "Chris was being a douche and almost broke an arm off because we refuse to let him work on it."

"Smart choice." Sam and Danny both responded at the same time, pulling a laugh from all teens present.

"My day was actually pretty good." Danny smiled at his friends who seemed glad to hear that. Danny hadn't been the same since they left. While Danny was probably the kindest of the three of them, after the accident, Danny was reluctant to make new relationships with others. That and Danny was the nerd of the school, on the lowest rung, and he was invisible. The only time anyone paid attention to him was to either bully him or to call him out for not doing something. "A new kid, Sam, he invited me over and I had a great time talking with him and his older brother."

"A great time." Tucker mused, wiggling his eyebrows. Sam laughed while Danny shook his head and sighed.

"Not like that you perv." Danny chuckled. "I helped him catch up on lessons and we talked. He let me out of the locker Dash stuck me in after he got lost on his way to class seeing as he witnessed it. We had the same class so I led him to the right class."

"That's great Danny, it's great to see you making new friends." Sam smiled. "I'm surprised Amity Park has a new Sam in town."

"Yea, he's only in town for a few days. Today was his first day." Danny nodded, letting his smile slip a little.

"Hey if you become a loner again, I'm sure Poindexter won't mind eating lunch with you." The trio laughed at Tucker's joke, lightening the mood once again.

"Okay, enough about me." Danny shook his head, gesturing a hand to Tucker's side of the screen. "Tell us more about this feud between your Robotic club and Chris, and why you guys don't just kick him." A groan left the techno-geek before he launched into a long and passionate speech about Chris and just how much he's out to ruin competition for everyone else.

As always, Danny was content when he finished the video call. For once the looming sadness didn't come, armed with the knowledge that he had another friend he'll be meeting up with tomorrow. A sigh did leave him though when his eyes landed upon the stack of papers and textbooks sitting on his bed. 12:03 am the blinking red numbers of his alarm clock read, giving him about four and a half hours before he had to go on patrol before school.

Once he finished his numerous math worksheets, Danny knew that finishing his homework wasn't going to happen. Sure, he really wanted to not have to hear a lecture tomorrow from basically all his teachers but he needed to go to bed. If he didn't, he wouldn't be able to go on patrol and if he isn't able to go on patrol he'll have to skip classes. And that is just another lecture waiting to happen. It's quite the vicious cycle and it's not like he can be in two places at once...

Wow, sometimes he was just downright stupid.

Danny focused on his ghost core, grinning when three copies came out full and corporeal. Danny silently ordered the clones to get to work. One taking on each subject- English, Math, and History. With a loud yawn, the teen fell face first into his pillows before he was out like a light, comforted with the knowledge of where his clones were and that once he woke up, all of their memories would flood back into his mind.

He was able to sleep three hours and fifteen minutes before his ghost sense woke him up, at least he stocked his room with monster, red bull, five hour energy, and espresso shots. He'll make it through, just like any other day.

[caspian-skye]

The Apoptosis Project Ch.6: Fight or Flight

Soooo I’m particularly proud of this chapter and am discouraged by absolute silence at the moment regarding feedback on my story so I decided to post it here too! My name on fanfiction is the same as on here, if this happens to pique your interest.

Lazula and Snow were almost to the door of the Student Fitness Center when the alarms began to blare. A voice warned the crowd to get inside, and stay as calm as they could manage. Yet Lazula could see the cause of panic. Toward the water, above the sports fields and sparring courts temporarily housing vendors stalls and picnic tables, winged beasts soared.

“...Another attack.” Lazula let out a breath to compose her thoughts. “I’m going to help.”

“I... I don’t think I should,” Ichigo decided after a pause, with a quiver in his voice. He looked to Laurel. “I mean, you saw me against the animatronics.” He indicated his Holoband. “Rowan says he’s in the locker rooms. I-I think I’ll meet up with him.”

“I won’t ask anyone else to come with me. These are real Grimm. If you don't kill them, they will kill you," Lazula reminded. "If you would like to, help would be welcome.”

Lazula abandoned the doors to the SFC, swimming against the crowd that rushed inside. Snow and Laurel followed. She ran through everyone she knew was testing. Laurel and Snow were beside her. Ichigo and Rowan were in the Student Fitness Center, and unless the attack spread, they would be safe by her guess. 

That left Caspian and Lilly.

“Snow, call Lilly. Make sure she’s safe, and tell her to message me when she can.”

“Understood.”

“This area is under attack by the Creatures of Grimm. Please, evacuate to Sentinel Stadium immediately,” a man dressed in Frontline’s Organic Android uniform demanded. His tone was authoritative, but devoid of the worry Lazula would expect of the situation. He, and a similarly dressed woman, guided a score of horrified spectators toward the stadium. Lazula ignored the android’s request, instead poking at the call symbol next to her brother’s portrait.

“The person you are trying to reach is currently not in range of service. Please try again later.”

“Shit.”

“Lilly is currently inside of Sentinel Stadium, she said she’s safe,” Snow reported.

“Good,” Lazula responded. That, at least, was a relief. But Caspian was another issue entirely. CCTS service should cover all of Port Cyrreine, she reasoned. The only dead spot would be one deliberately made. She pounded the call symbol again. 

“The person you are trying to reach is--”

Lazula broke into a run. 

What was a pleasant, rainy yet festive day just minutes before had degenerated into pure chaos. Lazula couldn’t tell whether the screams of grimm or human assaulted her ears from each direction. Gunfire erupted from the crowd, striking down several of the Nevermores and Griffons that dotted the sky. Yet as one fell, it seemed as if two more would take its place. 

Laurel took off to the side, some distance from where organds guided groups of spectators and students alike into the stadium. She mounted her gun on a picnic table, and began to fire rounds into the air. The Grimm faded as they fell, disintegrating to nothing before reaching the ground. 

Lazula found her path to the bridge blocked by an Ursa. It matched her speed, trampling toward her on all fours. As she neared, she raised Aegis, taking the bone-crushing force of the collision into her arm. She spun, channeling her semblance into a single forceful swing. Impetus tore from the Ursa’s hip to opposite shoulder. Flesh to both sides of the massive gash began to dissolve. Lazula punched the fallen creature to the side, continuing onto a handful of Beowolves.

She slashed twice across the gut of the first, bashing with Impetus to knock the beast’s two halves apart. She dashed to impale a second, tearing her blade from its chest and into the neck of another. Snow joined her, lashing at the creatures without a semblance of fear, attacking as if they were animatronics that would let up as soon as they brought her aura to zero. 

Several screams broke out from nearby. Snow cast her glance to the side, where a Creep broke from its pack to chase down a large family. The white-haired huntress lashed out with her weapon’s whip configuration, its barbed spines binding the Grimm’s arms to its body as it wrapped around. Snow ripped it toward her and flipped through the air, transforming her weapon into its axe configuration and cleaving the beast in two.

Without waiting for a word of thanks, she leapt back toward the black horde surrounding Lazula.

A pack of Beowolves surrounded Lazula. She panted through grit teeth, a lock of hair falling from place and draping across her nose. She stared the beasts down. The real ones were a bit larger than the machines on Sentinel’s training island. The leathery skin she had seen on the animatronics was pitch black fur, and the steel plates of armor she had grown used to now looked to be made of bone. 

One broke the standoff, leaping at her with a ferocious snarl. She blocked its swipe, despatching it easily. But more assailed her from each side, taking her broken focus to their advantage.

  She had taken out four or five by the time a shadow crossed in front of her, too fast for her to make out any particular form. Wind whipped by her and she looked to the side to see a woman in all black, katana raised to the end of a calculated slash. 

Three Grimm in her path began to dissolve, dark essence flowing into her katana as she sheathed it.

The woman was about her father’s age, the beginning of grey streaks appearing in her pitch black hair. A lock to each side of her face looped under her ear, rejoining the ponytail in back. Her face was obscured by a white and red mask, modelled after the face of a fox. Though her life as a huntress had officially ended with the Grimm’s first defeat, her lean muscle and athletic physique had deteriorated strikingly little in the years since.

Lazula nodded out of gratitude. “Mrs. Kurayami,” she greeted. “Thank you. Ichigo is safe, he’s in the SFC right now.”

The woman turned, revealing a badge on her right breast. “Sentinel Academy; Head of Security,” it read on each side of the school’s crest. 

“It is nothing,” she said. “And thank you very much for the update. But please, get Snow to safety as well. A safe zone has been set up inside of Sentinel Stadium.”

Lazula shook her head as Snow finished off one final Creep and regrouped with her. “We’ll be fine,” she assured. “We should focus on clearing out the Creatures of Grimm.”

Mrs. Kurayami placed a hand on Lazula’s shoulder as she began to turn, clutching Impetus’s handle. “I have been ordered by your father to find you and secure Snow. I do not doubt your abilities, but this is a direct order!”

“Why is Snow’s safety being held above everyone else’s?” Lazula questioned, edge of impatience arising in her voice. She grimaced at the shrieks of human and grimm alike. “People will die if I don’t fight!”

“Your father has deployed all of the huntsmen he has available.” Mrs. Kurayami turned to Snow. “I understand why you wish to fight as well. But please, come to safety.”

“MY BROTHER IS STILL IN THERE!” Lazula pleaded, violently beckoning to the bridge. 

Mrs. Kurayami’s eyes widened, and she raised her wrist to place a call. “Pierce! I have found Lazula. She says Caspian is still inside of the Stadium!”

Lazula heard a man on the other end swear in a gruff voice. “Meet me at the mouth of the bridge. But make sure Lazula takes Snow to the Stadium.”

“I’m sorry,” Snow offered as she, Lazula, and Laurel joined the crowd funneling into safety. 

“It’s not your fault,” Lazula dismissed, staring straight ahead.

“I’m... worried about Caspian.”

Lazula sighed. “...So am I.”

The three found their way into Sentinel Stadium, finding Lilly calming an elderly couple among the masses mumbling, fidgeting and weeping in the stands. After exchanging a few words, Lazula and Laurel left Snow with the faunus, and stood guard outside of the stadium’s main doors. Laurel picked Grimm off from a distance as Lazula stayed near, guarding the stragglers from beasts that strayed too close. 

She kept a spare eye on the people who entered, hoping to catch a glimpse of her brother.

An infant’s cries permeated the air inside of the stadium, shrill above the indistinct muttering of the masses. Her mother, a young woman with curly locks of brown hair, cradled the baby in a vain attempt at consoling her. Snow cocked her head slightly, as if examining the situation. Without a word to Lilly, she stepped toward them.

“Excuse me,” Snow introduced. “May I hold your child?”

The woman looked to Snow uneasily with fatigued eyes. She looked down to her child and stood, handing the baby over. Snow cradled the girl gently, and began to hum a soothing tune. The child’s cries lessened to a whimper as Snow rocked her slowly. Then, silence.

The solid sheets of rain buffeting Caspian’s face glowed red under the flashing of countless holographic warnings. The Bullfiend’s eyes shone brighter. A grey fog rose from its drooling maw, obscuring the horrified faces of those who looked on. The ground shook with each of the beast’s steps toward Caspian. It looked to be sizing him up, a predator slowly closing in on its prey.

Without warning, it began to charge.

Caspian’s heart leapt out of his chest. As if his body puppeted his mind, he ran forward, blade in hand.

The abominable creature lowered its head, stark white horn aimed for his gut. Caspian tumbled to the side. The ground was filthy, but preferable to being gored by a horn the width of a grapefruit. He sprung back to his feet as the fiend skidded to a stop. Caspian tore at its thigh with Undertow in the best imitation of his sister’s strike. He stepped forward, reversing his blade’s momentum to slash into its gut. The Bullfiend roared, swinging wildly with claws half the length of Caspian’s own weapon. He screamed, diving back to the mud with dangerously little time to spare.

Caspian rolled onto his feet, gaining some distance between he and the monster. Once again, it bolted at him. Sinking back and raising his weapon with a trembling arm, he fired a shot into its eye, stopping it in its tracks as a thick black liquid began to seep down its bony mask. Caspian’s next shot wasn’t as accurate, leaving little mark in the bone next to its remaining eye. He took off, running an arc around to the beast’s blind side. Undertow’s bullets of dust tore through its pelt, smoking from the wounds they produced. 

A snarl from his side, then screams. Caspian turned to see a Beowolf clawing at the crack the Bullfiend’s horns had left in the barrier, the last vestige of protection between human and Grimm. The beast had pried its way through the crack all the way to its waist, and began to claw at the bleachers as spectators huddled in the corners, shrieking and clutching each other in an instinctive bid at comfort.

“Damn it, not now!” Caspian agonized. He turned his gun on the Beowolf, firing shot after shot until it ceased to move, and began to dissolve. The ground shook, and Caspian heard a ferocious, unearthly roar from his side. 

He whipped around just in time to take the beast’s horn below his chestplate.

Caspian screamed in pain as it pierced his shirt, and he felt the needle-like tip stop on his skin. He was flung backward, flipping through the air for what felt like several seconds before slamming back to the ground, skidding and rolling as waves of cobalt aura crackled around him.

He ended up on his back, Undertow out of reach to his side. He gasped for breaths that would not come, still feeling the sharp pain of the monster’s horn in his stomach. He felt at it. Wet. Grimacing, he looked at his hand, feeling a moment of relief to see his hand coated merely in mud.

His celebration was short-lived. He groaned in agony as the Bullfiend perched over him, crushing his right arm beneath its weight. He clawed feebly at its wrists, trying to free himself. The beast’s grotesque face, the size of his torso, neared. Black goop still seeped from its hollow eye socket. Caspian shuddered, feeling the creature’s viscous drool dribble onto his neck. He smelled the stench of rot on the monster’s hot, musty breath.

In a last resort, Caspian raised his armguard to shield his face. His teeth clamped down on the handle of a straight-bladed dagger, wrenching it from its sheath. He spat it out, snatching its handle from the air and driving the blade deep into the monster’s remaining eye. Black sludge exploded onto his face and hand, and his ears were shattered by an agonized roar.

Caspian felt the weight let off his arm. 

He pulled out from under the beast, making a mad dash for Undertow. He scooped his weapon from the ground as he sprinted, finally stopping to turn once he made it some distance away. He held down Undertow’s trigger. The gun began to vibrate and hum, steam raising from its glowing barrel as energy gathered around it. He let fire a beam of focused energy into the monster’s neck. Yet as his gun kicked, a sudden, torturous pulse worked its way down Caspian’s arm, clutching his heart. He suddenly found himself unable to stand.

The last thing he saw within the greying edges of his vision was the Bullfiend fading away in the rain.

[angelsndragons]

Lost Times

Crack treated seriously! Kid!Horsemen and weirded-out pseudo-parents Crowley and Aziraphale.

Many thanks to @kedreeva​ and her Death’s Daddy anons for this little gem.

Read here or at AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905892

Most beings believe that Cain and Abel were the first children. They are not. But the only ones who know otherwise won’t say.

The thing is, what neither of them realizes until some six months after the whole garden debacle, is that their actions have far greater consequences than they knew. Crawly had given humanity Knowledge, Aziraphale had given them Will. And with these two forces, well, naturally, others follow. 

“Oh thank Somebody,” Crawly says in a rush as he dashes towards that angel. The angel isn’t alone and while that normally would be cause for concern, he is not accompanied by another of his kind but instead a pale, disconcerting-looking little being which might or might not be a mini-Eve. Indeed, it’s the being’s presence that sends a surge of relief through Crawly, as he has been accompanied by a disconcerting little being of his own since they parted. True, his has giant wings, is as black as the space between stars, and has a skull for a face so it’s not entirely the same thing. But Aziraphale had been willing to help him once and that was when they had nothing in common. Besides, he has heavenly contacts, surely one of them knows what the blazes is going on. 

Aziraphale blinks at him, at his little shadow, and sighs in relief. “You too, then?” he asks, hope dancing in his eyes.

He’s just as clueless as Crawly is. Dammit. “Yeah. Yeah, come here, let me introduce you,” he calls back to the little shadow, who winds himself around one of Crawly’s still unsteady legs. Aziraphale’s little one stares at Crawly’s then darts towards him and holds out a hand. It’s at this moment that Crawly realizes her hair is bright red, nearly his shade.

“I like you,” Aziraphale’s tells Crawly’s, a smile slashing her mouth. Crawly can’t decide whether it’s a good expression or a bad one. “Camael, but I’m thinking of changing it.”

 Azrael, Crawly’s...well, doesn’t say, because he doesn’t have a mouth, but the idea is close enough, as he extends a skeletal hand and takes Camael’s.

Aziraphale seems to be having a similarly indecisive moment, if the way he can’t take his eyes off of Azrael is any indication.

“There are fish in the river,” Camael continues, “I like stabbing them. Would you like to stab them with me?”

Why?

“Because it’s fun,” she whispers, red ringing her gold irises.

Okay, then. Azrael nods then steps out of Crawly’s shadow and lets Camael lead him over the nearest dune towards the waiting river.

“Be sure to give the fish to the humans,” Aziraphale calls after her, his only response a pair of raised fingers from her free hand.

He sighs as the little ones disappear from view. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with her,” he mutters, more to himself than to Crawly.

Crawly gapes at him. “What the blazes is going on? Because, I don’t know about you but-”

“Azrael?” Aziraphale asks, expression torn between amused and concerned.

Crawly rolls his eyes. Because of course that’s the important part here. And what can he say, really? That the little one, the shadow, had rejected all other attempts at naming him, complete with sulking and the silent treatment? That Crawly, in a desperate attempt to have something to call him besides shadow, threw out a mangled version of the angel’s name only for the little one to take to it like a duck to water? That the little one likes hearing their story over and over again? No way on Earth is he admitting to that.

“Oh, yes, I was just traipsing through life when this brand new thing pounced me, attached itself to my leg, and followed me for months. Of course my first thought was naming it after you,” he sneers.

Aziraphale takes his point with a blush and mercifully cuts Crawly off. “I beg your pardon.”

Crawly makes a face at him.

“So we really did create them. What do you suppose they’re for?”

“How the Heaven should I know? You’re the one with the Ineffable Plan.”

“Do the humans see the boy?” Aziraphale asks, determined to ignore Crawly’s mocking.

“Is that what he is?”

“Young humans are called boys or girls depending on their place in society,” Aziraphale explains primly, “and given that beings such as ourselves do not have young in the traditional sense, their words are as good as any.”

”Where’d you learn that?”

“There’s a human settlement a few miles from here.”

“Already?”

“They do move fast.”

“Not been around any humans since,” Crawly admits. “I don’t think they’d see him, though, not entirely. They don’t see your wings, do they?”

“They do not.”

“There you go. Might just see a small human.”

“I do hope so. The humans frequent that river.”

“And you let them go off alone?” Crawly does not yelp but instead voices his question at a very high pitch.

“She can take care of them,” Aziraphale says with a shudder. “She’s quite good with violence.”

“How’d you know?”

“Just trust me on that.”

What Aziraphale means is that when he and Camael had arrived at the human settlement, they were met with more than a little suspicion. The humans, having never seen a child that age before -all of their children were six months old exactly or had yet to be born, had hurled a few insults, and some pottery, their way before the girl had yelled and thrown pots back at them. Her victims hadn’t died but they did fall into a coma which Aziraphale had promptly and helpfully healed. The humans had given the pair a wide berth but hadn’t tried anything since. 

“Spirited thing,” Crawly says when Aziraphale finishes his story.

“And yours?”

Crawly shrugs. “He likes watching. And listening. Thinks a lot. Finds venomous creatures fascinating.”

This is because the being known as Azrael had existed long before the garden, just not in this form and not with his current ability to think, ponder, and experience. But Crawly doesn’t quite realize that yet.

“So what do we do?” he asks the angel, hoping he’s got an idea.

Aziraphale sighs. “I suppose we do as humans do. Raise them until they are grown then let them make their way in the world.”

“And if they’re like me?” The words leave him before Crawly can think them through and realize what he’s saying. He turns away from the angel. Silence reigns for a long moment.

“Then I will have my hands full, thwarting three of you,” he finally replies. Crawly chances a glance but the angel’s looking away too. Aziraphale clears his throat. “But I don’t think they will be. Like you, I mean. Or me. They don’t feel like it, anyway, they feel more...”

“Human,” Crawly agrees with a nod. Azrael reminds him of Eve, quiet and thinking and pondering. What little he’s seen of Camael paints her in Adam’s light, action and impulse and burning desire. The little ones aren’t human but they are closer than the angel and demon ever can be.

A shriek fills the silence.

“Father!” 

Aziraphale charges towards the river in a flash, simultaneously running and gliding. Crawly stays hot on his heels. Whatever’s bad enough to get that girl calling, Azrael’s right in the middle.

At the top of the dune, he takes stock, even as Aziraphale continues down to the river. First, there are half a dozen humans. Three women are cowering in the river, their babies crying on their backs. Three men, presumably guarding the herd of cattle stamping and drinking several meters downstream, are wading up towards the distressed women. And there, at the river’s banks, are their little ones. Camael is shrieking and pointing at something within the herd while Azrael lurches back onto the bank, something clinging to his back and wings. 

Aziraphale is already darting towards the herd so Crawly takes advantage of the chaos. He snaps his fingers and holds time, grunting and sweating with the effort. The mortals freeze. Aziraphale scoops a small, wretched looking being from underneath the legs of several startled cattle. Crawly rushes to the bank and pulls the reed-thin, fragile-looking, brown child off Azrael’s wings. The child kicks and fights him until Azrael quells their resistance with a dark look.

“I do believe we ought to take our leave,” Aziraphale calls to them, the tiny child being on his hip and reaching back for the cattle.

“Ya think?” Crawly snaps as he hauls his catch back the way they came, Azrael hot on his heels. Camael makes a beeline for Aziraphale instead of heading straight towards the dunes. 

For his part, Aziraphale waves his free hand and says, “You can release them now. They’ll think it a dream.”

“Not taking that chance,” Crawly calls back as the dark-skinned being finds their footing and decides they’d rather walk than be dragged. Crawly holds their wrist like a vise anyway.

“How long can you hold them?” Aziraphale asks as they meet. The child on his hips has nasty looking pox and sore scars across their body and deep bags under their eyes. At their whimper, Aziraphale miracles them a brown robe, does the same for the child in Crawly’s grip, the better to ignore all the bones Crawly can count under their skin.

“Long enough,” he says with effort.

“If we head north, we should be able to stay out of their reach,” Aziraphale says, “Granted, finding a new settlement might be problematic but-”

“My things, I want my things!” Camael snarls and stomps her foot, refuses to take another step. “We can’t leave them! They’re mine!”

Crawly wants to growl at her but with keeping the humans frozen, his focus is rather occupied.

“We can and we will,” Aziraphale orders, patience and experience leeching into his tone. “I will make you new things once we are certain we are safe.”

“No, they’re mine, I want them,” she yells and kicks his shin.

Enough, Azrael says, projecting a glare even though he lacks eyebrows and eyelids, or I won’t play with you anymore.

Camael scowls and crosses her arms but starts walking again. Aziraphale breathes a sigh of relief. They walk for several miles before Crawly drops the freeze, heaving and stumbling as he does. Aziraphale places the pale child on the ground and reaches towards Crawly before abruptly aborting the movement.

“Do you, um, that is...”

Crawly shakes his head. “Let’s just keep moving.” He’ll worry about feeling the strain later.

Aziraphale, to his credit, purses his lip and frowns. “You could shift to a snake,” he says slowly, “You wouldn’t be that heavy.”

Crawly is about to refuse when Aziraphale says, “I would feel more comfortable if you recovered quickly. Treacherous area, this, even without those humans.”

Crawly sighs but shifts, conceding the point. The sand burns his sensitive underbelly for the brief seconds between shifting and Aziraphale picking him up. He winds his tail around the angel’s waist and settles his head on one shoulder, tongue tasting the air. Beyond the angel’s love, Azrael’s bones, and the new scents of the new little ones, he finds nothing out of sorts. Certainly no humans, thank somebody. Speaking of.

“What were you lot doing anyway?” he calls to the kids staring them down with yellow eyes.

“He was drowning,” Camael says, shoving the brown-skinned child.

“Was not,” the boy retorts, “Was looking at the leeches.”

“You were under the water and not moving forever,” the girl snaps. “You were freaking everybody out so Azrael tried to grab you and you pulled him under.”

“You did what?” Crawly hisses.

I was fine. He cannot hurt me.

Even so, Crawly’s offended on Azrael’s behalf. “You can’t go round grabbing people like that, especially if they’re trying to help you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s impolite,” Aziraphale adds, “Instead, tell them you are fine. Most will leave you be.”

“Whatever.”

“And you, white one, what’s your story?” Crawly asks. The kid’s moving a little slower than the others but seems otherwise fine, her fragile act seemingly just that.

“I like cows,” she says, like it’s all the explanation she need give. “And chickens and sheep. But cows are the best.”

There is something in her tone that sends shivers down Crawly’s too long spine.

“Chickens are stupid,” the boy needles.

“No, they’re not. They’re fascinating.”

“They’re stupid.”

“I think they’re good for wringing necks,” Camael interrupts their bickering, “They make the best noises.”

The boy rolls his eyes while the girl gazes into the distance thoughtfully. “I suppose they can be good dead, too.”

The entire conversation is giving Crawly the willies, Aziraphale too if his shaking head is anything to go by.

“So you decided to look at a whole herd of cows up close then?” he asks the girl.

“Oh, yes. I wanted to look at their mouths but they wouldn’t let me. That’s why they were cross.”

“Next time, ask the herdsmen for permission. They know their animals and can keep them calm for you,” Aziraphale offers.

“If you say so,” the girl replies with a shrug.

“Where are we going?” Camael asks.

“We’ll know when we get there,” Crawly says.

“That means you don’t know anything,” the boy says sagely then tilts his head and sniffs. “Nothing out here for miles and miles. I think there’s humans that away but they’re really far.” He points in the direction Aziraphale is already heading.

“How far, do you think?” the angel asks curiously.

“Thrice as far as we’ve traveled so far.”

“You have a good sense of things,” Aziraphale compliments as the kids go back to their strange conversations.

When night falls and Crawly can’t take any more of the strange bickering behind them, he shifts back into man-form and starts talking about the stars above them. The little ones are distracted for long hours, Azrael especially, as Crawly tells story after story of their creation, points out all the different constellations and different names for each thing in the sky. They run out of night long before he runs out of words, of course. 

They come across a caravan near noon. Aziraphale apparently knows the leader as he steps inside the man’s tent to converse with him. Crawly’s left to keep Camael and the boy from running off, the girl having decided that Azrael is the new most fascinating thing she’s seen and staying close to him.

When they exit, Aziraphale gestures at them to follow him, which they do, into a nearby, empty tent. He miracles a few things, bed rolls, blankets, rugs, cushions, and a few items Crawly doesn’t recognize but Camael does. She begins playing a rather violent game with them, dragging the others into a spirited fight between them.

“Omar has allowed us to remain with the caravan,” Aziraphale says lowly, “provided, of course, that I navigate for them and the rest of us assist them.”

Crawly raises an eyebrow. “And when they notice...” he gestures at Azrael’s wings, Camael’s violent game, the boy’s twig-like arms, the girl’s scars, and his own slitted pupils.

“He knows it’s temporary, just until the next oasis,” Aziraphale replies, just as lowly. His breath tickles Crawly’s ear. “If you have a better idea, I’m all for it.”

Crawly doesn’t. They could hide in the desert, of course, it’s not like they need food, water, or shelter. But the desert does run out of things to do and Crawly is supposed to report back some new devilish work before too long. Can’t really do it away from humans. And while the little ones are not human, they are young, in a way Crawly and Aziraphale never have been. At least with humans, who do have young who grow and change, there’s less chance of them missing something obvious. And if Aziraphale knows and trusts this group, well, at least they have a little breathing room before their next flight.

“Yeah, all right,” Crawly finally says.

“Oh, wonderful,” Aziraphale replies then hesitantly adds, “Omar believes you are my wife and they are our children. I did not correct him, should I?”

“If it makes it easier, who cares? They’re gonna need names, though,” he finishes, looking at the newcomers pointedly.

The boy will settle on Dumah, the girl on Kushiel. They will travel for a while, never remaining with one group for too long. They will cross Adam and Eve once more who, remembering the kindness bestowed upon them by the snake and the guardian, will insist on providing a home for the six, together with their two young sons. Dumah and Kushiel will bond over sheep, watch together when illness strikes the lead ram and Adam diligently, but fruitlessly, tries to save it. Camael and Cain will be thick as thieves, Azrael will hover over young Abel.

Life will be decent, for a while, as all things are. 

Things will end in tragedy two decades later, all of them scattered to the eight winds. They will meet again, of course, but will never be the same.

But there was a time, not a long one, when the four horsemen were young and protected by the godfathers of humanity. And, despite it all, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale can bring themselves to regret it.

[fantasyandromancelover]

The Tale of Tales Chapter 31

Lucy woke up really early the next morning. It was still dark out and the sun had not yet risen. She saw that while Erza was still sound asleep Natsu was awake also. He was sitting by a fire he had started staring at that golden slipper he always kept with him.

"You're thinking about her again aren't you?" She asked him.

"And what if I am?"

"You really think that you're actually going to find her?"

"I know I'm going to find her."

"What if she doesn't want to be found? What if she only came to that ball to have a fun time. Not seek out a husband or gain your admiration?"

"Maybe you're right. Maybe she doesn't want to be found and maybe she doesn't return my feelings. But I have to find her, I have to know her name, I have to tell her how I feel."

"Are you even sure that you love her? You don't even know her. You can't love someone you don't know."

"Why are you so against my love for her?"

"Because I don't think what you feel for her is real love. Pardon my boldness your highness but I think you're delusional. You need to forget this mystery dream girl and move on to a girl who actually exists."

"Oh now I see what's going on. You're jealous."

"What?!"

"Can't say I blame you for falling for me. I am a dashing prince."

"Ugh! You're more delusional than I thought. As if I would ever have feelings for an arrogant, conceited, spoiled little rich boy like you!"

"Hey you're no picnic either sweet heart! You're bossy, demanding, and difficult! I don't think I've ever met a more insufferable woman!"

"Insufferable?! How dare you!" She took some mud into her hands and flung it into his face. "Honestly how on Earth were you born a prince?! You have no manners, no humility, no respect, and no-"

But she was silenced by Natsu throwing mud straight back into her face.

"You had that coming doe eyes." He said.

She only threw more mud at him, soon the two were in an all mud slinging war that went on for hours and eventually their anger was forgotten and they ended up having fun. By the time sun rise had come they were both covered head to toe in mud and dirt. Before continuing with their journey they took separate turns bathing in the spring.

At last they reached the end of the astral line. At the end of it was a large oak tree that had no leaves and looked as if it was ready to wither away and die.

"So end of the line huh?" Natsu said.

"Levy must be around here somewhere." Lucy said.

She began to search around the tree for any indication that could lead her to Levy. She then spotted a marking on the tree that resembled a key hole. She leaned over and placed her fingers on to the mark, as soon as she touched it the gold key in her pocket started glowing. She pulled the key out and looked at the mark on the tree that looked like a key hole. She brought the end of the key toward the mark and to her surprise it went right through it. She stuck the key further in, turned it three times, and the tree opened like a door.

At once something flew out from inside and took the form of a petite but pretty lady with shimmering wings on her back. Her short blue hair was decorated with daisies and she wore a dress that appeared to made from gold and silver leaves. For a moment she stood perfectly still as if she was trying to make sure that she was actually here. She then turned to Lucy, gave her a big smile, and flew in to hug her.

"Oh Lucy look at you!" She cried cheerfully. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby. My how you've grown, you're the image of your dear mother."

"So you're Levy? You're my fairy godmother?" Lucy asked.

"Yes and I can't thank you enough for freeing me. Oh how I've waited for this day. At last it's here. I'm finally free!...Oh no!"

"What is it?"

"Now that I've been freed it's only a matter of time before it finds out."

"It? It who? Or what?"

"I'll explain later but right now we need to go somewhere it's eyes can't see. Hurry now!"

"Wait what about my friends?"

"Oh you didn't come alone?"

"Hi we're friends of hers." Natsu said.

"Excuse me Levy was it? What's going on? Why do you look so frightened?" Erza asked.

"I haven't the time to explain it now. All of you follow me quickly." Levy's wings started to flutter as she levitated off the ground. "Oh I've missed flying so much."

Lucy, Natsu, and Erza followed Levy as she flew toward a cave and inside was a tiny house.

"Alright now everyone in." Levy said.

"You want us to go in there?" Erza said skeptically.

"Yes."

"But it's so small." Lucy said.

"Of course, it makes it harder for that horrid thing to see it that way."

"But aren't we a little too big?" Natsu said. "I mean how are we supposed to get in?"

"Oh sorry! I forgot!" She stuck her hand in her dress pocket and pulled out a handful of gold and silver dust which she blew on to them, causing them to shrink and be transported into the tiny house. She then dropped some of the dust on to herself and came in after them. "There we go. I apologise for it being so snug in here, I normally don't have that many people in here."

The house was very small and it was loaded with mountains and mountains of books.

"There certainly are a lot of books in here." Erza observed.

"It's like you have your own library." Lucy said.

"I'm a bit of book worm." Levy said.

"A bit?" Natsu said.

"So Levy who or what was this it you were referring to?" Lucy asked her.

"The evil spirit in the mirror." Levy said. "It knows everything and it sees everything. There a very few things in this world that are unknown to it and very few places where it's eyes do not see."

"What exactly is this thing? And what does it want?"

"Years ago an evil spirit somehow managed to escape from the depths of hell and enter our world." Levy said. "Twisted, vile, and cruel it was. It's soul purpose was to spread chaos, misery, and despair wherever it went. My fellow fairies and I tried to send it back to hell but fairies can only do good magic so with the help of a group of wise men we were able to seal the spirit inside of a magic mirror. Unfortunately, though the spirit was trapped it still had it's evil powers and could use them to manipulate it's way to freedom."

"How?" Erza asked.

"Your aunt Minerva is a prime example Lucy. Queen Minerva did not always look as she does now. She started out as a hideous creature and her own father despised her with every fiber of his being. But her sister, your mother Layla saw past her repulsive appearance and loved her. They were inseparable those two, always together laughing and playing and Minerva despite looking the way she did was a sweet and caring girl."

"Are we talking about the same Minerva?" Natsu asked.

"Yes. Believe it or not she was once very kind and good."

"Why did she change?" Lucy said.

"It happened on your parents's wedding day. Originally your father had been arranged to marry Minerva, he was the son of a wealthy merchant and she was the daughter of a land owner. The marriage would have led to incredible wealth but your father was smitten with your mother's beauty and his infatuation turned to love so he married her instead. Minerva was devastated, in tears she fled into the forest where she stumbled on to the mirror. The mirror promised to make her the most beautiful woman in the world and it did but it came at an awful price. The mirror will grant you what you desire but once it's power touches you everything you see becomes cold and ugly and you only see the worst in people. As the years passed Minerva grew more beautiful but she also grew to resent and envy her sister, forgetting all the love and compassion Layla had given her. The mirror was slowly but surely darkening her heart, but then the kind and good King Hector married her and her envy was briefly silenced until that day."

"What day?"

"Seventeen years ago a child was born into the world, a child who would one day grow up to be more beautiful than even her. Seven years after the girl's birth, Minerva sensed that another was destined to surpass her and her jealousy was reawakened. She seeked out of forbidden book of dark magic and witchcraft which I was planning to destroy but she caught me, stole the book, and trapped me for ten years."

"What exactly is going to happen to her?"

"As her hatred and jealousy grows so does the mirror's control over her. Soon the spirit will be able to escape it's prison and take over her body, using it to once again cause destruction to our world."

"But it can be stopped right?" Natsu said.

"If the mirror is shattered by the only weapon that can destroy it then the spirit will be banished back to hell."

"Okay so what is this weapon?"

"I do not know it's exact name. No one does, all we know about it is that it's of ash and cinder on the outside but of the purest gold on the inside."

"What the hell does that mean?" Natsu asked.

"I don't know. It's a riddle that we've been trying to figure out for years but I do know this. The child is now a woman with beauty that far outshines Minerva and if she successfully kills her then that will complete the mirror's corruption. With each evil act she commits it brings her closer to becoming no more than the mirror's puppet and if she carries out that final act it will cement her end and our own as well."

"Who is this woman that she's trying to kill?" Erza asked.

"I don't know her by name, I only know that she has hair as blue rain, cheeks blush as the rose, and skin white as snow."

"Juvia!" Lucy gasped in realization.

"Huh?" Natsu said.

"It's Juvia! She's the one Minerva wants to kill!"

"The princess of Fiore? Are you sure?"

"Yes! Minerva's always been jealous of her! She's the only person she hates more than me! Oh my God we have to find her!"

"I've met her." Erza said. "I know where she is."

"Where is she?"

"Last time I saw her she said she was living in a cottage with three dwarfs."

"We have to get back and find her right away!"

[liloknobhead]

BEST LILO FICS

18best lilo fics (must read)

trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday (30k)

Louis gets stuck in one terrible day on tour, over and over and over again.

needing is one thing (getting’s another) (30k)

It’s hard not to stare at your wrist when there is a small, futuristic, piece of metal imbedded in the skin there, like something out of a science fiction novel. Louis’ TiMER has never changed: four sections of dashes blinking the seconds away, completely blank until his soulmate gets their TiMER too.

the only one (65k)

At twenty three, Liam Payne has a achieved a lot in his life. From Grammy's to world tours, he has everything he's ever dreamed of. When he gets invited to the wedding of two of his childhood best friends, he has return to a town he turned his back on five years ago. He's forced to remember the reason why he left, more importantly he has to face the person who had been his sole reason for escaping.

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Single parent and solo artist Liam Payne hires Louis Tomlinson to be a full time nanny to his four year old son Sammy. Although the two men don't quite click from the start it's love at first sight between Sammy and Louis. Eventually Louis and Liam warm up to each other and get on like a house on fire, in fact the two become a little too fond of each other.

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ACCOUNT NEEDED.

like a hole in the head (19k)

"So I've been nominated for an Oscar," Louis says carefully. If he's called to gloat, Liam doesn't care; proper phone etiquette be damned, he will hang up.

He will.

"I know," Liam says. "Everyone knows that."

"Right," Louis says. "I didn't know if you," he cuts himself off, and if Liam didn't know better by now, he'd say Lou was nervous.

"Didn't know if I what?" Liam asks. "If I was awake lately? If I'd blanked it all out? If I'd turned off the internet and lived like a hermit to avoid your name?"

"I was going to say, if you remembered me," Louis says, wry and bitter and so, so familiar.

"It was a divorce, Lou, not a head injury," Liam laughs. "Of course I remember you."

ACCOUNT NEEDED.

the new posh and becks (28k)

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he guy is watching him with a funny expression that disappears so quickly Louis must have imagined it. It's late; he's projecting. "Have a good night," the guy offers, smiling at Louis. "Thanks again for the tip with the timetable."

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Louis had broken the one rule that an Angel of Death is not supposed to break.

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you played it back (87k)

“You know,” Liam says, closing his eyes. Louis’ hand on his wrist is the only thing keeping him grounded and he turns his hand over, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. “Sometimes I wonder if she’s, like, the one.” He feels silly even as he says it but he can’t help the worry laced through his words.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, so, so gentle.

Liam nods, and he turns his face to press his lips against Louis’ shoulder. “I mean—this can’t be the happiest I’ll ever be,” he says, small and sad. “Can it? She’s not the only one that could ever love me. Right?” Desperately, he needs to hear it. “If I left her, would anyone else want me?” It’s not a question of him loving somebody else, but of somebody else loving him.

The grip on his wrist tightens, but only for a moment.

WILL BE UPDATED EVERY FEW WEEKS. BEST LIAM PAYNE/LOUIS TOMLINSON FANFICS ON AO3. ENJOY!!! IF YOU HAVE A SUGGESTION, SEND ME A MESSAGE xxx

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

With My Whole Heart

My Masterlist

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Possible TRIGGERING ending. Major character death. Angst. Not Dean x Reader (lololol JK on the warning KINDA, Just trying to ease some of my pain.)

Square Filled: Zombie Bite

A/N: This is my first submission for @spnangstbingo. It’s written in third person, which makes a little more sense at the end.

I think I’m also going to make a SPN Angst Bingo tag list. If you’d like to be added, or if you’re one of my forevers and want to be removed for these fics, please send me an ask!

.

No one could quite remember how it all started, nor did it really matter at this point. It had started out slow-- hunters would hear the signs and flock to a city here or there, treating it like the Croatoan virus. It soon became apparent that this string was different.

People didn’t heal. There was no sulfur. It spread like wildfire, leaving hunters and even doctors at a loss for an explanation. The few who managed to escape without being eaten alive were either turned, or forced to begin hunting the monsters. 

It was the only way to survive--get them before they get you.

At first, Dean was pumped. He’d always been interested in the idea of real, “living” zombies. But he quickly got over the excitement.

It had been years now, and every city across the nation seemed like a ghost town.

The convoy Dean was leading on a supply run was ambushed. The zombies came out of nowhere as the group was loading the vehicles with what little resources they’d managed to find. Dean, Sam, Y/N, and the other hunters fired shot after shot, easily falling into survival mode as the monsters descended upon them. One by one the zombies fell, leaving a scene of gruesome mayhem in the aftermath.

“Shit,” Y/N said under her breath as the chaos calmed down.

Sam looked up in concern as she inspected a fresh wound with trembling fingers. He ran to her side, inspecting her arm himself, before realization soon washed over them. With tears in her eyes, she looked up at him. Everyone was speechless as their attention was drawn to the situation unfolding before them. No one even had to ask what had happened, they just...knew.

“Well... Who’s gonna do it?” Gordon said, voice laced with anxiety. Sam whirled around, grabbing the collar of his shirt, and shoved him against a concrete wall.

“Nobody touches her,” he barked icily, staring down the man before him. “Are we clear?” He turned his glare on everyone in the group, making sure his point was received.

“Sam…” she tried with a wavering voice. “He’s right. You’ve got to…”

“No.” Sam said firmly.

“Hey! Everyone cool it, okay? We know from past cases that we’ve got a few days. Everybody, check yourselves for anything resembling a bite. We’ll...figure something out,” Dean said. His eyes landed on her before glancing at his brother. “Let’s finish loading up and get back to camp.”

The following night she sat with the boys, staring intently at the fire. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. Sam’s eyes had hardly left her since the incident, as he tried in vain to come up with something-- anything-- to save her.

“How ya feelin’, Y/N?” Dean asked quietly. She simply shrugged.

Sam clenched his jaw, feeling helpless. She was already pale and clammy, constantly shivering from cold sweats.

“Notice any other signs yet? Maybe it, uh… maybe it wasn’t a zombie bite. Feel like a cold at all?”

She smiled feebly at Dean. The boys had always had her back. Always been there for her. And even now,  when all seemed hopeless, Dean was trying to somehow make things better.

“You know better than that, Dean.” She answered softly.

A tense silence fell upon the group, no one knowing quite what to say.

“Sammy…” she started.

“We’re not talking about this right now. We’ll figure it out, Y/N. We always do.”

“We have to, baby. C’mere.” She held a shaking hand out toward him. He reached out to kiss it before sliding next to her on the log. He put an arm around her shoulders, holding her tight to his side-- desperately wanting to take this away. For her to be okay. But even he couldn’t deny how hopeless things were starting to seem.

“Sammy...I love you two more than anything in the entire world. I’m so sorry to put you through this. I should’ve been more careful-”

“Stop.”

She placed a weak hand on his thigh and rubbed it reassuringly. “I know you don’t want to, but we have to talk about this, baby. I’m…” She sighed. “I’m changing fast. I would never ask either of you to take me out yourselves. I was thinking maybe Gordon could--”

“Y/N, please. Not tonight. We’ll find a cure.”

She looked across the fire at Dean, and he gave her a small smile. She hated seeing them so conflicted and helpless, so she dropped the subject for the time being.

Her condition went downhill fast. Sam rarely left her side, and he desperately tried to make sure she ate and kept her strength up. Despite their fear of what she was becoming, everyone in camp worked tirelessly to find a cure. They’d tried countless times before to find something with no luck. But Y/N was well liked, and losing her would be a devastating blow to the entire group.

Her breathing became shallow and she began to lash out at those who tried to help. She always apologized later, and became extremely frustrated that she had so much difficulty managing her emotions now. Soon, she couldn’t stand to eat their usual food rations, choosing to let herself be hungry most of the time rather than seeking the raw foods she was beginning to crave.

“Sammy, you gotta get some shut eye.” Dean tried after she had fallen asleep. “It’s been two days. You haven’t slept since our last supply run.” He was careful not to mention the incident itself, knowing how Sam would react.

“I’m fine, Dean,” he said, not looking up as he continued to cradle her hand. Her skin was now starting to blister, and despite how quickly they managed to patch her up, they just couldn’t seem to keep up with how quickly it spread. She was beginning to lose her memory in addition to her inherently warm and patient nature.

“Alright,” Dean conceded. “I’m gonna get back to researching with the rest of the group… We’re working on it, Sammy.” Sam didn’t acknowledge him, but reached out to brush away a strand of hair that was matted to her face.

Dean checked back in the next morning and saw that Sam had finally fallen asleep. He was slouched forward on the bed and she was gently stroking his hair, lost in thought.

“Dean,” she rasped when she finally noticed him leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey, sweetheart. How ya feelin’ today?”

“Not so great,” she wheezed. “I’m… Dean, someone’s gotta take care of it. Sam’s pretending nothing’s wrong but...you gotta let me go. Before I hurt someone or pass this on.”

Dean could no longer hide the agony he’d been carrying over the past few days. Seeing his brother, broken and slowly coming undone. And his oldest friend...his family, slowly rotting away.

“Sweetheart...I don’t know how we can do that. Just try to hang on a little longer.”

She set her mouth in a firm line and nodded once. Dean walked over and squeezed her free hand before turning to leave.

Late that night, she woke up to see that Sam was still asleep in the chair beside her bed. She watched his chest rise and fall, glad that he’d finally succumbed to the rest that he’d been evading for so long. Even with the bags under his eyes, he finally looked almost peaceful. Free from the worries she’d inadvertently caused him.

She watched him for several minutes, soaking in every detail. She desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, but she knew she couldn’t afford to wake him. She mustered up the strength to crawl out of Sam’s bed, and crept to her old room just across the hall. She let her eyes roam across the familiar walls, the bed, and finally her desk. She indulged herself in the memories she’d created over the years and the pictures she’d accumulated with everyone she held so dear.

She sat at her desk and wrote. It took her quite some time to finish, as she’d grown increasingly weak. She knew she didn’t have much time left.

She rummaged in her desk until she found what she’d been looking for, struggled to push herself up out of the chair, and shuffled quietly back across the hall. Sam hadn’t moved, so she quietly slipped in to lay the note she’d written on the bed. Giving him one last look, she made her way out the door with her gun in hand.

A distant noise made Sam stir. He wiped the sleep from his eyes, instantly feeling that something was very wrong. He leaped from his seat, noticing that she was no longer in bed. A small note caught his attention.

As he began reading, his heart stopped and panic set in. He clutch the note tightly, dashing out of the room and down the hall shouting her name.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

Dean was sitting at a table with some of the other hunters making bullets. Everyone’s heads snapped up and they exchanged concerned looks at Sam’s shouts. Dean rose from the table in a hurry and strode through the halls, searching for his brother.

“Sam?” he called.

Sam was frantic, sprinting to every room in the complex.

“Sam? What’s going on?” When Dean caught up to him, Sam didn’t even acknowledge him as he whirled around and began running in the opposite direction.

Dean cursed under his breath, removing his gun from the waistband of his jeans, and fell into pace behind Sam.

“Y/N!” Sam shrieked as he burst through the steel doors, making his way outside with Dean close behind. Sam sprinted to the perimeter fence and ran alongside it, scanning the woods just in case. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes squinting at something softly glinting in the distance. He swallowed hard before bursting out of the gate, feeling a deep pull to check it out.

“Sammy, what the hell!” Dean yelled after him. He stood, watching as his brother ran toward the thickly wooded area. Sam’s steps slowed and Dean watched as he swayed before collapsing to his knees on the ground.

His stomach dropped, hoping against all hope that it wasn’t what it looked like. That she couldn’t…

Dean slowly made his way through the gate, stooping to pick up a piece of paper that Sam had dropped. He watched in horror as Sam picked up her lifeless body, pulling it onto his lap and rocking back and forth. Sam dropped his head and pressed his face against hers, shoulders violently shaking as he began to sob. Dean closed his eyes and turned his head away as his brother screamed and pleaded with no one in particular.

He turned his attention to the note, trying to distract himself from Sam’s anguished pleas. His eyes welled up and a single tear spilled over as he crumpled the note in a tight fist, letting it fall at his side.

Sammy,

You and Dean have been the light of my life. Thank you for always having my back, for never letting me lose hope, and for always fighting to find a way. You two are the greatest men I have ever known, and I’ve treasured every moment that I’ve gotten to spend with you.

Promise me that neither of you will blame yourselves-- sometimes these things just happen. I can’t let myself put any of you in danger. I’m so sorry Sammy, but it’s time to let me go.

Never stop fighting, and be the hero I’ve always known you are.

I love you with my whole heart,

Y/N

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@ain-t-bovvered  @amanda-teaches  @anjiep24  @because-imma-lady-assface  @cassieraider  @castielisalreadysaved  @deangirl7695  @ericaprice2008  @fandomoniumflurry  @grace-for-sale  @growningupgeek  @hooked-onfandoms  @obsessivecompulsivespn  @olkathefoxi  @pickupthatamulet  @rosethesupernaturalhunter  @sea040561  @sis-tafics  @waywardbaby  @waywardnerd67  @whimsicalrobots  @wonderfulworldofwinchester

[shireness-says]

Merry Christmas to All

Summary:  Christmas has become An Event in the Swan-Jones household. ~2.2K. Rated G. Also on AO3.

A/N: Here, have another wildly unseasonal piece, transferred from AO3 in honor of the Fandom Crescendo! Pretty much no plot - just a lot of fluffy family feels. At Christmas. What more could you want? Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

“Psst.”

The little whisper isn’t really a shock. Over the past couple years, Killian has grown very accustomed to the noise. In reality, he’s been only dozing for perhaps the past twenty minutes, enjoying a few more minutes in the sole company of his lovely wife before the chaos the day will undoubtedly bring. However, his morning visitor doesn’t need to know that he would have been up in the next half hour, regardless. Half the fun – for both of them – is pretending to still be asleep.

“Psst. Papa. Papa, wake up.”

Even after over four and a half years, the title still brings a smile to his face, and he can’t help but turn his head to see blue eyes and bouncing energy.

It had been a bit of a wait to be blessed with their own child, but Amelia Alice Jones is worth every moment. She’s a happy, cheerful child, curious about absolutely everything, with his eyes and hair in a red-brown shade Killian thought only existed in storybooks. In short, she’s perfect.

Emma’s still sleeping – it had been a bit of a long night in the Swan-Jones household – but thankfully, Amelia has the good common sense to whisper. Brilliant little lass. “Papa, you’ve got to get up, it’s Christmas!”

As if he could forget.

Christmas has been a bit of an event ever since he and Emma got married. Things had properly settled down in Storybrooke not long after their nuptials – the occasional disturbance at most, no more of this ‘villian of the week’ nonsense – and Christmas had been one of the first holidays their little family had cause to celebrate. Emma and Henry had gone all out to introduce him to the holiday, with peppermint everything and eggnog and weeks of Christmas movie marathons, a fire roaring in the fireplace and a beautifully decorated tree in the corner. Christmas morning, Henry and Emma had teamed up to jump on him, screeching about Christmas, so his wakeup call this morning is sedate in comparison. All the same, he treasures the memories of that first holiday.

Subsequent holidays had been somewhat tamer – always with a family lunch at the Nolan’s farmhouse, some years spending the morning with Henry, some years not. After Henry had embarked on his quest to find his own story, holidays were somewhat sadder, Emma (okay, Killian too) nostalgic for the afternoons curled up on the couch with Henry, watching the snow fall. Their ever-unsuccessful efforts to start their own family only added to the vague melancholy, especially as Emma’s parents continued to reproduce like rabbits – Emma now the proud older sister to four siblings. Thankfully, by the time Regina joined Henry, they were finally expecting a little one of their own, the excitement and preparations somewhat tempering any sorrow Emma might have felt about losing her friend and confidant. Regina and Emma may have had a rough start, but the two women not only reached an understanding, but developed a close friendship over the years.

Christmas may have always been special, but everything changes when Amelia arrives. She’s a mere seven months old that first Christmas, not nearly old enough to remember anything, but Killian and Emma act like a pair of fools, buying her far more toys than any infant more interested in the paper ever needs. Last year was the first Christmas they knew she might actually remember, and so they had gone all out all over again. Hopefully, Amelia will have lovely memories of making cookies and ice skating and opening presents with Mama and Papa that will last her for years.

Transported back to the present by an insistent tug on his sleeve, he flashes a grin at his daughter and swings his legs out of bed, careful not to wake Emma. Resting his stump on Amelia’s back, he motions for her to keep quiet as they make their way out into the hallway and shut the door again.

“Let’s let Mama sleep a bit longer, okay darling?”

She nods, very serious. Oh, his precious little lass.

“Shall we make her some breakfast for when she wakes up?”

Well, that gets her attention, as Amelia scampers for the stairs in an auburn blur of flying curls, making him chuckle.

He’ll meet her in the kitchen soon enough – he’s got another stop to make first.

———

Killian practically inches open the door to the small, green corner room before noticing its inhabitant is already awake, if still quiet.

After so much struggle to conceive Amelia, Killian and Emma had assumed their daughter would be the only child they’d raise from birth, the only sibling Henry would have. But four and a half years and a very careless Valentine’s Day later, he and Emma became parents again – this time to a little boy, their little Dash. Well, Dashiell. Dashiell Liam. A tiny, precious bundle now a full nine weeks old.

It’s been a little bit of an adjustment period with Dash, in the best of ways. Amelia had been a whirlwind since the day she was born – loud and determined to be the center of attention, and Gods help the man or woman who didn’t grant her their full and prompt attention. Dash, in contrast, is a quieter little lad – Amelia’s piercing wails traded for his less noisy whimpers, like he’s set on being polite or some such idea. Of course, with the full practice of a father to now two young children, Killian wakes to any noise from the baby monitor anyhow, as does Emma. He’d forgotten, truly, how tricky sleeping with a newborn is, now that Amelia (mostly) sleeps through the night, but now he’s up again every few hours because Dash is hungry or needs a change or just wants a little company.

Right now, though, Dash seems perfectly happy just to pedal his arms and legs in his seasonal, candy striped onesie, distracted by the colorful mobile above his bassinet. Soon enough, though, as Killian bends over the crib to scoop his little lad up, he’s treated to a genuine smile from Dash as he sees his Papa. The smiles only started last week – an early Christmas gift, Emma had told Killian – and Killian is still reveling in every toothless grin.

“Hello, laddie, are you ready for Christmas?”

Dash just continues to smile. He’ll take that as a yes.

“Well I think your big sister is downstairs, ready to make Mama a proper feast. Shall we go see her?”

He gets a happy sounding gurgle and grab for his nose in response. Another yes, surely.

“Alright, let’s go see sissy.”

Sure enough, Amelia has pulled out half the refrigerator to cook. Those frozen biscuits she likes so much, bacon, a nearly empty bag of hash browns (he thinks there’s another in the fridge – otherwise he may be dealing with a very disappointed pre-schooler), the box of frozen waffles, a can of cinnamon rolls… the eggs are still in the fridge, but Killian suspects that’s only because his daughter still couldn’t reach them, even with her little kitchen stool. He chuckles at her haul, before quickly moving in to limit her picks.

“I know you’re excited, little love, but we can’t eat all of this. Pick only a few things, please.”

She settles for hash browns, biscuits, and bacon, happily putting the rest back into the fridge as Killian settles Dash into the baby swing he’s only just grown into.

By the time Emma sleepily stumbles down the stairs, yawning all the while, breakfast is almost ready – the bacon already out of the microwave, the hash browns just flipped over, and the biscuits coming out of the oven in the next few minutes. She presses a quick kiss to his lips as Amelia barrels over, shrieking at the top of her lungs, “Merry Christmas, Mama!”

“Merry Christmas, Duckling!” Emma cheers back, before leaning over to whisper in his ear. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

He barely has a chance to kiss her again before she’s moving to the swing, where Dash has perked up again at hearing his mother’s voice. Killian is well aware that this may be their last relatively quiet moment of the day before chaos descends, but he almost doesn’t care. Christmas is always an event, but this year will be particularly special, since it’s the first Henry – and his family – will spend with them since his return from his time cursed in Washington.

Emma had been ecstatic at the return of her son – though how many of those tears were the result of hormones is anyone’s guess. Killian had been smacked for even suggesting it. Regardless, Henry is thrilled with his siblings, Emma is besotted with Lucy (“God, Killian, I’m way too young to be grandmother to a kid that old. Is this how my mother feels?”), and everyone even admits that it’s nice to have Regina back in town. Granted, it’s still a relief that the other him elected to stay behind in Hyperion Heights, endeavoring to bring order to a town only newly aware of their formerly cursed state. Killian isn’t sure he’s nearly awake enough these past days to have been able to keep track of conversation had there been two Killians running around.

Killian may be looking forward to a holiday with his stepson, but it’s Amelia who’s truly thrilled. She’s come up with all kinds of plans, seemingly determined to fit an entire year’s worth of activities into a single day. To his amusement, she’s detailing all her plans of what she and Henry and Ella and Lucy are going to do for what must be the tenth time to Emma. Thank the gods that Henry’s wife and daughter are just as good of sports and Henry is.

“…and then, after the snowball fight, we’ll have hot chocolate, and Grandma can help us make cookies, and maybe then you and Auntie Regina can make an ice rink! And then I wanna show Lucy Rudolph cus she’s never seen it, Henry says…” She’s barely taken a bite in her excitement, and while part of him wants to just sit and listen to her babble on, Killian is still very well aware of the absurd schedule his mother-in-law will undoubtedly demand they stick to religiously. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and while they may have opened all the gifts last night, he’s still got something up his sleeve.

“Melly, darling, if you hurry up and eat your breakfast, I think I might have seem something in your stocking…”

Emma and he had decided that first Christmas with Amelia that they were going to try not to play up the Santa Claus thing. Emma doesn’t have particularly fond memories of the practice, and with their luck, Santa would turn out to be real, and some kind of villain who’d turn up in the future to terrorize the town. No, better just to leave a few candies and small things in the stockings, and make a big deal out of all the family traditions instead.

Still, the promise of stocking gifts is enough to get Amelia gobbling down her breakfast and bouncing in her seat as she’s now forced to wait for her parents to finish. When they’re finally done, Killian is practically dragged into the living room by his small daughter, leaving a chuckling Emma to gather up Dash and meet them by the tree.

As Amelia tears into her stocking – just some candy from them and a couple of ornaments for the small tree in her room – Emma leans into his side with the baby, allowing him to drape his arm around her shoulders. “Thank you for letting me sleep,” she murmurs, and he smiles back at her.

“Of course, love, you deserved a little extra time.”

“All the same… thanks. I think we forgot how tiring the first few weeks are. Can that be my Christmas gift this year? An extra hour of sleep for the next few days? Can someone set that up? Oh! Maybe Mom and Dad will babysit!”

Truthfully, Killian could go for an afternoon to themselves as well, albeit perhaps with some extra activities. He’s a father twice over – he knows what the six-week checkup meant, even if they haven’t been able to act on it yet. And then sleep. Several hours of sleep. Probably not all night, since the Charmings have four kids under nine in the house and Snow’s been talking about another, but Gods above, even just an afternoon of uninterrupted sleep would be a dream come true.

He presses a kiss to her forehead and holds a little tighter before replying. “Aye, Swan, that would be lovely. Perhaps they’ll offer today when we go over.”

Across the room, Amelia is giddy with her haul. “Look, Papa, it’s a little pirate ship for my tree! Like the Jolly, Papa!”

Soon enough, they’ll have to leave, have to drive to the Nolan farmhouse before Snow blows some sort of Christmas stress induced gasket. But for now, he’s content to snuggle with his wife and son on the couch as his daughter tells them in great detail about each and every thing she’s found in her stocking.

Merry Christmas, one and all.

[stayminho]

MAMA

part 1

recommended song: 2! 3! by BTS 방탄소년단

Love comes and grows in many ways. We watch it like plants, such as a flower or a tree. The first sprout of green would always be taken by chance, bursting through the shell of its seed and slowly inching, seeping through the ground to rise to the surface. It’s the first spark of a firework, working its way up the dark black night sky and past the dissolvable wisps of clouds covering the far-away constellations of diamond-like stars.

But a flower wilts eventually and a firework disperses into nothing in a matter of seconds.

Barely we see a love wounded to the bone, burned from a fire so red and hot to the skin, but risen from the ashes left behind.

That is when we know, love can be ever so incredibly real.

They say Korea is the “land of the morning calm”, in which the sun rises in the east and sets in the west with a warm smile, but it is also the land of happiness and hardships. Here, you feel the thrills of a nightclub, playing upbeat popular songs from the Western industry or the Kpop industry. The neon colors dancing off the walls in the darkened room makes you wonder if they got high or drunk, in tune to the boosted base. You can listen to the endless laughter that echoes ever so deep into the smallest crevices and corners of the Earth. They say home is the true hearth of rawness, but it is harbored within the hearts of people no matter where you go. For example, the variety shows broadcasted daily on the same TV channels. An amusement park filled to the brim with excitement. Movie night on the couch with popcorn.

At the same time however, you can watch the days blend together into a monochrome canvas weighted heavily with negative emotions as well.

Like in the country’s midst, a simple ghost town that used to thrive, now deep underground left in the heart of a city. Quite ironic though, because it seemed that every passing season of rain and gray skies had chosen the seemingly abandoned district as its canvas, making sure the shades of color never strayed from their favorites. The only thing they could never decide was how their masterpieces were left ruined by the imprint of human beings.

No one ever comes to these parts anymore, for everywhere seems like open space, exposing the unspoken secrets of merely nothing. To them, maybe even just the thoughts of “nothing” must’ve been more than just “nothing”. Broken memories that tore even the thickest of materials. An uncomfortable loneliness left to salivate every inch of the body to an endless hunger. Or possibly a dark horror that forcedly dragged them down to a cold, oceanic abyss. This kind of feeling pulls up defenses in various distraught ways.

Yet, for her, not only was it alarming, but also comforting.

The deafening silence masked and kept hidden away even the evilest of fears in an invisible small box made of glass mirrors on all sides that night. It made a reflection that could never be touched, both sides parallel in relation, similar to a wall of two rooms. It is likely that some would have determined otherwise, that the Earth was holding its breath, but instead, both sides only seemed to hold a staring contest at the moment, chaos not ensuing for once. The only thing that seemed to be heard was her breath, her chest distinctively rising and falling in attempts to calm the overused, lasting adrenaline in her veins and the desperately needed oxygen.

Her legs had grown weak, no longer able to withstand the loss of strength, soon collapsing herself into the room. The past long nights had turned into endless running to the void of nowhere, her instincts forgetting the meaning of sleep, and instead, taking over the directional path she took. Her destination eventually became a room in an abandoned apartment building, presumably, because she only caught glimpses in her rush to where she now found herself. Exhaust had finally taken over, letting a few tears roll down her cheeks in the process. Not long after, it became a beautiful cascading waterfall, painted by its glassy delicacy and touch of heart, but her emotional cries of pain had scared what was left of the hours of night.

Soon enough, dawn rose above the horizon in splurging colors of golden yellow, pure white, blush pink, and hints of maple leaf orange. Streaks of light  settled through the open window, dancing and giving hope across the ruined gray cement walls. This new revival kissed the young woman, enlightening the dark chocolate brown strands of her tangled hair and the tone of her skin that riddled with specks and dashes of dirt. It also utterly struck her with so much awe, she had forgotten how persistently tight she was to her own being, never letting go, but only now loosening the embrace of the bundle she had held very close in her arms in that moment.

The bundle only holds the beloved memories of a past godforsaken home and time whisked to dust, but when big round shining eyes looked back at her, it didn’t matter.

Finally, this one sunrise was when she could feel herself genuinely smile and let it reach her eyes. She was filled with joy. And that joy, caused by this lovely bundle, was all hers. It was finally over.

“Ma-ma.” He smiled grinning back at her in the best way that he could.

“Yes, Mama’s here. And she loves you very much.” She rubbed her against his, earning multiple entertained claps and sounds from him. Taking his small hands and fingers, she rocked him slowly and gently, cooing at his existence and having relief take over once more.

The years of the past seemed only to be in the span of yesterday, and that today would even be the breaker, but tomorrow is the future, the one thing that can be truly made yours.

She just has to take it before someone else did.

And matter-of-fact, it was laid out right in front of her.

“Mama...”

“What is it baby?” She let her gaze fall away from the pretty skies, that brought her infinite thoughts, with gentle care.

“Mm...ng...”

Her eyes widened, a little frantic. “No, no, no, no, no, don’t cry, love. Are you tired from all the running? Do you want to nap?” She swayed with a little more movement, and at the same time, she looked at him, taking in his sweet and soft features, noticing that his breathing slowed in weariness. She didn’t know what it was, but there was just something about him that made her want to believe it was going to be okay. No matter what.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to sleep soon,” She carefully brushed the growing hair on his head too. “I know, we both are, we’re both worn out, but listen to mommy, okay? I need you to watch me with those big brown eyes of yours so I know you’re with me while I’m talking.”

With him in her arms, she just knew she couldn’t let seconds go by just yet.

At least, not before promising something.

She first offered him a smile. A smile that could never be forgotten. Ever. “My sweet, look at you. You’re so precious and pure for this world. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.” She would’ve started tearing up, but all of them had dried up already.

“The lives we live in this world are too bittersweet for our tastes, especially for your father. He loved you so much, but he fell out of it too soon to envision the future for us. He may never be the same as before, so I cannot, no, I won’t let you  live a life like his, but one day, maybe he’ll realize and come to his senses.”

The little stayed quiet, as if urging his beloved resilient queen to continue.

“Although, as of right now, we’re not the most fortunate, huh? I don’t have much to give you. For you to stand up on your own feet and smile with pride. But that’s what dreams are for, right?”

“But as of now, you’re my dream. Complete family or not, you’ll always be my dream, okay? My most beautiful moments in life. My wings that will take me places. My love that will reach for the stars. My airplane that could never leave me behind.” Her legs had begun to feel color again, so she let them out from under her so they could start to regain vigor. She even let a few moments pass just so that it could sink in for a little contemplation until the finishing touches would be made.

“And yes, trust me, I know that’s a lot to take on, to keep a hold of. But I feel that you’re a strong one, probably even stronger, and greater, than me. Because, in this lifetime, and eventually, hopefully, not just me, but you’re all I need, you’re my everything, and that’s all that matters.”

She kissed him on the forehead, pouring not only her heart, but also her soul, and sealing the oath that would never once be unkept.

“Jung Hoseok, you are my hope.”

masterlist

[mutantimagines]

Chaos and Ninja’s (Leo x Reader)

hints of violence and gang related activity! small but still, you’ve been warned! possibly there will be a part to if this is popular enough :) 

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

The music screamed throughout the club as she sat at the bar, rum and coke in hand. Cherry red lips staining the glass as she bared her teeth at a man across the bar who’d become a little to handsy with one of the girls.  A Snap of her fingers sent two men on his side, grabbing his arms and leading him out to the back alley. The strobe lights illustrated her sharp looks in the multi color, manicured nails tapping along the side of the glass, shoulders rolled back and thick inky tattoo’s of barbed wire and roses crawling down her arms and seeping onto her back. Head tilting back as she shot the last of the drink she sauntered across the floor idly dragging her hands along the stage. High heels clicking along the tiled floor and up the spiral staircase two men opened the door as she entered the softly lit room.

Dark hardwood covered the floors, only to be interrupted by a long table with a small group sitting on either side. She took the head of the table as tall glass of wine was poured, the others at the table accepted the offering of liquor as the bottle came around. A clear of her throat silenced the room as heads turned,

“You know why we’re all here, New york has fallen out of the hands of the foot and the so called Shredder. The rival gangs have played make believe for to long and have wiped themselves out quite successfully. Without much of me having to lift my finger, Unfortunately this means the purple dragons and smaller gangs have overrun the streets. Not much to do about them though, not to worry...Though there is one obstacle in our way isn’t there? The ninja’s of new york”

A news paper was tossed across the table, headlines splayed “THE NINJAS STRIKE GOLD” following a major jewellery store robbery foiled by for large and mysterious figures. She stood from her seat and towards the man at the end of the table, grasping his shoulder she leaned down,

“Yet you have something for me don’t you Dante?”

“Yes, of course Miss Y/n. Never do i fail to surprise. I’ve brought you quite the treat this time around. I’ve caught the little snitch that runs with the ninjas’

“The reporter?” “April ‘O’ Neil herself, Bring her in boys”

The dark haired heroine was dragged in kicking and cursing at the men that held her back, a chuckle from the female was what silenced the reporter in her tracks. Her eyes widened as she realized who stood before her, A wave of the woman's hand let the guards set April down to a seat. Yet not before she voiced yet again,

“Dante you’re ever faithful to my cause of chaos and order yet this makes your final punishment at least a little less...Slow. I’ve kept tabs on your dealings with the dragons, no men of mine will be caught dipping sticky fingers into their mess. Take him to the docks, Let this be an example to the lot of you rats. I’m in charge, that's why i’m running this town! Let your disobedience be your downfall.”

The man tried to dash and make an escape but the guards were to quick, catching him by his arms he was removed from the room screaming and cursing her name, begging for mercy, to be spared for his sins. The others sat frozen for mere seconds as they made a scurried dash for the door to avoid yet more of her wrath. Leaving April ‘o’ neil to battle the angered woman on her own,

“You’re the devil of new york…The leader of Chaos and Angels”

“Seems you’ve heard of me, caught my calling card in my younger days have you?”

“Why am i here, your gang has been dormant for months. I haven’t reported on you in ages”

“You see Ms.O'neil i mean you no harm, Unfortunately i’ve seemed to hit a dead end in my search for these Ninja’s you seem so fond of. Care to tell me what you know? For an exchange of course”

“...An Exchange? I know well enough that your deals always become one sided”

“Well for once it seems i’m relying on you for this...Dante’s men are quite messy you see, you’ve probably already hit an emergency GPS signal on your phone to contact the ninja’s in crisis. Pity, i’m not looking for a fire fight this time would be like taking candy from a baby. There’s no danger for them here, i’m looking for a quick chat this time around. Call them, tell them that the doors on the fire escape is open, no need to break it down”

Lifting a knife from her back pocket the slashed the ties that held April’s hands behind her back. April made a note of her surroundings before slipping her shell cell out and clicking ‘speaker’ on the screen, Donnie’s voice soon filled the silent room.

“April?! April is that you? Are you harmed? We’re on our way!”

“Donnie, i’m at the warehouses in the old part of town. Club 41, top floor. The door on the fire escape is open.”

“...That’s the headquarters for Chaos and Angels”

“You’ve got that right young man, now listen carefully. I mean your friend no harm. You see Ms. O’neil has been quite helpful to me, but of course if you try anything against me or my club i think she’ll take a swim”

Leo shouted into the phone as Donatello cranked the Shellraiser a hard left and sent the ninja’s flying down the road and to the van’s wall.

“Leave her alone! If its us you want then its us you’ll get. Leave her out of this”

A laughter crackled out of the woman's throat as she smirked at nothing in particular, selecting ‘end call’ she turned to the reporter who suddenly bit her lip and pulled a notepad out of her pocket. A raise of an eyebrow from the gang leader as April motioned for her to take a seat, Not missing a chance to interview new york's most lethal lady.

“All you reporters are the same, life or death you’ve got ��to get the story”

“It's our job isn’t it? To inform the public, you’ve got to be the quietest gang in the city. No one sees you coming”

“I like to keep my operations a secret, i’ve had the limelight. Not a fan of it”

“Limelight? You didn’t always work in the gang?”

“Just a hobby i seemed to pick up a few years back, this city is dirty yet the people flock to it in millions. Just trying to keep the heathens in the docks to keep some safe i suppose”

Scrawling as quickly as she could april was interrupted by the door slamming open behind her, the turtles pouring in and yanking her behind them. Casey rolled from a gap between Raphael and Leonardo, letting out a battle cry before he was met with a quick jab to the neck from a hand to the pressure point. The woman stepped over casey’s sleeping form and took the lot in. Lifting a hand to her lips, studying the sight in front of her, kissing her teeth she took a step back.

“...f*cking mutants”

Leonardo took a stance forwards, laying his katana’s on the table as a symbol of peace, she nodded and removed a pistol from her back waistband and two small throwing knives from her person. She gestured to the seat next to her head of the table, The turtles followed suit and took seats as April leaned a still slumbering Casey against the wall before taking her seat, with a thick sigh and a swirl and sip of her wine the woman spoke.

“My name is y/n, i’m the head of Chaos and Angels. I’d like to take back the new york underworld yet i’ve got one obstacle in my way”

“The names Leonardo, and your obstacle would be us i suppose?”

“Seems you’ve got it right, instead of taking you out i believe teaming up would strengthen both our ranks. You get the beautiful glory of saving new york but leave us the scum, tsk tsk. I do enjoy messing with some baddies once in a while you see and you’ve taken all my sources”

“That's a hero’s job Dudette! All in a day’s work, the names michelangelo by the way but you can call me yours”

“mhm..So Leonardo let's make a deal. I want to clean the streets as much as you do but lets play off each others skills here”

“Seems like you want to work together, share the glory?”

“Pff, My glory days are over. You can keep the spotlight babe. I want the scumbags to mess with, make sure they stay off the streets. Work side by side ya feel me?”

“I see what you’re asking”

“Then let's make a deal”

Leo took a look at his brothers,the purple dragons had definitely had grown in ranks and made it hard to keep up. Taking her offer would definitely benefit them but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t turn on them twice as badly. What exactly was her motive though, staying in the shadows and letting the city believe the gang was murderous when she claimed that they actually benefited the city. Rubbing his chin he sighed,

“Terms and conditions, No tracking is to be made. Contact only by a burner phone. We keep out of eachothers business unless it concerns NYC or the return of the foot/Shredder. My family is first, you harm anyone of my brothers and i’ll have your head”

She leaned back and clicked her tongue, the sweet wine turned sour in her mouth as she tossed the cup behind her. Smashing against the cream walls and staining it red. She stood and laid a hand on Leonardo’s shoulder, Staring the oldest turtle in the eye and she lifted her lip to show her teeth. Her signature act of dominance.

“I make the rules here babe, this is my grounds. We’ll go on burner phones, no tracking must be mutual. I get wind that you’ve messed with my gang and our activity and i’ll have your shells mounted on my walls like the game you are. I don’t play nice but i’m certainly fair, after all i see to owe you a debt specifically”

“You owe me  a debt…?”

“Dude…” (Mikey)

“Shit” (Raph)

“You see Da Vinci, i’ve got spies all over this town. Eyes and ears watching for me. ‘Cept my sister seems to think just cause i’m here she can do whatever she wants. I normally come to her rescue myself but i was out of town on business a couple months back. She got herself caught up with the purple dragons who outnumbered her by 12. The name Cecilia ring any bells?”

“About your height with heels, white blonde, blue eyes?”

“That's Cece, my little sister. You saved her life and she’s been on my case”

Leonardo finally got that moment of understanding, Her eyes seem to confirm her trust in Leo as her clasped her hand and shook it. Confirming their deal, he motioned his brothers to follow him out, he looked up one more time at the young woman and noticed how enchanting she was. The air of mystery around her seemed to fade, She was y/n, a new yorker since she was born. The city ran in her bloodstream, all she wanted was to create a better place in the darkest time. Leonardo believed this was the moment he’d realised what the term “love at first sight” meant, She raised her head and crossed the room to the large turtle that stood in her doorway. Lifting a hand to his right side of his face and pressed a slow kiss to his lips. It Left him stunned as he grasped her hips and pulled her against him, She pulled away after a second and look him in the eye. “You’ve just made a deal with the devil Leonardo”

[rickandrory]

The Chicken Suit

Prompt one: "Person one opens that door to person two stood on their porch in a chicken suit."

– @lazy-writing-prompts

Stanley is in reference to what Stella (Rory's school project) was called before it was changed.

Luke looks through to Taylor’s store where he is unpacking suits. Taylor looks up, grins and points to outside in the square. Luke rolls his eyes and continues serving coffee to the late afternoon customers, trying to get in before the dinner people come in. Kirk calls from the table for some more coffee.

“Kirk that’s your 8th refill today. No more.” Luke sighs and puts down the coffee pot.

“I’m cramming for a test.”

“I thought you’ve left school already?” Luke makes a face at Kirk’s usual antics.

“Yes, but I went back to school, I thought I needed to go back to learn my roots.”  

“Okay, now that makes sense, no more after your 10th though.” Luke refills Kirk’s cup and walks away, still surprised by everything that comes out of Kirk’s mouth. He shakes his head before going behind the counter.

Taylor comes crashing into the store startling customers. Luke begins to shoo Taylor out the door, he opens the door for him and gestures from him to leave.

“Caesar you’re in charge for a few minutes.”

“Got it, boss.”  

Luke follows him outside, “You have 5 minutes.”

“Thank you, thank you. As you know the thanksgiving is coming up… yes? Well anyway, I- no the committee- “ “The committee is you, Taylor.” Luke raises his eyebrows.

“Anyway, the committee would like the whole town to help this year, you’ve grown up here and we’d think it’d be great if you could take part, just this once.”

“What do you want me to do Taylor? Serve coffee? Hand out biscuits? Or candy? I could hand out candy if you want me to?”

“Really? That’d be great, thank you, Luke! Oh, one more thing.” Taylor holds a finger up in the air to pause Luke.

“You have to do it while wearing … um, while wearing a…” Taylor starts to become more twitchy

“What do I have to wear Taylor?”

“A chicken suit.”

“A chicken suit? You must be joking! Pfft, it’s not even the right festival!” Luke throws his hands in the air, in frustration.

“It was the only one in your size and I thought it was better than nothing.” Taylor shrugs his shoulders.

“What’s better is nothing, I’m not wearing it!” Luke storms into his diner.

“I knew you’d say that just try it on?” Taylor follows him in.

"No Taylor, you are not making me wear that thing. I don't put up a single decoration all year round why would you think I would wear it!" Luke quickens his pace and Taylor chases him around the diner with a large yellow fluffy chicken suit. Customers are intrigued by the scene from both the diner and Taylor's store; faces pressed up against the glass waiting for what will happen next. Customers from the diner stop eating and drinking to watch the chaos.

"But it's for the children!" Taylor exclaims. Making a scene in Luke's was a daily thing now. "All you have to do is wear it as you serve coffee!" Luke goes behind the counter to scold at Taylor.

"No Taylor, there would be feathers everywhere, I wouldn't be able to see, coffee would be spilled." His hands are flying everywhere as he goes into this rage. His jaw clenches together as he sees Taylor make one last protest for Luke to wear the attire.

"There’s eye holes so you can see just fine.”

“Still not doing it.”

“I will never bother you to put up decorations again" Taylor requests. "Just wear it Saturday at the fair for a couple of hours whilst handing out coffee." Luke removes himself from the counter and starts charging towards Taylor, who backs away, still yelling protests. He dumps the suit in Luke's hands.

“I’m not wearing it.” Luke dumps it on the nearest table allowing feathers to go everywhere. He waits for Taylor to get to his store and mouths through the window at Taylor.

 Lorelai is frantically searching through her draws, from her bedside table to her underwear drawer, trying to find her bracelet, that’s she has wanted to wear all week.

“Bracelet, ooh bracelet, where are you?” She whispers to herself. “I just saw you the other day. Hmm, maybe it’s Rory’s.” She ponders for a moment before continuing to search.

"Where's my gold sparkly bracelet? I can’t find it anywhere. Is it in your room?" Lorelai shouts through the house.

"Mom, that's mine and I’m wearing it!" Rory exclaims while eating leftover Chinese. She saunters through to the front room.

"Well… Can I borrow it?" Lorelai springs down the stairs. “I feed you, water you and keep you safe.”

“These are very good factors, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m wearing it.” She begins to pout and puts on her puppy dog eyes and raises her hands up to her chin like a dog that is begging for food. Rory lifts her arm and starts teasing Lorelai by moving her arm slowly from right to left and back again, Lorelai follows with her eyes.

"Come on, we don't have time for this … Gimme!" Lorelai reaches her hands out as an attempt to get the jewelry from her daughter but misses. Rory takes off the bracelet as she rolls her eyes at her enthusiastic mother. Lorelai dashes downstairs then grasps her keys and coat to leave for Friday night dinner.

"Rory, come on, we don't want to be late."

"Mom, we're always late." Rory walks into the kitchen to finish her Chinese.

“Besides the point.” Lorelai singsongs through the house. A large knock comes from the front door.

“I’ve got it!” Lorelai calls to Rory.

“Good because I wasn’t going to get it anyways!”

Lorelai springs the door open.

“What is that she like? I wasn’t going to get it anyways. I have no idea where she gets it from.” Lorelai mocks Rory.

Luke is standing there with his usual face on – scolding, grumpy and unimpressed.  Lorelai looks Luke up and down and blinking wildly to check if what she is seeing is true. She stutters before being completely lost for words.

"I hope I’m not causing you any trouble. I should have called. Oh, wait! It’s Friday, don’t you have dinner with your parents? What time is it? Are you going to be late? Anyways I didn't know where to go. This was not my idea, it was Taylor’s and at first, I protested it. Then I said fuck it. You only live once, right? I was just trying it on to see if it fit ready for the big day and all. I put it on and did it up. Fits all snug and tight, warm, maybe too warm. Then I want to take it off because I have to clean and prepare for tomorrow, so I go to pull down the zip, but it gets stuck. I rack my brains figuring out who to go to and I think of you. I’m sorry. I would come back another time, but I want to get out of here, like tonight.” He pauses to get his breath back, “I’ll go home now.”

“No, stay, I’ll help you.” Lorelai welcomes him in.

“Thank you, you know you really don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine, I need to get something, I’ll be back.”

“Okay, be quick, because I’m starting to overheat.” Lorelai creeps into the kitchen.

"Rory, Rory, Rory!" She whispers excitingly.

"Who is it?” She whispers back.

“It’s Luke!”

“What is Luke doing here? Is he fixing something?”

“No, no, no. It’s better if I show you. Come on.” She ushers Rory into the hall.

“Ta-da!” She shows Luke off with jazz hands.

“You went and got Rory? I knew I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t be silly. It is so much better than dinner with the parents.” She chuckles to herself. Rory takes a double take at Luke. His head is encased with a chicken head with eyes just big enough so he could see. He stood head to toe in bright yellow feathers. His arms controlled the wings which flapped with every protest. He was wearing webbed looking trainers on his feet to complete the look. Rory was mesmerized at the sight of it. She looks at her grinning mother then back at Luke.  

"Oh my god! Oh my god! No way! I can’t believe I’m seeing this with my own eyes! Luke? In a suit? Not in any suit but a chicken suit! Oh my god! I’m getting the camera!" She jumps up in down with glee and starts skipping around with Lorelai.

“You know who he looks like!” Lorelai asks Rory.

“Who? We don’t know any chicken-men hybrids.”

“Case study 12!”

“Oh my god! That is right. I miss little Stella.”

“We could call him Stanley!” They both high five each other.

“Or we could not.” Luke chimes in.

“That’s your new name now!” Lorelai exclaims.

“Stanley’s diner?” Rory suggests.

“Oooh, I like it. It has a nice ring to it.”

“I forgot about the camera.” Rory runs off to find the camera in the house.

"Rory, don't get the camera!" Luke protests and sighs.

"You’re telling me that Taylor asked to wear a chicken suit and you agreed?"

“No, well, not really.” He huffs.

“Well, yes really.” She smirks. “Rory, hurry up!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

"Just get me out of this suit…please?"

"Not until Rory gets a photo until then you are Stanley" She starts cooing at him like he’s a baby, he brushes her hand away from his face. She shoves Luke into the front room as Rory takes a photo of this moment.

"Stanley come here, you can go back to being Luke in a bit if you stay still."

[cutegirlmayra]

Hi ;w; I'm a bit shy but I really, really love your stories! You're so talented! I have a prompt, if you'd like to write it >

AWWW I LOVE IT :3 it’s AU, but I’ll do my best!!!

(x) Isn’t that cute? lol, I always wanted to do a ‘Sonic Chao Garden’ Oneshot one of these days~ =w= And don’t feel shy! I love you lots and lots! :D thanks for the ask!

Prompt:

Sonic sat in the Chao Garden, relaxing in a tree as it swayed slightly in the pleasant wind of the hero garden.

However…

“Haa!” A chao swung a fist and hit another down, as they started a karate battle that made Sonic twitch his eyes as he slept, blinking them open from his little, lovely nap and look down at the two.

“Woah!” he sat up and looked down, seeing the fight going on and jumping down, spin dashing between the two as they went flying, showing little spirals on their heads of discomfort.

“Hey, what gives?” Sonic got up, putting his hands to his hip and leaning down at the two chao, “I thought this place was suppose to be heavenly?”

The chao that got up was his own, looking pretty upset, as the other chao was Amy’s, looking about to cry before throwing a tantrum and running off.

“H-huh?” Sonic hadn’t noticed the two chao but grew concerned when he realized that the one who threw a punch was…

“Rosy..?” Amy named her chao after her name, as Sonic had named his-

“Speed!” he turned, anger filling his eyes as he walked over to him, and bent down on one knee beside him. “What are you doing? Why did Rosy hit you away like that?”

He rubbed his little bulbish head and spat out at Sonic, folding his pudgy arms the best he could and then looking away.

“Wha? Grr…” Sonic pulled back a frown, showing his teeth before picking the chao up.

“You’re in timeout, buddy!”

The chao squirmed, being held by it’s head wasn’t at all pleasant, and being tossed lightly to the ground made him stumble back, falling on his face as he jumped up and flailed his arms around aggressively.

Sonic sat down now, lifting a leg up and sighing, before looking back to discipline his chao. “Now, what on earth did you do to deserve that?”

Speed turned to his caretaker, and then looked away, seeming troubled before pacing back and forth, talking in his baby-chao talk as Sonic sweatdropped, unable to comprehend.

“H-hey, now… How about we try some charades?” he smiled, lifting an eyebrow up in hopes that may help.

Speed looked up, a bit annoyed but he listened and started acting out the scene.

Apparently… Speed had seen Rosy swimming with another chao, and wanted her attention. He tried to call at first, but she didn’t hear him, so next he just gave up and walked away….

Only to come back and throw a pebble at her, having it hit her head and her whine as she came out of the little lake.

To him, it was a lake, anyway.

Speed smiled mischievously down to her after she flopped on land, and wanted her to chase after him.

Being upset by his actions, she at first swiped her head away, ignoring him and walking off.

Upset he was being ignored, he tried to appease her with fruit, but she threw it back at him.

Then a flower, trying to be charming as a heart formed on his little floating ball above his head, but she plucked a petal off and smushed it against his head, rubbing it in his face that she was still upset.

That was the last straw for speed, having grown extremely anger, he yelled at her, making her feelings get hurt as her little ball showed a breaking heart, and then she hit him away, before Sonic spin-dashed into the two when she came to deal more hits on him, and he went to defend himself.

“..Huh, so that’s what happened.” Sonic put a hand up to grip his chin, thinking… “What made you want her attention so badly, little buddy?”

Speed looked down, before seeming ashamed as he covered his face and pointed to another chao.

The other chao was drawing with Rosy, the two humming with closed eyes and bouncing their heads to the tune, looking like great friends.

He lowered his little hand and turned away from them, seeming maybe… jealous?

“Ah, the new guy.” Sonic folded his arms, smiling with a look of slight pity for his chao as he turned to address him again. “You’ve seen Amy come in here and dote to much on me. That doesn’t mean Rosy has to have the same personality, Speed.”

Speed looked up, pouting.

“Haha! Let me tell you somethin’ about Amy…”

He glared.

“Erk… o-okay, something about ME then.. When it comes to Amy…” He scratched behind his head, “Well… she’s her own kind of… thing. You have to let her do what she wants or she’ll never want to hang out with you, Little buddy… Look.” he bent down more to lay on his stomach, holding his hands out to his chao.

“Girls, especially like Amy, don’t like it when you force their attention. I’ll admit…sometimes…” he rolled his eyes away, “Okay, granted, very rare times…” Sonic looked back to his chao, “I want Amy’s attention too.”

A figure suddenly moved away from the entrance, gripping her chest where her heart was beating fast….

“Sometimes… even I- U…uhm..” he looked down, not sure how to vocalize this, but his Chao was staring intently at him, before walking up and placing his hands on his own, showing him that he wanted to know.

Sonic sweat dropped, but sighed, feeling obligated now to finish his sentence. “To get what I want, I have to sometimes do what Amy wants.” he admitted, and then smiled. “Sometimes it’s really boring, but when I put the effort in, she notices and she gives back, putting the effort into what I like so that we’re both happy.”

The chao tilted his head.

“Look, you don’t like to swim right? I never did care to level you up in that.” he snickered to himself, before pointing back to Rosy. “But you like to draw, right? You’re not perfect at it, but you can. So why not join them?”

The chao made a face.

“Come on, if you don’t give a little of yourself to Rosy, she’ll never give you any of herself. And you want to spend time racing away from her right? Good exercise?”

The Chao nodded.

He moved his face closer to Speeds, “… You like seeing her run after you? It’s fun, right?”

The Chao grinned, nodding even more.

“Then you have to make sure she’s smiling just as much. Every now and then, you have to let her catch up to you. Otherwise, she’ll only be disappointed in herself and heartbroken. You don’t want her hitting you all the time for stupid mistakes, right?”

He shook his head, tapping his feet down back and forth to show he was worried about her never liking him again, making his hands go up to his forehead in fear.

“Then, give her a smile and let her smile back!” Sonic winked, as the Chao nodded and raced over to her.

Seeing him, she looked up curiously, before frowning.

he frowned too, narrowing his eyes and staring harder back at her.

Finally, he smiled and sat down, pulling out a blue crayon and drawing Rosy, him, and the… ugh, new guy… all holding hands together.

This made Rosy beam with a huge grin, before hugging Speed, and having a heart above her head, to then match his own, before the new guy also joined in, but Speed just glared at him, having the twisty tornado above his head again. He almost growled at him before Rosy looked up with a question mark, making him nervously chuckle as he patted the new guy’s head, trying to be friendly to him for her sake.

Sonic got up back to sitting and sighed, leaning back before looking up at the clouds. “Wish I had someone tell me that when I was young…” he then closed his eyes and stuck a pinkie in his ear, scratching around before a pair of hands slowly moved around his waist.

He blinked, opening his eyes and looking up at Amy, looking down.

“Aww~ That was a very good father and son speech, Sonic~”

“Whahaa-aaa!!” Sonic flailed a bit in the close proximity she was in, crawling a second away before getting up and turning around to her.

“Amy!? H-how long have you been there…” he looked nervous, frowning and sweat dropping as he grew even more uncomfortable.

She giggled and walked forward towards him, having him walk back, and almost falling in the fountain before she leaned down.

“So.. is that why you ‘tolerate’ all my date ideas?” she giggled, “Hmmm..?” she leaned even more.

He had one hand balancing him on the fountain, and the other hovering near him to also try and gain some form of stability.

His legs were now off the ground though, but he didn’t push or kick her away.

“Admit it, Sonic~” she leaned her face right next to his cheek, making him look over at her but dare not move his head, twitching and flinching as he tried to use his abs to stay aloft.

“You enjoy making me happy, just as much… as I enjoy making you smile!” she tackled him, causing him to cry out as they crashed into the fountain.

His head came up, his arms flailing to get out, but Amy kept pushing him back down and smothering him with light kisses and dotes that the camera couldn’t see due to the angle.

“I’m not smiling! I’m not SMILING!”

“Sure you are!”

“A-Amy!!!”

“Hahaha! Oh, Sonic~”

But we all saw the splashes and Sonic trying to break free, asking Amy to let him go or get away as she kept saying his name with love and laughing.

[sparetimeentertainment]

To Share, A Marth/Roy Short by SpareTimeEntertainment

Written for my dear friend @ckr-the-cat!

The sugar twinkled as it caught the morning light, an enticing white glaze that shimmered in the fine sun of mid-morning. Placed there among its baked brethren, the sweet pastry scroll upon which the topping was layered sat, fresh and inviting, before it was torn from its rest by a hand and raised to meet the discerning eye of a man on a mission.

“You’ll do,” he said, before placing the treat onto a platter already occupied by other delicacies on offer around the generous dining room. The room was empty save for one or two service staff, who dutifully moved recently-used platters and cutlery from the tables. They worked around the pastry thief, whose odious work went unchallenged until a voice came from the doorway.

“Still hungry, Lord Eliwood?”

The lord in question, a dignified man of thirty-five, spun on his heel fast enough for the movement to stem from genuine surprise. He caught the sight of the elegant Altean princess, Elice, and cracked a relieved smile. The young woman giggled, a fine sound devoid of malice.

“Ah, princess. I thought for a moment you were your mother.” The redhead glanced at the sweets in hand, back to the girl. “Still, it seems I’ve been caught red-handed.”

“How do you know I’m not?” she laughed. “Father says I look more like her every day.”

“And Cornelius is right,” Eliwood snapped back good-naturedly, brazenly retrieving another sweet from the platter. “But even if you were your mother, she wouldn’t tattle, would she?” He handed the new pastry encouragingly to the girl. “Come, walk with me. I have to deliver these to my wife, and I would adore the company.”

Taking the fresh bread from the man and biting in, Elice fell in line behind him. “Is the lady Ninian feeling better?”

“Better, yes. But she’s still a few days away from full wellness.”

“Does she always get like this, your grace?”

Eliwood’s face settled on fond melancholy. “Every few months. I know the illness so well, we could set our clocks by it.” He turned to face the princess’ inquisitive eyes. “Still, it has never worsened, not even after she had Roy. I thank the Saint for that.”

“Would my healing staff help?” Elice asked sweetly. “Sometimes I can cure father of a stomach ache.”

“You’re a delight, princess,” Eliwood said, chuckling courteously. “But I’m afraid only time can help. Where is the King, anyway?”

“My father is, ah…” she consulted her memory as she took another bite of her pastry. “Meeting with the Commander, I believe.”

Letting out a low whistle, Eliwood turned the corner in the hallway. “I don’t envy him,” he said. “I’ve always found those particular mercenaries to be a little churlish. More so than most.”

“You just like Ogma’s group more because you see them more,” Elice jibed. “They aren’t too bad, honest. They’ve only been here for a few days.”

“I swear to make an effort for you, princess!” Eliwood laughed. “They are necessary for the security of the region, after all. Who else is yet to arrive, do you know? Ninian could do with something to look forward to.”

“Let’s see… there’s King Fado arriving on the weekend, bringing the twins. And Lord Sigurd’s family is coming on behalf of his father, they’re due tomorrow.”

“Goodness, Sigurd and Deirdre too? That’s quite the voyage. Last I saw them, Seliph was just a baby. If he’s grown even half as beautiful as his parents…”

“Oh yes,” Elice gasped. “They say admirers are already gathering at the port.”

“Oh, that will be wonderful,” Eliwood sighed. “Your father is good for holding these annual meetings.”

“What about you, Lord Eliwood?”

“Hm?”

“You and your family are here much more often than any of others. Several times a year, for a week or more at a time…”

“Well,” Eliwood thought out loud, scratching his clean-shaven chin with his spare hand. “Pherae is so close, Hector’s too busy, and Lycia does need to maintain ties. It’s a natural fit that I should come.”

Elice shook her head, blue locks curtaining her face. “I mean you and your family. How do you handle being away so often?”

“Well, Ninian and I…” the older man gave off a laugh to stifle his embarrassment. “We’re fine so long as we have each other, and Roy.”

“But doesn’t Roy get homesick?”

Nodding, Eliwood finally stopped outside the heavy oak door which led to the quarters currently allocated to him and his wife. “Sometimes,” he says. “Roy has a lot of friends back home. But I think he’s fine here. Because he has your brother.”

Elice’s face lit up. “Marth? He likes my brother that much?”

“Oh yes,” Eliwood confirmed with a fond laugh. “To the point their names are uttered in the same breath. They veer from the kitchen earlier on, to the library, to the barracks…”

From the gardens a loud banging noise suddenly reverberated throughout the castle, causing both lord and lady to jolt with surprise.

“In fact,” he said, “I’d put good money on that being them now.”

--

Laughter came in stops and starts of exerted breath as two boys ran, sprinting through the open doors leading to the castle interior. The taller of the two, an upright young man with a groomed head of dark blue hair, grabbed the shorter by his torso and threw them both over the back of a large plush dais. Soaring over the backrest and hitting the soft cushion below, both boys held their breath as a pursuing wave of jade magic sizzled over their heads – and impacted against a nearby vanity, knocking it and the flowers atop it to the ground with a loud bang.

The younger boy, a redhead with a kind and thoughtful face, panted as he observed the damage. “Well,” he gasped between breaths. “I didn’t plan for that.”

Untangling himself from the redhead, the young prince Marth, dusted himself off and rolled over so that he was on his back next to his friend. There the two laughed, a mix of relieved chuckles mingling in the air as their blue eyes, both warm and wide and welcoming, stared into one another’s.

“Are you okay, Roy?” Marth breathed, “Did he get you?”

Keeping his head firmly below the sightline of the dais, other boy sat up. “I don’t think so,” Roy said, patting himself down. “What about you?”

“I think I’m alright,” Marth started, before reaching around to his cape and pulling it up – a triangle of cloth had been cut out of its hem, severed clean by the cutting edge of the wind magic. The sight of this caused Roy to laugh again, the younger prince’s giggling causing Marth to start laughing in turn.

As he laughed, Roy leaned back, his hand coming to rest against the soft cloth of his own cape – where the fabric proved frictionless, sliding across the velvet of the couch without difficulty. Separated at once from his balance, Roy fell back with a yelp – but not before flinging out a grasping hand that clutched at anything for balance. Pulled forward by his shirt, Marth also stumbled forward, and after a brief moment of panic managed to stabilise himself with outstretched arms.

He then realised that he hung directly over the Pheraen prince, the blue in the younger boy’s eyes suddenly enhanced by his closeness and his surprise. Without meaning to, Marth gasped as his breath was unexpectedly taken by Roy’s visage; everything, from his crimson locks flattened against the cushions, to his pale skin – unblemished save for the flushing of his cheeks – was pure and innocent beauty.

“Umm… Marth…” Roy mumbled from beneath the azure prince. “Are you okay?”

Swallowing hard, Marth watched Roy’s lips as they parted and pursed to release the concerned sounds. The throbbing heartbeat in his chest whispered to Marth. How nice it must be to kiss them.

“Y-yes, my apologies,” Marth breathed politely as he helped the other back to a seating position. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

Roy’s shade deepened as he realised he had neglected to withdraw his hand from Marth’s, their fingers momentarily flexing comfortably together before the redhead withdrew his in a hurry. “W-we’d better get going,” he stammered. “They probably saw us come in here.”

Marth murmured in agreement, and the two flustered princes rose ungracefully from their hiding place – unaware of the human mass that loomed behind them.

“Too late,” it declared.

A great python of an arm, a jointed clamp of youthful muscle, coiled its way around Marth’s neck with frightening speed. With a sudden pull, the arm’s owner jerked Marth in, pinning the boy against his torso and keeping him there. In the chaos, only Roy noticed the glint of gold as it fell to the ground – and instinctively moved as he saw the new entrant’s foot, stomping blindly as he balanced to restrain Roy’s friend, threaten to trample it.

Roy dashed in, taking aim at the lean torso of their assailant and unleashing a vicious jab with his gloved fist – only for it to produce a dull thud as it was stopped by a wall of hard muscle.

“Mistake number three,” came the other’s second interjection.

Roy was kicked off his feet as the figure swept one leg across Roy’s shins with surprising force. Hitting the floor with an ungraceful thud, Roy’s hands scrambled, fingers clasping around the object he needed and holding it close to his chest. He rose to one knee – and suddenly spluttered with difficulty as a muscled arm, identical to the first, now wrapped its way around his neck in turn. Pressed against the same torso as Marth, Roy looked up to face his captor.

He had known it immediately. The speed, the ferocity. He was only a year older than them, barely fifteen, yet his body was a honed weapon compared to theirs – a body ready for war.

He also was actually quite pleasant, when he wasn’t angry at you.

“Hey Mist, come look at this,” said Ike of the Greil Mercenaries. “I’ve caught two grubby little imps.”

Skirting around him, as always, was his little sister. The demure brunette, a usually sweet girl of seven, laughed lightly as her brother admonished the two boys he held in headlock. Roy couldn’t help but notice she had a wooden spoon in her hand, worryingly free of any signs that she had been baking.

“I gave you two rules when I arrived here,” Ike started, voice dripping with menace. “What were they?”

Marth spluttered. “Lord Ike…”

“Still not a lord, kid,” Ike squeezed tighter. “What were they?”

“L-lordlings are worms!” Marth squeaked out.

“There we go! Lordlings are worms.” Ike nodded approvingly as he turned the pressure from blue prince to red. “And the other?”

Roy groaned with difficulty as he answered. “Y-you mess with Soren…”

“…You answer to me,” Ike finished. “And imagine my surprise, you’ve messed with Soren. That was your first mistake. Second was getting caught.” Ike’s binding arm tensed further, causing Roy to splutter. “Still,” Ike said. “I expected it from Marth – the prettier the prince, the grubbier the attitude – but you, Roy? Father tells me you Pheraens are smarter than you look.”

“Ike, p-please,” Roy coughed, “we weren’t trying to-”

“Mist, whack him.”

The girl stepped forward, and, brandishing her spoon, knocked Roy cleanly on the scalp with it. Roy cried out in surprise, the pain of the light impact heightened by his gasping for air.

“Ike, please!” Marth gagged. “You’re hurting him!”

“Mist, him too.”

Now Marth yelped as Mist gave him a sharp smack across the crown of his head with the instrument.

Roy’s eyes turned from watching the girl to the doorway behind her – seeing a silent figure draped in raven cloth. There, clad in sable and with a sombre expression, was the young mage and tactician-in-training, Soren. His burning scarlet eyes glowered through at Marth and Roy with a unique contempt, pride and defiance mingling on his face to disguise hurt. Visible as always on the boy’s forehead was the sharp birthmark that indicated him as a Branded, half-caste child of two species. The odd boy, with his long dishevelled black hair and perennial expression of judgemental disdain, struck Roy as tragic. His face was weighed down by frowns. Moving for the first time since his appearance, Soren revealed his hand and the object it held: pinched by the string between forefinger and thumb, a cloth bag weighed down with soft contents.

“Think you were being funny, did you?” Ike snarled. “Think you were the first ones to think of that? I’ve dealt with gossiping princesses more daring than you two.”

“Ike, we weren’t making fun of Soren!” Marth gasped between wheezes.

“And I have a sword made of gold,” Ike growled. “You little royals are all the same.”

“Really, Ike!” Roy gagged. “It’s-”

“Enough,” Ike declared, quieting both with a firm pull of his arms. “I don’t give two figs about your excuses.” The mercenary suddenly stepped forward, dragging both princes along to bring them before the black-clad boy. “Now, I have had to do this to many little snobs across many different castles, and I’ve learned that the heads of bratty little princes don’t just pop off. They squeeze. Soren is going to open this bag you threw at him, and we’re going to smear whatever’s inside all over those prized faces. Then I’m going to squeeze some more.” Ike leaned down, whispering to both restrained princes caught in the fleshy stocks of his build. “No-one messes with my Soren.”

Hardly able to breathe, much less speak, Marth and Roy watched as Soren agonisingly loosened the drawstring on the cloth bag and reached in with a gloved hand. Feeling around grimly, Soren’s eyes never left the accused princes as he scooped up a handful of its contents and brought them up to the surface…

“What the…?”

There, crumbling away between the baffled student’s fingers, was a lump of doughy pastry.

“Hey, Soren,” Ike mumbled, loosening the grip on his captives ever so slightly, “you… didn’t have to switch the bags around. You don’t have to protect these guys.”

“I… I didn’t,” he replied softly, staring at the sweet bread in disbelief. Opening the bag with both hands, Soren gazed in to find the thing piled high with baked goods pilfered from the kitchens.

“We never see you at mealtimes,” Marth added from his headlock, causing Soren to look at him with fresh surprise. “Father says you’re always studying.”

“I read a lot too,” Roy gasped, nodding as best he could, “but not nearly that much! We were worried you weren’t eating enough.”

Silence held court over the proceedings for a long moment, the quiet of consideration broken only by the soft splutterings of Marth and Roy.

Ike released both boys with a shuffling of his strong arms. They collapsed to the ground in two piles of slumped lordling, gulping in sweet oxygen and rubbing at sore necks, soothing wounded prides.

“Well, blast,” Ike pondered, pleasant surprise finding its way onto his face in the form of a smirk. “Looks like we didn’t give you two enough credit.”

“Look alive!” Came Mist’s chirping voice, and the girl leaned over both princes with a petite trainee healing staff, the instrument flashing blue briefly as its curative powers relieved the boys of their reddened skin and throbbing heads. Then, realising she still had the spoon in her other hand, smiled by way of apology and tucked the weapon of blunt trauma into the blue ribbon wrapped around her skirt.

Ike’s great arms moved again – but this time, they stretched out in firm welcome to invite Marth and Roy above their recuperating position on all fours. Accepting gratefully, they rose to their feet, where they met with a sheepish smile from their Crimean counterpart.

“Well, I have no excuse,” Ike said. “I called it wrong this time. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright, Lord Ike,” Marth said, recovering his princely posture instantly. “In hindsight, maybe throwing the bag wasn’t our finest idea.”

“Yeah,” Roy added, then turned to Soren. “I’m sorry if we scared you. We didn’t want to… we just thought you… we didn’t think we’d be welcome.”

The eyes of the withdrawn young man in question welled with uncertain emotion. He glanced to Ike, who smiled and nodded encouragingly, then turned to address the princes.

“Ike brings me my meals after the designated times. I eat with him,” Soren explained, a near-invisible blush entering his cheeks. “But, thank you for your concern. I will share these with the others.” He completed the sentiment with a deep bow, a strangely courtly motion for the unusual boy.

“Lordlings are still worms,” Ike said after a pause, grinning. “But you two are lords. Come by anytime.”

Marth and Roy’s faces lit up with success, looking at the Crimeans first, then to each other in the rush of accomplishment.

“We’d love to!” Roy exclaimed.

“Thank you, Lord Ike!” Marth celebrated.

“Heh,” Ike grunted. “Still not a lord, Prince Marth. Come on, Mist.” Turning around and kneeling down, the young girl eagerly jumped onto her brother’s back and clambered up, hands and limbs scaling the surface of his body. She perched herself on his shoulders, legs and arms gripping tight the laughing young man’s head.

Stabilising Mist’s legs with one arm, Ike rose and turned to Soren, who was still looking at his unexpected benefactors with curious gratitude. Ike held out his other arm, hand firm, inviting, reassuring. Soren took it without hesitation, the motion clearly something of a ritual between the two. The brooding boy’s uncharacteristic blush intensified as Ike’s fingers enclosed his own, squeezing tight and giving off warm waves of presence. Then the three walked away, boys clasped together, and Mist giggling all the way.

Blushing, the two boys that remained hadn’t realised the display had left them in awe, their hands brushing together as they had beheld the overwhelming security and devotion of the two. When at last the moment expired, Marth brushed himself down once more, rubbing at his still-aching neck and then sweeping the fringe out of his eyes. Realising the lack of a particular weight, Marth’s hands turned to his blue locks – and his eyes went wide with worry.

“Roy!” he burst out. “It’s gone! My circlet is…”

“Marth,” Roy replied, holding out a reassuring hand.

“W-where did it go?!” Marth demanded, eyes going to the floor as he spun around on his heel feverishly. Roy’s hand tugged at Marth’s sleeve until the other prince faced him. Held out in offer, in Roy’s other hand, was the shimmering golden circlet.

“I saw Ike accidentally knock it off,” Roy explained. “I knew he’d stop me and possibly step on it if I tried to grab it, so I…”

“That’s why you tried to…” Realisation dawned on Marth’s face, and with a flooding of gratitude flung his arms around the redhead. He’s warm, was the first thing to flash through Roy’s head as he felt the soft comfort of Marth’s presence surround him with thankfulness.

--

“So, it was given to you by your sister?”

The two were now in the library, Marth and Roy having pilfered cushions from the dais and piled them into a corner in the cool, dim space of learning. They leaned against the wall, Marth smiling fondly at the circlet as rubbed it down the hem of his shirt and delicately slid it into his azure hair.

“Yes, my sister and Caeda. It was when she had to go back to Talys after spending a year here,” Marth’s eyes were full of memory. “I wonder how she’s doing now.”

Roy smiled. “You have a lot of friends, huh?”

Giving off a polite chuckle. Marth leaned back and thought. “Oh, yes. Caeda and I write to each other, there’s Merric – he’s studying in Khadein – Gordin, Draug, Cain and Abel…”

“I met them at the trainee meet the other day!”

“That’s right,” Marth confirmed with a nod. “And that’s not even mentioning the friends from other Kingdoms. I have friends in Macedon, in Aurelis, Grust...”

“W-wow,” Roy stammered, suddenly feeling quite small. “That’s… a lot.”

“Oh?” Marth noticed the other’s hesitation. “Surely it’s the same for you?”

“A… a little,” Roy replied, head perched on his tucked knees. He thought of Lilina, and Wolt, his own friends and vassals. He also had friends scattered all around, but…

“Marth?”

“Mm?”

“Will you promise me something?”

Hesitation. “Sure.”

“You don’t even need to hear it first?”

Marth’s hand touched Roy’s encouragingly. “Go on. Say what’s on your mind.”

Roy swallowed back his nervousness, finding the other’s presence comforting. “Well… I want you to promise that we’ll always be able to see each other.”

The Altean prince cocked his head inquisitively. “Why wouldn’t we be able to?”

“Well, I just…” Roy struggled with the words. “I can’t shake the feeling that we’re not supposed to be able to do this.”

“What do you mean?”

Struggling with the words, the Pheraen toyed with the hem of his cape frustratedly. “I mean… everything is so nice. Mother and father bring me here all the time, and I love being here. But…”

“But…?”

“But I get the feeling it’s not supposed to be like this. I imagine this world, or rather this set of worlds, where Elibe and Archanea and Magvel and Tellius are all… divided. Inaccessible to one another, like a curtain has been drawn across them.” Moving forward onto his knees, Roy put his head in his hands, suddenly struggling to hold back the wavering of fear in his voice. “And in those worlds, pain and tragedy fester like wounds… and the people we love are hurt. I… I don’t even want to think about it. But I can’t help it.”

“Hey.”

Roy felt warm hands on his own, and slid them off his face – his eyes opening to see Marth, on his own knees, before him with the most serene expression of calm Roy had ever seen. Patience ruled the dashing prince’s movements as he guided Roy’s motions, keeping one hand intertwined with Roy’s while placing his other on Roy’s hip and pulling him forward, until all the boy cared to see was Marth’s eyes – which burned with purpose and patience.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be together,” Marth breathed, the words filled with precious meaning. “But since we are, I want to be part of your life.”

His eyes glassy and reddened, Roy squeezed Marth’s hand. “As in, while I’m here?”

Marth shook his head elegantly. “As in, always.”

The twin heartbeats of the two princes pounded to crescendo as Marth, no longer able to contain the emotion pounding in his heart for the redhead, leaned in, lips beckoning. Roy, for his part, watched with eyes half-lidded and surrendered to the comfort and the love the prince offered, the blush in his cheeks and the heat in his head proof enough that, no matter how strange it might have seemed…

They belonged together.

Roy gave off a soft murmur of content as their lips met, feeling naught but perfect adoration for the other prince, his gentleness and elegance suddenly filling the Pheraen with blissful images of a life to spend together. Suddenly the moment was over and Marth withdrew, looking sheepish.

“Was… was that alright?” he asked, doubts clouding his eyes.

Wordlessly, without hesitation Roy reached out and cradled Marth’s head in his hands, placing a trio of his kisses on the other boy – cheek, nose, and lips. “Y-yes,” Roy whispered with a giggle. “I’m just– I’m so happy to have you.”

Marth’s embrace now wrapped around Roy in turn, pulling the prince close as their love radiated out from their castle of cushions, in their quiet little kingdom in the corner of the library.

“And you always will,” Marth breathed.

Blinking back tears of joy, Roy nodded as they let themselves fall in love, a laugh shared with every grateful beat of their delighted hearts.

--

“M-mother, please!”

“Hush, darling! They’ll be here any moment!”

Roy glared indignantly at the ground as the lady Ninian, improved but still weary-looking, dabbed at her son’s face affectionately with a handkerchief, clearing his cheek of the remnants of the day’s morning tea. His father watched on smiling, as did Princess Elice and, more importantly, Prince Marth. The blue prince shot his new lover a glance of understanding reassurance as he endured the doting.

“There, all done!” The cerulean woman flashed a smile as she re-examined her boy’s face. “See? Much better.” She gave Roy’s pale cheek a gentle squeeze to complete his humiliation.

Eliwood caught sight of the body language Roy now shared with Marth, seeing the comfort, the confidence. “Roy,” he said in offer. “Would you like to join King Cornelius and his family in greeting our new guests?”

A smile spread across Roy’s thought at the idea, and he glanced at Marth, who nodded. “Yes, please!”

Taking his place under King Cornelius and Queen Liza – both of whom greeted him with warm smiles and a hand on the shoulder – Roy waited for the cheering of the throngs who had gathered to meet the latest arrivals to this royal conference.

What started as a murmur among those closest to the garden gates soon grew to applause as, in a blaze of royal presence, the crowds parted to reveal Sigurd and Deirdre. They were the very image of a perfect union, splendid lord and beautiful maiden, seeming to walk just above the ground, perpetually graced by flower petals and fanfare. White and blues and purples in endless regalia, they stopped before the King, and all the necessary rites were spoken.

Then, ceremony was done. “Sigurd, you look well!” Cornelius boomed, his voice carrying across the gardens. “And milady, you are as exquisite as ever.”

Deirdre nodded, and the forest maiden began to reply in turn – but her words suddenly became of lesser interest to Roy than her smaller doppelganger, a girl not much younger than he, who gazed at Marth with unbreaking eye contact.

“Marth,” Roy whispered. “Who is she?”

“Oh, her?” his lover whispered back. “I am told that her name is Julia. Seliph’s younger sister.”

“There’s two of them?” Roy asked, the slightest hint of threat in his voice. “Just my luck. All anyone ever talks about is how pretty there are.”

“Roy,” Marth laughed. “Relax. I’m not about to-”

“Sister!” a new voice hissed, interrupting their exchange. “It’s rude to stare.”

The heads of both princes turned to watch as a boy, about their age, talked to young Julia with a patient, if frustrated voice.

“But, brother,” Julia said. “He looks rather like you.”

“Be that as it may…”

From their angle, Marth and Roy could only see the boy’s strong frame, lean like his father, and sharing his crop of blue hair. Although, it struck both that he was a softer soul than Lord Sigurd, gifted great gentleness by the Lady Deirdre. Prepared for the typically Chalphian features of a handsome face, Roy felt assured –

And then Seliph turned around.

He was, quite possibly, the most beautiful boy that Roy had ever seen. He was at once effortlessly handsome and exquisitely attractive, his soft flowing locks of rich blue hair framing a face of supreme softness. His eyes conveyed generosity and nobility, and his smile was a thing of wonder. Everything about the lordling inspired reverence and adoration, and indeed Roy could not stop the heart pounding in his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, turning to Marth and Roy, his voice as rich as his looks. “This is her first time on one of these expeditions. How do you do? I’m Seliph, of Chalphy. My father represents Duke Byron and wider Grannvale.”

Marth shook his hand with all the composure he could muster. “M-Marth, of Altea. Son of King Cornelius.”

Roy was next, as Seliph courteously turned to him. “A-and I’m Roy, son of Marquess Eliwood of Pherae. We represent Lycia.”

“Such fine company!” Seliph chimed with a chuckle, a harp-song that graced the air with its presence. “I wish to get to know you two very well.” He cast a glance over to his family as he heard his name called, then turned back to the two princes with a pleading smile. “I will return as soon as I am able.”

Giving a courteous bow, Seliph then left them – and both princes exhaled breaths they had kept stuffed in their lungs. Turning to face each other, both examined that the other was beet red. The lovers each felt ugly guilt blossom in their stomach, their relationship only a day old and already a source of confusion.

Marth was the one to broke the silence, as he saw Roy’s expression transition from guilt to worry.

“Hey,” he said, angling Roy’s chin to face him. “He’s out of my league.”

Roy was unable to stifle the tiny sliver of cheer that came to him, the snigger becoming a chortle, and the chortle a laugh. “I – I’m glad,” he gasped between guffaws.

Marth wrapped an arm around his shoulder and kissed him in his hair, causing Roy’s face to flush crimson.

“M-Marth, not in public yet!”

The prince chuckled. “I know, I know, just needed to prove something to myself.”

“Which was…?”

He held Roy closer. “That he can’t make you blush like I can.”

Smiling with reassured confidence, Roy’s clung to his Marth by the arm and turned back to face life – the life that was theirs to share.