#sigh sigh sigh hate to be in charge hate to have to organise anything

[idontknowiknow]

Hate when several disorganised uncommunicative people have to organise and communicate together and then do a bad job and everybody makes each other feel bad

[justplainwhump]

Not Products

Inspired by @gottawhump and many other wonderful BBU writers. My first piece diving deeper into the safehouse system.

This is set some years in the future of Angel's timeline, and far into her recovery. (Yet right before a certain... setback)

Content - BBU, debts, mafia structures, implied human trafficking, implied forced prostitution, threats, noncon touching, BBU romantic.

The building that Kayleigh stopped in front of was large, elegant modern structures of carefully twisted glass, to make it shimmer in the sunlight.

Orange letters were running down the side of the building, and Angel fought the nausea rising up from looking at them too long, she could read, she just needed to be strong. Coo- Coopers and - and Bard. Att-

She didn't go on trying to decipher the letters of the remaining words. Attorneys at Law. She could deduce those ones.

'Lawyers. Worst kind of people', a voice echoed in her head, followed by hearty laugh. 'But we need them, don't we?'

She didn't know whose voice it was, one of the ghosts that lived on inside her, and she'd learned to live with.

"Wow", Kayleigh whispered, putting her head back and squinting up at the sheer size of the building. "Still can't believe it. Wouldn't have thought that someone like Coopers finds an interest in helping us out."

"They wouldn't if it didn't support their business," Angel remarked dryly. "People like Coopers? They're just the ones who'd still happily own pets if it had remained en vogue."

"Angel," Kayleigh hissed. "I know you hate rich people. Your owner hurt you, I get that, I -"

"Do not go down this road with me ." Angel clenched her teeth. "This is not about me, or my past. I am your colleague, not your charge. This is about the future of our house, and the question, if we want someone like Coopers can help us. All I'm saying is: He has a price, and we'll need to decide if we want to pay it."

"Maybe he just has a conscience?"

"He works with organised crime. We're both aware of this, aren't we?"

"Well, we're criminals, too. You even more than I am. What we're doing is highly illegal. Doesn't make it wrong."

"Well, what Coopers and Bard have their fingers in, is pretty wrong often enough."

"Shut up." Anger flared up in Kayleigh's eyes. "I didn't bring you to talk me out of this. You couldn't - haven't seen our numbers, how bad it looks. We need him, or we'll have to shut down the safe house."

Angel hadn't seen the numbers indeed, she had tried once, but the headache had grown too bad. She had however seen the clumsy system Kayleigh used to track the safehouse's finances. She shouldn't judge her, for doing her best. But she did judge her for her rejection of any advice.

"Yeah," she said, somewhat of a bitter laugh on her lips. "You brought me because I look good in business attire."

She held Kayleigh's gaze, while she pinned a button to the lapel of her blazer. People, not products.

"Don't flash this to me like this." Kayleigh sighed. "I brought you because you know how to read a room."

"Soft skills," Angel intonated with a little sing song. "Yeah. That tracks." She stepped back and gestured at the door. "After you. Boss."

*

Philip Coopers was a tall man with warm eyes and a firm handshake. Auburn hair, a little longer than usually considered appropriate for a business like this, a tailored navy coloured suit, probably from London, expensive leather shoes - Angel couldn't tell how she knew all this, but the she did.

"My assistant, Mx Carter," he introduced the thin person next to him. "Nice to meet you again, Kayleigh, and this is your friend?"

"Colleague," Angel corrected. "Angelina Harris. I am in charge of the practical side of things at our... house."

She felt his gaze take him in, shortly rest on her hands as she shook his. There was a thin silver chain dangling around her wrist, a tiny bracelet, that could hide nothing underneath. And there wasn't anything to hide either. Her skin had healed, the scars from the tattoo removal so tiny they could only be seen when light caught them from a specific angle. Nothing but a faint memory.

"Well, it's a pleasure." He invited them to sit at a conference table set up in his impressive office. "I am looking forward to support you, and to do my part to help you continuing your important work."

Angel bit her tongue to hold back a sarcastic return. This was Kayleigh's turf. Even though it sometimes felt like her own.

"We've talked about the general idea, let's just nail down the specifics." He gestured at his assistant, who took over, and Angel listened - rates, book keeping, conditions, existing and future contacts that needed to be covered.

It was all too easy. Too high amounts, too few conditions. Too good to be true, not from a man like this, running a business like his.

"Oh, and before I forget", he said, and Angel's gaze perked up. He'd never forget anything, his behaviour had made that abundantly clear. This was going to be the thing she'd been waiting for. "We'd like to employ the services of a psychological consultant. To make sure the... refugees are treated according to their needs."

"They are," Angel said. "We're making sure of that."

"That's a little different," Coopers insisted with a condescending little smile. "We would want them to meet the consultant right upon arrival, so they can determine which place is best equipped for them."

Angel frowned. "Are there more safehouses that you support?"

The assistant tilted their head. "*Places*," they said. "Safe spaces."

"And what's the criteria?"

"For the safehouses?"

"No. For the people, contacting *us*, arriving at our doorstep, to be let in or turned down."

"They're not turned down, Ms Harris. On the contrary. They're going to be cared for."

"So. Your only condition for funding us is to be allowed to psychologically screen runaways and then determine whether they go to us or somewhere else." She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Angel," Kayleigh mumbled. "Calm down."

She didn't intent to. "Running a safehouse is expensive. Food, rent, medical bills, therapies, compensations for the volunteers."

"It is."

"What's your gain?"

"Doing the right thing is not enough?"

"No." Angel shook her head. "Not from you. You know what I think? Prices for a well trained guard dog from WRU start at about 250k, as far as I know. Romantics, similar. Can be much more, depending on specifics. Seven figures, even." She leaned in. "Is that your return? Acquisition for your preferred clients? Private security? Prostitution?"

"Interesting." His mouth twisted into a smile. "You've looked into the more hidden corners of our client list."

She shrugged. "I like to be thorough." She still heard the monotonous voice of the screen reader. Even set high speed, it had cost her many sleepless nights finding the names she'd been looking for.

"I see." He smirked. "But let me ask you. What if these... wild theories were right? Worst case scenario. You'd still run a safe house, one that as I understand it has absolutely no funds otherwise. One that Kayleigh here has put her college fund into, and bet her grandmother's house on."

Metal scrapped on wood when Kayleigh pushed her chair back, pale and trembling. "I... That's..." She shook her head, gaze to the floor, almost feverish in her movements as she pressed her hand to her mouth. "I... need to use the washroom, please?"

Upon their boss' gesture, the assistant jumped to their feet and opened the door. "Of course, Miss. I'll show you the way."

Coopers looked past the two of them, before he turned back to Angel.

"Sacrifices," he said, all but savoring the word. "That's what keeps your system running. That's what saves dozens of runaways, who already found shelter in your place, who you managed to get to safety and into a fulfilling life. Your friend sacrificed all she had for the case. And you refuse to reroute a single one of these... sluts, to a place that suits them better?" Carefully embedded between well chosen words, the slur cut into her like a hidden blade.

"Yes," she whispered. Her throat was constricted all of a sudden.

"What is your problem, Ms Harris? We give them shelter, warmth, food, company - they're having each other there, something I hear some of them have missed desperately in their past lives." He cocked his head as he said it, with a soft smile, that mocked understanding and was everything but. These has been her own words once, she herself had talked like that about her past, feeling constantly alone and desperate for company. He couldn't possibly know, she told herself. She was here with Kayleigh, with her colleague, she was an activist with a spotless wrist and a normal past. And she wouldn't let him get through with this.

She raised her chin decidedly. "You want to sell them out. Abuse their conditioning, instead of helping them overcome it."

"Ah," he tutted. "Shush. Selling them out, that's a strong word. They work for a living, like the safehouse system prepares everyone for. Like normal people do. According to their specific... qualifications."

She took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart, setting out to speak, but he talked over her. "Imagine one of them trying to do my job." He reached for a one of the documents scattered over his desk and held it up, presenting it to her. Little letters danced over the paper, twisting and turning, a garbled mess in front of her eyes, all but mocking her. It was sickening. She averted her gaze, and he chuckled. "Some people are made to think, Angelina. To make decisions, to manage large businesses, to read and understand things, you know. Others, however..." He waited until she looked up, holding her gaze for another moment. She couldn't breathe. "Others," he went on, "are simply made to fuck."

She stumbled to her feet, shaking her head. Her elegant blouse was too tight, the collar tightening around her neck. "We're not," she struggled to say, fighting the voices in her head, Handler Nguyen, Handler Parker, Sir, telling her the same words. "We... They, they're not, nobody is."

The man was grinning now, and it took her too long to realize. She'd played right into his hand. "Oh, Angelina. You're making this about yourself, aren't you? How come you're relating so hard, hm?" He closed in, the sort of casual, measured steps that she knew should make her run, but they made her freeze instead. "Tell me," he whispered, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear. His touch was soft, almost gentle, his hand warm on her skin, and she knew how she should react, and she knew she shouldn't. "Tell me, Angel, what were you made for?"

[dreamescapeswriting]

Your New Boss ~ KTH [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 5K

GENRE: Fluffy, Non Idol! CEO AU, Smut, office smut, unprotected sex, fluffy smut,

PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Fem!Reader 

As vice president to the company that you worked for people would assume you'd be on time and organised for every day that came at you but today just wasn't your day. Normally you would be up earlier than you had to be, you'd have some coffee and a real breakfast but for some reason, the universe had it out for you today. There was a power outage in your small apartment quarter setting your alarm off and giving you no chance to charge your phone and to top all that off your car was refusing to start for you. As well as having a flat tire at the back, you slammed your head down against the steering wheel wanting nothing more than for this day to end. All you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

"This is just fucking magical!" You screamed sarcastically as you took your black faux leather side bag from the boot of your car before booting the wheel that was flat and storming off towards the closest bus stop. It wouldn't be so bad being late if it wasn't for the new CEO that was taking over the business. You had no idea what his name was but from what you heard he was a hard ass on everyone. The only reason he was even taking over was that your boss was retiring and leaving it to someone he barely knew.

"Here," An elderly man held out an umbrella for you as you reached the bus stop, you thanked him and held it above your head. The uniform you were wearing was suited for the pouring rain that had seemingly come out of nowhere on your walk over, it had been scheduled sun all day which was why you'd worn the skirt and white blouse. Not expecting to get caught in the rain leaving your shirt almost transparent and your legs freezing cold.

"You're late, you're late for a very important date," Your junior worker said as she watched you scramble off the elevator,  it had been creaking the whole ride up. You'd think for a million-dollar company they would learn to upgrade their elevator.

"I know, power outage and then my car wouldn't start, then the traffic coming in-" You sat down on your desk chair feeling defeated in yourself. You were freezing in the clothes you were wearing, the one day you don't bring in a spare change of clothes would be today.

"Then to top off the rain." You hissed as your assistant came rushing over making you jump, he was a little jumpy himself but he plugged a small heater in for you before standing in front of you.

"Do you have this morning's business reports?" You nodded over at the bag and he reached for it, telling you how you were the one supposed to give a meeting this morning but instead, the new CEO took over.

"Oh shit, is he nasty? Think he'll fire me?" Panic raced through you at the thought of being fired, you'd worked so hard to get to the vice president you weren't about to lose it because today the Universe hated you.

"I don't think so, he seems rather nice actually. He has the nicest eyes as well you should-"

"Miss Y/l/n, you're requested in the head office." One of the bitchy females told you as she glanced you up and down, she licked her lips before leaving to go and giggle with her friends. You gathered the papers from your assistant who began watching you closely, you slipped on a pair of heels you kept under your desk before heading over to the main office cabin.

"This day can't get any worse, it just can't." You mumbled to yourself as you placed your hand on the door to the main office.

"Come in!" A voice sounded from inside that seemed strangely familiar to you, it was odd. There was something about the voice, you couldn't quite place where you knew it from but there was a feeling in your gut that made you not want to head inside.

"Sir, I would like to formally apologise- ah!" As soon as you walked through the door the papers you'd been carrying began to fly out of your hands and all around the floor of the room. Taehyung looked up from the piece of paper with your name on it and his mouth almost fell open, he had no idea that it would be you.

"Miss Y/l/n?" He called out as he continued to watch you bend down and pick up the pieces of paper that were scattered around his office floor. He sighed to himself and got up to close the window, the breeze had been relaxing to him until now.

"Sorry Sir," You mumbled still not knowing where you knew his voice but as soon as you turned around and came face to face with him you could have died. Coincidentally the day could have gotten worse and it just did. Taehyung's mouth fell open as soon as you locked eyes, it was you.

"Why are you late?" He wasn't going to waste time on pleasantries, he kept up his stern look as he sat down on his chair and looked over your file. There'd never been an incident with you being late before so he saw no reason for you to be late today, even before he was your boss he knew how strict you were on your timekeeping.

"Sir, I was-" You glanced at him, he was still the same person as he was before you broke up only to you he was someone who hurt you badly.

"There was a power outage in my apartment building, then my car wouldn't start and there was traffic. As you can see I've never been late in the past..." You trailed off your own words not wanting to ramble in front of him, there was no reason for you to ramble to someone like him.

"Hmm, how odd that it all happened on the same day. You must have some serious bad luck," He said with a giant smile on his face,

"Hmm, I'm starting to think so." You mumbled while staring at the floor,

"Sorry? What did you say?" You shook your head as you plastered the fakest smile you could manage onto your face,

"Nothing Sir," He hummed before going back to looking through your reports and files that you'd produced.

"For being late this morning I want you to play catch up, you'll be filling out reports all week." He shut the folder and turned to look up at you, his eyes locking with yours.

"Before you leave, I run a strict business here. You'll have to change into something more appropriate for the workday. A white see-through shirt just isn't right for business." Your arms slowly folded over your chest as you grew insecure of him seeing all of this again,

"Yes Sir, won't happen again." He nodded to you and you turned to walk out of the door,

"Another thing," Your hand rested on the door handle of his office door, you turned to glance over your shoulder at him and his demeanour had changed now. His eyes seemed to have softened as he watched you closely.

"I don't want our past to disrupt our working environment-" You scoffed rolling your eyes at how unbelievable he was acting right now. He was still just the same entitled, can do no wrong guy he was before.

"What you mean is, you don't want me running around and tell everyone what you did to me." You snapped coldly as you turned to face him again, it was evident that you weren't going to leave the room just yet if this topic was being brought up for discussion.

"What I did to you?" He put the emphasis on the 'You' as he spoke, he raised himself from his desk and placed his palms flat on the table as his demeanour changed back to someone that was cold and cruel.

"What did I exactly do to you?" Your weight shifted from one foot to the other as you tried to match his cold stare but nothing could compare to his.

"The cheating for starters, all the women you were seeing behind my back but don't worry Sir. I won't let anyone know, I wouldn't want them knowing I snooped so low to date someone like you," He began shaking his head the moment that you told him he was seeing women behind your back,

"It's not true. Why would I ever cheat on you?" He was trying to get across to you that there must have been some kind of misunderstanding but you weren't going to stand here and battle it out with him. It was in the past now and that was all that mattered to you,

"I won't let anyone know about our past, it's something I wish I could forget also." You mumbled sarcastically as you stormed out of the room making sure to slam the door behind you as you headed for your desk.

"What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost." Your assistant was worried Taehyung might have said something that had upset you but it wasn't true...Almost wasn't true.

"Can you just go and buy me a new shirt please, I feel exposed." You were handing him your purse trying to get him out of your hair, if you spoke about it even a little it would bring back all of those feelings again and leave you crying on the floor.

"Right away ma'am." He could sense there was something you didn't want to talk about so he headed out of your way while you sat at your desk contemplating the decision of quitting. You'd worked so hard all these years to have your ex come above you and potentially ruin everything for you.

"Do you want a lift back? I can drive past your apartment," Your assistant said to you later that night as you sat at your desk. Your heels were kicked off under the desk and you were at with one foot under yourself while you tried to stay away to finish the reports.

"No, it's alright. I have overtime tonight. I'll see you tomorrow though," You mumbled to him as he walked behind you and left. The rest of your floor was empty except for a few of the cleaners and of course Taehyung who was observed to make sure you did the overtime like you were supposed to. The words on the pieces of paper were all starting to blend together and make less sense the longer you stared at them, it was infuriating to do.

"Here," A mug of coffee was slipped onto your desk by Taehyung. He was already starting to feel guilty for making you do overtime but he didn't want people in the company to think he was picking favourites. You had to be tough in this company or it would chew you up and spit you back out. Glancing at the cup you ignored it and continued on with working not wanting to take anything from him, you didn't even want to be in the same room as him.

"You're free to go as soon as this report is finished and on my desk. You'll be doing overtime all week and you have a meeting on Friday." He slammed another folder full of reports on the desk before storming out of the building leaving you alone with the cleaners who had all turned to see what was happening.

The week continued on just like that, snide remarks being made by you in direction of him and Taehyung piling more work onto your desk with the excuse that, 'It was your job.' Later nights meant less sleep and less sleep meant you weren't pumping out the best of work but it was finally Friday night which meant you could go home and get away from him for the weekend.

"Drinks tonight?" A lady from your office questioned as she walked up behind your chair and began shaking it playfully,

"Erm I'd love to-" Your eyes looked behind her to see Taehyung watching you, he was sitting against his chair with his eyes dead on you.

"I have work to finish, next week?" The girls all began leaving and you were alone in the office with Taehyung again. Luckily for you, there was a large wall keeping you both apart but it wasn't large enough to your liking. You could still feel his eyes burning into the back of your head as you worked on the papers you were doing.

Taehyung wasn't in his office which meant you had about two seconds to get the report put on his desk and get into the elevator so you wouldn't have to face him. You dropped the papers down on the desk and began sprinting your way over to the lift, sliding inside and leaning back against the cold wall as you breathed a sigh of relief. Managing to avoid him all week had been difficult but you'd managed by sending your assistant in to give him or ask him for things. Or leaving whenever he wasn't around. There was no reason for you to talk to one another and you wouldn't have to feel hurt by him whenever you looked at him anymore.

"Y/n! Hold the door!" You scrunched your face together hoping the door would close as quickly as possible as he continued to yell your name out and begged you not to let the doors shut. The doors were so close to closing, you were almost free when his long shoe stuck in the door to open them again. The tension quickly began to grow awkward as he stood inside with you,

"Didn't you hear me calling?" You shook your head not wanting to admit you'd been hoping to get away from him. You just hoped that the elevator would move as quickly as possible but you seemed to move one floor and it began rumbling and it sounded as though it was about to fall apart.

"S-Shit," You whimpered your hand gripping onto the bar behind you, Taehyung glanced at you with panic in his eyes. He knew how badly you hated confined spaces and being trapped inside of an elevator probably wasn't what you had in mind for a fun Friday night.

A loud crunch sounded and the elevator jolted to a stop before the lights began to flicker out plunging you and Taehyung into complete darkness.

"I'll push the emergency button." Taehyung went to move but the elevator made another creaking sound so you gripped onto his wrist not wanting him to move.

"S-Stop, what if we fall?" He shook his head at you, he could tell just how frightened you were but there was nothing to be afraid of.

"We're okay, the ropes and wires will be fine it's just the power outage...Remember, they've been happening all week." You knew he was doing his best to keep you calm but it didn't help you at all. You slowly let go of his wrist so he could call someone but the button did nothing, it just seemed to push in and not do a thing.

"I don't have my phone it's up in my office," He whispered as he looked over at you, you were showing him your dead phone battery as you slowly slid down the back wall.

"We'll either start moving soon or someone will come to get us it's okay." But this was far from okay, this was all things not okay because you were stuck in here with your ex-boyfriend who was now your boss.

Time seemed to be passing by slowly, neither of you was sure of what the time actually was but you could have sworn you'd been in there for two days - which was impossible someone would have found you.

"We could talk you know, save us sitting in silence." He was sitting across from you on the opposite wall, his shirt was untucked with the top three buttons undone looking as immaculate as he always did. His brown curls were a mess from all of the times he'd been running his fingers through it and he'd even put his glasses on. Something he used to do whenever he got headaches from what you could remember.

"What should we talk about?" Your eyes were locked onto the ceiling, you didn't want to make eye contact with him as you spoke but you had to admit this was better than sitting there doing nothing.

"We could talk about why you think I was cheating on you..." You looked at him with raised eyebrows, pulling your knees into your chest.

"I don't think you were, I know you were." He rolled his eyes at you as he tried to move closer to you,

"Y/n. I love you I would never do something like that...Why would you think that?" Taehyung's words were buzzing around in your head as you tried to focus on them, the one constant thing was that he said 'loves' you and not loved past tense. Taking in a deep breath you tried not to think about the way your heart was pounding rapidly, at the way your body longed to be closer to him for this.

"I saw you with those other girls, I saw the way they flirted...T-The way you touched them," He shook his head as you fumbled over your words, none of it had been true. He would never do something like that to you, he couldn't stand hurting you.

"None of it was true, I was seeing a lot of girls towards the end because I was getting something for you...A lot of them were private jewellers." Your brows knitted together as he spoke to you, denying everything you thought to be true this last year. Taehyung could see how confused you were so he began to reach into his pocket,

"I take it everywhere I go, it reminds me of you and how much I'll always love you." There it was again. Love. Present tense.

"Tae-" He cut you short by pulling out a small navy blue box, he popped it open to reveal a silver chain with a ring around it.

"It's like a promise ring...only for adults and not teenagers. I wanted to make it perfect so it-"

"Has the date we met engraved," You whispered as you saw the date etched into the outside of the ring with enough space beside it to add another date to it.

"So you weren't cheating on me..." He shook his head slowly,

"But you let me walk out," You whispered to him as he crawled to sit next to you, he looked at your hands wanting nothing more than to reach out and take it into his own. He knew you were single, he'd been asking your scrawny looking assistant everything he could about you and he knew you hadn't dated anyone since.  

"I didn't want you to hate me by trying to force you...I-I figured you'd realise I would never-" He was cut off when you suddenly, out of nowhere, began kissing him hungrily. Your hands working their way into his brown curls as you pulled him to face you, he hummed against your lips moving his hands to your waist.

"W-Wait, what are you doing?" He questioned part of him not wanting the kissing to end but the other part of him confused as to what was happening.

"I love you too...I-I thought you were cheated and I- I've never stopped loving you." Those were the only words he needed to hear from you as he brought you into another hungry kiss, you took control by sitting on his lap and smirking as you felt him bite down on your lip.

"As needy as ever." You whispered as you began kissing down his jawline and towards his neck, his aftershave was still the same. It made your body lurch forward as you ground your hips down onto his pants, you could feel just how much he needed you. He let out a whimper as you ground down and you giggled,

"I love you," You whispered to him as he cupped your chin in his hand and forced you to look into his eyes.

"I love you too," He mumbled bringing you into a rough kiss, his hands moving the edge of your skirt up as he pushed his palm along the inside of your thigh. Letting out a loud gasp as his thumb brushed along the outside of your core through your underwear you looked at him, begging him silently to take you then and there but the lift jolted and the lights flickered on.

"My office," He ordered as you stood up to straighten yourself out.

Once out of the confined space reality began to seep into you about what you were doing with Taehyung. How you'd practically pounced on him without a second thought but your body didn't care. You still wanted him badly so you raced to his office with him. He drew the curtains shut around the small window that looked out over the offices while you looked out at the city view.

"It's beautiful," You whispered as you stared out at all the nightlife. The lights on all the buildings were the only thing lighting up the top half of the sky, it was lovely. Taehyung stood behind you while watching you instead of the view,

"It's the second most beautiful view for me," You groaned at how cheesy he was being and looked down at the floor not wanting to show him how shy he still managed to make you.

"Don't hide from me," He whispered standing behind you and placing his hands on your waist, your breath hitched as soon as he touched you.

"You're beautiful," He whispered as he leant down to put a long kiss on your neck making you whine out at the feel of it.

"I missed the way you sound," He admitted as he continued to leave small kisses on your skin. Biting down softly as he pulled you closer to him. He was still hard for you which made you weak at the knees,

"You like this baby? You like the way I touch you?" You couldn't fathom the words to speak quite yet so you pushed your ass back against him and gasped feeling how hard he was.

"Want you," Was the only thing you could manage to say while rolling your hips back,

"Want you inside." You whispered but he cocked his head to the side and decided to tease you as he sucked on your neck.

"You want me inside? Inside where?" He ran his hands down your body, lifting up the tight pencil skirt that had been teasing him all week. Then his thumb came into contact with your wet panties,

"You're so wet Y/n, did I do this to you?" You nodded weakly and he smirked pushing the edge of your panties to the side as he began to rub harder on your exposed clit.

"Say it, I want to hear you say it." He whispered as he began rubbing roughly on your clit, teasing one finger at your entrance but never once pushing it into you.

"I want you inside of me, I want you to make love to me on the desk." You panted heavily, moaning out at the smallest of touches.

"Good girl," He praised spinning you around so fast you didn't have time to comprehend what was happening until you were placed onto the edge of the table.

He had a cocky smirk plastered across his face as he sunk down in front of you, looking up into your eyes as he placed a small kiss on your clit.

"Taste so much better than I remember," He wasted no time in teasing you and dipped his tongue into you. Moaning against you as he could feel you clenching around his tongue.

"Oh shit." You let out a high pitch yell as your hands pushed into his curls, pushing him closer to your core as you bucked against him, whimpering as he continued to eat you out on the desk.

"Look at me," He ordered as your head rolled back, you hissed as he pushed two fingers into you and chuckled.

"So tight, has no one fucked this pretty little cunt?" You shook your head, you'd not slept with anyone since the moment you left. It was always going to be him you would let touch you, no one else.

"T-Tae please, I'm close." You panted as he continued to push his fingers in and out of you, curling them as he pushed them knuckles deep. The room was starting to feel like it was spinning each time he thrust his fingers into you.

"You want to cum all over my fingers?" You nodded pathetically and he chuckled kissing up to your ear as he continued to fuck his own fingers to you.

"So fucking tight, cum all over my fingers then angel." You whimpered hearing him whisper into your ear, you bit down on his shoulder bucking against his fingers to drawer yourself closer to the edge.

"Ugh, shit- T-Taehyung!" You cried out feeling a warm sensation rise through your body before white clouded your vision. Cumming all over his fingers as he continued to pump them in and out of you. Staring into your eyes as he slowly pulled them out and sucked them clean.

Seeing this you went to slide off the desk to return the favour but he shook his head, unbuckling his trousers as he looked at you.

"N-Need to feel you around me." You smirked this time, seeing how desperate he became within a matter of seconds.

"Then take me." You slowly spread your legs for him on the desk and he gulped looking at how wet you were, your cum still dripping from your folds and he grunted. Reaching out to run his fingers through your arousal before coating himself in it. Pumping himself slowly as he grunted out your name,

"S-Shit baby...I don't- I don't have any-" You shook your head at him as you knew what he was going to say,

"I'm on the pill." As soon as the words left your mouth it was like something took over him and he slowly pushed himself into you. Your nails dug into your shoulders as you whimpered out his name.

"T-Taehyung i-it hurts-" It'd been so long since anything like this had happened for you, he kissed you lovingly.

"I know Y/n, I'm sorry." He pulled back out before sliding back in moaning as he felt your walls tighten around him.

"Even tighter than before," He grunted as he kissed you again, holding onto your hips as he continued with the slow thrusts into you not wanting to hurt you.

"F-Faster," You panted as your back arched forward into him. His eyes scanned over the white shirt and all he could picture was Monday morning when your shirt was wet, he ripped your shirt open and smirked seeing a black bra.

"So fucking hot." He hissed as he buried himself deep into you, freeing you from your bra and throwing your ripped clothing somewhere in the room.

"Argh fuck." You whimpered as he began tugging and twisting on one nipple while biting softly on the other. He had you in the palm of his hands and he knew it.

"T-Taehyng faster please." You begged him so he began to piston his hips forward, bringing you closer to the edge of the table to pick up his speed. Thrusting in and out of you quickly while you let out screams of his name and curse words.

"J-Just like that!" You cried out as he reached down to play with your sensitive clit again. Tugging it between his fingers and rubbing it roughly.

"Oh god, Tae!" You screamed out as he continued to thrust into you, you clenched around and he grunted.

"B-Baby d-don't," He stuttered out as his hip movements began to stutter, every clench as bringing him closer to his own release and he didn't want this to end.

"W-Want you to cum." You whimpered out to him as his rhythm picked up again, hitting your hilt every time making your eyes roll back.

"Y-You first princess," He chuckled watching the way your eyes rolled back as he hit you in just the right spot. You clenched around him a couple more time before moaning out his name loudly, so close to your second orgasm you wanted to push him away from the over-stimulation but pull him back and never let him stop.

"S-Shit I-I'm cumming." You whimpered as he pushed into you roughly one last time, making your core clench around him and released onto his cock. His hips jutted as he let out a growl from his lips, holding you in place as he filled you up. You whimpered feeling some of it drip out of you already but he held himself inside of you. You convulsed a little and he chuckled pulling out slowly before cupping your face in his hands and smiling at you.

"I love you so much Y/n," He pulled you into a loving kiss but you pulled away,

"I love you too," Your voice came out hoarse from all the yelling and you whimpered laying back against the desk not caring that you were laid on stacks of ruined papers.

"Am I off the hook for being late now?" You laughed as he pulled you up and wrapped his blazer around your body, he chuckled at you.

"You're only off the hook if you come back to mine tonight. I want to wake up with you in my arms, cook you breakfast...Like old times." He whispered as he pushed his head into the crook of your neck and kissed softly.

"Of course," You whispered back to him as he pulled you down from the desk, laughing softly as you whined out desperately. You suddenly felt empty when his seed left your body and he rolled his eyes at you, promising to do it again when you got back to his place if you behaved yourself on the ride home.

Tagline: @fluffyjoons​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @rjsmochii​ @bisexualmess007​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ 

[afeb]

Draco Malfoy - Detention

Since Hogwarts came under the control of Snape, it seemed Draco got even more privileged. He didn’t wear school uniform anymore (only ever that damn black suit), he had his own private room near the teachers quarters and seemingly decided which class he went to and when.

Draco had chased me for years, asking me out numerous times, but I always denied him. Now that he got whatever he wanted, my skin began to itch at the thought of him no longer asking, and simply taking. Ginny and Neville had made an effort to always be with me, but sometimes I didn’t have that luxury.

Like now.

“I’m sorry.” Ginny winced as she began collecting her books. “I know you hate being alone.”

I shrugged her off. “Ginny it’s Saturday, I don’t expect you to stay couped up with me.”

She smiled apologetically. “Neville said he’ll be here any minute, so just hang on till then.” And with that she was gone.

I gazed out the window: the world seemed more grey than it did before. My mind wandered to Harry, Ron and Hermione and I wondered what adventures they were getting up to as I sat here, helpless.

“Well well well,” I jumped and cast my eyes to the voice coming towards me. “Little Y/N is all on her own.”

It was Draco and his goons, all with dirty smirks on their face. I frowned and looked down at my books, hoping if I ignored them they’d go away.

“Not going to greet me?” He asked, nudging Zambini.

“I’m busy, Draco.” I mumbled as I tried my hardest to concentrate on my book.

“What is that?” He slid the book over to him. “You need help with Potions?”

I shook my head. “No, I just wanted to read up on it.” I slid the book back over to me.

I internally groaned as they all pulled chairs up to my table, Draco sitting uncomfortably close to me. “Let me help you.” I saw him wink at Goyle.

“Draco, really it’s fine.” I scooted away from him.

He rest his arm on the back of my chair. “Let us keep you company then.”

I rolled my eyes and gazed down at my paper. “God, did you see how short Pansys skirt was earlier?” Goyle said.

“I know, could almost see her underwear.” Zambini said. “I think we all know who she was doing that for.”

Draco scoffed. “Please, I wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot pole.”

“Why? Merlin, if she was giving me that attention I don’t think I could stop myself.” Goyle moaned.

“I’ve got my eye on another pretty number.” Draco huskily said near my ear.

I shrugged him away. “Will you lot shut up? I’m trying to study!” I snapped.

Draco eyes lowered. “I think you’re forgetting who’s Prefect here,” he lowly said. “I can give you detention for that.”

“But you came over here and started disturbing me!” I defended.

“Detention, tonight,” he stood. “Room of Requirement.”

My mouth gaped. “You can’t do that!”

“Really?” He smirked, stepping away. “I think I just did.”

Neville walked in as they were walking out, frowning at me as he sat down. “What did they want?”

“Merlin!” I groaned. “And where the hell were you!”

Later that evening after dinner I made my way to the Room of Requirement. “Are you sure I can’t come? It’s easy enough to get detention.” Ginny said.

I shook my head. “I doubt you’d get detention with me.” I sighed heavily.

We approached the large door and stopped. “Don’t hesitate to hit him if he tried anything.”

I giggled. “Noted.”

I walked inside, gazing up at the piles and piles of disused equipment. Thank god I wore a thick jumper, my body warm, however my legs didn’t have the same luxury. I instantly regretted wearing a pleated skirt, goosebumps littering my skin.

“You actually showed.” I jumped as I turned around and saw Draco leaning against an old cabinet. “And you dressed up for me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Wand.” He stretched out his hand, and I begrudgingly handed it over.

“What am I doing then?” I sighed.

“Organising the old books.” He said. “This way.”

I followed behind him, keeping my distance. His legs were far longer than mine and took larger strides, so keeping up felt like running in itself. We came to a large mountain of books next to an equally large empty book case, an old sliding ladder leaning against it.

“I’m meant to do all of that?” I gasped. He nodded. “That’ll take hours!”

“Better get started then.” He smirked, taking a seat on a comfy looking armchair next to the pile of books.

I worked in silence for the first hour, refusing to answer his stupid questions about my love life. He seemed to get bored as well, opting to take a short walk around the room. Whilst alone I began stacking the books high on the shelf, using the ladder to reach the top.

“Lovely view.” I jumped and looked down, Draco staring straight up my skirt. “Do you always wear green underwear?”

I quickly climbed down the ladder, angrily looking at him. “Don’t be so disgusting!”

“Do you want more detention?” He taunted.

“Give me my wand.” I demanded.

“No.”

I shoved his chest. “Give me my wand, Draco! I’m done playing this little game.”

“I’m in charge here.” He warned.

“Oh yeah?” I laughed. “Keep the bloody wand, I’m going.”

I was about to leave when Draco wrapped his arms around me and pulled my back to his chest. I squirmed in his hold.

“Am I going to have to teach you a lesson?” He growled, tugging us over to the armchair.

He easily manipulated me to bend over his lap, I tried to fight him the whole time. “What the hell are you doing?”

His hand went to the back of my neck to keep me in place. “You wanna act like a big girl? You can suffer the consequences like one.”

I gasped as his hand smacked the bare backs of my thighs, causing my hands to ball against the arm of the chair. “Stop!”

He smacked harder. “Every time you squirm I’ll hit you harder.” He told me, smacking again.

He moved my skirt up to expose my behind. “Draco, this is so wrong!”

I moaned as he smacked my ass, hand squeezing the flesh. “Why do you like it then?” He chuckled, slapping me again.

He stood, pulling me with him. He loomed over me, hand securely wrapped around my neck as the other softly ran over my cheek.

“Draco...” I softly said.

“You’ve made Daddy very angry.” He lowly said. “Why don’t you show him what a good girl you are?”

My hands cupped his crotch, gently squeezing. He tilted his head back and let out a long moan, his hand tightening around my neck. I continued to gently rub him, his head tilting down to look into my eyes.

“Such a good girl.” He cooed, pressing a kiss to my lips. “You gonna let Daddy feel you?”

“Yes.” I whispered.

“Yes, what?” He squeezed my neck.

I blushed. “Yes, Daddy.”

He smirked and removed his hand, stroking over my hair before moving to sit on the chair. He pulled himself out, leisurely stroking himself and eyeing over my body. My legs twisted as I watched him.

“Come here.” I slowly moved over to him, knees brushing against his. He reached out and pulled me onto his lap, hands squeezing my hips. “Ride me.”

I bit down on my lip and slowly positioned myself above him, slowly sinking down. His head rest against the back of the chair, smirk on his lips as he watched me moan.

“You’re so thick, Daddy.” I winced, resting my hands on his chest.

“Yeah? Never had someone so big?” He cooed, fingers pushing my jumper up and feeling over the skin of my rib cage.

I slowly rose. “No, you’re the biggest.”

He chuckled. “Show me what you can do, pretty girl.”

We slowly moved for what felt like hours, breathy and slow moans escaping our lips. His hands were everywhere: hips, breasts, neck, ass. He squeezed and stoked, pinched and slapped.

I bit my lip and decided to experiment. My hands that were on his chest slowly slid up to the base of his neck, he eyed me suspiciously. I rose them further until they were wrapped around his neck, very gently, feeling his adams apple bob.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

I shrugged and continued to move up and down him. “You don’t like it?” I innocently asked.

My hands tightened a little. “Just don’t forget who’s your Daddy.”

I giggled and gasped as he thrust up into me, a smirk gracing his lips. My hands flexed around his neck and he seemed to enjoy the small show of dominance, moaning whenever I constricted his breathing.

The familiar tingle began to creep up my spine as my brows knitted together and my breathing to considerably heavier. He sat up a little, removing my hands from his neck as he softly spoke in my ear.

“Come on, pretty girl.” He encouraged, hand dipping down to rub tight circles into my clit. “Give it to me, give Daddy what he’s always wanted.”

“Please.” I whimpered, my hands winding into his hair. “There!”

He smirked as I came, body shaking against his as I collapsed on his chest. He continued to thrust into me, deep groans leaving his lips before he came deeply inside me. We sat there for a moment, him still inside me.

His hand stoked over my hair as he lifted me up, standing over me. We dressed ourselves and peered at each other.

He leant down and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “I think you’ve done your detention.” He mumbled against me.

I giggled. “I hope so.”

“Stay with me tonight.” He ordered. I nodded. “Good girl.”

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

@jesstargaryenqueen @sailorsassley @sjmships @tomtenadia @endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @fredweasleyhasadhd @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu @swankii-art-teacher @superspiritfestival 

Chapter Fourteen ~ Secrets

Chapter Thirteen ~ Chapter Fifteen

The snow came soon enough. It covered everything in it’s white blanket and brought a bitter chill to the air. Aelin had lived through twenty-one of these winters, but every time the weather turned, taking the last remnants of autumn with it, she found herself mourning the loss. 

She surveyed the snow covered courtyard from her window, watching as the staff in charge of the garden swept the snow from the paths, small mounds of it building to the side. She could remember the times her and Aedion would push each other into them, making forts and snowmen from the massive mounds and when spring would begin to emerge those forts would be the last thing to disappear. 

“I can’t remember the last time I saw a winter like this.” Rowan had snuck up behind her, his arms coming around her in a loving embrace. “I suppose I will have to get used to them if I’ll be living here.” 

Aelin huffed. “If it was my choice I’d spend my winters somewhere hot and sunny. The cold is horrid.” She rested her hands on Rowan’s, snuggling closer. “I know you said Doranelle never felt quite like home… but do you think you’ll miss it?” 

He seemed to think a moment. “No. I don’t think I will.” 

A knock at the door had them breaking apart. 

“Aelin? Are you in there?” 

Lysandra’s voice was shaky on the other side of the door. Aelin looked to Rowan who had also noticed the slight tremor in her voice. 

Aelin strode to the door and opened it to find a teary Lysandra, her face red and blotchy. She was clutching a handkerchief and sniffling as she looked at Aelin. 

“Can I come in?”

“Of course, Lys.” She beckoned her in, leading her to the bed, Rowan exiting the room as she did.

“I need your help.” She let out a small hiccup and fell back onto the pillows. She wiped her nose and sniffed, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. 

“You’re starting to scare me.” Aelin crawled beside Lysandra, crossing her legs and watching as Lysandra held back the tears. “What is it?” 

Lysandra hesitated for a moment, wiping more tears from her face. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Aelin tried not to let her shock show as she struggled to find words. Despite Terrasen being one of the more forward-thinking territories in Erilea… unwed mothers were still a taboo and Aelin hated to think it, but with Lysandra being so close to the royal family… it would make the situation more difficult. Not to mention how Aedion would react— assuming it was in fact his, Aelin hated to even think those thoughts. 

“I wanted to tell you sooner… but I had hoped it wasn’t true.” Lysandra brought the handkerchief to her nose once more. “The healers confirmed this morning.” 

“I don’t… have you told Aedion?” 

Another sniffle. “I don’t know how.” She sat up, turning to sit knee to knee with Aelin. “I’m terrified because once he knows we have to tell everyone else, and then there is going to be a huge debate on how it’s dealt with, and I just—“ Aelin leant over and held Lysandra and began stroking her hair as she cried. 

“We’ll figure it out Lys. Whatever happens.” 

“I’m so scared.” 

Aelin held her tighter. “I know. But you’re a member of this family and you’ll have all our support.” She let go and faced Lysandra. “Do you want me to be there when you tell him?” 

Lysandra hesitated and then nodded. 

“Today?” 

Another nod. 

“Okay. Stay here whilst I organise a couple of things. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” 

Aelin hopped off the bed, tucking Lysandra in. She threw on the nearest dress and combed through her knotty hair before heading down the breakfast room. 

When she entered the room her family were already sat there. She could see the snow clouds rolling in through the windows, small flakes already floating down. Her father greeted her as she came to stand at the head of the table. Aedion was flicking through some papers, uninterested in her arrival. 

“I’m not going to be able to meet with the planners today. Lysandra isn’t feeling well, so I’m going to look after her.” 

Orlon paused his sipping. “We have healers, Aelin. There’s no reason to abandon your duties.” 

“She doesn’t need the healers. It’s more of a woman thing.” She had used this card too many times to count— trying to get out of royal duties and snag a few extra hours in bed. 

Her mother gave her a knowing look. 

“I promise I will put in extra hours tomorrow to make up for it.” 

Orlon didn’t look convinced, but nodded anyway and went back to sipping his tea. Aedion had not looked up once from his papers, completely unaware of the shitstorm that was coming his way. 

Rowan on the other hand was giving Aelin a curious look. 

Is everything okay?

She gave a subtle nod. Lysandra just needs me. 

Did I scent what I think I did?

Shit. She had forgotten about the fae sense of smell. The castle was still crawling with other Whitethorns, not to mention Aedion who had been gifted the fae abilities too, if any of them got close enough to scent Lysandra…

“Aedion?” 

He finally looked up. 

“Can you come up when you’ve finished? Lysandra wants to see you.” 

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Does she need a reason? She just asked me to get you.” 

“I’ll be up soon.” 

She stole a couple of pastries and walked back up to her room. She found Lysandra in the same spot she had left her in, her body curled into a ball, the sheets tightly pulled over her. 

“I asked Aedion to come up when he was done.” Aelin stroked her hair, placing the stolen pastries on the side table. “Do you want anything?” 

Lysandra shook her head. 

Aelin left her and went to sit on the sofa instead. She used her flame to light the fire, filling the room with a comforting warmth. Neither of them said anything, Aelin picking up discarded papers from the day before, trying and failing to read what was on them. The words blurring into each other the more she tried to focus. 

Trying to keep a pregnancy hidden in a palace full of humans was hard enough, but in a palace full of fae… it was going to be impossible. Aelin glanced to Lysandra who was still hidden beneath the covers. She knew what her parents would want, and she knew what Orlon would say needed to happen. But Lysandra was a free spirit, and the options she would be given in order to remain in the palace would not be desirable to her. 

She nibbled on the stolen pastry, barely tasting it as she swallowed it down. She should’ve told Aedion it was urgent and dragged him up with her, waiting for him was unbearable. Aelin picked up and immediately put back down the book she had been meaning to read. Her mind too worked up to focus on anything other than Lysandra. She stood up, going to the window and watching the snow fall, heavier than it had been earlier. The paths that had been swept clear only thirty minutes ago, were now covered with a white blanket. From her window she could almost see the city beyond, then the mountains in the distance which were layered with clouds. 

Aelin tore her gaze from the outside and back to Lysandra, who was know sat up and stating right back at her. 

“Your fidgeting is making me nervous.” Lysandra patted the spot beside her. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, stop worrying so much.” 

She huffed. “You’re one to talk — coming in here crying and then hiding under the covers. Of course I’m going to be worried Lys.” 

“I just found out I’m pregnant, I’m pretty sure my reaction is normal.” She brushed her hair to the side. “I’m pretty sure if you found out you were pregnant right now you would react a similar way.” 

“My situation is slightly different.” 

“But it wasn’t a year ago.” 

Aelin felt the words like a punch to the stomach. “Was that necessary to bring up?” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” Lysandra sighed and laid her head back on the pillows. “I’m just scared and I’m acting out. I didn’t mean it, Aelin.” 

“I don’t want anyone else knowing what happened last year, okay? With so many Fae in the palace, anyone could hear.” 

“You mean Rowan could hear?” 

She shrugged. “Any of them. If just one of them found out, there’s no doubt in my mind they would tell Rowan.” Aelin went to the door and peaked into the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief when no one was to be seen. “I’ll tell him eventually, I’m sure.” She pressed the door closed quietly and went back to the chair. 

“What do you think Aedion will do?” 

“I think he loves you and he’ll support you in any way he can.” 

Lysandra thought for a moment. “I don’t want people to know, Aelin. I can’t deal with the stares and the whispers. People already think less of me because I don’t come from noble blood… I don’t think I can deal with the looks that I’ll get.” 

Aelin’s heart squeezed. Lysandra was right. She had always been looked down upon from the other nobles in the palace, and in Orynth in general. People were cruel and this would fuel their dislike for her even more— especially since Aedion was seen as one of the most sought after males in the city. 

There was a knock on the door and Aedion strode through, assessing the two of them as he did. 

“I don’t have long, I’ve got a meeting with Lord Allsbrook in ten minutes.” He took another look at Lysandra who had paled in the face and looked like she could pass out any second. “Is everything okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.” 

Lysandra jumped from the bed and half ran to the bathroom. Aelin tried not to wince at the sounds of her vomiting. Aedion started towards the bathroom, but Aelin stood to stop him. “Leave her for a moment.” 

“What is going on? Should I get a healer? If she’s sick she should be getting help.” He moved around Aelin’s hand. Aelin slipped in front of him, her hands going to his chest, pushing him back towards the chair. He narrowed his eyes at Aelin. “You said it was a woman thing, but that does not sound—“ 

“For the love of God, please would you just do as I say.” Aedion backed off slightly, his brows furrowing as another bout of vomiting could be heard. 

“If she’s not sick then why is she—“ Realisation dawned on his face as he put two and two together. He stepped back and slumped into the chair, his eyes glossing over. “Gods almighty.”

“Aedion, please don’t freak out yet. Lysandra needs you, and if you’re freaking out it won’t help anyone.” 

The sounds of shuffling came from behind and Lysandra chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom. One hand rested on her still flat stomach, her gaze on Aedion. He didn’t move as she made her way towards him, eventually coming to crouch in front of him, her hands gripping his own. 

“I found out this morning. I had suspected for a couple of weeks… but the healers confirmed it.” 

“I thought you were taking a tonic? I mean… this is not possible.” He shook his head. “The healers told you it was effective, that the chances of conceiving whilst taking it were low.” 

“Low, but not impossible.” 

Aedion turned to Aelin. “And you knew about this? For how long?” 

“I found out this morning. I haven’t known much longer than you.” She put her hands up in defence. 

Lysandra stood from her crouch and went to the bed again, her hands immediately going back to her stomach as she sat. “I don’t want anyone to know yet. Not until we figured out the next moves.” 

Aedion shook his head. “You’ll never be able to keep it a secret here.” He stood too, starting to pace. “We could go to the cabin in the mountains, or go to the summer palace.” 

Aelin shook her head. “The cabin is too far and too isolated. If she needs healers it will take too long for them to reach her, and the summer palace is impossible to reach during the winter.” 

Aedion groaned. “So we find an apartment in the city and stay there. The healers can get there easily and its safe.” 

“What are you going to tell everyone, Aedion? You can’t just leave the palace for nine months without a valid explanation.” Lysandra’s voice cracked as she spoke. 

Aedion went to her side, his arm snaking around her waist as he pulled her in closer, Lysandra’s head resting on his shoulder. He placed a kiss on the top of her head before he looked to Aelin. “I’m not leaving her alone. What if something happens?” 

Aelin hated the thought of Lysandra being alone too. But it would be too suspicious if Aedion suddenly left the palace, and she couldn’t even begin to think of the complexities of trying to find an apartment in the city without someone catching on. 

They all looked to the door as someone knocked. Aedion went white as he started to panic. Lysandra quickly crawled back under the covers, hiding her non-existent bump. 

Aelin got up and opened it, the tension in her shoulders easing when it was just Rowan. She ushered him in and Aelin saw Aedion and Lysandra relax. 

The four of them remained in silence until Rowan cleared his throat and started to speak. 

“Should I be congratulating you?” 

Aedion glared at Aelin. “You told him?” 

“I am a full-blooded Fae male. I scented it on her when she came here this morning.” 

Lysandra groaned into the pillow. “If Rowan already knows, then how many others do you think can scent it on me? I can’t stay here!” 

“Could you and Rowan not say you want somewhere private to stay? Then Lysandra could stay there and if we visited it wouldn’t be as suspicious.” 

Aelin tried to hide the blush that crept up her cheeks as thought of it. She cleared her throat. “It would never be approved, Aedion. You know we couldn’t do that before a mating or wedding ceremony. The Lords would go crazy if they knew Rowan and I were living away from the palace alone.” 

They fell into silence again as they all thought. The only sounds came from the crackling fire and howls of the wind from outside. 

“What about asking Sam?” 

Aelin’s head shot up to stare at Rowan. 

“That’s out of the question. He won’t speak to me.” 

“Lysandra is still friends with him. I’m sure if you explained the situation, he would let her stay. It would be perfect. It’s somewhere close by, she wouldn’t be alone and it would give us good excuses to go into the city to see her.” 

Aelin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Except no one would believe me if I said I was going to visit Sam. My parents know everything, they would know something is up.” 

“Then we tell your parents about Lysandra. Then the four of us and your parents will be the only ones to know. And Sam.” 

“The last time I saw him he told me I was dead to him.” Rowan brushed his hand against her own. A silent gesture of love between the two of them. “It would be better if it came from you Aedion.” 

Aedion froze a moment. “I don’t think Sam will want to see me either. I may have paid him a visit after everything happened.” 

“Aedion.” Lysandra swatted his head. “You idiot.”

“I didn’t realise we would need his help. I’m sorry for defending my cousin.” 

Aelin shushed him and hesitated slightly before speaking, her hand rubbing her forehead. “I’ll go. If he knows it’s for Lysandra maybe he’ll feel more inclined to help.” She turned to Rowan. “You don’t mind?” 

“Of course not.” 

“I guess it’s settled then. I’ll go into the city and try and see him today.” 

Aedion gave her a smile and helped Lysandra out of the bed. “We’ll go and get her things together.” 

Aelin nodded. 

She remained in the same spot, picking bits of lint from her dress; unsure of what to say to Rowan. She felt the need to explain herself to him, but there was nothing to explain. Rowan knew most of the history between Sam and herself, and maybe that was it. He didn’t know all the history, and after Lysandra’s comment this morning… well maybe she did owe an explanation before they left.

“You don’t need to say anything, Aelin. I trust you.” 

“I know. But Lysandra said something to me earlier and now I feel the need to tell you because you’re my mate and I don’t want secrets between us.” She couldn’t look at him as she continued. “Last year during autumn I found out I was pregnant.” 

Rowan sucked in a breath. Her chest tightened as his eyes met her own. “I assume it was Sam’s?” 

Aelin nodded. “I didn’t tell anyone other than Lysandra and Aedion. I had planned on telling my parents when I began to show… and then I guess I would have either renounced my claim on the throne or Sam would have been given some fake title and we would get married.”

Rowan sat on the small couch, his hands clasped in front of him. “You didn’t tell Sam?”

She shook her head. “I was terrified of what he would do or say and then I got more scared of what other people would think and I just felt stupid that I had put myself in that position.” Aelin tipped her head back and leant it on the back of the chair. “It had been about a week since I had found out, and I was preparing myself on what to say to Sam, when I woke in the night and found a pool of blood on my sheets and I knew what had happened.” She wiped away tears. “The worst part was that I felt relieved. And maybe that makes me an awful person, but when I saw the blood… I really didn’t feel anything other than relief.” She sniffed, remembering the night it had happened, the wetness of her nightgown and the sheets around her, the momentary panic and then the weight lifting from her shoulders when she realised what had happened. She hadn’t hesitated before cleaning herself up and burning the sheets and replacing them herself before someone asked questions. She hadn’t shed a tear the entire time, not even when she told Lysandra who sat there and cried enough for the both of them. Perhaps she was an awful person, but even now, she still feels relief when she thinks back.

Rowan interrupted her thoughts. “You’re not an awful person.” Rowan still hadn’t looked at her, his gaze focused on the fire. “But you’ve never told Sam?” 

“I didn’t know how. He already had these grand ideas of us running away together and starting new lives away from Orynth, if I had told him I was expecting his child he would have got carried away and I— I don’t know. I just didn’t want that.” 

“You’re not an awful person for feeling relief. But if it was me… I would want to know. Sam deserved to know, Aelin.” 

Her voice wobbled. “I know he did.” 

Rowan shifted in his seat, finally meeting her eyes. “I will never question your past because I did not know you then, and you knew what was best for you at that time. But please, Aelin, as your mate, don’t keep me in the dark.” He came to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in his. “I love you unconditionally and I will support you through everything. But never be afraid of sharing things with me. Whatever is thrown at us we will manage together, as a pair. There will never be a burden too heavy that I can’t help you carry, okay?” 

Aelin could only nod as she brought her mouth to Rowans, holding his face in her hands as she poured her love into the kiss, hoping that Rowan would know what she was trying say. Rowan pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers.

“I love you, Aelin. No matter what happens.” 

“I love you. Thank you for being patient with me, I know I’m a handful and come with a lot of baggage for someone so young.” Aelin let out a laugh.

Rowan grinned in response. “I don’t care about the baggage, Aelin. We all have it, it’s just part of life.” He kissed her forehead once then pulled her up out of the chair. “Let’s go do this before you overthink it all.” 

She laughed and swatted his arm, the two of them heading for the door. 

[still-a-morosexual-help]

OBEY ME! LESSON 52 DETAILED SUMMARY + THEORIES

Two locked lessons :( hopefully telling where the fuck Mammon & Luke have been

Lucifer’s immediately suspicious of them, asking who they are and whose in charge of them. MC points at their obviously non-angelic clothes and says they’re angels while Satan says Simeon’s their guardian (weren’t Simeon & Lucifer really close back then? Wouldn’t he have told Lucifer if he got new angels?). He says it’s good luck then that he ran into a seraph’s assistants as he dumbs a load of books on them and says ‘I’m a seraph assist me’ or rather ‘carry these books to the library for me’ – Satan gets ready to protest but Lucifer cut him off saying that assuming they really are angels they’d know who he was (really didn’t like that ‘assuming you really are angels bit’) meaning his orders are not optional so get to work. Satan silently glares at him. Lucifer complains about how this is not even his job but Raphael’s who’s been picking on Lucifer to get back for how much shit his brother’s cause (I’ve so many HCs about Raphael and Michael. Raphael I always see as stoic and stiff who gets into those aggressively polite, passive-aggressive, thin lipped smile, voices hissed out and cutting, arguments with Lucifer about his brothers and punishing them adequately. Considering Michael is supposed to be somewhat childish personality wise and Raphael is serious I also see them having a relationship very similar to Diavolo and Lucifers’, With Raphael being Michael’s weary but fond handler). Satan says if his brothers are acting out then maybe Lucifer’s just bad at supervising them, MC sighs and sympathises with the tone of someone who has lived through the exact same experience which Lucifer immediately picks up and comments on. Beel’s been sneaking food, Belphie keeps escaping to the human world and even though they’re relatively minor things their frequency makes them add up and Raphael won’t stop being snide and sarcastic about it. Satan cuts off Lucifer’s ranting about how terrible Raphael is (given that outside of his brothers Simeon’s the only one Lucifer seems close with in the Celestial Realm and knowing Lucifer he’d never unload his troubles on to his brothers in fear of being seen as not being in control, and Beel mentioned Lucifer usually stuck to staying inside the Celestial Palace it makes sense that he desperately needs someone to rant to) saying that Lucifer complains too much and if he’s so happy here maybe he should just leave the celestial realm and head to – but he’s cut off by Lucifer saying “for an angel you really seem ready to start shit huh” and I’m pretty sure he knows :) Satan just silently glares back. Lucifer tries to tell them what the organising system in the library is but Satan cuts him off saying he can see what it is by just looking and then he diverts his attention to psychoanalysing Lucifer, asking if Lucifer’s pushing them around cause Raphael pushes him around. Lucifer ignores the last part saying no matter how much sully seems like he wants to tear Lucifer’s head off he’s skilful and knows his way around books, when Satan only glares back he asks if Satan likes books to which he replies that every book in this library is precious. Lucifer laments about how none of his brothers like books despite how much he tries to get them into reading and that there’s no one he knows who he can talk to about them since Michael “overcomplicates things and twists them into something they’re not” (do you think Michael has started his Lucifer shrine at this point or does that happen after the fall?) and Raphael “who’s snide and generally unpleasant” (God if they do introduce the angels I desperately want them to be dicks. Like give me one person who’s an asshole that’s not hiding a secret soft side, I want someone who looks at MC sneers and then continues to never fall in love with them) though there is Simeon who’s the most normal of them. He says his life would be easier if he had someone like Sully for a brother (poor Satan’s probably going through a crisis rn). Lucifer says that Satan can look around and pick any book he wants and even points him towards a section meant only for seraph. Satan hesitantly picks up one and asks for permission and Lucifer notes he’s a fan of art. After they’re done Lucifer calls Satan close to look at a particularly interesting book with a blank cover. There’s a flash of bright white light and chains burst from inside the book and wrap around Satan who gets immediately pissed off, demanding what’s happening (earning their trust just to flip on them like that!? Specially satan!? The years of progress that just undid!?) Does he already know Satan is a demon? I mean they’re both pretty suspicious either way but I’m pretty sure he won’t take them to the other higher ups considering how he spoke about them and I’m 100% sure if this was pre-Diavolo angel!Lucifer he would have killed Satan on the spot without bothering to trap him.

Satan yells at Lucifer to do something (I don’t know if it’s sweet or sad that no matter how much Satan pretends to hate Lucifer in the end he absolutely believes Lucifer would never do anything to hurt him and would help him if he was in trouble even when Satan’s usual logic should tell him that Lucifer intentionally gave him the book). Lucifer says it makes sense that Satan got caught and when MC tries to help him Satan tells them to stay back cause he doesn’t want them to get caught either. Lucifer says the book is alive and catches evil beings and the harder you struggle the tighter the chains get (don’t you think Evil has two meanings in the OM! World? The brothers and the demons in general are referred to as evil a lot but when it comes down to it they’re all good people – heavily flawed with pretty loose morals – but more or less good people certainly not bad enough to be called evil. Evil tm seems to be what all demons naturally are but that it seems to have nothing to do with the puppy kicking, baby eating, mass murder you’d usually associate with the term. So yeah two different meanings. I think technically inanimate objects like the book would react to the natural Evil tm in the brothers and actual people like the angels will associate that natural Evil tm with the normal evil we all know and thus believe all demons are puppy kicking, baby eating, mass murderers). Lucifer said he would have known if Simeon got two angels (BOOM!) and that he knew from the beginning they weren’t angels (just look at their freaky ass non-white coloured clothes!). Satan says Lucifer playing dirty is something that has never changed. Lucifer says he has no fucking clue what Satan’s talking about and then looks at MC and says “wtf are you anyway” when MC answers he says that Michael’s being interested in a human sorcerer recently but guesses that’s not MC, he says they’re obviously not a demon or angel but doesn’t seem to believe the human thing fully too because he again asks and emphasises, “Interesting…What are you, exactly…” (This is the second time OM!’s implied MC’s not fully human, demon or angel with the first being in a devilgram. In my first ever HC list I said I see MC as a hybrid of the three while still being mostly human – because when Lilith died she was no longer an angel but she wasn’t fully a demon either and that particular magic unique to only her travelled with her when she reincarnated and then travelled unnoticed through her descendants and was magnified after MC made pacts with the 7 brothers and started sharing their powers). Satan latches on to that, stating MC’s not a demon so Lucifer should only be interested in him but that piques Lucifer’s interest more and he moves closer to MC because why would a demon protect someone else. MC tells Lucifer to let Satan go (and it’s said in a way where it’s implied it’s an order not an option and MC’s a little insane right?) Satan says there’s no point trying to get Lucifer to listen before he transforms into his demon form saying Lucifer never listens, to which Lucifer is silent (Y’all really need to talk after all this is over), before he says there’s no need for Satan to lose his temper and that Lucifer would let them go which obviously shocks Satan. Lucifer releases Satan who asks what Lucifer’s new plot is. Lucifer’s like “wow you have zero trust in me” and Satan’s like “bitch, I have negative trust in you”. Lucifer says there’s no plots and Satan says he’s lying. Lucifer says that the old him would have drop kicked a demon on site and wouldn’t have released them just so they could talk. And what does Lucifer want to talk about? His new demon boo <3 ugh sorry “acquaintance”. He says he never would have imagined he’d have a demon as an acquaintance but here we are. Lucifer says he’s strange, that he doesn’t act like a demon and that the more they talk the less he understands him but that he likes talking to him and there’s a certain feeling he gets from talking to Diavolo similar to the one he gets when talking to Satan (familiarity? Belonging? Kinship? Affection?) and I can’t believe we went from Lucifer complaining about his co-workers to him asking advice about what sounds like his first crush. Lucifer says he also wants to know more about Satan and that he only used the book to make sure he actually was a demon and he asks Satan to forgive him, Satan is silent and contemplative. Lucifer says he’s answered Satan’s questions and isn’t there something that Satan should say to him, more specifically, “thank you for releasing me”. Satan mumbles under his breath “holy shit I can’t believe you made me believe you were nice! You’re as nasty as ever” but still flushes red and says thanks. Lucifer’s pleased by it and says that for his good manners he won’t report anything to Michael but in return they have to follow him again.

Lucifer leads them back to a rooftop? where the brothers are. Mammon says Lucifer’s late and that Beel ate the food they’d left aside for him, while Belphie complains about how after Lucifer told all of them not to be late he was. Lucifer smiles and tells Belphie to not get mad about it in exchange for Lucifer ignoring that Belphie slept on the job. Belphie says that’s playing dirty. Asmo & Levi say that considering all the work Lucifer has these days they shouldn’t be mad at him, they then ask why Satan left and that they were worried about him & MC. Belphie asks since when were they friends with Lucifer, A red faced Satan says they’re not. Beel happily points out that Satan’s face is progressively turning more red and Satan says that all the eggs Beel ate contained reddite and it was fucking up his eyesight and this exactly the sort of BS I’d say to my brother to get him off my back the om! Team writes sibling relationships so well???? Beel questions about reddite and Satan just goes balls deep with the lie, creating a new disorder, explaining how it works and what the permanent effects are to which Beel immediately starts panicking until Belphie says Satan’s just being a lil’ shit. Simeon congratulates MC on their therapy skills but MC says it’s Lucifer who did everything. Simeon says Lucifer shouldn’t get all the credit (because yeah honestly sometimes just having someone to sit with you and hold your hand even if you don’t talk goes a long way when you’re having a bad time). Mammon asks Lucifer why he called them all here. Lucifer uses magic and suddenly the sky daylit sky outside is replaced by the stars and moon and night sky. Lucifer says Michael made Raphael remodel the room (so they’re in the observatory?) to show the human sky as well and Lucifer wanted to check it out before Michael had the chance. All the brothers are in awe. MC asks if Michael will be pissed that Lucifer checked out what is clearly his room first and Lucifer says he doesn’t give a flying fuck about it. Belphie’s thrilled and asks if anyone knows any stories about the constellations, Satan says he knows about every single one. Asmo asks him to tell them and he starts pointing out stars first the three stars forming the triangle of Betelgeuse, then Cator and Pollux – gemini - who are incredibly close and are like peas in a pod which the twins instantly claim as their own, and then orion. Simeon is happy that Satan looks so happy.

Mc is later woken up by Satan, with the others already asleep around the room, he says the stupid faces they make when they sleep hasn’t changed over the years. MC notes that Simeon and Lucifer are missing and asks about it. He says he has no idea and that they must have gone off together, he then asks them to keep quiet about what they saw here when they got back home. MC’s not on board with that and says there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Satan blushes says he’s not but that the brothers will tease him but in the end he’s happy they came here. He thanks MC and they say they’re just happy seeing him being so happy and he calls them mean for teasing him, the twins start moving around in bed and end up in weird positions – Satan fondly complains about that never changing and how they wouldn’t survive without him and goes to straighten them out. MC goes to find Lucifer and Simeon. They then eavesdrop on them talking in the forest. Lucifer says that Simeon looks really good as a human and Simeon says coming from Lucifer that’s a grand compliment. He then says he knows that none of this is real but that he’s truly happy he got to see Lucifer like this one more time. Lucifer asks what he’s talking about considering Simeon sees him so much every day that Lucifer figures Simeon would be sick of him and that nothing is going to change. “This is who we are. And who we’ll be forever” (and this whole thing is so fucking bittersweet and I forget that Simeon lost all his closest friends in the Celestial Realm in one fell sweep and then went through whatever unknown events got him demoted). Simeon looks sad for just a moment before he smiles and says, “Forever, huh…That’s such a wonderful word, but so very fragile.” (actual tears rn). Simeon says he knows Lucifer’s met Diavolo by now and that he’s felt lingering doubt crawl into his heart so when Lucifer says forever even he himself is not sure if he means it (this also explains one of the reasons why Simeon isn’t Diavolo’s biggest fan because while leaving was definitely the brothers’ decision he probably unconsciously or lowkey resents Diavolo for putting the thought into Lucifer’s head and showing him that leaving was an available option) Lucifer stutters and doesn’t know what to say to that. (Okay so ik that some of y’all see the “brothers no more” chat name and see Lucifer and Simeon brothers but I’ve always considered that to mean “brothers in arms”? Not actual siblings? One, because Lucifer would never have left one of his siblings behind, no matter how much they kicked and screamed and refused to leave he would have dragged them down to the Devildom with him. Two, Lucifer treats Simeon as an equal something he doesn’t do to his brothers. With his brothers he’s overprotective and condescending, controlling and overbearing. He’s basically helicopter-parenting and you can clearly see that he doesn’t treat them as equals unlike the way he treats Simeon. Third there’s a clear distance between Simeon and the brothers. I mean they’re all really close but the brothers don’t treat Simeon the same way they treat each other or even the way they treat Lucifer – there always seems to be an underlying layer of respect. I mean sure they respect Lucifer and each other (hard as it may be to see) but they can also call Lucifer and each other ‘dickheads’ to the face something I don’t see them doing with Simeon. The brothers’ relationship with Simeon, I see in the same way I’d treat the composed sweet close friend of a sibling who is much much much older than me. So yeah I see Simeon as being Lucifer’s childhood friend, where they grew up in each other’s pockets, went to war together and fought alongside each other and ended up working in the same place in similar positions).

MC wakes up to someone shaking them and calling their name (you can choose it to be either Luke or Mammon. Because I’m a sim: ) Mammon gives a short relieved laugh when they wake up, asking them what they’re doing sleeping in the middle of the forest and how no matter how much he shook them they didn’t wake up and how he was worried. Satan says they’re back in the real world and Mammon asks them wtf they’re talking about saying he doesn’t remember anything, MC asks where they were and says they were worried. Neither Luke nor Mammon remember anything and didn’t even remember disappearing, saying they walked in the HoL and the next minute they were back to standing in the forest. Mammon and Luke have a brief argument about how they might have actually been in danger and the word chihuahua is thrown and protested to until Mammon remembers and asks what the other two are doing here and MC explains how and why they came here. Luke says okay “but when you say you tripped balls and had a shared hallucination what exactly do you mean…” Satan shuts that down quickly. Luke asks what even happened. Simeon hands him a pamphlet where the whole section about the HoL is gone, in its place is a passage about rumours of fairies who lure people and tease and torment them. Satan says it’s a miracle they made it out alive. Simeon says it’s because of the hawthorn berry powder Satan is covered in because fairies are very fond of hawthorn berries and as a thank you to Satan for bringing it to them they showed him something he’d always wanted to experience. This line makes Mammon & Luke even more curious and Satan threatens Simeon not to say a word but he forgot MC’s a shithead so they begin, “So we found ourselves in the Celestial Realm –“ before Satan cuts them off, telling them to shut up and threatening them with him going to Lucifer and telling him a whole list of bad things Mammon did whether they’re true or not and azkcjbscjwzx I can’t believe Satan just called MC a simp like that right to their face in front of everyone what the fuuuuuuck!????? Mammon oblivious loveable idiot that he is doesn’t understand why he’s being threatened. Simeon reminds them of why they even came out here and MC remembers the fairies/fairy rings, Mammon laments not been able to get their treasure and Luke calls him evil for wanting to steal it. Mammon says treasure or fairy rings it’s still the same but Luke vehemently protests against that. Mammon does note that despite running into fairies there doesn’t seem to be any fairy rings around and Simeon says they may have to give up for now, Satan agrees saying after all the emotional upheaval he’s exhausted. Both Luke and Mammon are really disappointed. (So about the vision/hallucination/reality they saw it reminded me of that thing Dumbledore said in the last Harry Potter book when they were in Kings Cross station. Something about how just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it’s not real.)

Back in the train station Mammon and Luke are still sulking and MC says at least they had fun together, mammon agrees minus the part at the end that turned into a scene from a horror movie. Satan asks Simeon why he’s smirking, Simeon says he’s remembering how adorable Satan had looked while he was teaching his brothers the constellations for the first time and how he wished real Lucifer was there to see it. Satan demands that none of this goes back to Lucifer. Simeon laughs evilly and MC says Lucifer would be so happy if he knew and Satan – red-faced – says that’s exactly why he doesn’t want Lucifer to know and sighs about how satan still can’t admit to how much he loves Lucifer. Simeon says that it’s a special opportunity considering this particular group don’t get to travel together that often but Mammon still sulks until he’s back on the train and fawning over how good the food is. Luke calls mammon a simpleton for how easily his moods flip-flop (hey???? I take offense to that) and mammon snaps back at him, Luke says since Mammon’s always talking about him like he’s a dog he doesn’t get to complain and Simeon laughs about how close they seem, Satan’s confused by Simeon’s definition of close and MC says you tend to fight more with people you’re closer to (which yeah it’s true for me at least. I’d always argue with someone I’m close to vs someone I just know and they’re never serious arguments either just stupid shit that you can trade friendly-rude barbs over). Luke says he’d never be close with a demon like Mammon and Mammon says for such a small kid Luke’s got a big mouth, Luke bites back and they continue. Simeon tells MC if they thought they could get rest on the train back they’re greatly mistaken cause Simeon was only able to book 4 rooms so two of them will have to share and that immediately stops Luke & Mammon’s argument. MC feels all of their eyes boring into them before they all start volunteering to share a room with MC. Luke suggests they draw straws or play rock-paper-scissors to decide, Mammon suggests cards but Satan says that he can see in Mammon’s eyes that he plans on cheating and an argument breaks out making the others on the train turn to stare at them and this time MC genuinely seems to consider jumping off a moving train instead they command the demons to stay. Simeon says that never stops being funny and Luke says it actually looks painful and ik MC only uses it when things are getting out of hand and they aren’t listening to reason and are causing a scene that can lead to a (usually) public brawl but the command to stay still feels icky to me.

In the corridor MC finds a silent sad looking Simeon and asks him what’s wrong. Simeon tries to deflect it, gets oddly scatter brained about where he put down his tea, says that even though rock-paper-scissors was a fair was to decide he’s disappointed but the look on Mammon & Luke’s faces when they found out they would be sharing was worth it. MC picking up on how all over the place he seems asks if something is bothering him. He says not really but sort of? He says Satan wasn’t the only one impacted by the whole Celestial Realm fever dream and that seeing the brothers as angels again brought back happy memories until he remembered that they aren’t there anymore and that the Celestial Realm is different now which made him depressed. MC hugs them and Simeon says they’re warm and smell comforting before he thanks them he then blushes and says he would like to kiss them and MC gets the chance to either tell him to go ahead or to gently say “No, Simeon…” he understands that there’s someone else and that whoever that is he’s very lucky. He then gives them the star of patience and tells them they’re gonna be an amazing sorcerer. Simeon says he wished he could’ve had MC as a guardian angel and MC goes “wait…do angels even have guardian angels!?” and Simeon says …no. He then wishes them goodnight.

On the way to bed MC hears voices from the roof and goes to check it out only to find the other 3. The three of them are arguing about constellations. Mammon points out Scorpius correctly and calls Orphiuchus next to it the scorpion bearer, Luke says it’s the goat bearer, Mammon says “what even is the difference between scorpions and goats, Satan says they’re both wrong and MC says it’s the serpent bearer. They pull MC down beside them and Luke says Satan was telling them about the seven sisters and asks if they know what it’s called. MC gets to answer. Mammon asks if there’s a seven brother’s constellation and Luke says there is one in the Celestial Realm, with everyone knowing about the legend behind the constellation being about the brothers’ fall. Mammon asks what they’re like and Luke says they’re seven bright stars with three others watching over them. Luke says he doesn’t know what the three stars are supposed to represent and Mammon suggests it might be Michael, Luke says that’d be weird cause Michael only has two eyes so what’s the third one, Mammon suggests it could be like Michael’s nostril or something and I’m in genuine tears over this, my chest hurts from how much I laughed, Luke says that’s stupid and MC who is actually just as stupid as Mammon but who is also much better at hiding it suggest two eyes and a mouth, Luke goes “…heeeeh?” finally realising one of his role models is a dumbass before he starts protesting asking why the two of them are so fixated on it being two eyes, Satan suggests that they might represent demons, angels and humans and luke says that feels right (personally I think they’re Michael, Raphael and Simeon) Mammon suggests the human star would be MC and Satan agrees. (okay so I think the seven brothers stars are completely BS. Why? Because Michael and the angels had no idea Satan existed. Hell even Lucifer didn’t know until Satan was born after they fell. Michael would have had no relationship with Satan, hell they’ve never even met, for him to be sentimental and it makes no sense that a place Satan has never really been to would have a star for him. They would have a star for Lilith though. That makes sense. But the story of Lilith’s death and probably even her existence seems to be very securely hidden away considering even Luke who’s so close with Michael doesn’t seem to know why the brothers fell. The angels wouldn’t have named stars after the brothers immediately after their fall and it would have taken time for them all to heal, reach a place of forgiveness and start to grieve and miss what they’d lost. So I bet by this time, the news that there was a seventh brother had come up and the angels in the know jumped at the chance to use him as a cover story for the seventh star rather than admit a girl was killed over falling in love and then using her powers to heal a human. So yeah. The seven brothers stars feel like utter BS. Seven siblings on the other hand…). Mammon tells Luke to hurry up and get on with it and Luke gives MC the star of generosity. Luke thanks them for everything, saying that though they didn’t find a fairy ring he had fun and made good memories, he then thanks them for always being there for them all.

[demoneyesanddamagedsouls]

Sparring Partners

Chapter Two: Preparation

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the love on the first Chapter of this fic, I hope you enjoy this one just as much. I’m aiming to post a new chapter each week, not sure yet how many chapters this’ll have yet. Feedback and comments as always are so welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters just let me know! xxx

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

I have also just created a playlist for ya’ll to listen to while reading. I hope it gets you even more invested! ✨COCKY COWBOY PLAYLIST✨

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are long time rivals. As Statesman agents you both have been put up for the same promotion and this mission is your final chance to prove yourself. Have you got what it takes?

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Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Slight Language, mentions of food and canon-typical violence

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CHAPTER TWO: Preparation

You both leave the conference room minds reeling from all the information that was just given to you.

As one of the younger agents at Statesman, being chosen as a potential candidate for Champ’s position was a real honour. It showed that Champ really thought highly of you and your skills. After 8 years of working as an agent, going on your fair share of dangerous and difficult missions, taking a bullet more than once, and now training the new recruits with Tequila, you knew you had worked your ass off to get where you were.  However, even with all this experience it paled in comparison to some of the more senior agents, some with 10 or more years under their belt. Hell, the person you were up against had been on the job for about 15 years, making a name for himself as one of the most fearsome agents that Statesman had to offer. You knew for a fact that Whiskey had been hoping for this position eventually, it had been something he mentioned to other agents that you heard in passing. At the top of his game and at the height of his career you realised, this cowboy was going to be one hell of a challenge to go up against.

Whiskey mulled over this new mission and Champ’s offer over and over in his mind. He wasn’t particularly surprised that Champ had propositioned him as a potential candidate for this position, he was one of the most senior agents at Statesman. Probably the closest in age to Champ and with the extensive experience he had it seemed rather obvious, but Vodka? You were still so young, in your mid 20’s the world was yet to break your spirit. Mind you, you had that bossy tone down packed. He chuckled to himself. He was hesitant to admit but you had a certain leadership quality that you didn’t see in most of the agents here. Most were contented to follow orders and carry out missions as asked, but you always had your own way of doing things, always taking the initiative. He supposed you had a fresh and young perspective that Champ must see as endearing. He however, found your constant need to take charge rather infuriating. You always seemed to think you knew best and even if you were correct, more often than not he was resigned to admit, it was still frustrating as you always seemed determined to show him up. He knew you were going to be a challenge, so determined to prove yourself, and a damned good agent to boot. Fuck this is going to be harder than he thought.

Both of you walking in the same direction out of the room, neither of you realising the other is turning to walk in the opposite direction. Both too caught up in your own thoughts you collide into each other your head smacking into Whiskeys chest. Quickly recoiling from the unintentional contact your rub your forehead with the palm of your hand. “Dammit Whiskey, watch where you’re going for Christ’s sake.”

“Well jeez Vodka how am I supposed to avoid you and that ego inflated head of yours?” He scoffed, eyeing you up and down.

You scowled at him, “You think I have a big ego? Have you looked in the mirror lately Whiskey? You and that cocky ass grin of yours have got a lot of nerve talking about my ego.” Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn and storm away from the narcissistic cowboy.

“If you liked my smile so much you should have just said so… sunshine.” He calls back to you as you walk away. You could practically hear the smirk in that smooth as silk southern accent.

What an absolute dick. He knew exactly what he was doing when he spoke to you like that. It infuriated you. The way his southern drawl echoed in your ears, his words dripping like honey, they way he called you those stupid little pet names. Everything about Whiskey drove you up the wall, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Fuckkkk…” You growled to yourself as you stormed into your office your heeled boots clicking angrily through the hall. Why does he always have to be so intensely irritating? You needed to get that stupid fucking smirk out of your head and get prepared for your new op. Slamming the door shut and sitting down, you start reclining in your office chair taking a deep breath and relaxing. Whiskey’s scent had lingered on your clothes creating a cloud around you after you had slammed into his chest. Inhaling the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood, a soft oaky smell, your breathing began to slow and calm. You would never tell him but that was one thing you did unfortunately enjoy about Whiskey. He always smelt good. Why did he always have to smell so damn good? Shaking your head to clear your mind of any remaining thoughts of Whiskey you leaned towards your desk and opened your laptop. This was going to be a long night…

***

Pushing the door closed with your heeled foot, you stepped into your apartment and sighed. You were exhausted. Checking your watch, you realised it was now 10 minutes past midnight. Swiftly moving to the bedroom, you flopped onto your bed groaning as you flipped yourself over and pulled off your boots, quickly changing into your pyjamas. Finally laying back down in bed you stared up at the ceiling running over the research you’d done over the course of the afternoon and evening, and the plan you had organised for tomorrow. You had spent the afternoon working, collecting copious amounts of information on CleanPlanet and the history of their company. It seemed that they were attempting to pass as an almost ‘mom and pop’ style family-owned business “Dedicated to the bettering of the planet and all the people who inhabited it.” What a load of rubbish. You had uncovered multiple articles from smaller news publications questioning the companies credibility, some families of recently passed away individuals even coming forward and accusing the company of foul play in the deaths of their relatives. CleanPlanet was owned and run by Howard Jacoby and his wife Constance, two very well-off socialites and academics who were every bit as snobby as they appeared in pictures. At least you wouldn’t be dealing with them directly thank goodness you hated dealing with high society types, that would be Whiskey’s issue.

There was a particular video that had caught your eye whilst combing through their internet presence, a TedTalk style video starring the one and only Howard Jacoby. He was speaking about how the planet was struggling with things like overpopulation and pollution, a speech which sounded eerily similar to Professor Arnold’s work, the man who had assisted Richmond Valentine and encouraged his plot to wipe out most of the planet. You shuddered at the thought. Either way you and Whiskey would get to the bottom of this. If the company and its owners were planning on anything like what Valentine had tried to execute then you needed to figure it out quickly. Deciding you’d brief Whiskey in the morning about your hunch, you set your alarm and curled up in your soft cotton sheets. Looking out your bedroom window at the twinkling of the city lights, your head sinking slowly into your pillow. You drift off into a restless sleep, anxious of what tomorrow would bring.

***

You arrived at Statesman the next morning rubbing your eyes. Your sleep had been restless, anxiety of the coming days keeping you from a comfortable evening. Pushing the door to your office open you hear a chipper voice behind you. “Well mornin’ Vodka. You ready for the op today?” You turned to see Whiskey standing in your office door frame, leaning his broad shoulder against it with a large smile plastered across his face.

Rolling your eyes at his unnecessarily wide grin, “And what’s gotten you in such a fabulous mood this morning?” You say with an exasperated sigh as you drop into your office chair with a small thud. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth his smile somehow grows larger as he pulls out the arm that was behind his back forward as he saunters into the room. Holding a large paper bag, which as soon as you spot the smell hits your nostrils. Fresh pancakes. You look at him with sudden excitement and surprise, your mood instantly lifted and the last feeling of tiredness leaving your body as you inhale deeply.

“I thought I’d bring us some breakfast to get us in the right headspace for today. I also thought we should probably trade what we found out yesterday during our research to make sure we’re both on the same page…”

“Oh, so this is a bribery breakfast huh?” You questioned as you drag your eyes away from the mouth-watering food on the desk in front of you, finally taking a proper look at Whiskey for the first time this morning. The first thing you notice is that he is not currently donning his regular black Stetson, a rather big change from his usual cowboy appearance. Instead, he was showing off his thick, brushed back hair, his wireframe Statesman issued glasses resting on his strong nose, obscuring his dark brown eyes. He was wearing a gorgeous grey checkered suit with a white dress shirt underneath, a casual yet striking look on his glowing tan complexion. It was a very nice change for the cowboy. He cleans up well, you thought. Your gaze flicks up and you notice Whiskey’s cocky grin once again. He must have thought you were eyeing him up, not that you weren’t but you weren’t about to let him know that. You roll your eyes at him trying to keep his knowing smile at bay. “So, what are you after then Whiskey?”

“Well sunshine, since you always seem to know everything, I thought I’d get your run down on things this morning before we both head out to our separate ops today.”

“Ahhhh there it is, the usual candour I’m used to from you cowboy. I was worried when you showed up this morning with a kind gesture that I wouldn’t be enjoying any of that snarky wit I have become so accustomed to.” You look down at your computer and notepad, focusing on the research notes you had made last night in somewhat of a delirious, fever dream state. “Alright let me have a look…” you trailed off.

Whiskey sits down across from you at your desk pulling the steaming pancakes out of the paper parcel you had brought this morning. Setting up the two meals Whiskey observes you, wearing a pair of simple black high waisted work pants tapering at your waist, a simple white blouse tucked into them, the buttons undone just low enough to show off your neck and the top of your chest. He darts his eyes back up to your face, so you don’t catch him staring, nose scrunched up in concentration under your matching Statesman glasses as you palm through your somewhat excessive amount of research notes. He lets out a light breath of amusement seeing you like this, confused but copiously prepared, it was a nice change of pace from your usual so certain self.

Looking back up from your notes as you find what you were looking for you see the small meal containers opened on the desk, filled with pancakes with a small pot of maple syrup on the side. Turning your focus back to Whiskey you begin to go through what information you’d gathered that you thought was pertinent to the both of you. You ran through the notes you had made, both of you working your way through breakfast, Whiskey chiming in occasionally with a mhmm and a nod here and there. “One thing that kept bugging me last night was that Ted Talk type video of Howard Jacoby… talking about the human race being a plague on the planet that needed to be cured so the earth could thrive again…”  you trial off as a look of concern crosses your face, “It was really eerie and reminded me a lot of that professor that assisted Richmond Valentine in his attempt to have the world turn on each other.”

“Well, it seems I missed that video, that sounds mighty concerning…” Whiskey trails off, leaning his elbow on the side of your desk slowly pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Wonder what their testing at those new hospital facilities of theirs then…” He turns to look at you, the same worry sparkling in his eyes.

“My hunch is that they must be testing something similar to what Valentine did, something that can affect extensive groups of people on a large scale. Something that would be easy to distribute and spread, but obviously more related to the medical profession because of the labs…”

“Maybe some sort of virus or infection?” He chimes in.

“Seems more than likely… I guess we’ll find out more today. Speaking of…” You glance down at your watch realising it was almost 8:30am. Still so early for your tired demeanour, but almost time for you to both be heading off. Ginger had organised a cover story for you last night and sent in for a ‘staff transfer’ so that you could get into the CleanPlanet facilities and gain access to the hospital quickly. You needed to get to the bottom of this puzzling situation fast, especially as it seemed to be becoming more concerning by the minute. “I think its time for us to head off.”

“Seems it is.” Whiskey nods and swiftly packs the remnants of breakfast back into the paper bag, throwing it into the bin beside your desk.

“So, you know what my, rather detailed I might add, plan is but you have yet to share how you plan on approaching this op.” A slight leer in your voice, aiming to provoke him. “Care to share… cowboy?”

“If you must know, Vodka,” he drawls, the civilised tone from earlier gone in a heartbeat as the two of you pick up your bags and make your way down the hallway to the elevator. “I will be posing as a one of multiple wealthy investors eager to take a tour of CleanPlanet’s new business acquisitions. A high society gentleman looking to expand my portfolio into areas I have true passion for you could say. As it so happens, it seems that Howard Jacoby is searching for some people who share his vision and have a healthy wallet.” His voice dripping in sarcasm, for this type of persona was so unlike himself. A charmer by nature his honeyed voice had made many a lady fall victim to a one-night stand, but a high society man he was not. Whiskey cleaned up well, but he was certainly a working-class gentleman with a love for simple living.

“Well, your certainly dressed the part.” You say as you eye up Whiskey admitting to yourself that he was pulling of the sleek look. You shake your head clearing your mind of the potential minute attraction forming, focusing once more on where you were going. Stepping into the elevator and tapping the basement level button, you continued. “You definitely look like a pretentious asshole.” You say, chuckling to yourself as the elevator started to move.

Suddenly Whiskey was directly in front of you looking you up and down. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been eyein’ me up little lady.” He says, voice velvety smooth. Pinned down by his gaze you suddenly feel cornered, claustrophobic in the small metal space. You feel your face begin to heat up with an incriminating red tint, uncertain whether it was from anger or something more primal, you quickly sidestep his imposing figure. The elevator dings and you swiftly exit the elevator, “You wish cowboy.” You respond, a quick exhale escaping your mouth as you calm your racing heartrate. Why was he trying to rile you up before such an important op? Why does he have to be such a cocky arse? Eyeing him up? He’s got to be kidding. He’s the absolute last person on the planet that you could ever be attracted to. He does nothing but irritate you. He may be attractive, you begrudgingly admit, but you certainly were NOT attracted to him.

You hear him chuckle behind you, “Did I touch a nerve there sunshine?” he drawls behind you as you both head towards the garage where Ginger would be waiting. Rolling your eyes in anger to yourself, you choose to ignore him. Responding would only make him continue.

Pushing the doors open to the garage you see Ginger talking to one of the mechanics. As she hears the doors swinging, she turns to you quirking her eyebrow, seeing you seething with annoyance. “Everything alright here agents?” She says, confusion evident in her tone.

“Fine Ginger,” your voice comes out strained attempting to mask your irritation, “So what have you got set up for us for the next few days?”

“For you Vodka I’ve organised this ID card so you will have access to the basic areas of the hospitals but there are higher clearance areas which I wasn’t able to duplicate. You’ll have to figure that out when it comes to it.” She hands you a small ID badge attached to a clip which you then hook onto the belt loop on your pants. “I’ve also got small earpieces for the two of you to keep in communication while inside the facilities. They’re undetectable but very effective so try not to scream while wearing them if you can.” She passes you both the tiny in ear tech piece.

“Thanks Ging.”

“Now for you Whiskey,” She pulls out a small wallet and a set of car keys, “Here’s a new wallet with your cover identity and some cash to show off of course.”

He chuckles to himself pulling out his new drivers’ licence, “Introducing Duke Silver!” He smiles and bows towards you and Ginger. You roll your eyes again, scoffing at his ridiculousness.

“And… If I can finish, Duke.” Ginger continues giving Whiskey an exaggerated frustrated look, “Here is your new automobile.” Handing him the keys she gestures to a car sitting behind her. A brilliant turquoise blue Shelby Cobra 427 with white racing stripes down the middle.

“Alright… Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Whiskey dashes over like an excited child to admire his new personas gorgeous ride.

As Whiskey admires his new toy you turn to Ginger, “What do I have the luxury of driving to ‘work’ then Ginger?”

Passing you the keys she gestures to the car behind Whiskey’s, a slightly beat-up silver Toyota Corolla. “Sorry hon, you unfortunately need to blend in as a semi-broke medical student.”

You sigh, clutching the keys in your hand. “Thanks Ging.” Walking over you pass Whiskey, still ogling his own ride, making your way to the new car you’d be enjoying for the next few days. A far cry from your own beautiful red Mustang you sighed once more. The two of you hop into your cars and adjust the inside to what you need, throwing your bags into the back seat. You look over at Whiskey and slump into your seat, incredibly jealous. “That looks like one fun car to drive…” you mutter to yourself, green with envy. “Lucky bastard.”

Whiskey revs his engine excitedly, “Thanks darlin!” He shouts to Ginger over the loud purr. Turning to you he winks, bringing your irritation back with full force. “Have fun at ‘work’ then sunshine. Talk to you later!” His voice ringing out across the concrete as he drives off, the garage doors opening as he takes off out of the facility.

“I guess I’m off too then, see you later Ginger!” You smile at her as you close your door, taking off after Whiskey ready to face whatever the day would bring.

*******************************************************************************************

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@hrk-fic-recs  @misslexilouwho  

[justgenshinstuf]

I love the team headcanons! They are such a creative and fun idea! May I request my team which consist of female traveler, tartaglia, keqing and jean?

Oof, sorry for taking so long! I hope you will still like my ideas about dynamics in your team >< And thank you for your kind words! It truly means a lot c;

 Team Headcanons: Traveler, Tartaglia, Keqing and Jean

When you started going on missions together with Jean you became 10 times more productive. She knew the layout of Mondstadt perfectly and was also very organised and experienced in battle.

Jean may be of a noble background, looking like a true lady with beautiful blonde hair and sky-blue eyes, but there was no doubt she is a true knight. Powerful, fearless and dedicated to her goal of protecting Mond and now you too.

Despite being so good with the sword and skilful in use of her Anemo Vision she’s never been violent and is guided by the code of chivalry. You had a lot to learn from such an outstanding companion.

When you became closer you were excited to see more of her true self, not as Acting Grand Master but as Jean. The more times you spent together, the more you had the chance to see her getting a moment of rest and open up.

Your usual routine of going on missions and battling nonstop before Jean had to rush to her other duties was fun and all, but nothing could provide you such joy as having a friendly chat together while preparing for the next adventure or simply having a snack. You were quite amused to learn about Jean’s love for fast food.

You would start bringing take out to her office from time to time, and she would always apologise she can’t offer you something in return. She is also absolutely addicted to coffee and would drink it any chance she got.

Before learning of Jean’s sleeping habits you’d thought you were the one who likes to stay late. She is so hard-working it seemed like she doesn’t sleep at all on certain days. You had to almost beg her to have some rest, seeing dark circles appearing under her eyes by the end of the week.

One time you had a little chat about hobbies while you were helping Jean with some paperwork (it took you some time to convince her to accept the help she definitely needed). She shyly admitted she likes reading when she gets to spare some time to herself.

You decided to get her a few books to bring with you on the following mission. Maybe that could get her to take some rest. When you asked Lisa to give you something about legendary heroes or tales of the knights, she silently pulled a pocket book of romantic novels and gave you a wink.

Sometime after you had to leave to Liyue Harbor, a tough decision, considering Jean probably had to stay as Acting Grand Master in Mondstadt. You spent the day before your departure together, and even though Jean kept cheering you up, she seemed as heartbroken as you were.  

When it was time for you to take the nights rest, Jean, with slight hesitation, mentioned she would go to The Great Tree at Windrise to collect her thoughts. It was a place she tend to often visit in solitude to think and to ask the Wind for guidance.

«Wind, please forgive my selfishness». She started her prayer, trying to organise all the thoughts going through her head. «I promised not to give shame to my family’s name, but I’ve been struggling with my faith…»

On the day of your departure some of your newly found friends came to see you off. You were worried, as only Jean was nowhere to be seen. Did she decide not to come? When you were almost ready to take your ride you saw her running towards you in full gear, like on any usual day of your adventures and treasure hunting.

«The Wind took my worries away!» Jean declared, still stying to catch some breath. « I hereby swear that my sword shall always go with you». You soon learned that to her, her knightly duty is more important than her role as Acting Grand Master.

«Traveling by your side made me realise there are things beyond Ordo Favonious». Jean tried to explain her sudden decision on your way to Liyue. «We have the power to help people in need, to change the world for the better. It’s the greater good the knight must strive for and that’s what I swear my loyalty to».

In Liyue you caught the attention of another powerful woman. Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing, skilful Electro user Keqing, who was in charge of real estate and construction in the city. She kindly suggested to become your guide during your stay and provide all the assistance needed on your quest.

You now have a feeling it had more to do with spying on you on behalf of Qixing than she would admit. She is truly dedicated to her work and holds herself and others to the hight standards. Keqing would not rest until all her tasks are done, much like Jean.

Hanging out with both of them surely put you under some pressure. Being near such workaholics and overachievers made you question your productivity and competence, even though as a team you were a true definition of girl power.

Keqing is a true perfectionist and despises laziness. She and Jean always woke up at the sunrise (or were they sleeping at all?), discussed the plan for the day, prepared breakfast and had time to practise and sharpen their swords, all while you were still drowsy from sleep. You truly thought Keqing would soon electrocute you if you slept in again.

«Why would you think I hate you?». She laughed when you timidly brought it up. «You may be a bit unorganised, but I surely can admire one’s determination and straightforwardness. People like you forge their own path and I respect that». You both slightly blushed in embarrassment.  

It was quite a relief when Tartaglia joined your team. It was fun to have a dash of chaos for a change, but for Jean and Keqing it was more like a handful. His unpredictable behaviour would visibly put them on edge.

They would usually discipline you a bit from time to time. Childe wouldn’t take them seriously though, up until your first big fight as a team. Oh, he wasn’t as full of himself as before he’d seen all of you in action. He’s eyes instantly lightened up with some kind of new previously unknown emotion.

«Ladies, please allow me to invite you for a friendly sparring session tonight». He almost purred, fixing his hair a bit. He lusts for combat and is obsessed with becoming more and more powerful even if it means letting Keqing beat his ass three times a day. (She can admire the dedication).

Jean had a hard time accepting Tartaglia as her teammate, being way more strict and stern around him. A bit of a game-changer for her was his rule of not hurting innocent people, despite his habit of causing havoc, and his ability to follow a certain schedule even if the only things on the schedule are fights. She still feels iffy about him seeing himself as a proud man of sword (what a show-off).

You were closer with Childe than anyone on the team and probably anyone outside his family, so it was you who could see a more serious side of him. Sometimes, on the days you managed to make Jean and Keqing rest a bit and have reasonable hours of sleep, you would stay for the night watch together and chat about anything and everything.

On occasions he would go deep into his thoughts. The knights, the chivalry, a dedication to greater good, adventuring with you and how straight-forward and sincere you all are. It really reminded him of all the stories about Adventurers and Heroes his father used to tell him when he was a kid, something he hasn’t remembered in awhile. And it also brought up his resentment towards fellow Harbingers, those Fatui whose methods and principles were so far from his own.

«Hey, frowny-face. What are you thinking?»

He was a bit hesitant. «Oh, it’s nothing, I just…» He sighed «I sometimes wish I had a chance to be on the right side of history… What? Ahh, just kidding, good guys are boring anyway, haha». He laughed, scratching the back of his head, thinking about changing the subject.

«But you are on the right side! You’re here with me». You argued.

That was very sweet of you to say, but Childe wouldn’t respond. He’d just keep looking back at you with his puppy-eyes and a sloppy smile on his face. Sorry, dear, it may be too late for me.

[marvelmusing]

Making Time

Mobius M Mobius x Reader

Part 5

Series Masterlist • My Masterlist

“There's nothing, sir.” The analyst says, looking up from the computer to inform you and Mobius.

“Have you used the magnified nexus threshold?” You ask him. Mobius nods in agreement.

“That one should be setting off alarms if somebody steps on the wrong leaf.”

“Wherever they are, I'm not sure anything survives.” The analyst argues.

“Yeah. Don't underestimate them. You see anything down at Roxxcart? They're gone. Leaping across time, plotting their next massacre.” You glance over at Mobius. He seemed a little shaken by whatever Renslayer told him after her meeting with the Time-Keepers. B-15 stops beside Mobius,

“Any news on C-20?” She asks. Mobius doesn’t look at her as he answers,

“No.”

“We need to find them.” She insists, her gaze fixed on the timeline in front of you.

“We will.” Suddenly an analyst perks up.

“We've got something. Temporal lock.” Everyone watches the timeline as a branch extends from the main line, faster than you’ve ever seen before.

“Okay, that's not someone stepping on the wrong leaf.” Mobius comments.

“You ever seen a branch like that?” You ask the two of them. B-15 shakes her head faintly.

“No.”

You spend the morning gathering paperwork for Mobius. You organise all the mission reports regarding the Loki Case and before long Mobius arrives to collect them.

“Thanks [Y/N].” He scoops the files up from your desk. You smile up at him.

“No problem. How’s it going with Loki?” He sighs, leaning against your desk beside you.

“I don’t know. He seems quite defensive, so I’ve left him in a Time Cell.” You nod.

“What’s he said?” He laughs softly.

“He said the TVA’s lying to me. Obviously some kind of lie he’s trying to spin.” You nod again, lost in thought. “You alright?” You glance back at him.

“Yeah, of course.” He pushes himself away from your desk, adjusting his grip on the files.

“I’d better get this to Renslayer.”

“If you need anything, I’ll be here.” He nods,

“I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

It isn’t long before Mobius is back. He’s striding through the cubicles, heading straight for your desk.

“Come with me.” Is all he says. Which is all it takes for you to stand up and follow him. You’re both quiet as you make your way to the archives. Mobius finds a deserted corner, and tucks the two of you away behind a row of shelves.

“What’s going on?” You whisper, as you watch him pull a TemPad out of his pocket.

“I’m not sure yet.” You watch the screen as he scans through the most recent files.

“That’s not your-“

“It’s Ravonna’s.” You look up at him sharply. He looks a mix of anxious and excited, like he goes when he’s close to a breakthrough on a case. You look back at the screen when something starts playing. It’s a video of C-20. The hunter that was enchanted by the variant.

“You're not hearing me. I was there. This was real, what I saw. This is a place that I've been. This wasn't the TVA. This was a memory. I lived down there. I went to that bar. I had friends. I had a whole life on the Sacred Timeline.”

“Calm down.” You hear Renslayer say to her.

“Calm down? I'm a Variant. So are you. So is every single person in this place.”

“I'm ending this.” The video ends, the face of Renslayer paused as she stops the recording. You look back at Mobius.

“Ravonna said C-20 was dead. That the variant had scrambled her mind.” He tells you.

“She seemed pretty upset. But not scrambled.” You say. He nods,

“I think Loki was right.”

“What do we do now?”

“I don’t know. But I know where to start. I’ll go get Loki, you get Sylvie.”

“Sylvie?”

“The other Loki variant, that’s her name.” You nod. The two of you make your way out of the archives. You spilt up, Mobius going to Loki, you going to find Sylvie. You approach the time theatre where Sylvie is being kept, before asking the hunters on guard to let you in for an interrogation. The hunter closest to you offers his baton, which you accept with a smile. As the doors open, you see a woman sat on one of the chairs in the centre of the room. Her hair is slightly damp, and her legs are propped up on the desk in front of her. She glances at you as you enter the room. Once the door is closed you say to her,

“I’m a friend of Loki’s. I’m going to get you out of here.” She looks up at you in surprise, though before she can respond the door opens. You spin around to see Renslayer stepping into the room. She takes one look at Sylvie before saying,

“Who else was in here with her?”

“Sorry, ma'am, B-15 insisted.” One of the hunters responds.

“Put out an alert for Hunter B-15. She too has been compromised by the Variant.”

“She too? Who else has been compromised?” You ask her, feigning innocence and praying that Mobius is safe. She gives you an unwavering look.

“Agent Mobius. He unfortunately became very unstable, and was consequently pruned.” The baton in your grasp trembles.

“Pruned?” You repeat quietly. Not Mobius. Please, no. The hunters move forward to seize Sylvie and you use that to your advantage. You slam your baton into the back of his head, before swinging at the other one beside you. Once they’re on the floor, you twist the baton, the end glowing as you lunge at Renslayer. But she’s too quick. She dodges. Grabbing your baton, and using your momentum to push you against the wall. Holding the baton in both hands, she pushes it against your throat. You squirm and struggle against her. One of the hunters forces a time collar around your neck, then you’re reversed to back where you were a minute ago. The hunter hands the time twister to Renslayer who takes it with a smirk. Hot tears of frustration and grief flood down your face. You attempt another lunge at her,

“You little bit-“ You’re reversed backwards in an instant. A small sob wracks you as you stare at her. “He trusted you!” She turns back to the hunters.

“Let’s take them both to the Time-Keepers.” The hunters grasp ahold of you and Sylvie, and March you down the corridors, towards the elevator leading to the Time-Keepers. You hold your head high, despite the tears staining your cheeks. As you reach the elevator the hunters stop. You hear Sylvie whisper an,

“Are you okay?” To which he nods faintly. You glance over at Loki. He returns your gaze.

“[Y/N], I’m so sorry.” He whispers, looking as heartbroken as you felt. You swallow hard,

“It’s not your fault Loki.” You tell him.

“I’ve got them from here.” Renslayer tells the hunters, who then let go of you and leave. The four of you step into the elevator. After a small conversation between Sylvie and Renslayer, which makes you hate her even more, the elevator doors open and you step out to meet the Time-Keepers.

“Gracious Time-Keepers, as promised, the Variants.”

“After all your struggle, at last, you've arrived before us. What do you have to say for yourselves before you meet your end, Variants?” The Lizard in the middle says, looking down at the three of you. Loki speaks first.

“Is that the only reason you brought us here? To kill us? I've lost track of the number of times I've been killed, so go ahead. Do your worst.”

“You and your bravado are no threat to us, Variant.” Sylvie shakes her head.

“Oh, no, I don't think you believe that. I think...” As she steps forward Renslayer reverses her back, but she continues, “I think you're scared.”

“No, Variant. You're nothing but a cosmic disappointment. Delete them.”

“No, I'm not done with you yet.” There’s a buzz, then your time collar drops to the ground. You look at door to see B-15 with Sylvie’s sword in hand.

“For all time. Always.” She says, throwing the sword to Sylvie which she catches.

“Protect the Time-Keepers!” Renslayer orders. Then the fighting breaks out. You manage to fight off a few of the Time-Keepers guards, though Sylvie and Loki do most of the work. You watch as Sylvie throws her sword at the Time-Keepers, swiping the head of one of them. With a crackle of electricity, the head bounces along the steps to land in front of Loki.

“Fake. Mindless androids. It never stops.” Sylvie throws the head down angrily.

“Then who created the TVA?” Loki asks.

“I thought this was it.” The two of them appear to be having some kind of moment, so you look away. Only to be grabbed by a guard who’s regained consciousness. As you push him away you notice Renslayer advancing towards Loki. You cry out his name in warning but it’s too late. Loki disappears in a fizzle of sparks. Sylvie charges at Renslayer, seizing her baton and pushing her against the steps. You stand at Sylvie’s side with your baton raised.

“Do it.” Renslayer goads.

“No.” You say.

“You’re going to tell us everything.”

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[heavyarethecrowns]

Forget Wills and Kate - it's Harry who's found love - May 2007

Gazing into the flames of a campfire on the banks of Botswana's Okavango River, a scruffily dressed young man took a sip of his beer and let out a prolonged sigh.

Minutes later, he was pouring his heart out to the three strangers sitting beside him.

"Apparently, he had fallen in love with some girl in Cape Town who was the daughter of a rich businessman in Zimbabwe.

"He seemed really serious about her, saying he couldn't understand how he had fallen head-over-heels only four days after meeting her," one of those fellow travellers later recalled.

The love-sick youth was, of course, Prince Harry, then on holiday in Africa during his gap year. And the girl who made such an impact was Chelsy Davy.

Three years on, almost to the day, Harry is preparing to wave goodbye to his girlfriend and march off to war.

Much has happened to the young prince in the intervening period: officer training at Sandhurst; periodic brawls with the paparazzi; and his father's marriage to the woman Harry once blamed for causing his late mother so much anguish.

But, to the surprise of many observers, one of the few constants in Harry's life has turned out to be the coltish, snub-nosed girl he met in Cape Town.

Indeed, some of his friends believe that an engagement is almost certainly on the cards, though probably not for a few years yet.

Of course, feelings can change. A tour of duty in Iraq, fighting for his country, may accelerate the progression from pampered prince to more mature man of the world: he may want to close the book on his youth, open a new chapter, find a different kind of soulmate.

But maybe not. Even 12 months ago, few could have predicted that Harry's long- distance relationship with the coquettish daughter of a Zimbabwean wheeler-dealer and former Coca-Cola model would outlast William's romance with the eminently proper Kate Middleton.

The truth of the matter, however, is that Harry has always seen himself and Chelsy as better suited and more capable of going the distance.

"And now," said a well-placed source this week, "he's been proved right."

The 22-year- old prince has become increasingly irritated by what he saw as the "hype" surrounding William and Kate's relationship.

A friend of Harry's says: "Harry doesn't want to be subjected to the level of interest people have been taking in William and Kate.

"It's his idea of hell. But he also feels very frustrated at the way people are so dismissive of him and Chelsy.

"They are always portrayed as a pair of poor little rich kids who will burn themselves out sooner rather than later.

"In Harry's mind, there is nothing ridiculous whatsoever in the idea that one day, in the not-too-distant future, Princess Chelsy could be standing on the balcony at Buckingham Palace - even though she would probably be hiding a cigarette and a bottle of Malibu behind her back."

Despite the stream of paparazzi photographs that reveal a fondness for partying and a distinctly beach-chick style, the 21-year-old Zimbabwean has been an "A" student at school and university.

Harry would not want to change anything about her.

While others - including his own father, according to Harry - find themselves transfixed by Chelsy's more obvious charms - the prince has always believed that his girlfriend has some sterling qualities that Kate probably lacked.

"Harry has always been quietly very proud of the fact that Chelsy - or Chedda, as he affectionately calls her - loves him for who he is.

"In fact, she sees the fact that he's royal as more of a hindrance than a help," says a confidante.

"As the hugely popular daughter of a multi-millionaire businessman with homes in at least three different countries, she doesn't really need to take advantage of Harry's birthright."

One source close to the prince suggests that he actually sided with members of William's circle who felt that Kate Middleton had started to take advantage of the relationship.

"Harry had sympathy with those of William's friends who felt Kate had begun to rather enjoy her fame by association a little too much - unlike his own girlfriend, who he thinks is a 'real class act'," the source explains.

'When she first met William, Kate had few friends of her own - but over the years, she carefully assimilated herself into his circle.

"There was a feeling among some of William's friends that Kate had become a little too self-aware - she even had the cheek to bag herself a cut-price Audi, thanks to her royal links - while publicly insisting that she wanted to be treated as an ordinary girl."

Although Chelsy and Kate were photographed together on several occasions, most notably at the Beaufort Polo Club last summer, Harry's girlfriend apparently didn't particularly take to Kate.

"It wasn't that she disliked her - it's just that they had nothing in common. One only has to look at them to see it," says the source.

"Chelsy is a lot sweeter than she looks, but she is still a very outgoing girl who likes a beer and a fag.

Thanks to her rather indulged upbringing, she is incredibly sociable and self-confident - qualities that don't come naturally to Kate."

Others more sympathetic to Miss Middleton's cause, suggest the reality is that Chelsy has been just as keen to turn a royal relationship to her advantage.

She may protest about the attention, but she has not raised objections about her new status as international cover girl.

Last year, the society magazine, Tatler, even bracketed her with the Duchess of Cornwall as one of the most powerful blondes in Britain.

Her brother Shaun, meanwhile, has taken to styling himself as one of Harry's official bodyguards, and has been known to chase after photographers when they try to take the prince's picture.

Yet, in Harry's besotted eyes, Chelsy and her family can do no wrong.

Courtiers who have expressed concern about the Davys' controversial business links to Zimbabwean despot Robert Mugabe, have been told that she is a "non-negotiable" part of his life.

And he is undoubtedly entranced by the relative normality of his girlfriend's close-knit family.

Which is perhaps hardly surprising. By the age of 13, Harry had weathered not only his parents' separation but had also been forced to cope with the tragic - and endlessly raked-over -death of his mother.

Since then, his upbringing has been marked by a lack of parental discipline, thanks to his loving but laissez-faire father.

Even those with reservations about Chelsy concede that she has had a positive effect on the headstrong, devil-may-care young prince.

"It's far from a coincidence that when Harry does slip up - the times when he falls out of nightclubs drunk and brawls with photographers in the streets - Chelsy isn't around," says one who knows them both well.

"Believe it or not, he has matured in recent years - in large part thanks to Chelsy, whom he is incredibly protective of - and really does try to keep his head down.

"They are so besotted with each other - like a couple of lovebirds, really - that when they are together, nothing else really matters.

"Their body language is so different from that of Kate and William, who always used to look more like brother and sister.

"The trouble is that when Chelsy isn't around, Harry is easily led astray."

On their recent jaunt to the Caribbean, the couple barely left their luxury condo in the exclusive Glitter Bay resort in Barbados, preferring to lie, holding hands, by the pool.

And at last Friday's raucous Blues and Royals party to celebrate Harry's deployment to Iraq, it was William who stayed out clubbing until 4am with a bevy of beautiful girls.

Harry and Chelsy quietly sipped cocktails in a private booth before slipping off discreetly at 1am.

Lately, friends have noticed that the relationship seems to be deepening - although that is not to say there haven't been some pretty intense spats.

Unlike William, who was accused of leaving Kate to flounder under the weight of expectation while he forged on with his own life, Harry has been actively encouraging Chelsy to make solid plans for their future.

Bristol University has flatly denied rumours she plans to do a postgraduate degree there in the autumn, but friends say she is definitely planning to spend more time in England, where she has many friends from her days as a boarder at Stowe, a co-educational public school in Buckinghamshire.

She has even cancelled her plans to return to Africa over the summer and will instead wait for Harry to return from Iraq on leave.

"Chelsy hates the weather here, but is desperate to be nearer to her darling Haz. She is willing to make sacrifices if it takes their relationship a step forward," says a friend.

And Harry has already asked Chelsy to attend the memorial concert in July that he and William are organising to mark the tenth anniversary of their mother's death, though they are still discussing whether she should attend the formal church service later that month.

A Clarence House source says: "The problem is that every senior member of the Royal Family will be there, and Harry knows that taking her is tantamount to making a public statement on the future of their relationship.

"He doesn't think that it's fair on her to open the floodgates just yet."

In the immediate future, he knows that he needs to concentrate on leading his men in Iraq.

The highly charged public debate over his deployment to the Gulf has radically increased the pressure on him to make a success of his career - and he wants to show that the Army's confidence in him has not been misplaced.

"After what happened to my mother, I'm not afraid to die - but I am frightened for those around me," he recently confided to one close friend.

Although he did once petulantly threaten to quit if he were not sent to Iraq with his troops, his attitude has changed in the last few months.

"He knows that the situation is bigger than him now, and he'll take whatever he is told to do on the chin," says a royal aide.

Indeed, those who know him well say he is haunted by the fear that one of his men could be captured or even killed because of him.

"That's something he just couldn't bear, and he knows he would be held to account for the rest of his life.

"The men in his troop have tried to reassure him - joking that they will all wear ginger wigs to confuse the enemy, which is typical of Army gallows humour - but he is wracked with guilt," says another friend.

Iraq, however, is also Harry's big opportunity to strike out from under his elder brother's shadow.

For the first time in his life, the spare to William's heir will be taking centre stage.

"Harry loves his brother very much, but he is acutely aware of the way in which he is overshadowed by William.

"He is determined to go to war and make his family proud," says a friend.

But unlike William, he will have a long-term sweetheart to sweep into his arms when he returns.

[dame-nervy]

Gladers are WCKD [Reader Insert] - Chapter 1

Wicked is good. The original story dictates that the Gladers don’t believe that, but in this story we find that not only do they believe it, they enforce it. Set in an alternate time line where the Gladers work for Wicked, and the Reader, the Right Arm, and Group B are fighting against them in hopes to changing the fate of their dying world.

[Disclaimer: may involve swearing, fighting, running, blood, dying, torture, love?, and other things I haven’t yet decided. I will put warnings at the beginning of chapters for anything too graphic]

Obviously none of this is gonna be remotely canon -to the books or movies- and since I’ve only seen the Maze Runner movies, all non-movie characters and such are going to be based on wiki and other fanfics. There will also be a lot of OOC and extreme creative liberties, so don’t hate, you’ve been warned.

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Running. I seemed to find myself doing that a lot ever since I escaped from Wicked. Though considering they’re meant to be the organisation in charge of saving us all, I should expect nothing less. I think the thing that throws me off most is the fact that when I escaped Wicked I didn’t run, I walked. Fifteen years old and I walked right out of the building. They never came after me, not publicly anyway, that’s most likely how I walked out. Shortly after I stumbled upon the Right Arm, they interrogated me for several weeks before they welcomed me into their ranks. Six years later, I’m still running with the Right Arm. We more often then not find ourselves running. Either to something, away from people and places, or just for our lives. Even my mind seems to run.

“Y/n.” I look away from the file as I hear Mary’s voice. “You’ve been looking at that same file for fifteen minutes.” She states as she leans back in her chair on the other side of the table. We were currently sat in her personal lab, which was kept seperate to the med-bay as it served more as an office with some lab equipment up against one wall on a table, some storage, and another table with chairs around it. “I don’t think I was looking at it.” I mutter as I close the file and put it on the table between us. Coming out of Wicked - even as a captive - I had a plethora of knowledge on a multitude of things, including the Flare virus. Guess you pick up some weird stuff while being experimented on, even if they do wipe your mind periodically. Mary quickly put me to work helping her in the makeshift lab that the Right Arm constructed in their hideouts, teaching me to be a scientist and doctor, while Vince taught me how to be a soldier. They are the only two people that know everything I know about myself. “What were you thinking about?” Mary asked, that kind look in her eyes making it easy to talk to her. “Just thinking of the day I escaped...” Mary knew better than anyone what I was talking about, having talked to her about it a million times before. Whenever I brought it up with Vince, he’d just sigh and tell me to put it out of my mind as it wasn’t helping, Mary however: “did you remember something else?” She always let me get in a little rant before telling me there was nothing I could do. “No, just thinking about it. I still don’t understand why Ava told the doctors not to raise the alarm that day. Why was I kept seperate and secluded? Why wasn’t I marked and tagged like the others? What was Wicked’s plan for me?” It exasperated me every time I thought about it, but somedays, it just crept into my brain and stayed there. “The only one who can answer that is Ava Paige, unfortunately.” Mary said giving the look she always gave whenever Ava was mentioned. It was a look of disgust, yet understanding. I’d almost be impressed with the look if it didn’t remind me of Mary’s own past. Before the conversation could go any further there was a knock at the door before it opened and revealed Teresa. “Vince is ready to start.” She told us, ending the conversation and making us start to the gathering room, if you could call it that. It‘s a classroom sized room with a board at the front, couple dozen chairs and was set underground. I don’t know what the building was before the Sun Flares, but I know it was heavily... “modified” after, and again when we took it over a few months ago.

“How’s your leg?” I asked Brenda as Teresa and I sat down next to her and waited for everyone else to arrive. “Good, should be back to normal by next week, though Jorge’s still smothering me a bit.” She said stretching out her leg as she spoke. “Big shocker there.” Teresa said sarcastically, causing the three of us to laugh lightly. “Alright, everyone settle down.” Vince’s voice gained the attention of everyone in the room, though as we currently stand there’s only about fifty of us here, plus those that were on watch and therefore not able to attend the meeting. “This is a recon only mission of the north-west corner in section 1. The Plantation is supposedly going to be harvesting shortly, that means food that Wicked will try to keep in the City. Those that are going on the mission are myself, Harriet, and Y/n. Peter, Kyle, and Sonya will be our look outs. We leave in two hours through the Underneath, be ready.” I could sense the discomfort of sending the other four on this mission from the rest of the room. We’d had a slight run in with Wicked just over a week ago and that had set our more veteran members out of commission for the time being. I looked over to the four in question - who had been saved from Wicked - to see them all sitting around each other, looking like they were ready for anything. Though I did notice a look between Sonya and Aris, a worried glance from him and a reassuring one from her. It was to be expected though as we’d not long lost a couple members, the thought of loosing Immunes unsettled the entire group. Vince carried on like he didn’t notice anyone’s hesitance, not as if anyone would speak out against Vince though, he’s in charge for a reason. “To everyone; remain on your guard, the Gladers have been stretching there legs more often as of late. They were spotted earlier today in section Four, and a couple hours ago in Eight. Don’t get complacent.”

- - - - -

And posted! Let me know what you think, and if you did like it I have some oneshots you may like as well. Happy reading :)

[Masterlist] Next>

[hollenka99]

Introductions

Summary: Ghostbur arrives in the Void and meets the half of Alivebur that never returned to the Overworld. It is not always plain sailing. Chapter 1 of Unequal Halves.

Warnings: Implied/referenced self harm, derealisation(?), unreality, death, smoking, alcoholism mention

There is the low hubbub of quiet conversation in the air. All around him is rubble and he can't quite recall how L'Manburg came to look like this. If he asked Phil, his father would likely explain. Something bad must have happened if he can't remember. So... maybe it was for the best that his mind goes blank whenever he thinks about it. It was probably just the result of Alivebur blowing the country up anyway, he didn't get a great vantage point before he died so the theory is feasible. Ghostbur must be misremembering how L'Manberg looked before- Huh, no it got restored at some point, he knows that. Not Alivebur's doing then. Phil would know. Phil knows a lot of things, including how to potentially bring back Alivebur. Speaking of Phil, his father was stood next to Eret, both of them lingering by the little recreation set. Ghostbur isn't paying much attention but his best guess is that the topic revolves around their third resurrection attempt today, the reason they've all gathered here once more. He wonders whether the others like Tommy, Fundy and Tubbo will join them. He wouldn't mind leaving for a few minutes to make absolutely sure he's said his goodbyes to them and others. That said, he has had nearly an entire week between the last attempt and today to do that. Not to mention the few days prior to that after he and Phil had organised the first round of re-enactments. Perhaps if this works out, he could influence Alivebur somehow and say goodbye posthumously. "Well, if we're going to do it, better sooner rather than later. Unless we're waiting for the exact time of day he died." "No, let's do it now. I've got the totem and sword, we're all here... there's no point in waiting for the stars to align." "And if it goes like the last two times?" "Then we deal with it. I'll take the blame for wanting to use our third and final chance." There is a pause and in the corner of his eye, he can sense Phil looking his way. "Ghostbur?" "Hi, Phil." He floats over. "Is it time to try again? I've been going over my lines so nothing can go wrong." "I'm sure you have, mate." Phil takes his arm so it is outstretched with an open palm. Into his awaiting hand, a small figurine is placed. It resembles a villager with tiny wings poking to the sides and eyes made of emerald. He believes the closest he's come into contact with one of these totems is that time some citizens of L'Manburg locked Techno in a cage as a prank. Was that thing he saw Techno use a totem? He can't recall correctly, he's not even sure he was fully paying attention since he was watching Friend sniff around at the time, but the light show had been very pretty. "This is a totem of undying. It's going to help us with resurrecting you. Do not drop it at any point. Hold it as tight as you can, got that mate? You holding on to that totem is more important than any lines you might have rehearsed." He playfully tosses it between his hands. "Okay." "Ghostbur." Phil snatches the item from mid-air. Ghostbur catches a glimpse of his father's scornful expression and instinctively averts his eyes. "This is serious. Do you understand how important it is for you to hold this totem or not?" "I do, Phil. Sorry." The item is returned to him. Like he's been instructed to do, he grips it tightly and refuses to let his hold on it weaken. Their little dramatisation goes well. He says the crucial line, the button gets pressed and even more impressively, Ghostbur doesn't flinch in the slightest when the sword meets his semi-corporeal being. This is the third time he's properly died as himself and the sixth since Alivebur's birth. He's sure that if there's any deity in charge of death, they'll be going 'oh it's you again' in a second. ---- It's an odd thing to see your doppelganger in front of you. Wilbur is certainly not a twin and he's never met anyone he's shared a particularly strong resemblance to either. Even during the genetic mishmash that created him, both sides of his family tree had won their battles yet neither claimed true victory over the other to represent themselves more heavily within him. So sure, there were traits you could see he'd inherited from his mother but it wasn't as if he looked like her. However, he was yet to meet someone whose similarity in appearance took him by surprise. The first time had been a shock. He'd been tolerating Schlatt's company with Mexican Dream making the experience a little easier to endure. The Wilbur duplicate had randomly appeared while the three of them had been sitting around, wasting time at a table. The guy is only there for a matter of seconds but it's enough to register his appearance. There's the matching dull grey skin and the hair that's darkened with death. Wilbur's vaguely aware he used to own a sunflower yellow jumper like that in life. It's certainly not the chequered top he's wearing. It happens again shortly after. Wilbur Two doesn't stay long but he appears at the exact spot where Schlatt was sitting. A flimsy connection seems to form, strong enough for the ex-emperor to speak through the ghost and have an extremely blurred view through his eyes. Wilbur sits there as his political rival talks bullocks about jacking off, protein powder and cigarettes. Wilbur would tell him to cut it out if he had cared enough about his counterpart being used like that. All he says when Schlatt seems present within himself once more is impatient prompting to continue their game. They'd anticipated another visit but his clone hasn't shown up since. By now it's been... months maybe? It was hard to tell with the only natural variables when it came to the passage of time being whether it was day or night, sunny or raining. He's been stuck in what he believes is the transition period between spring and summer ever since he got here. Which is absolutely ridiculous given that he has some creative control of this place. Regardless, he's honestly half forgotten about the incident when they truly reunite. The clone sticks out in his bright jumper. It's one of the days Wilbur's dragged himself away from whatever tree roots he's picked to curl up besides. Upon spotting the other Wilbur, he follows from a distance. He ascends a nearby tree. He swears he's been here before, amongst the highest branches to observe someone who didn't know he was there. It's the kind of deja vu he hates, the one with not even the slightest hint of why he might feel that way. Well, maybe one reason but he'd rather not dwell on that. Listen, he tells himself after travelling through the treetops, he's not going to be whole until the two of them interact so he'd better just get on with it. Well, here goes nothing. He pushes off and hops down with a thump. ---- It's peaceful here. Daisies are dotted around, as are oak trees. Despite not knowing where exactly he is, he appreciates how at ease the occasional sounds of wildlife or the leaves of trees rustling in the wind make him. Well, at least for a while, that is. He swears it's just birds. Honestly, what else would it be if not birds? He's being silly. Although, maybe he should escape from any potential creature's line of sight. A part of him he can't reach urges him to not seek out any dirt walls, to head in the opposite direction of them in fact. He's pretty sure he doesn't have anything to protect here other than himself but the instinct to fool potential pursuers directs his movements. A weighty object impacts the ground behind him and he abandons his efforts. Ghostbur risks peeking over his shoulder. And that is how he finds himself face to face with the man who'd been following his movements. "Well, took you long enough." The stranger was certainly not there a moment ago. The fact they are his mirror image is naturally the most striking detail to notice. Although, he will say Alivebur doesn't look too well. His beanie helps with hiding the full extent of his hair's dishevelment despite said hair potentially being able to somewhat distract onlookers from noticing how permanently exhausted his face was. It doesn't matter to Ghostbur. Regardless of the disapproving crossed arms he is met with, he politely introduces himself. "Hi, I don't think we've met before. My name is Ghostbur! What's yours?" "You know our name." He's rifling through his pockets, seemingly unconcerned by the momentous occasion. "Oh, you're Alivebur then." "Ali-" The other Wilbur's head whips up to glare at him. "Do I look alive to you?! We are both the same person, a person who is very much dead." "Deadbur then." "Wilbur is fine. It's our name so I don't see why you can't use it." "It doesn't matter anyway." Wilbur abandons his quest to locate whatever he was try to find. Instead, he sticks out his hand, offering for it to be shaken. "Since you haven't disappeared 2 seconds after showing up this time, I think it's high time we wrap this little charade up, don't you? My best guess is we need skin contact or something along those lines." "Charade?" The hand's altitude falters slightly, almost as if the disgruntled sigh it was paired with had caused it. "Us being apart. I'm sure you've had your fun but it's time we fused back." He should take Wilbur's hand. He really should. This is what Phil, Eret and the others were working towards. People wanted Alivebur back as it was. So that meant he had to go. Think of all that time and effort to prepare everything for something he suggested they do in the first place, wasted by cold feet. Was he the first one to bring up resurrection? He honestly has no clue. There isn't a guarantee that this will work anyway. Same as... something he's sure has slipped his mind. Oh wait no, the button! He hadn't been sure about whether that would be successful either. But it had been. So this would likely be too, right? Except, he doesn't want to. He's not ready to give up the feeling of sunshine as he strolls around, the aroma of ingredients as he brews potions, the ability to chat with his friends while checking in on them or any of the other things he's enjoyed while himself. It was him who helped make the lanterns that once floated above New L'Manburg, him who attempted to collect enough books to start a history-preserving library and it was him who tried to build Tommy a nice holiday home to cheer his brother up during their time away from their nation. He knows he told Phil he was willing to relinquish his existence to return Alivebur to everybody but... maybe he didn't entirely mean it in his heart. They'll never be enough time, regardless how much the universe may wish to grant him, yet this doesn't feel like it's close to enough. "...No." "No?" "I don't want to go back yet. I..." He isn't too keen on that scowl. Perhaps if he makes up an excuse, things won't be so tense. "I just got here so why would I leave before I um, explored?" Shoulders loosen and Wilbur is back to absentmindedly rummaging through his pockets. "Guess I won't force you. And well, if you're going to be here for the indefinite future, I can give you a tour of this place." "That would be really helpful. Thank you." He breaks into a grateful smile. "Okay so to the north is grass and trees, to the west is grass and trees, same to the south. Oh but the east is actually quite exciting. You'll find trees and grass there." "I... see. Sounds great." Keep smiling, no need to ruin any potential future rapport so early. "I can't wait to look around." "Ghostbur, was it?" "Uh huh!" "Guess I'll be seeing you around." Having finally found his cigarette, the one native to these lands waves him off, the soon-to-be lit stick inbetween his fingers. He begins to stroll off into the cover of forest. He's sure he's being silly but Ghostbur could have sworn the quantity of trees gains density as it conceals the other man. Still, Ghostbur has seemingly been left completely to his own devices so he comes to the decision he will spend the rest of the day exploring. It can't hurt to get a feel for his surroundings. Honestly, how monotonously repetitive could this world really be? --- This is fine. All this is a setback but not one they can't overcome. He'd meant it when he said he wouldn't force Ghostbur to do anything. This was all a waiting game, to be honest. He could win it with the mouth that had long ago rallied people to a cause. He once believed in the phrase 'words over weapons' and how nobody in L'Manburg should wear armour because they shouldn't need that level of protection on a daily basis. The reality of tyrannical violence had proved him wrong. However, it was a negotiation that ultimately won them the war, albeit not one he was part of. He still likes to think Tommy's success that day was potentially due in part to Wilbur rubbing off on his right hand man. So in the pursuit of victory, Wilbur vows to stay civil where possible. --- As Ghostbur wanders, he comes to realise how true Wilbur's summary had been. The longer he explores, the longer the green persists. This world truly seems to be comprised of forests and open fields. It's his third day of checking what each path may offer when he finds himself in the midst of trees. However, the woods here were familiar. All around him was birch bark. They're scattered about and nothing about them indicates a natural path that can be made. Yet, as Ghostbur walks, he seems to know instinctively how to navigate the area and the way in which he should weave through the trees. It surprises him to eventually discover a stream flowing by these woods. Yet, at the same time, he feels like he should have been expecting to find it. Why does this place feel familiar? Oh. This was where Alivebur met Tommy, wasn't it? He could almost picture it. He had been wandering around the area surrounding their latest base. At least this part of the world tended to have fairly warm Aprils. Even better after the two months Phil had made them spend in a tundra during winter. It was completely nonsensical and Wilbur had made sure Phil knew his thoughts on the matter beyond any doubt. But they'd evaded any of nature's potential attempts to make them hypothermic long enough to get through it. Now all Wilbur needed to focus on was enjoying the not-yet-scorching sunshine while Phil was... off collecting resources, he believes. He's sure he's slightly lost. The general direction of their temporary base, that was no problem to discern but the actual way to reach his destination? Who on earth knew. It was just birch tree after dumb birch tree. There weren't any of those markers that he'd been taught about either so it was like he was destined to get lost. But then, a break in the tree line? A stream, actually! He's sure Phil has the essentials like water down already but it wouldn't hurt to gather a bucketful more. Phil did lend him a chest for a reason, after all. It's not the cleanest nor clearest body of water he's ever seen. Who really cares when there's ways of purifying it. It does seem to go on for a great distance, further than Wilbur's eyes can tell. The stream itself isn't particularly wide. He reckons he could easily leap over from one side to the other. On the opposite side of the bank, there's a hole that seems to have been hollowed out by hand amongst all the mud. Rather bizarrely, there's also a random child lingering there. Wilbur was hardly an expert on determining someone's age, especially when it came to younger children. However, he'd soon know with hindsight that the little boy in front of him had been roughly 4 years old at that moment. Blond hair messy to the point it might be easier to shave it all off than attempt brushing it, clothes tattered and dirt visible in several spots of his skin, it was evident from this kid (regardless of their isolated surroundings) wasn't meant to be here. "Hey, are you lost?" "No. Go away." A thin branch makes an attempt at threatening him. "Are you planning to hit me with those sticks?" The little boy glances back at the pile nearby. "They're my Scary Ouchers." "Scary Ouchers. Uh-huh." He forces himself not to laugh. This kid must have undoubtedly been through a lot if he's out here on his own seemingly long term. "And am I scary?" "Maybe." "What if I tell you my name, will that help me be less scary?" "Dunno." "Well, I'm Wilbur. And I promise I'm not here to hurt you." The kid seems to shrink within himself slightly as he weighs whether this 11 year old stranger is worth trusting. "Tommy." "Tommy? Okay. Hi, Tommy. Do you want me to take you home?" "I have a home." "Then let me bring you back there. I'm sure your Mummy and Daddy are worried about you." "Got a home." He repeats, banging the stick in his hand against the earth. "Tommy," Wilbur sighs. "You get that this isn't a good home, right? Come on, I can take you to my camp. Me and my dad will help you out." Tommy's confliction persists until he tentatively raises a hand, all fingers folded inwards except for the smallest one. Wilbur giggles as understanding dawns. One pinky encompasses a much smaller one. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you, Tommy." "You sure?" "Just pinky promised, didn't I?" Tommy considers this then nods with all the solemnness that only a child his age could treat such a practise with. They gather up all of the so called 'Scary Ouchers', god Phil will probably get a kick out of hearing the story tonight, and dump them in the chest. With Tommy tasked with guarding their wares upon the shoddy wagon Wilbur had constructed himself ages ago, the older boy guides them back to camp. Phil is understandably confused when he sees another child by the tents. He quickly resigns himself to their new reality. The conclusion that there are no parents to speak of, at least not anymore, is kind of obvious. Any memory of them will be stolen by time and the inability of a developing mind to store any event for potentially lifelong recollection. It's fine though. The four year old has a new family now, one that will love him for years to come. And after they return home to the little house situated in a valley? Well, Wilbur's little brother only gains volume when he speaks and far too much energy the more comfortable he becomes with his new life. In response to this memory, he longs to have Tommy here, to be the good Alivebur who can be trusted to be on better terms with his little brother. The two of them used to be really close, despite how often they drove each other up the wall. But Ghostbur had seen how Tommy didn't seem too fond of Alivebur anymore. There was also the fact Alivebur had become bad at some point down the line, driving Tommy as well as others away. Because nobody is born bad and Ghostbur struggles to reason that an 11 year old boy who genuinely wished to help a homeless kid approximately a third of his age was bad too. Here, in this secluded area full of birch trees with flowing water as part of its soundtrack, Ghostbur imagines a teenager obnoxiously laying across his lap in the gentlest of ways. Tommy calls him a bitch through chuckles and playfully chastises him for being 'all sappy and shit'. It's reminiscent of moments that truly did come to pass once upon a time. His little brother once made him a daisy chain while in this very position but unfortunately, this was back when Fundy was still tiny and all it took was little hands being allowed to inspect the item before the stemmed links broke as a result of tears. It had still ended well, the remnants were sprinkled in Fundy's then-wispy hair while the baby's giggles joined the laughter of his father and uncle. God he misses Tommy. He hopes that one day, if- when he and Wilbur manage to reform into Alivebur, things will improve and they can have that again. --- By now, he knows not to expect Wilbur to look his way. It's okay, he's used to it. People would talk to him then struggle to continue fully politely hiding their desire for him to leave them to their own affairs. At least Wilbur is more willing to be upfront with it, he supposes. Wilbur has things he wants to do and so must Ghostbur. When the rain descended upon them yesterday, their conversation resulted in them clashing. Wilbur can come out with a spiteful anger without much provocation. It usually lies restrained on the surface but Ghostbur dreads when it is fully unleashed on him. For the most part, there is an understanding that for whatever reason, Ghostbur is not inclined to view him fondly. He wonders if his rejection of the merging request has anything to do with Wilbur's negative bias. Perhaps it is best that Wilbur keeps his distance. He doesn't want to believe that is the case though. It is for this very reason that Wilbur approaching him with an friendly offer takes him by surprise. "I'm going to visit Schlatt and Mexican Dream. Want to come? I think it would be interesting to see how you'd affect our dynamic. Plus, an even number of players means we could do teams." "Of course." A grin bursts onto his face. He follows Wilbur's lead as they traverse the path. He's getting used to the scenery but when he notices a mushroom his eyes had previously missed when passing by, he knows he's far from done yet. There is no time for admiration right now and he's fully aware Wilbur will outwardly make known his frustration otherwise. When they reach their destination, Wilbur tears a section of the bark off from a spruce tree. Instead of revealing more inner layers, a fully lit pathway stretches in front of them. "Well, go on. It's not like I can hold a rip in our reality open forever." "Oh!" He slips past obediently, watching Wilbur join him immediately afterwards. "You must be quite strong then if you do this regularly." "Sure. Became a real bodybuilder out here." The deadpan causes Ghostbur's attention to flick momentarily to the black sleeves that certainly aren't filled, least of all by muscles. The corridor practically belongs in an aquarium. The arching walls are made of glass, allowing for full view of all the dolphins, turtles and large variety of fish on display. The pathway itself is unusually wide but since they were heading to meet with Wilbur's friends, he can only assume they liked spending time here and therefore needed the space. Following each pair of glass panels were strips of wood upon which torches were hung. It created a lovely ambiance along with the shadows from the waves outside. To be fair, his only complaint is the temperature. It's freezing, nearly unbearably so. Perhaps they are in the sea by a tundra, sheets of ice floating above them on the surface. That would seem like a plausible answer. Ghostbur could spend a good long while here if he found a warmer outfit. "It's very pretty." "Yeah. Just wish I didn't keep having to see it for the first time each week." He wants to harness the inquisitiveness of a toddler in order to learn how exactly Wilbur would ever be able to forget a sight like this. But something tells him it's not the time nor place. Maybe the view out of the windows shifted with each visit. That seems like a decent explanation. So instead he comes out with "I like the lighting too." "Ghostbur," He momentarily glances back over his shoulder. "You can't expect me to create a dark single-file pathway. There's no steps to a dead end either, see." It's muttered with such quiet sincerity that Ghostbur questions what happened to the Wilbur who scorned him and carried an air of resentment towards everything. He wishes he had some blue to offer him right now. Whatever Wilbur's issue with dark and narrow corridors was, Ghostbur can tell it's awful, too awful for him to ever understand. As they make their way between areas, Wilbur debriefs him on what to expect. It nothing too elaborate, simply a few rounds of card games. Until they get too bored or fed up with each other. They mostly stuck to solitaire and poker if he's going to be honest. Sometimes they'd pull out board games for the sake of variety. The three of them had promised Monopoly was for when they wanted to watch the world burn which hadn't happened yet but there'd been threats to manifest a game the next time they all met up. First there was Schlatt. When Ghostbur completely blanks at the name, it is begrudgingly explained to him that this was the guy who succeeded Alivebur as president. No effort is made to hide the fact Wilbur does not view Schlatt's continued presence in his post-mortal existence in a positive light. He even admits to the game he played whereby he attempted to guess what the J in JSchlatt stood for. It did nobody any good but it served its purpose of annoying Schlatt quite well. The ex-president was a poker kind of guy which also caused clashes between them. Ghostbur is told to expect alcoholic drinks being available, especially the stronger varieties. The man's fatal heart attack hadn't been helped by his drinking habits so honestly, it seemed pretty much on brand. Either way, the less Ghostbur allowed himself to do with Schlatt, the better in Wilbur's opinion. The other member of the group was Mexican Dream. Ghostbur remembered Quackity, right? Well, Mexican Dream was his cousin. He'd been generous enough to allow Wilbur the opportunity to learn Spanish as a way to pass time. He shrugs when he says it's something to get up for. He wasn't the best student because he frequently missed scheduled meet-ups by accident or simply let practising what he'd learned when he did show up slip his mind. Regardless, Mexican Dream was an alright guy who tended to hang around Schlatt and Wilbur more for the sake of company half the time. You just had to watch out for when he began going on about his love life. Ghostbur's new, Wilbur warns, so as fresh ears he'd be a prime target for the laments regarding Mamacita. The other half of Alivebur wishes him luck if that becomes the case. Oh and before he forgets, don't ask about his death. Touchy subject apparently. The civilities go well. Given the warmth (or lack thereof) he receives, Ghostbur would say Wilbur's assessments of temperament weren't too far off. Ghostbur sticks by Mexican Dream's side throughout their games, chatting as they attempted to ignore the tension ever brewing between the former political leaders of L'Manburg while they played. Wilbur does not take long to lose his temper at Schlatt. "You can't put a joker directly under a king. Also they're both spades so not only are they in the wrong position of the sequence, they're the wrong colour and suit for that move to be legal." "You know, Wilbur, this is why I always say we should start with poker." "Oh you and your poker. If you love poker so much then why don't you make it your vice president so it can leave you the minute you piss it off one too many times." "You don't like poker because it's too hard for you to understand." "Says the one who can't even understand that a black king can't be immediately followed by a black joker." "Well at least I don't have a tell that even a newborn could recognise." "And at least I'm not so untrustworthy that two-faced is an understatement." Wilbur glares before adding an ever so succinct "Wanker." as his closing statement while he collapses back into the chair. "Asshole." "...I have a joker and it's red. Would you like it, Schlatt?" "Thank you, Ghostbur." Schlatt grins in a way that somehow makes Ghostbur wish he wasn't in his company. Wilbur's face gently slams into open palms. When his fingers are finished with their journey down his face, he plucks the offending card out of his counterpart's hold. "Put the card down. We can't start mixing packs like this." Wilbur abruptly rises to his feet. "Actually, you know what? Sod this. Between you and Tweedle Dum here, I feel like he's the lesser evil. Come on, Ghostbur, let's go back." Like a plus one whose only way in and out of the event was their invited friend, he has no choice but to follow Wilbur's lead. He would rather stay and get to know Mexican Dream better but it would seem it wasn't on the cards for today. He waves the pair goodbye. Mexican Dream returns it genuinely. Schlatt's smile comes across as sinister and his attention appeared to be on Wilbur as it was. "...I can see why you like Mexican Dream more." He comments in the tunnel home. "Yes, guy's less of a twat." He distracts himself from this disaster of a meeting with the marine life outside. It doesn't prove as effective as he would hope. --- He doesn't understand why or how but it seems that Wilbur has developed the ability to have a hunch as to where Ghostbur could be found. Today this hunch led him to a peaceful stream. The water flows uninterrupted and he can't recall the last time he was in the presence of such clear water. He suspects it goes on for a while before meeting a larger area of water. Ghostbur himself is seated by the bank, admiring the scenery surrounding them. He periodically remembers himself and returns his focus to a little notebook he was scribbling in. "What's this?" "Wilbur." The ghost lights up at the sight of him for whatever reason. He pats the ground beside him. "Come, sit here. It'll be fun." "I'm... I'm good thanks." "If you're sure." There's that wide smile again. There's no way he can't call major bullshit on it. "Has anyone told you how unnerving your constant good mood is?" "You're just saying that because you like being moody." "I'm saying it because it's the truth." He scrutinises his other half. "Nobody has the ability to be that positive 24/7." "I- Well, I do." There is an argument he could begin having with Ghostbur but he hasn't got the patience for it. "What are you writing about?" "Oh, this is my diary. I don't want to forget what I've been doing while here." Wilbur is struck with the desire- no, the need to discover what Ghostbur has been writing about him. As a general, intel was everything and as a fugitive, every bit of insider information had the potential to prove useful. Ghostbur correctly interprets his extended hand but still hesitates before adhering to the request. It's pointless though as there is nothing regarding himself to analyse. Day 8 (24/1/21) I am in the Void so I think the plan worked. I wish I could tell Phil because he seemed quite worried about the process failing. I have been counting the days at the back of this book because they all look the same and there doesn't seem to be any calendars anywhere. So I'm guessing it's January 24th right now. I think I'm getting used to the Void. Everything is very green but I like it. Exploring has been quite fun and Wilbur introduced me to a couple of his friends for a games night. The tunnel to get to them is beautiful but I think I'll need to craft a few campfires to help combat the cold there if I want to watch the wildlife. I also need more cornflowers to make blue with but they seem to be difficult to find which is a shame. I will have to keep looking but that's okay. Maybe I can convince Wilbur to help me if he's available. I'm at the stream where Alivebur met Tommy right now. I really like it. It reminds me of the picnics Alivebur used "A picnic?" "Yeah! Alivebur used to have lunch on a raft with his mum whenever they could find one. It was fun." "Good for us, I guess. I wouldn't know anything about that." Except maybe, it seems, he might. The feeling of feet bounding against the earth. Excited yelling. Ruffling of hair with something that wasn't an arm around his shoulder. An exasperated chuckle while something sweet was on his tongue. Playing lookout by a window. A contest that ends with a soggy lap. Surrounded by laughter and happy chatter. He realises what this is too late. As it fades, he chases it. No, come back. Don't leave. He needs it, even if it's the vaguest of scraps. Please, please, come back. "Wilbur?" "Sorry, I might have just spaced out for a minute. I was thinking about... about... I don't know, something." "Here." Ghostbur presents blue dye. "I haven't been able to find many cornflowers to make it but I think you should have some." "What's this for?" "You look like you're about to cry. Blue's very good at absorbing all your sadness away. You let it soak it all up and then throw it away. I promise it works. Honestly, try it." "Thanks but I'd rather not stain my hands with blue dye for the sake of humouring you. That shit takes forever to get off. Although... this does explain why your clothes are like that. I thought we'd be smarter than to wear something bright while frequently handling a substance that stains easily." "Well okay then. The offer's always there if you want it though." "I'm fine. Just need a breather. Don't uh... don't wait up for me or whatever." The worst thing is he has no clue why he's suddenly upset. Sitting on top of a hill, he overlooks land with the potential to be built upon, land that had seen construction in a world similar to this one. He's not sure if he's in the exact spot but it's close enough. In his mind's eye, L'Manburg springs into existence, a diagonal line cuts through the wall as it is destroyed by Fundy's pickaxe. Their country had come close to death before but that day had arguably been its last one. The reason why Tommy wasn't by his side in that moment is lost to him. A spark of resentment temporarily roars into a flame as he thinks of how his former right hand man should be present for this in a way more than simply joining in at the end of the anthem over a voice call. Oh who cares anymore? It doesn't matter now. Alone, he witnesses L'Manburg die before him for the... how many times was it now? At least if he's going to be mournful, he should mourn something he actually knows he's lost. --- The entry concludes with a final paragraph. I've also met Wilbur. He's the other part of Alivebur and he wants to fuse so we can be Alivebur again. We will have to eventually but he seems willing to wait. I hope he stays that patient because I don't know how long it will take me to say yes. In the meantime, I want us to become friends. He can be so dismissive and angry but despite how mean he seems, I think we could still get along if we really try. I think getting more blue should be on my list of priorities because he really needs it. Which reminds me, I need to draft a list of priorities. I think I should get on that as soon as I can so goodbye for now. --- Ghostbur makes the decision on the... well he needs to check his memory book to remember exactly what day it is but whatever today was, that was when he sets himself the goal of working on a house. It'll be a nice place, not too fancy (at least not at first, he can add to it later if he so desires) but it can be a lovely base for himself. Maybe Wilbur too, if he can get the other half of Alivebur to join him. The problem was he wasn't sure where to take inspiration from. He built a house for Tommy during their holiday and he really liked how that simple little place turned out. He also recalls Tubbo's house from when he and Tommy were messing around shortly following his arrival in the area. Now that house was very pretty. It would take some more effort to get right, especially when all he had for reference was the memory of it, but he feels it would be worth it if he wanted to go down a similar route in terms of design. Oh! Didn't Techno have a lovely looking cabin too? Perhaps he should keep that building in mind as well. Or he could come up with something new entirely. He wasn't sure yet. He thinks it may be best to experiment first. It's as he is figuring out the size and shape he'd prefer the ground floor to be that Wilbur comes across the soon to be construction site. Arms crossed, he doesn't look too impressed. But then again, when does he? "What is this?" "Oh hi, Wilbur. I thought I could build myself a house. It could be our house if you'd like. Or... Or maybe I could add a bedroom just for you if you already have a house." "I think I'll pass. Though this does explain all the missing oak trees around here." His gaze flicks to the pile of wood Ghostbur has gathered. "Anyway, you're just doing this by hand?" "How else would I be doing it?" "I have my ways. You probably have the same ones." The two of them venture through a taiga until they reach a hill overlooking an empty field of plains. Even before he truly lays eyes on their expanse of their destination, he can sense how far of a drop it would be to reach it without caution. "Wait!" The warning comes too late to have any effect. Wilbur leaps from the edge. Rushing forward instinctively, Ghostbur dreads the scene he is sure will be upsetting to witness. He shuts his eyes but risks a peak regardless. It's to his utter shock that Wilbur stands waiting, perfectly fine. "I know we pretty much have all the time in the world but I'd rather not spend it waiting for you to get on with it and jump already." "You're not hurt?" "What? No, of course not. Why would I-?" Realisation arrives and Wilbur's only reaction to it seems to be an eye roll. "We're dead, you idiot. When was the last time your feet actually touched the ground? In fact, when was the last time you even had feet?" "Oh." "Yeah." Wilbur continues to walk ahead, using an arm to beckon Ghostbur in the right direction. "Now come on." Once they settle on a spot for the demonstration, wooden blocks materialise without warning. They arrange themselves into an empty birch cube that is perhaps twice as tall as they are. It's not a complex structure, pretty non-descript. Ghostbur had been hoping to be a bit more ambitious with his construction work than this. However, he supposes Wilbur is simply only showing him the basics. There's no need to go overboard in an attempt to show off. "It's pretty simple, really. All you have to do is picture what you want and boom," A final block of birch comes into existence. "It shows up without much effort. It saves a lot of time and hassle. Got it? How about you summon a torch to test it out." He imagines a stick. Even a branch will do, he feels. As he does so, a weight grows in his hand with the appearance of a long brown object. The stick he summons is actually fairly substantial once it solidifies. For extra measure, he concentrates on the tip. He devotes his thoughts to warmth and autumnal bonfires and an orange glow then- Oh! Well, next time he should make sure he's careful when causing spontaneous combustion. "See? Easy. Now toss it here." With the rudimentary house completed and torch in hand, Wilbur carelessly allows the flame to linger too close to the wood. Ghostbur is unable to cry out a warning before the building is set alight. It gradually dawns on him that, somehow, this was a deliberate action to achieve this consequence. It leaves Ghostbur more lost regarding the workings of the other man's thoughts than ever. "What is the point in this? I don't... I don't understand." "It's warm." He acts as if this is the obvious answer. "Do you feel it, Ghostbur? Do you feel the cold, the way any and all sources of heat seem to be sapped while you try to make the most of them? You've been here days, you must feel it. Took me a day to recognise what it was. It's the Void, Ghostbur, it's the Void. It- It- It takes the heat from this place. We could be standing in the middle of the fucking desert right now but you'd still feel a chill, like someone left the window open and caused a draft. I... you know, I made this place to get away from it but it followed me regardless. Just... got muted, I guess. I carved out a little bit of the Void. Not even that big. It simply feels that way because it's like in those drama productions where you have the scenery on a rotator or whatever it's called. Not using it? Just poof, gone on standby or- or taped over. Mixing my metaphors here." "Stop standing there before you're on fire." "Hmm? Oh, don't worry about that. Doesn't scar or anything. I can reverse any damage, make it seem like it never happened." "Just get out of it." The ghost reaches out to his friend. Wilbur steps back to avoid him. "Ghostbur, I'm fine. I only want to be warm." "I can make a fire if you want. A normal one, in a pit." "Like I haven't made a bonfire before. You really think I haven't tried that?" "Let's get some water. You just have think about it, don't you?" "Wait, no! I tend to watch it burn. Gives me something to do." "O-Okay." So they witness the structure's demise to fire. Ghostbur mourns the loss of the materials that seem to be going to waste for the sake of entertainment. He can't help but succumb to the desire to be enraptured. The flames dance with curls and bows and sways. He breaks his gaze away to glance at Wilbur, curious to see if he is having a similar experience as him. His companion has only a hardened expression to show, one that pairs a set jaw with calculating eyes. Yet a light, separate to that reflected from the fire, can be spotted dwelling within those same eyes. What one finds aesthetically pleasing albeit wasteful, the other studies as if he can learn how to tame it in order to command it to do his immoral bidding. --- Wilbur thinks of buttons. How technically easy they are to press. How, despite this fact, he'd been getting closer and closer to a dozen attempts before bailing. How one of his last memories (from the ones he'd been oh so generously permitted to keep) was that of burning. Fire is destruction, the chaos of something that aims to consume indiscriminately, a means to an end. But at the same time this is safe, controlled, something he can force to stop if it goes too far. There are 101 reasons why he has every right to hate Ghostbur. More, he'd argue actually. Since they became two, he's been left with the shortest end of the stick. Ghostbur got to go have fun and enjoy himself, got the opportunity to act like everything had always been alright since he'd deliberately discarded the evidence that suggested otherwise. And the personified form of the discarded evidence had simply been forced to endure the nightmares, to desperately avoid triggers he's not willing to confront in any shape or form yet, to attempt to find comfort in familiarity regardless of why an object or location may seem familiar to him. He's done this before. Not every day, mind you. He's not that big of a masochist to pull that shit. Perhaps once or twice in the span of what might be considered a fortnight, if that. Other times he's simply not done anything for a while. But Wilbur has gone through this process before. He has stood in flammable structures and allowed the flames to take their course. He hacks when the smoke increases to the point of becoming overwhelming. It hurts, of course it does (it's fire for crying out loud). Yet when he leaves the scene of arson, any blisters that have begun bubbling on his skin disappear at his command. The main incentive to act so stupidly is to remember. He can recall bombs and the devastation of witnessing his safety being ripped away before his eyes. Over and over, he attempts to confront the things that keep him up at night. The door is always right there, waiting to be flung open the second he decides it is more than enough for that session. In Albert Einstein's eyes, he could qualify to be called insane. He would disagree but then again, they are using different definitions. While alive, he had developed a smoking habit. It began as something to help alleviate stress. Then not inhaling nicotine ironically became a source of stress for him. That's how addictions form, he supposes, with stupid destructive cycles such as his. The inherent need to risk slowly killing his lungs for the sake of feeling relatively decent didn't seem to carry over to Ghostbur. Lucky bastard, always getting the better end of the deal. By his design, most likely. Be civil, he reminds himself, since it will increase his chances of securing victory. Now that Ghostbur is here, he is a step closer to getting what he's wished for since they'd died. It is only a matter of time before he rediscovers the peace of being whole once more. What he hopes will be peace. Wilbur thinks of buttons and fires and explosions. Most importantly though, he thinks of how nice it must be to witness something subjectively beautiful and not question a myriad of life choices. --- Ghostbur didn't appreciate the loneliness. Back down with everyone else, his friends and family either tolerated his company or told him to leave them alone. Even the friendlier ones had a habit of getting tired of him hanging out with them for too long. Sometimes he happened to catch them when they were busy. It was fine and certainly no big deal. Everyone needs alone time. Wilbur, for instance, likes a lot of alone time. Then there were those that Alivebur hurt and struggled to not be reminded of the man they once knew whenever Ghostbur was around, like Phil and Tommy. It was nobody's fault. He did have a striking resemblance to his pre-death counterpart. All this in consideration, Ghostbur could really a friend. Or perhaps more specifically, a Friend. He's seen Wilbur do this practically effortlessly so how hard could this be? He thinks the best way to go about this is to take it slow and begin at the bottom. He brings himself to an open space so he can have as few obstacles during this important moment as possible. Two pairs of hooves appear, already upright on the grass. With them comes four legs then a torso adorned in naturally blue wool which is accompanied by a tail. When the process comes to an end, Ghostbur is met with a familiar face. He wraps his arms around the neck of his closest companion in a hug. "Hi, Friend. I've really missed you. We can hang out whenever Wilbur is being grumpy or wants to be alone. Would you like that? Maybe we can even convince him to like you too. But that might be hard since he doesn't seem to like anyone." He feels it should be common courtesy for Ghostbur to introduce Friend to Wilbur. After all, his twin had already extended that courtesy to him the other day. --- "Wilbur!" There is no need for him to acknowledge the voice calling out his name. Even if he didn't recognise the owner of said voice, there is no-one else it could be. Yet when he does, he isn't sure whether to curse his reflexes for making him see the sight in general or be grateful for the minute's forewarning it grants him. Encouraged to tag along with Ghostbur is an affront to nature. "So..." He begins when the two visitors are near enough. "The sheep." "Yeah! His name is Friend. I had a sheep just like him when I was with everyone else so I thought he could keep me company while I'm here." He's not even sure how to respond to this development. He simply stares at the animal as he attempts to process it. It's so weird because he swears the sheep has one of those rare genetic variations where their wool is quite literally blue naturally. It's obviously not been dyed at all because you can tell with that sort of thing. Somehow, Ghostbur has straight up manifested a sheep with a rare coat colouring. He wants to be more thrown off by it than he is. Yet he struggles to do so. Because, in the several days since he's met the one he shares a face with, he can't truthfully claim he's surprised. "Friend, huh? Well, you really have a knack for coming up with names, don't you?" "I guess." "You asked me the other day what you should call me. You seem to love these cute little versions of our name. Given the way I treat you, I'm surprised you haven't been tempted to call me Meanbur or Sadbur or even Why-The-Fuck-Won't-You-Take-A-Hint-And-Just-Leave-Me-Alonebur?" Ghostbur hesitates, clearly a little shocked by this outburst. He quickly corrects himself, changing his expression instead to something more akin to content thoughtfulness. "Oh, I know! What do you think of Soulbur? I like Soulbur. Because you're half of his soul." "Fine, whatever makes you happy. Though if you really need to bother someone, I'd rather you go to Schlatt or MD." "But do you like Friend?" He glances back at the sheep for the sake of humouring his twin. "I... I suppose it's alright for a sheep. Don't want too much to do with it though. It's your pet." "He is more than a pet." And it comes off as if he's offended him. "He's well, he's Friend." "Gho- It is a sheep. I get that you're attached to it- him so you're hardly planning to serve mutton anytime soon but he's still just a bloody sheep." As he distances himself from Ghostbur to escape this nonsense, his ears catch muttered assurances that 'Soulbur' was not worth listening to. Plus, what kind of name was 'Friend'? His ghostly counterpart sounded like a child who'd decided their stuffed toy deserved a name to fit the role of lifelong companion. He'd retaliate but he's far from in the mood. --- Okay, as it turns out, he does begin to get used to the new moniker. For one thing, it's easier to differentiate himself from their pre-death self (though Ghostbur seems to have that covered thanks to his insistence of using 'Alivebur'). Soulbur likewise continues to tolerate him for the sake of civility. Hence why he's sat by a small fire and performing the absolutely redundant task of eating a meal. No matter how much he attempts to explain neither of them physically need sustenance, Ghostbur remains persistent on his thoughts regarding the issue. "No cows were harmed in the making of this steak." "Oh that's good." Ghostbur beams. "And you made a joke. You don't do that often." "Listen, I might not have a reason to laugh anymore but I do still have a sense of humour." "You know, you sound like Techno when you speak. All serious and bored." "Doesn't surprise me." He mutters. "Besides, you're the one who kept the happier emotions in the split. I'd be worried if I didn't sound like I have the more exhausting ones." "What?" "What are you confused about? You said you can't remember upsetting things, right? Well where did you think they went, the back of your mind, left stranded in the void- no, actually I suppose that one is technically true. Either way, the oversimplified version of events is that you got the good stuff and I got the bad." There is silence but there is also calm. From it, Soulbur gains the courage to put forward one of the questions he's been deliberating on for a good long while. "Ghostbur…" He frowns. "How did we die?" "You don't remember?" "No. For some fucked up reason, we apparently thought so low of ourself that it was a good memory. That or you took it to spite me." "I-" Soulbur holds his hand up. "No excuses, no rambling in the hopes you can beat around the bush. I just want the truth. Because all I can remember is Phil showing up, us getting frustrated then this unbearable pain as if... as if something was cooking us from the inside. I don't know I- it just hurt. A lot. Then we were dead. So what the hell happened to us?" The ghost is focused on fiddling with the sleeves of his yellow jumper. "I don't want to say." "Bad memory then. So... an unnecessary theft. As much as I hate to admit it, that was supposed to be mine if it was traumatic." "Wasn't nice but it was a good moment." "Well, was it good or bad? Make up your mind! I told you, I didn't want any messing around. I'm not expecting an essay from you, only a sentence or two." He groans. "Okay, how about this since you can't give me a straight answer. Did we press the button, yes or no?" "We did." "Brilliant! We got somewhere. I suspected it was burning debris but couldn't be sure. That's all I wanted." Soulbur manages only a handful of steps before his twin's voice is heard once more. "It wasn't debris. The explosion didn't kill us." "Then what did?" If his patience wore any more thin, somebody would have to pull out a microscope to view it. Ghostbur appears conflicted, ever tugging on his sleeves. "Phil was the Saint George to our dragon. He stopped us from hurting anyone else." "Whoa whoa whoa, hang on that's- Phil wasn't always the best parental figure to us, I know that, but he would never... kill us. That is not the kind of guy he is." "We asked him to." "Why would we-" "Don't ask me. You're the one who's always grumpy. You should know." Ghostbur argues back. "Even if we begged him on our hands and knees, as shitty as he could sometimes be, Phil would never cause us deliberate harm." "But he did." Soulbur visibly mulls this over in his mind before a scowl settles on his face. "Can't win, can you? Unbelievable. Couldn't even trust Phil to be on our side." "But he-" "He was supposed to take care of us. I can excuse him not being father of the year because he only took us in out of pity so we wouldn't end up on the streets. But the bare minimum I would have expected from him is to not kill the kid he's raised since they were little." "I don't know what you want me to say. You said you wanted the truth? Well the truth is Phil stabbed us with a sword because we asked him to. It was a... it was a sword with fire aspect, I think. That's why you think it hurt." "I don't think it hurt. I know it hurt." "Can we stop talking about this? I don't like it." "No. No, we are talking about this. I'm not letting you slink off at the first hint of something upsetting, Mr Repression." "I'm not slinking off. I just don't want to think about this." "Well, welcome to my life, every single bloody day since you ran off. At least you have the privilege of avoiding it." "Stop it! Stop it! Why do always have to be so- so- I'm going to find Friend. At least he's nice to me." "You are literally proving my point right now." "I don't care." "Fine! Piss off then. That's what you seem to do best, cry and run away at the slightest bit of trouble. But you can't do this forever, you know. You're going to have to accept we've been through a lot of shit one day." And for the first time in what he believes has been roughly two weeks, Ghostbur frowns. It is not the slight frown from whenever he is unsure or downtrodden, Soulbur's seen that before. Those times had been more akin to a pout. No, this expression has been witnessed by him before. He saw this occasionally in his reflection while alive, especially in the lead up to the festival and war between Manberg and Pogtopia when he'd been steeling himself to play his role in it all. So perhaps frown is not the most accurate word for it. Ghostbur glares, he scowls, he glowers. And then the façade breaks as if the universe cannot permit an angry Ghostbur to exist. Dark blue pools by his eyes and begins to spill down his face. Soulbur doesn't think he's seen his other half cry either actually. It doesn't feel right, watching the one who kept going about everything with a smile cry and descend into sobs while he's at it. The universe doesn't swiftly correct itself at this though so Soulbur will have to make of that what he will. "I'm going to find Friend." Ghostbur repeats. And that is that for the calm dinner between both halves of the same person.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Double Trouble

Following Bastien and Sophia Lykel, the proud new parents of twins.  Sophia’s parents come to visit.

Word Count 2293

A/N Nothing to report, just fluff. The chapter got a bit long so I’m splitting it.

6a Granny and Grandpa

‘There they are!’ Sophia threw her arm up in the air and waved as she caught sight of her parents, Bob and Edith, coming out of Customs into the arrival lounge at Cordonia’s main airport. Costa and Althea had not stayed long when they visited, but the Turners would be there for a week.

‘What are we going to do with them?’ Sophia had asked Bastien ‘I love them, but it takes all my energy looking after the twins. We can’t really ask Hana to help while they’re here. She deserves a break’

‘Don’t worry, Regina has invited Edith and you for afternoon tea for one thing. You can take your mother shopping in the Capitol and Bob and I can look after the twins. I’ll find lots of things for us all to do, and if you’re tired, you can just rest. I’m sure your parents are capable of taking the twins for a walk in the grounds.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps we could invite Costa and Althea back, after all they haven’t met yet.’ Bastien’s foster parents were often busy visiting others that that they had fostered over the years, and were ‘foster’ grandparents to many children, so had missed both their wedding and the reception back in the palace after their honeymoon.

‘Oh my goodness, I can’t imagine how that would go – but it’s a good opportunity’ Sophia said ‘I suppose there’s no harm in asking if they’re free’

At the airport, Bastien smiled to see the joy on her face.

‘Go on, I’ve got the pushchair’ he said, putting his hand on the handle of the double stroller. The twins were mesmerised by the noise and bustle of the airport terminal, Theodore looking all around wide eyed and Beatrice frowning in disapproval, fidgeting and wriggling in her seat. Sophia rushed forward to greet her parents. Edith hugged her, but she was scanning the lounge for sight of the twins and broke away from her quickly.

‘Where are they? Is that Bastien over there?’ she asked impatiently, while Bob gave his daughter a warm embrace.

‘You’re looking well, Sophia’ he said fondly ‘How are you coping with being a parent?’ Edith was surging determinedly ahead toward her quarry, her luggage forgotten. The trolley was laden with bags and Bob looked tired.

‘It’s hard work, Dad’ she replied ‘But we have a lot of help – we’re lucky really, the Palace is a great place to stay right now.’ Edith was out of earshot but Sophia could hear her delighted cries at meeting her grandchildren.

‘We’d better catch up’ Bob said, and Sophia kissed his cheek as he went back to pushing the luggage trolley.

‘How on earth did you get all these bags on the plane?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Your mother’ Bob said, as if that was all the explanation that was needed, but went on to elaborate. ‘She harassed the check in girl thoroughly. I think she overlooked the baggage limit just to save her eardrums’

‘You must have had to pay extra, surely’ Sophia replied, and her father shrugged, smiling warmly.

‘It was worth it for the sake of my only daughter’ She squeezed his arm as they caught up with Edith, bending down and cooing at the babies. As usual with any new stimulus, Theo regarded her with fascination, fingers stuffed in his mouth, and Beatrice continued to wriggle, but she was engaged at the new person paying her and her brother such close attention,

‘They haven’t got your lovely fair hair’ Edith said, looking back at her daughter. ‘You were such a pretty baby, strangers didn’t believe Bob was your father because you were blonde’

‘It’s genetics, Mum’ Sophia sighed ‘You must both have recessive genes’ Edith sniffed, unconvinced.

‘Well, they’re very bonny.’ she conceded ‘How did you get here? Did Bastien drive? How are we all going to fit into the car?’

‘We’ve got a minivan’ Sophia explained ‘We’ll all fit in fine – and your bags’ she looked back at the trolley ‘At least I think so’

‘We’ll manage’ Bastien asserted. Bob had been gazing fondly at the babies, but his attention went to his son in law.

‘Lykel’ he said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly ‘You’ve got a hard job looking after twins’

‘They keep us on our toes, Sir’

‘Now then son, it’s Bob’ Bastien smiled wryly.

‘With respect, you used my surname, Bob’

‘Well dammit so I did. Force of habit, s – uh Bastien. No offense’

‘None taken, Bob’ Edith was talking to the babies in a sing song voice, which caused Theo to reach out to try and touch her while Beatrice stopped wriggling to concentrate on her voice, staring at her intently.

‘They’re such little darlings’ Edith gushed ‘When is Granny going to get a cuddle?’

‘You can help when we get out to the car, Edith’ Bastien said ‘It will be easier to keep them in the stroller for now.’ He looked at the baggage trolley. ‘Let me take that, Bob. Sophia can take charge of the twins’ They set off for the car park, Sophia taking the lead and Edith walking beside her, Bastien and Bob taking up the rear. It was warm outside in the Mediterranean autumn air, white clouds billowing up in the sky as the day wore on. They reached the minivan and began the loading process.

‘Would you mind taking Beatrice, Mum?’ Sophia asked. She’d never been able to change her habit of calling her parents Mum and Dad. It just didn’t feel natural calling them by their names. ‘She’s more likely to get cranky. Theo’s pretty laid back’

‘Well who’s a gorgeous girl?’ Edith enthused as Sophia unbuckled the baby and handed her over. ‘Granny’s been waiting to meet you and your brother’ Beatrice sat quietly in her arms, happy at being paid exclusive attention. Bob caught up with them and beamed as Sophia handed Theo over to him so that she could wrestle with getting the stroller folded up and stowed away and putting the nappy changing bags where they could be reached easily. Bastien was taken up with manhandling the bags into the back of the van, scrutinising them first to work out how best to stow them away.

Sophia climbed into the van and reached out to Bob for Theo first, knowing that he would be content to be buckled into his baby seat. Edith was only too happy to spend a few more moments rocking her granddaughter before handing her over.

‘Now Beatrice will probably cry when I buckle her up’ Sophia explained ‘But as soon as we get moving she’ll quieten down. Theo will be fine’

‘I’ll sit next to her’ Edith offered ‘Granny will keep her quiet’ Sophia pursed her lips dubiously but said nothing. Beatrice squirmed and grizzled as she placed her in the car seat and adjusted the straps. Edith swiftly climbed into the next seat and leaned over her as Bastien crammed the last bag into the back.

Bob wheeled the trolley back to the collection point while Bastien got into the driver’s seat. Bob came back and sat beside him whilst Sophia settled next to Theo, who kicked his legs happily. He seemed to like the motion of the minivan, whereas Beatrice just wasn’t happy being strapped into anything. It wasn’t as if she could get anywhere under her own steam, just that she hated any kind of confinement apart from being held and fussed over. Happily, the fact that Edith was paying the little girl attention pleased her, and she quietened down before they started off.

‘Beatrice must really like you, Mum.’ Sophia said ‘Normally she cries until we get moving. Not that we’ve manage to get them out and about much. It’s like organising a campaign getting them ready’

‘Well four pairs of hands are better than two’ her mother said ‘I know you have extra help at the Palace, but whoever it is can have a little holiday while we’re here’ Sophia sighed inwardly, knowing that things were never that simple with her mother, well meaning as she was.

It wasn’t a long journey to the palace, and Edith carried on talking to Beatrice all the way, only looking up when they got to the palace gates.

‘Oh, here already? How’s the King? Didn’t you say that the Queen’s expecting a baby too? Theo and Beatrice will have a real life prince or princess to play with’

‘Mum, I told you we’ll be moving to Edinburgh when the academic year starts’ Sophia said.

‘Oh, still so far away.’ Edith sighed ‘However will you manage the twins on your own? You should move back to the island, then we can babysit for you.’

‘Now Edith, that’s a huge commitment.’ Bob said firmly. ‘Much as I love the idea of being a grandpa, I want to enjoy my retirement. Sophia and Bastien will manage just fine without us.’

‘I’d planned to set up my own security consultancy, but I can delay a lot of it while we settle in’ Bastien explained ‘Most will be done remotely anyway, so I should be at home most of the time once it gets going’ Edith boggled at this.

‘You mean you’ll be a house husband?’ she gasped ‘Sophia, you should be the one staying at home’ Bob coughed loudly, and she looked sheepish. ‘Oh dear, I’m being old fashioned, aren’t I? Things are different nowadays I suppose’ Sophia rubbed her forehead.

‘I was honoured to be offered the job.’ she explained. ‘I didn’t think I’d fall pregnant so fast. They deferred, but I really want to take it up.’

‘I’m sorry dear.’ Edith sighed ‘It was so different in my day. You were expected to be at home to look after your children and wait for your husband to get home’

Any further discussion was halted as the minivan drew up at the security post at the Palace gates and went on to stop in front of the staff wing after being checked over.

‘Let me have Theo this time’ Edith offered as they started to unload, so Sophia handed him over and carried Beatrice herself, leaving the two men to unload the baggage. They climbed the stairs to the apartment.

‘Now Mum, you know you can’t stay with us this time. The twins have the spare room, so the King has very kindly put you in a suite in the guest wing. It’s not far from us, and we can all eat together. Your suite has a very nice view out over the grounds at the back’

‘Oh’ said Edith ‘That sounds lovely. When can we see it?’

‘I just need to check the twins aren’t hungry or need changing, then we can all go over and take your bags’

‘Are you bottle feeding them? I fed you of course, but I stopped when your teeth came through’

‘I’ll feed them for as long as I can’ Sophia explained as they reached the apartment, and she unlocked the door. She went along the corridor to the nursery, and Edith exclaimed at the room.

‘Oh my, aren’t you a lucky boy?’ she cooed to Theo ‘Your mummy didn’t have her own room until she was at school’ She made a face and held Theo away from her body. ‘Oh dear, I think he’s a little damp, darling’

--------

At first Edith had been a little peeved not to be staying with her daughter. Sophia and Bastien had discussed putting the twins back in the main bedroom and reinstating the spare room, but it would have been too disruptive. The suite Bob and Edith had was one that was usually put aside for nobility to stay in the social season when there were balls and other occasions to attend. Edith was most impressed at the grand décor and soon forgot all about the little apartment in the staff wing. The arrangement meant that everyone had their own space and weren’t on top of each other.

After taking all the bags through, Bastien sent for a meal to be served in the Turners’ suite, and Sophia sat feeding Beatrice whilst it was all laid out on the table. She felt a little guilty at always feeding her first, but she was impatient where her brother was not. Edith paraded up and down with Theo, singing and chatting to him.

‘What’s in all the bags, Mum?’ Sophia asked.

‘My painting things’ she replied. ‘After all, I work by Royal appointment, you know’ Sophia suppressed a smile, as she knew that remark to be caused by Regina politely saying she’d like to see Edith paint the palace grounds. Beatrice stopped feeding and Sophia waved her mother over to swap, handing her a napkin for her shoulder.

‘Make sure she’s winded’ she warned ‘If she gets tummy ache neither of them will settle.’ When Theo had been fed and winded, Sophia went to sit at the table. Theo was happy to sit in his bouncy chair, and surprisingly Beatrice was too.

‘My foster parents are passing through tomorrow’ Bastien said casually as he passed the breadbasket to Bob ‘If you like, we could meet up with them.’

‘Oh, Althea paints, doesn’t she?’ Edith piped up ‘Of course we should meet them’

‘Perhaps we should plan an outing’ Sophia suggested ‘I’m getting a bit fed up of the same four walls. A walk along the seafront and lunch at a café would make a change’

‘That’s an excellent idea’ Bastien replied, standing to take some plates back to the kitchen and stopping on the way back to put his hand on her shoulder and lean down to kiss her cheek. ‘I’ll get in touch with them and arrange it’

@sirbeepsalot @katedrakeohd @fluffyfirewhiskey @kingliam2019 @rainbowsinthestorm @camillemontespan @texaskitten30 @bascmve01 @nomadics-stuff

[peaceoutofthepieces]

you were my crown

I managed to actually do that little scene for the royalty au :) I don’t know anything about how any of this stuff works so I literally just made everything up please don’t think I in any way tried to be accurate I’m talking out of my ass here.

I don’t know if anything will ever actually come of this, but this is an idea of what it would look like :)

~^~

Jens hates sitting in for Court. It’s less about the ‘criminals’ and more about the royals, the endless lines of knights and Lords and servants, eager to witness another fool. Jens doesn’t care much for fools, but he cares even less to laugh at them. He cares least for his formal attire, the sharp slacks and too-tight tunic, laced up by maids unable to even look him in the eye. They don’t even seem necessary. He’s overheating in his jacket, delicately buttoned up to the throat, the collar digging into his skin. He’d tried leaving the top hanging open, and it had hardly taken a second for his mother to give him a sharp glance, nodding to a maid that had hastily run to button it back up. Now he sits and suffocates and waits for whatever poor soul is being charged to make their way to the throne.

Jens straightens subtly in his chair, placed to the right side of his mother’s throne, and meets the boy’s eyes for half a second. Until his mother opens her mouth and orders a sharp, “Kneel.”

Before the boy can comply, one of the guards that had escorted him sets a heavy hand on his shoulder and forces him down, falling onto the stone floor in a manner that leaves Jens’s own knees aching in sympathy. The boy simply catches his breath and holds his chin high, looking straight at them and through, his jaw clenched. Jens drums his fingers on his knee in interest.

The same guard gives his head a forceful shove. “Speak your name to the Court.”

The boy takes a breath as some of his masqueraded confidence seems to slip. “Lucas. Lucas Van der Heijden.”

Jens licks his lips, cataloguing the sound of his voice, the way his mouth parts for an instant before the actual sound escapes. The name rumbles deeply around the room and seeps into the walls, encased in the brick in case it’s soon to be lost. Jens’s job is to watch, to note, and to only give judgement if asked. It often doesn’t take him long to form conclusions.

His conclusion of Lucas Van der Heijden is that he seems, at once, nothing and everything like a criminal.

He’s young, and clean cut, though his clothes are a tad too tight and an inch too short on his ankles, fraying at the hems. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek, a familiar sandy mixture that Jens has seen on all hostages of the castle cells. There’s an innocence to his youth and a diligence to his posture. His eyes hold a pleading light and a resolute film. Whatever his crime in regards to the Crown, he holds a loyalty to someone.

“State his crimes,” the Queen requests.

The opposite guard stares straight ahead as he speaks up. “Thievery and dishonor to the Court, Your Majesty.”

Jens can barely hold back a snort. He relaxes slightly. There’s rarely a severe punishment for a loaf of bread. The scene before him suddenly makes more sense.

His mother’s tone, however, is unusually steely. “Thievery of what?”

“Sir Viktor’s sword, Your Majesty.”

Jens blinks. A rumble of interest spreads through the Court. Lucas’s jaw tightens and he gives a minuscule shake of his head, so much so that Jens is sure he’s the only one who notices.

The Queen seems equally intrigued. “And what, boy, do you want with a sword?”

“I didn’t steal it.” Lucas speaks through gritted teeth, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “I’ve never even seen the sword before.”

“It was found under his bed, Your Majesty, free of its sheath. Sir Viktor had been missing it for a full day before organising a search.”

Jens barely resists rolling his eyes. If Viktor had been missing it that long, he’s almost in need of a punishment himself. He’s known Viktor for only over a year, becoming acquainted with him long after he’d already met his brother, Senne. Senne’s loyalty and honour, that Jens has become easily familiar with during the man’s service in his personal guard, did not seem to emanate as clearly from his brother. Jens has had few pleasures of his presence, and pinned his discomfort down to this unfamiliarity. As he sees Lucas’s expression tighten further, however, there’s something that doesn’t sit quite right with him.

The feeling only strengthens as the Queen raises her head and stares Lucas down. “You’d do best to not add dishonesty to your list, Mr Van der Heijden. The proof sits against you. If you claim not to have stolen it, how do you suppose it ended up with you?”

Lucas swallows. For a tiny second, his gaze flits over to the crowd on his left. Jens follows his gaze and sees nothing that stands out. “I didn’t steal anything,” he repeats. “I’m an artist. I have no reason for a sword.”

“And yet,” the Queen says lightly, “there was one so close to you. Are you able to explain that?”

Jens comes to the realisation too late, after noticing the hard lines of his mother’s frown and the steel underlining the easiness of her voice. This isn’t a trial—this is merely the sentencing.

“Someone else must have placed it there,” Lucas says, just as light, with just as much steel underneath.

“I’m sorry, Mr Van der Heijden, truly, but the evidence against you is not something I can simply dismiss as a wrong guess. Do you have proof, of anyone else who may have had access to your quarters? Even so much as a theory.”

“It’s not hard,” Lucas laughs slightly, “to access my quarters. From the way your guards stormed my home yesterday without so much as a knock as a notice, that seems fairly clear.”

Jens raises his brows as the Queen lowers hers. “You’d do well not to speak out of turn, boy. Evidently, my guards had every right to rip your home to shreds if they so pleased.”

Jens looks at her in surprise. He knows his mother holds a firm and stern rule, but she has never shown herself to be cruel. Jens would never have expected her to so openly disregard the rights and welfare of her people. He supposes Lucas is good at pushing buttons, and he’s somehow managed to hit a number of her’s through their short interaction. Jens glances over Lucas again, his curls scattered and shoulders straight, and feels a stab of worry in his stomach.

Help yourself, Jens silently urges. Try to win her over. Don’t make it worse.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Lucas seems to force the words out, dragging them from himself as if he was being made to pull his own teeth. “My mother—I take care of her. I worried that she would have been harmed in the fray.”

Jens watches his own mother soften slightly before regaining her resolve. “While that’s admirable of you, it doesn’t truly explain your resistance. Your lies, Mr Van der Heijden, may only lead to further searches of your home in an attempt to confirm either your guilt or your innocence. Would you not, in that case, rather save your mother the trouble?”

Jens swivels his gaze back to Lucas, watching the low blow hit, cataloguing the way the boy’s own resolve crumbles.

Then he straightens, undeterred by the hand still tightly clasped on his shoulder. “My mother has no involvement, because neither do I. I’m not lying. I stole nothing.”

The Queen regards him for another long moment, as does Jens. Then she releases a heavy sigh. “I was hoping that your cooperation would provide an option for leniency. A true explanation may have lightened your sentence, but the proof against you is overwhelming. I cannot believe that you are free of intent to threaten the Crown, due to the unusual action of your crime. I fear I have no choice.” She stands from her throne and steps down from the dais, looming over Lucas in her heavy red robes and shimmering crown. “Lucas Van der Heijden, for the charges of thievery and dishonor to the throne, I find you guilty and sentence you to death.”

The murmur this time is of a much more extensive volume, but it isn’t quite enough to drown out Jens’s incredulous burst of laughter.

All eyes turn to him, and he feels his shoulders stiffen. Lucas’s gaze is most prominent, evidently confused, with eyes wide and disbelieving. His mother’s are equally surprised, though underlaid with anger. Jens does his best to ignore his discomfort under the attention and keep a princely smile on his face. “Since when do we sentence death without proof? For a kidnapping of a sword that wasn’t put to use, no less.”

The murmur that he’d silenced picks up again, and his mother raises an unimpressed brow at him. “The proof has been presented to you as it has been presented to me. Are you aware of evidence we are not?”

“I’m aware that there is a possibility, however slim, that he is telling the truth. Even if he had stolen it and intended to put it to use, the sword has been retrieved. He presents no real immediate threat. If anything, I believe he would have committed the crime as a scared boy with family he wishes to protect. Surely that is something any of us can understand. He may be deserving of punishment, yes, but death?”

The room has fallen into utter silence. Jens doesn’t dare look at any of the Court members, but he chances a glance at Lucas. The other boy is staring back at him, with all surprise now wiped from his face. He wears a carefully constructed blank expression, that doesn’t break as Jens looks back at him.

Jens doesn’t know why he feels such a strong urge to save him. But now that he’s started, he can’t bring his own argument to an end.

“So what else do you suggest?” His mother asks this at length, unwillingly. He shouldn’t have spoken out. It wasn’t his place. It isn’t good for her, he knows, to have her rule questioned in public by her own son. But he’d argued without thinking, looking at Lucas and feeling an inexplicable need to stand up for him.

To protect.

“It’s his loyalty in question, is it not?” Jens raises a brow and waits for her nod. “So let him prove it. I’m sure someone youthful and strong could have a place serving the Court.”

The murmur picks up again. Jens resists the urge to roll his eyes.

His mother stares at him. “Your suggestion is to allow him a position in the castle?”

“He couldn’t be placed under more watch,” Jens says simply. “I would rather taste someone’s loyalty and perhaps gain a better bond than let a life go to waste.”

This murmur sounds somewhat agreeable, though it is silenced the second the Queen raises her hand. “There are no positions in the Court up for offer, and I cannot possibly gift a thief the sword he’d stolen.”

Jens doesn’t even think before he says it. “I don’t have a personal servant.”

There is, surprisingly, no murmur. The room is eerily quiet as Jens and his mother stare each other down and Lucas flits his gaze between them. It’s not a lie, and is perhaps even the reason he’s doing this. He’s tired of fussy maids lacing his shirts and buttoning his coats and buckling his cuffs. His sisters both have maid-servants, while Jens is left with an array of strangers carrying out various duties, never even able to become familiar with faces as they avoid contact and conversation at all costs. He does his best to be amicable with the castle staff, to form relationships, to form bonds. But aside from the few close friends he sees only on occasion (sons of various Lords in various agreements with his mother), and a few chosen guards, Jens spends most of his time alone.

He wouldn’t mind someone like Lucas by his side. Someone his age, who isn’t afraid to look him in the eye.

“You wish to risk letting a criminal become your personal servant? You would trust him to be so close to you?”

Jens lets his mother stare disapprovingly at him before shifting his gaze to Lucas. They consider each other, concrete met with intrigue, before Jens gives a simple shrug. “I would. It’s my risk to take, and I believe there isn’t much risk to it. If I am wrong, then I should get what’s coming to me.”

A few of the guards give a quiet titter in acceptance, and he watches as his mother looks at a spot in the crowd, before nodding her acceptance. She looks down upon Lucas. “Very well. You will have a guard assigned to you that will accompany you on any outings, alone or with the Prince. While you are in his service, there will, as always, be guards stationed at his door and extra security provided throughout the castle. It is only as a sign of trust towards my son that you are being given leniency. You should be grateful to him that you are leaving here with your life.” She looks to the guard on his left, the one that had spoken calmly to them without laying a finger on Lucas. “Assign him a room in the Prince’s quarters. Remain with him until the new measures are fully put in place. You are dismissed,” she tells the room at large.

Lucas listens to her silently, and remains wordless as the guard at his right yanks him to his feet. Jens watches on until his mother speaks up again.

“Jens, you are to accompany him now. If he is not to be trusted from the beginning then he is not to be trusted. You are also dismissed,” she says. “Though you will be meeting me again later to discuss this decision further.”

Jens bites back a sigh and rises to his feet. The intrigue spiraling up in him is quickly turning to elation. He feels that he had been entirely right to speak up and to continue to stand as his ground.

As he makes his way down the dais and is met with Lucas’s stony gaze, however, he considers that this may not be as simple as he thought.

[imcryingbuckets]

My Whole Heart "Hates" You

I did it. Ha, yes, I wrote a Bill Hader x OFC fanfiction. Although I write a lot in my spare time, I've never written a fic before so pls be nice :(

It's sorta enemies to lovers, I know y'all love that shit, so I hope everyone likes it. Or at least one person. It's going to be multiple chapters, but I've only written the first one so far!

TW: Swearing, a lot of it (I'm British, sue me), no sexual content in this chapter, but if there is any in future chapters I will be sure to notify you (warnings are already tagged on ao3 just in case I forget to add them later on)

Summary: Violet works at Studio 8H, for Saturday Night Live! But one Monday morning she turns up to work to find out that Bill Hader is hosting. They have a past of getting under each other's skin and constantly getting into arguments and spats all over the office, but will that change when he returns to host this time? Will they put aside their differences? Do they really hate each other or are they just bad at flirting? I'm sure you know the answer to all these questions, but how 'bout you read this anyways! I suck at summaries

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31072760/chapters/76766612

Chapter One: Oh, boy.

I walk into Studio 8H clutching a hot cup of coffee in my hand, in attempt to bring myself some warmth during the surprisingly cold breeze of March. Arriving at the building only a few minutes late (better than usual), I quickly set my things down at my desk and walk over to Lorne’s office with my co-workers to find out the host line-up for the next month. We all file in and find seats, some of us sitting cross-legged on the floor, and we collectively gaze upon the corkboard as Lorne fills us all in. My stomach twists into knots as I read the first blue postcard pinned up, blinking twice to make sure I’m not seeing things. I rub my eyes because maybe I saw it wrong, maybe he isn’t hosting, maybe I just have something in my eye. But when I look back up I know I’m wrong because everybody’s eyes are on me, staring closely with hesitance to watch how I’ll react. Right above the yellow card that read ‘Arcade Fire’ was a blue one, reading

BILL HADER

My mind begins to play out a thousand different scenarios and outcomes on what could happen this week, now that Hader would be here. I start getting a light headache (quite the ordinary when it came to working here) and I notice that everyone is still staring at me, some in remorse, and some in fear of how I’m going to react. I decide pretty quickly that I should say something to settle everyone’s nerves.

“Guys, seriously, chill the fuck out.” Perhaps a little harsher than I intended so I backpedal a bit. “I know what you’re all thinking, but stop, okay? It’s not like I’m gonna go batshit crazy when I see him and punch him in the face or something. I intend to keep my job, thank you very much.”

The faces all around the room seem to relax at this and return their attention back to Lorne. Thankfully, no one heard me add ‘As much as he is an absolute cockwomble’. Well, Kate might have as she started giggling on the floor next to me.#

Kate knows of my small hatred towards the man everyone on Earth seems to praise (Hatred is a strong word, annoyance is probably better suited for my feelings towards him but I genuinely just enjoy how the word rolls off the tongue). 4 years ago when Bill hosted SNL back in 2014, Kate was the one that put up with all my complaints and remarks about him, and she was often the one I went to when I needed to vent about anything really, middle-aged-comedian-themed or not. I feel a little guilty seeing as she will probably have to reprise her role as the one who deals with my Hader ‘hatred’ when she actually quite likes the man and has friendly chats and jokes with him whenever he’s around. Normally when I tell people this, they think that the fact that they’re both friends would annoy me. But I actually couldn’t give the smallest of fucks (pardon my French). I think it’s great that everyone gets on with him, good for them! But we never seemed to be able to do that.

See despite our efforts to be professional, we kept getting in small bickering matches across the office the last time he hosted. It was never full on screaming, just very heavily charged snide comments and evil glares to one another.

Back home in the UK, my friends and I would often joke around playfully and poke fun at each other, but it was all light-hearted and we all knew that. Even some of my friends here at work do the same. But when Bill was here, everyone that was unfortunately present to witness our spats and quarrels all knew that it didn’t come from a place of love or admiration as it did with anyone else. No, it came from this annoyance in our guts that we got from each other. It certainly made the entire office largely tense for the whole week leading up to the Saturday, and thankfully he skipped the after party so the terror ended after the last sketch of the night.

I feel bad knowing that we’ll probably put the entire building through the same torment as we did 4 years ago, but I don’t feel an ounce of guilt for Bill. No sir. Every nasty remark I threw at him I meant with 100% intention, and I feel no urge to take any of them back when I see him this afternoon when he walks into the office. Not because I’m some cold-hearted bitch, but because he said some things that were equally as bad as mine. So suck on that, William.

Quicker than expected, the meeting ends. I get up eagerly off the floor, with the intention to get to my office as quickly as possible with hopes to not run into Bill. However, before I get the chance to leave, I hear Lorne call after me to ask me to stay behind.

“I need to talk to you about this week’s host.”

I see Kate give me a small smile that said ‘good luck’ as she left through the door with the others and a wave of her hand. I turn back to the man behind the desk, not knowing what to expect, apart from the fact that it’s probably about Bill. Obviously.

“I’m assuming you’ve seen who the host is for Saturday?” he says.

I give him a small nod with a tight small and a mutter that resembled something close to a ‘yes’.

“Well I know that the last time he hosted, you two didn’t get along very well and had some…”

I watched him for a few seconds as he tried to find the right word.

“…differences.” He decides. “But I don’t want that same thing to happen again, it’s been 4 years now so I’m hoping that you’ve both matured at least a little.”

“Yes well he is like 40 now.” I respond, a little uncomfortable as I feel like a three-year-old getting scolded by their teacher for flicking crayons at the other kid’s head.

“Yes, well… I hope that you both can learn to get along, or at least push your differences aside for one week?”

I nod, “Yes, yes, ‘course.” Wanting the conversation to end before Bill arrives.

“Good to hear, Violet. Although, if I hear any screaming between the two of you, I won’t hesitate to step in and organise something to put an end to it. Understood?”

For a moment I thought he was suggesting firing me, but I caught the slight smirk on his face that told me something different. He was planning something mischievous, but I couldn’t place what. Nor did I care enough to look for it.

I sigh in relief and nod my head for what felt like the hundredth time that day, starting to feel a bit like a bobble-head doll. “Yes, Lorne, I understand. No bickering, got it.”

He smiled with a look that suggested he got the answer he wanted, and waved his hand to say I could go. I gave him a goodbye and made my out of his office and started to speed-walk to my own, crossing my fingers that Hader hadn’t arrived yet.

I thank the mighty beings in the sky that I made it to my desk without seeing him, and shut the door with a click. My eyes fall upon the coffee that I left earlier that morning in the rush to get to the meeting and I frown as I realise that it’s probably gone cold and all icky. I grasp the paper cup and I’m surprised to be met with warmth, I guess the meeting wasn’t as long as I thought it had been. Content with this happy discovery, I sit down in front of my computer and open a script document from the other night, sipping at my lukewarm coffee. I begin to rapidly type away and fall into the rhythm of writing, before I am frustratingly interrupted with a knock at my door.

I pull away from the screen and yell “Come in!” to whoever is on the other side of the door, standing up from my desk to throw my now-empty paper coffee cup in the bin (or trash as these Americans I work with call it). The door opens to reveal Aidy peeking her head hesitantly through to look at me with almost sorry eyes.

“Pitch meeting in Lorne’s office. Got to discuss sketch ideas with…the host.” She smiles kindly at me knowing that I don’t want to go and see him.

“With Bill you mean?” I say knowingly, to which she just nods her head. “Okay, well, best to just get it over with. And besides, maybe he’s less of a dick now?”

She laughs a little in attempt to be supportive. I think.

As we’re walking down the corridor, I think back to when I first met him back in 2014. Obviously I knew who he was, ‘Bill Hader: SNL Alumni, Comedian, Actor, Father, blah blah blah’. At the time, he was also ‘Husband’ but I was told that the fact was no longer true. I make a mental note to not be so harsh on him, not wanting to be that person who bashes him so soon after a divorce.

I remember I was actually quite fond of him at first, I watched most of his stuff and admittedly, he was my ‘celebrity crush’ for the longest time. And when I met him in person, he actually was exactly like everyone described him as: funny, sweet, charming, an all ‘round nice guy. Not to mention insanely attractive. He was cute, even I can admit that. I don’t really remember why we didn’t get along all those years ago. I think it was a mixture of a clash of personalities and the fact that we’re both quite stubborn. Terribly stubborn. From what I can remember, we never exactly agreed on sketches or punchlines or anything really. But like Lorne said, it’s been 4 years. Maybe we’ll get along better.

My train of thought gets lost when we reach the door to Lorne’s office. I see Aidy push it open and walk in as I follow her, hearing that everyone seems to be in the middle of a conversation. Right before I get through the door, I hear him. His loud, obnoxious laugh filling the room. The laugh that so easily gets under my skin and makes my stomach feel all weird and uneasy.

I head into the room and find a seat, and that’s when I look up to see him. Bill. Standing in front of me in a blue shirt and black jeans and those white trainers he seems to wear to every fucking interview. He stands there staring at me with this smirk on his face that make my cheeks go red. He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there by Lorne’s desk and right before he looks away to continue his conversation with Kenan, he winks at me. I look down as not to cause trouble like Lorne said, and partly to hide my cheeks getting hotter and pinker by the second.

I tug at the loose thread of my sweater, looking at the floor to avoid his gaze. I don’t know why I’m getting so flustered, it is Bill after all. The man who so thoroughly annoys and teases me relentlessly. My mind begins to over-analyse everything and before it begins to run any further, I get called on to pitch a sketch idea.

Right before I open my mouth, I see Bill cross his arms in anticipation and looking deeply into my eyes with that stupid smile of his, probably eager to find something to tease me over later. But then I catch him lick his lips suddenly and a chill runs up my arms.

I look back down at my notepad and think, Oh boy, this week will be interesting.

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 12

Last time, Gold got teased by Swanfire, Lacey got teased by Ruby, and both of them were convinced that the other hates them.

[AO3]

x

Gold rummaged in the cupboard for a plastic tub, fishing one out and setting it on the kitchen counter. He could hear Emma and Neal in the lounge, changing Henry’s diaper and getting him ready for the trip home. They had spent a pleasant Sunday at the park, picnicking on a blanket in the warm sunshine, but it was time for his family to head back to Boston. Gold opened his cake tins, cutting a thick wedge of the date and walnut cake he had made and putting it in the plastic tub. He added half a dozen stem ginger cookies and put on the lid, carrying it through to the lounge.

“Here,” he said, offering it to Emma. “Something for the road.”

“Thanks.” She opened up the tub and took a deep inhale before putting the lid back on. “Smells delicious. You’re too good to us.”

“Well, I have no one else to spoil,” said Gold, with a grin. “Besides, it stops me eating it.”

Neal drained his glass of milk, setting it down on the little table next to Gold’s chair, and Gold took a seat as he watched them both pack away Henry’s changing mat and diapers. Henry pushed to his feet, toddling towards Gold and reaching up with flailing arms. He caught the empty glass, sending it flying to the ground. Emma looked up at the crash of glass, and winced.

“Dammit!” she said, as Henry began to cry. “Sorry.”

“No matter.” Gold scooped Henry up and bounced him on his knee. “No damage done. Well, except to the glass.”

“Yeah, no fixing that,” said Emma, frowning at the broken glass. “Neal, could you get a brush or something?”

“Dustpan’s under the sink,” called Gold, as Neal headed for the kitchen.

“I got it.”

Emma squatted down and began stacking curved pieces of glass on her palm.

“Just leave it for Neal,” said Gold. “You’ll cut yourself.”

“It’s fine, I got - ow!”

There was a tinkling of glass as Emma dropped the shards. She winced, sucking a cut finger, and Gold shook his head.

“I did say.”

“Yeah…” She inspected the cut. “You got a Band-Aid?”

“Kitchen drawer,” said Gold, and Emma nodded, pushing to her feet.

He looked down at Henry, who had stopped crying, but had grasped his tie and was chewing on it. Gold rolled his eyes, pulling it from Henry’s grasp and sighing as he saw the extensive patch of drool.

“I think a teething ring might be more beneficial, what do you say?” he said, bouncing him on his knee again. Henry gurgled happily, and Gold grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Okay, let me get that mess.” Neal entered with a dustpan and brush, squatting down to sweep up the shards and tiny specks of glass. 

“I’ll run the vacuum over it when you’ve gone,” said Gold, still bouncing Henry. “You will give me a call when you get home?”

“Sure.”

“I mean as soon as you get home, not ten o’clock at night when I’ve already convinced myself you’re all dead in a ditch.”

“Dad...”

“Fine.” Gold transferred Henry to his other knee. “It’s been great to see you all. I’ll try to drive down to Boston in the next few weeks, if you like.”

“You’re always welcome, you know that.” Neal finished brushing up the broken glass. “Although sleeping on our couch can’t be good for your leg.”

“Well, I can always get a hotel for the night,” said Gold. “And you’re welcome to come here whenever you want to get out of the city. I don’t exactly have much company otherwise.”

“You sure about that?”

Emma’s voice from the doorway made him look around, and he felt his mouth fall open in horror. She was smirking at him, one hand raised and a very small pair of coral-coloured panties swinging from an outstretched finger.

“Where the hell did you get those?” asked Neal.

“Kitchen drawer,” said Emma, and raised an eyebrow at Gold. “I’m guessing they’re not yours, so how did they end up in your kitchen, hmm?”

Gold could feel his mouth opening and closing, and snapped it shut.

“Small…” Emma turned the panties this way and that. “Coral pink - nice colour by the way - and very, very - lacy.”

She was grinning at him, and he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

“I assure you there’s a perfectly innocent explanation,” he said.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear it,” chuckled Emma. “You gonna try to tell us you keep her underwear in the kitchen drawer because you secretly hate each other?”

“It was the cat,” said Gold lamely.

“Oh, come on…”

“I’m serious!” he insisted.

“That is the worst attempt at a lie I ever heard,” said Neal, grinning.

“It’s true!” Gold regretted not throwing the panties away when he had the chance. “I kept finding them in the lounge. Six pairs! And a bra!”

“And the cat put them there,” said Neal, in a flat voice. “Right...”

“I saw him do it!” insisted Gold.

“I could make the obvious joke about pussy,” said Emma, “but you’re my father-in-law and it’d be weird.”

“And yet you said it anyway.” Neal ran his hands over his face with a groan, and she chuckled.

“Sorry. Look, Pops, if she’s leaving her underwear in your kitchen she definitely likes you.”

“She hates me!” snapped Gold. “She bloody well threw a drink over me when I tried to give them back to her! Called me a pervert!”

“You two…” Emma shook her head. “Worst flirts in the entire world.”

“Calling someone a pervert is not flirting!”

“Would you just admit you like her?”

She tossed the panties to him, and Gold fumbled as he grabbed at them.

“Certainly not,” he said coolly. “And the feeling is extremely mutual.” 

“Fine,” sighed Emma. “Just - why don’t you try talking to her? Nice, normal conversation. Maybe buy her a coffee.”

“It’s not as though we have anything in common,” said Gold. “Thankfully she isn’t a tenant, and I doubt she has an interest in antiques. There’s no reason for our paths to cross.”

x

Lacey had decided that if she were ever to have the poor judgement to agree to another breakfast interview, she certainly wouldn’t conduct it in Granny’s Diner.

Sidney had suggested it, what with Granny’s being the beating heart of Storybrooke, and Zelena West wanting to emphasise her community spirit. Lacey had thought it was definitely worth a try. Who could hold back when faced with hot coffee and fresh muffins, after all?

Unfortunately, the diner was busy during the breakfast service, and while the noise meant that their conversation wouldn’t be difficult to overhear, it also meant that she had an audience of curious townsfolk watching her every move as she greeted her interviewee. Two men on the nearest table didn’t hide their interest; one of them she knew was called Leroy, who had a bristling black beard and a permanent scowl on his face. The other she didn’t know by name, but he was perhaps a little older than Leroy, with sleepy eyes and an easy, relaxed manner. The two always ate breakfast together, and she hadn’t worked out if they were colleagues or boyfriends. They certainly bickered enough that it could have gone either way.

Leroy took a bite of his breakfast muffin, watching as she stood up to greet Zelena West. The little she knew of the woman hadn’t impressed her, and meeting her properly did nothing to change that. Zelena looked her up and down when Lacey introduced herself, lip curling a little before she bared her teeth in a smile. Reddish curls fell around her shoulders beneath a wide-brimmed black hat that Lacey privately thought made her look like a witch.

“Are you Sidney’s office girl, or something?” she asked.

“No, I’m conducting the interview,” said Lacey. “We spoke on the phone, remember?”

“Yes, but I presumed you were - qualified.” Zelena appeared to be checking the length of her skirt. “How old are you, anyway? You look as though you should still be in school.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” said Lacey, trying not to let her smile turn into a grimace. “Mostly from horny scumbags with no brains and no class. I’m sure you’re not like that, right?”

Leroy appeared to choke on his muffin before coughing loudly. Zelena shot her a narrow-eyed look, and Lacey’s smile widened. 

“Why don’t you take a seat?” she suggested. “Coffee? How about a little something sweet? The banana-pecan muffins are great.”

“I never eat carbs in the morning,” said Zelena. “Just coffee will be fine. Black.”

Lacey nodded, and raised a hand to attract Ruby’s attention. She could already tell that this was going to be one of her more irritating interviewees.

Once they had their coffee, Lacey started with the questions. She made notes as Zelena talked about her difficult early life, her experience of the foster system and how that had made her determined to make life better for others. A few of the facts she dropped made Lacey’s nose twitch in interest, the sense of a story untold, a story that it would take more investigation to unearth. A topic for another day, perhaps.

“So what made you move to Storybrooke?” she asked. “Seems a weird choice. I mean as far as charity goes, I’m guessing the resources here are way more limited than they are in New York.”

“Perhaps,” said Zelena. “But there again the competition for the funds raised is far fiercer. At least in a small town, those that give so generously can see the benefits almost immediately.”

“I guess,” said Lacey, scribbling hard. “Pretty weird what happened with the nuns, though, huh? I heard there was some mix-up at Miners’ Day. Some inaccuracy in the total raised?”

“Oh, the nun put in charge of their stall was completely hopeless,” said Zelena, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “She was mistaken in her accounting, that’s all. I heard it’s not the first time.”

“Oh, so was that the same with the auction held this spring?” asked Lacey. “I spoke to a couple of people involved with that, and it’s weird. None of them seem to agree on the amount that went to the children’s ward.”

Zelena’s nostrils flared.

“I thought this interview was supposed to be about the dance I’ve organised, not past events,” she snapped. “The entire town is looking forward to it! I want this article to encourage as many people to attend as possible! Do charitable works count for nothing with you?”

“See, that’s the thing,” said Lacey, tapping her pencil against her notebook. “I heard you’ve done a number of fundraisers over the years since you got here. Bake sales, auctions, even some thing where you offered to go to dinner with the highest bidder, although it turned out you didn’t raise the sum you were hoping—”

“That was a misunderstanding,” said Zelena stiffly.

“—and out of all those events, there seems to be a common theme,” went on Lacey, “which is that the good causes you were raising money for don’t seem too clear on what share they were supposed to get of the proceeds. So what happened there?”

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“No,” said Lacey, twirling the pencil between her fingers. “Just asking questions. It’s what I do.”

“Well, stick to the questions I agreed with your editor,” snapped Zelena.

Lacey gave her a sweet smile, twirling the pencil between her fingers.

“I’m afraid Sidney didn’t tell me what those were,” she said. “So I’m having to wing it. Sorry about that.”

Over Zelena’s shoulder, she saw the diner door open and Mr Gold stepped through, taking a moment to remove the sunglasses he wore. He caught Lacey’s eye for a brief moment, and she felt her heart thump a little before looking away.

“I’m not about to sit here and listen to baseless accusations!” Zelena was glaring at her, pale blue eyes flashing. “Consider this interview over!”

She pushed to her feet, stepping back, and almost collided with Gold. He took a hasty step back from her, and Zelena’s face brightened as she showed white teeth in a wide, predatory grin. 

“Oh, Mr Gold,” she said, in honeyed tones. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Miss West,” he said neutrally. “Miss French. Please excuse me.”

He stepped to the side to go around her, and Zelena stepped with him, cutting off his path. Gold appeared to restrain himself from rolling his eyes with great difficulty.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she went on, in that sickly-sweet voice.

“My business hours are eight-thirty til six,” he said. “Please come to the shop if you need to make any representations regarding your rent.”

She gave a tinkling little laugh that made Lacey grimace.

“Oh, you’re so funny!” she said. “I always pay my debts.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.”

He bowed his head a little, a clear indication that, in his opinion, the conversation was over. He took a step to the left, and Zelena again moved with him. This time his eyes definitely rolled, his chin lifting a little and exposing his throat. Lacey found her eyes following the line of it, and hurriedly looked at the knot of his tie instead.

“It’s about the charity dance,” said Zelena. “It’s for a very good cause, the whole town is planning to be there, and yet I don’t seem to have had your response to my invitation.”

“Well, you just mentioned the words ‘dance’ and ‘the whole town’,” he said levelly. “Neither fills me with any great level of enthusiasm, I have to say. Excuse me.”

“But if you just let me explain—”

“Would you let the man get his coffee?” said Lacey impatiently. “We’re still wrapping up this interview, remember?”

Gold took the opportunity to slip past and head for the diner counter as Zelena rounded on her with a look of fury.

“You think I’m going to sit here and be accused of impropriety by a - a glorified intern?” she snapped. “I’ll be calling the paper today and insisting you be sacked!”

“Knock yourself out,” said Lacey, unconcerned. “I’ll just write up what I’ve got. This was going to be your opportunity to call bullshit on all the rumours that were flying around, but sure, I guess you could just read the piece when it’s out and let people make up their own minds.”

Zelena made a face like she was chewing a wasp. Out of the corner of her eye, Lacey noticed Gold glance over his shoulder with a tiny smirk on his face. Zelena bared her teeth.

“Five minutes,” she hissed. “And I’m still calling your editor.”

“Cool, whatever.” Lacey sat back down and gestured to the seat across from her. “So. Back to the dinner auction. Talk me through what happened.”

Zelena seemed to be struggling with something, but slowly lowered herself into the chair opposite, and Lacey gave her a wide smile. Perhaps she’d get to write something interesting after all.