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mioyeo · 2 years

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8 makes 1 Team

No matter how different, without one of us there is no 8 makes 1 Team

Synopsis : In which 8 boys build a friendship despise of their differences with the help of a psychiatrist

Pairing : psychiatrist! Reader x Ateez (for now )

Warnings : this chapter includes mentions of , ignorant staff , crying , sweet guard hours , grooming , influential parents, no consent , threatening , taking minors private parts in their mouths , sexual assault , arguing , please tell me if I forget something , and I’m not romanticizing disorders in anyway and this is pure fiction meaning this doesn’t represent Ateez in any type of way

For every new chapter I’ll place this (🟢) beside it in the masterlist so you guys know that the chapter is new and was posted recently

Tag list : @veneziamadness , @hcyaa , @sadcoffeecritic , @aapplepii , @lavishloving , @dogsongy , @acciocriativity , @k33vad3la , @seonghwifey , @hanjihyun23 , @yunhoswrld123 , @cqndiedcherries , @miriamxsworld , @belle643 , @pandyandy71-blog , @mothworked

I apologize for taking so long , I had a huge writer’s block so I couldn’t really continue writing for some days

Also if you want to be added to the tagging list for the next chapter comment so I can add you

Word count: 1,6k

It was a very quiet night that day as every guard was currently changing shifts , others just coming in and others going home so they could return to their morning shift

Y/n just had dinner with both groups at separate times and now walked into the break room

" You've been called to the office "

One of her colleagues that was currently in charge of ordering new things such as medical equipment and further more looked up to her informing Y/n about her being expected somewhere

" I guess he must have heard my complaints "

" Your wasting his time with things we can fix ourselves , we get it there was a minor issue last time with a patient bu- "

Y/n bursted out laughing starling the other staff that sat silently doing their work

" A minor issue? Do you call a patient wanting to end themselves a minor issue ? "

She wiped her eyes and collected herself

" You must not know what your duties are if your labeling such a live threatening situation a minor issue , and the fact that you where also at the scene but didn't do anything makes me uncomfortable looking at you "

" I'm not in charge of him but you"

" Ok if I ever see you having any complications I'll just stare at you and leave how about th-"

Everyone stared in shook as silent murmuring where heard

" Both of you stop being loud there are people trying to work here "

" Well I'll excuse myself , sorry for disturbing everyone else "

She bowed and went out sighing in annoyance before bumping into someone

" I-I'm sorry I didn't see you "

The male apologized quickly checking if she was alright

" It's alright , it's my fault I didn't see you "

" No no I should've looked where I was going "

He bowed again apologizing

" Aren't you the new guard in charge of Hongjoong? "

" Y-Yeah I am , I just changed shifts with a fellow friend that also works here "

" Are you going home now? "

" Yeah what about you? "

She smiled and straighten her work clothes

" I was about to meet my boss "

He hummed in knowledge scratching the back of his head

" I could walk you there since the exit is near "

" Sure I wouldn't mind company "

" How long have you been working here ? "

Both walked down the hall in silence only their footsteps being heard

" It's been over a month already "

" A so your still a fresh worker "

She nodded and looked ahead

" I feel like I've been longer here actually I don't know why but I bonded quickly with some of my patients "

" I know how you feel , I used to listen to my brother tell me stories of when he used to work here and these stories made me like his patients without even knowing them "

" These kids have something special in them they just need to be treated with care and be understood "

"I agree ,and it's exactly what my brother said "

She smiled softly looking at him

" You seem like someone they can trust based on your personality right now "

"I want to protect them just like my brown did"

" Your brother seems like your biggest role model "

" He is , we grew up alone and he was both parental roles that's why I really look up to him and want to follow his footsteps "

The elder looked at her before coming to an stop in front of the office "

" I guess this is your stop "

" Yeah it is , wait what is your name ? "

" I'm Seok-woo and I already know your name because of Hongjoong he can't stop talking about you and the activities you do with them "

He chuckled making her smile

" Well it was nice talking to you Seok-woo "

She waved before knocking on the door hearing a soft call for her to come in

" Ah Miss Y/n I've been waiting for you "

The man in his late sixties looked up from his paperwork gesturing for her to sit

" I must assume you heard of my complaints? "

" What complaints are we talking about ? "

She cleared her throat and adjusted herself on her seat

" I must inform you that the staff you've hired has been out off line and crossing several boundaries multiple times regarding not only my patients but other children here "

He hummed and leaned back on his arm chair

" When I started working here I came across the complaint that one of my patient has been sexually assaulted multiple times and forced to do multiple things out of his knowledge by one of the guards here and also physically assaulted for not acting they want them too "

" And who is that patient and guard? "

" It's my patient Park Seonghwa that was assaulted by Guard Lee "

She studied the man's face that seemed to stay calm despite being told this information

" Well I'll see what I can do about it "

He looked back at his paperwork

"He should be fired and sued for sexual assault it hasn't been one but many children in here "

The elder pressed on a button and spoke while looking at her

“ Please accompany Park Seonghwa to my office now , yes wake him up "

" Sir you need to do something about it "

" We'll discuss this with Seonghwa "

She sighed and waited patiently for the boy to arrive , it was making her nervous and something told her that this was going in a totally different direction

The door opened revealing the short blonde boy rubbing his eyes as he was woken up from his sleep

" Y/n your here "

The boy smiled and waddled towards her hugging her

" Sorry for waking you Seonghwa but would you answer some questions for me ? "

She looked at him and ressured him that it was ok so he could sit

" Miss Y/n here told me something about Guard Lee assaulting you is that true? "

The elder stared at the boy who's face dropped in horror

" Has Guard Lee been touching you without your consent ? "

He nodded and fiddled with his fingers

" What did he exactly do "

" H-He told me to take my pants off so he could look at my down there "

Seonghwa's hands found Y/n's who squeezed them slightly for encouragement

" Did he just look ? "

" H-He started doing weird things and told me that it was going to feel good "

" What do you exactly mean with he was performing weird things on you ? "

She rubbed his palm and reassured him to stop if he didn't want to continue

" He put it into his mouth and than did this until something weird came out "

The boy stiffened as he copied the stroking movements the elder performed on him

" What else did he do ? "

" H-He promised me legos after I do the same to him because he said that I should repay for his kindness "

Y/n felt sick to her stomach as she listened

" Did you allow him to touch you "

Seonghwa nodded

"B-But I didn't like it and told him to stop but he said that if I tell someone what happened he would kill me and depose my body in the woods where no one would find me "

The younger teared up trembling in fear

" How old are you Seonghwa ? "

" Sir this is a totally irrelevant question "

She looked in disbelief

" Seonghwa how old are you ? "

" I'm sixteen "

He replied sniffing

" With your age I don't consider this sexual assault anymore because that’s the legal age you can do sexual activities here in Korea "

" Excuse me ?! This is sexual assault and he groomed him prior to this "

She scoffed in anger

" How is this considered assault if he gave his consent Miss Y/n ? "

" He may have given his consent but he told the guard to stop but he continued without his consent on other occasions which means from that moment on its considered sexual assault "

“ He still gave his consent ”

“Because he was groomed, guard Lee formed a relationship with so when he was about to do this Seonghwa would be comfortable to say yes ”

" Do you know who his parents are ? His parents are very powerful people and if this comes to light it could get ugly "

He said calmly crossing his hands

" So you prefer to protect a disgusting child abuser because his parents are influential? "

" That's not what I said Miss Y/n , I'd need proof that Guard Lee touched him inappropriately before proceeding with this "

" His words are enough proof and the legos because this means that he literally purchased sex from Seonghwa in return for goods other kids as well we'd just need them to open up-"

" Miss Y/n this is not a normal hospital, these children practically live here be it long term or until they finish their treatment this is nothing like your past job "

" It's either you fire that man or he'll continue abusing your patients "

The elder sighed

" I'll see what I can do, I will have a word with Guard Lee you may go now "

Seonghwa looked at her and wiped his face even though they kept falling

" It's ok I'll make sure that he's gone ”

She bowed and left the office with Seonghwa holding onto her hand

“ Will he r-really be gone? ”

“ I promise you sweetheart that you’ll never see him again after I figure out how to get rid of him ”

“ I’m afraid he’s gonna hurt me ”

He teared up and shivered in fear

“ You don’t need to be afraid as long as I’m here , I’ll make sure he disappears from our lives completely ”

The boy nodded and hugged her tightly

“ I t-trust you ”

She teared up slightly and rubbed his back

“ I won’t disappoint you sunshine ”

#ateez #ateez angst #ateez atiny #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez imagines #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez yeosang #ateez wooyoung #ateez yunho #ateez x reader #angst with a happy ending

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a-dragons-journal · 5 months

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you always talk about blocking and moving on, but pretty much all your recent posts are getting annoyed at folks, wishing they wouldn’t do things, saying it’s annoying or why it’s bad

Sorry for the few days' delay on this. It did make me pause and sit back to think for a minute. But... I don't know.

a) When I first got this ask a couple days ago, I stopped and went back through the last couple of weeks or so on my blog, and I don't... honestly think this is true? I suppose there's been a handful of those recently, and the proportion is higher than usual when not counting reblogs where I didn't feel the need to add anything (because if you do count those, it's a much smaller fraction), but it's not "pretty much all" of them.

b) I don't actually talk about blocking and moving on all that much, because my feelings on it are a bit more nuanced than "the only way you should ever respond to disagreeing with someone on the internet is blocking and moving on." I've made one (1) recent post to that effect of "block and move on," and it was about a very specific situation where my main complaint was that people are starting to make the tags unusable due to "warnings" about a couple of trolls. Generally my feeling is that "block/ignore and move on" applies to 1) trolls who are so excessively trollish there's no chance of an actual discussion coming from interacting with them, and 2) arguments that are genuinely distressing you and/or that you can't handle having in a civil and constructive way. I enjoy debate. I enjoy discussing differing viewpoints. And I find all of the discussions and debates I get involved with to be either interesting or at least relatively important, or I wouldn't get involved in them. If I get genuinely upset or angry, I typically stop responding.

c) That being said: if I'm being real here, you have no idea how much I scroll past in the tags on a daily basis that drives me insane but that I don't deem worth my time or energy, LOL.

d) I'm not... really sure why you sent this? I'm not sure what your goal was here? If you were just trying to express concern, then thank you I guess, this did make me pause and think about whether this was something that did merit concern, but I've got it handled. If you're trying to tell me to stop engaging in community discourse, then... no, I shan't; it's important, interesting, and frankly enrichment for me. We get nowhere by being completely unwilling to discuss disagreements and differences in opinion about our community within our community.

#rani talks #asked and answered #anonymous

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warmsol · 4 months

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hey isa! Do you have some advice for a beginner who wants to start a story? I know it's a lot of work, finding the right cc, buildings everything, create sims etc. Do you have a favourite blog to browse for such cc for storytelling? Also I could use some advice what's important for taking pictures - what's the best crop solution for tumblr? What font and font size is the best to use? And hoooow do I write dialogue without adding too much and still keep it interesting? Sorry if this is a lot, but I really admire your work and loved to start a storytelling simblr again!

hii! i think it’s awesome you want to dive into storytelling. i’ll answer your questions under the cut 🫶🏼

1. as for finding cc, i’ve just accumulated a ton over the last few years, no specific blogs but rather just browsing on tumblr. you can always check if your favorite blogs have a cc finds account, many do! mine is @warmfinds which could be useful. but yeah when it comes to cc, i suggest really thinking about what you’ll need! like, say you have a scene coming up in the kitchen, gather some kitchen pieces that you can use for that scene. it might be more helpful to break up the search according to scene rather than trying to find things all at once for your story. (also suggest downloading telegram and joining dollhouse mafia.. or keeping up with the vault… cough)

2. for taking screenshots there are some guidelines you can loosely follow (highly suggest watching this video for a quick breakdown) here you’ll find the different types of shots you can include in your posts! considering this is sims, there are some limitations so just allow yourself to get creative with it.

for most of my story posts, i’ve stuck with 1280x720 resolution. but recently i’ve been playing around with sizing, so unless you’re focused on consistency don’t be afraid to try out different crop styles.

3. font! the font i use is arial. it’s straight forward, and easy to read. i’ve used this my entire storytelling journey and haven’t had a complaint. at the end of the day just remember that the font is probably the most important part! pick something easy and clear to read. also, switching colors when a character is talking is highly encouraged. if that’s not your style, at least add a name tag for easy following along.

4. sooo, when it comes to dialogue, it’s really something you learn as you go. i had a tendency to write very lengthy in the beginning, i wasn’t a seasoned story writer so i sucked at knowing what to cut and trim. my biggest advice is to write out everything. ramble. let it be a mess. get out everything you want your characters to say. it’ll be rough, and that’s fine. once you’ve sat on it, go back and edit it. keep what’s important, what moves the story! i spend a good amount of time editing scene dialogue until it feels right. one huuge thing that helps is reading out loud! if it flows well spoken it’ll feel more like a natural conversation. just don’t be too hard on yourself, we all start somewhere. it’s a muscle that needs to be exercised and you’ll find your rhythm as you practice. (like seriously compare my first posts to now and it’s night and day, and i still have room to improve)

lastly i just want to say pleeease have fun. don’t pressure and compare yourself. i’ve fallen down that trap many times and it literally stopped me from posting. but as long as you remember this is all a fun hobby, i think you’ll be okay.

i hope this was somewhat helpful ♥️ also once you start posting lmk! i wanna follow along heh

#ask #isa answers

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earthtooz · 2 years

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you know i love you so much but can you please update your masterlist and include all drabbles/fics that you have written. because you know, tumblr is dumb, i just went out the app and come back it refresh, by itself. im not hardworking to scroll back to the bottom.. so please if it’s not too much to ask for

ah T^T very much a valid complaint anon oops. i do forgot to update my masterlist when i post something new so apologies, i updated my blue lock masterlist (cuz that's all i write for nowadays it seems) with two rin fics + two sae drabbles! thank u for the reminder and i'm sorry for the trouble </3

that said tho, there will be exclusive small ficlets/drabbles that i will not add onto the masterlist because 1) i have no idea how to title them and 2) they're just little pieces of exclusive drabbles. they are under a specific tag: '*ੈ✩‧₊˚ earf's ideas that i'll never write' so. happy hunting. i didn't know if u were referring to one of these drabbles or a proper fic that i had posted recently!

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ earf's ideas that i'll never write #< this tag #earf's inbox hours ✌️

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mittensmorgul · 3 years

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For anyone interested in long-term residence in the supernatural fandom, please have some observations I’ve made over the decade I’ve been here. Take it or leave it as you will, but I’ve found all of this info useful over the years I’ve been here.

I wrote this yesterday, and it achieved its mission of identifying the sort of folks who would react negatively to it (i.e. a lot of block lists have been updated), so now that it’s been edited for content, it’s going under a cut (because that is how we do things on tumblr in general, unless we have a deliberate purpose for annoying readers with excessively long text posts) for the sake of people who actually do care about the fandom and its history. If that’s not you or your reason for being here, then keep on keeping on with your own thing, I guess. For those who are interested, there’s a lot of fandom resources some of us have been building for years that you might enjoy knowing about.

First off, I’ve been informed by a few friends who’ve read through this for coherency’s sake that it sort of reads like a *shakes cane from porch* fandom grandma complaint, but honestly... I earned this rocking chair and goshdangit imma rock now. So apologies for any “back in my day” vibes or faint aroma of tiger balm this post might give off. Then again, it’s loosely based on a similar post from 2012 so like... time is a flat circle anyway I guess.

1. There is no such thing as “tumblr famous,” unless you’re referring to the hilarious and delightful fic of the same name (please go read it, you will cackle). Posting Hot Takes for imaginary Clout™ on this site is kind of pointless in the long run. Sure you can post solely for the sake of stirring shit and getting notes, but the majority of the folks who do aren’t long term residents of the fandom. They’re just tourists moving through our little beach town for spring break. If you’re actually intent on moving to this corner of the fandom for an extended stay, please bother to really feel out the permanent residents and understand the culture and general mood of the neighborhood. It bears no resemblance to whatever’s going on across town where all the bars and beach parities are happening, and those loud, drunken revelers are, again, gonna disappear back to their regular lives or on to the next party eventually. That doesn’t mean the fandom is dying, it’s just evolving.

(funny how I had several comments implying that I’m just trying to keep the fandom from evolving with this post, because I sincerely do want the fandom to continue on for years to come, and that is impossible without evolution. We can evolve without self-immolating, though. mostly i included point 1 for an excuse to push ancient but hilarious fanfic on you.)

2. Once you post something here, it’s been unleashed to the fandom winds. You never know where it will end up, or who will comment on it or add to it. Remember that time Misha tweeted the link to the Epic Cockles Love Story post? No? It was wild. That was 2012. They all know we’re here, and how to find us if they want to. Please don’t take it to their doorsteps.

Obviously if someone is being a dick on your posts, please feel free to block them, but the whole entire point of this site is to engage people with your posts. Being big mad that someone reblogged your post with comments or supporting evidence, or happy headcanons or “HECK THIS IS GREAT BECAUSE (insert personal story about their experience or whatever else made them Feel Things about your post)” is frankly ridiculous. If your goal is to avoid any sort of engagement with your posts, then maybe try instagram instead. From what I understand, there is a SPN fandom presence there, and nobody can tarnish your original posts with unwanted commentary. But the ability to reblog with additional commentary is a FEATURE of tumblr that builds community through conversation. Otherwise we’re all just talking to ourselves in a vacuum, and that’s what actually kills fandoms.

(and for the folks who just want to blog how they want to blog and don’t want people to engage on their posts at all, please feel free to block anyone you want, as well... nobody wants to step on your toes, but most of us also don’t want to walk on eggshells wondering if this post is one of the “do not add comments for any reason” sorts of posts, either. This is a huge fandom and most people can’t even begin to keep track of every creator and their url du jour, and what their personal rules might be regarding interaction with their content. Including a “please don’t add comments” note at the bottom of your posts-- and not in your tags that won’t even show up on reblogs, but in the actual body of the post-- would sincerely help avoid any awkward or unwanted interactions, too. At the end of the day, you are in control of your own fandom experience and the block button exists.

For the record, I block zero fandom blogs (which is why I posted this, I wanted it to reach a wide scope... refer to the opening paragraphs as to why).

3. Since this post was partly inspired by a tag I left on that post going around about how “previous tags” mean fuckall on this site (which you can read here), just a reminder that if you like someone’s tags or feel they add value to the post, part of the Peer Review structure of tumblr encourages you to PASTE THEM INTO A REBLOG. If you do this, then at least credit the person who actually wrote the tags! Don’t just copy someone else’s tags into your tags on your reblog of the post without credit either. They were not YOUR tags. (I have had this happen to tag rambles I wrote and someone else got credited with them on a subsequent reblog and it is FRUSTRATING). Just... don’t even bother to write “previous tags” because WHAT PREVIOUS TAGS?! Nobody is gonna bother to chase back the chain of reblogs trying to find where the mystery tags came from, friendos. That way lies madness.

(for the record, since some folks seemed to focus on this point solely, writing “previous tags” on a post isn’t inherently a BAD thing, but for anyone who actually is here for more than one-off shitposting, then it’s sort of a pointless thing in the long run. This wasn’t intended to suggest people who ARE here for one-off shitposting are bad or “doing it wrong,” but for people who might actually want to preserve that hilarious joke or insightful comment. People delete posts and entire blogs all the time around here. Links break. I get that the upcoming generation just shrugs at that and moves on with their lives, but heck... you don’t have to accept that all entertainment is disposable if you don’t want to. There’s a bizarre sort of nihilism plaguing us all about the impermanence of pretty much everything that feels like something we should be fighting against rather than buying into wholesale, even in our escapist entertainment. I’m just exhausted by the complete loss of joy in community.

*shouts from the peanut gallery* IT AIN’T THAT DEEP, JUST GET SOME FRESH AIR AND LOOK AT A PUPPY OR SOMETHING

Yes... yes it isn’t really that deep, but bigger picture in the state of reality we’re all entirely disillusioned with, are we supposed to just give up on everything, including the things we cling to because they bring us a tiny spark of hope that we’re not all just trapped in this dystopian nightmare and things might actually be worth living for?

*peanut gallery clinging to burnt husks of peanuts in a barren peanut field* but this is how we have chosen to cope

Okay... you do you... I feel bad for you but if that’s the case then this post is NOT FOR YOU. AND THAT’S FINE. I honestly do not care if you don’t care! I mean, I’m sorry anyone has to live in a world that drives them to that mindset, but I understand. This post is for anyone who might look at their lives and their choices and think “no wait, I unironically enjoy this and want more from the experience of that enjoyment than I’m currently feeling.” Everyone else can continue with their lives as usual.)

4. CONTENT THEFT IS NEVER OKAY. PERIOD. Things like “credit to the artist” or tagging gifs or images you found on pinterest as “not mine” isn’t actually credit. If you can’t source an image or gif set, DO NOT POST IT! We don’t REPOST (i.e. save an image and then create a new post with it as if it was our own creation). We REBLOG (click the little square arrows and reblog from the actual creator). That goes for gif sets, fanvids, screencaps, meta, fic... everything.

(hopefully everyone here already understands this one, but I felt compelled to include some “these are stupidly obvious” reminders anyway, since this is ostensibly some sort of advice column. This is the equivalent of the warning label on your toaster reminding you not to use it in the bath. Like... duh...)

5. Close kin of item 4 is SOURCE YOUR SHIT.

(for 100% disclosure purposes, I specifically discussed this one in this specific way because of an influx of anon ask messages I received in the wake of the finale. Literally the inciting incident for creating this entire post was what I can only assume was a joking ask about a comment Misha made at a con years ago. Someone actually bothered to take the time to type out those sentences to me. I have no idea what they were expecting in reply, or what could possibly motivate them to send this comment about something so entirely random from, again, several years ago. Just a joke? No idea, but whatever... it got me thinking that there might actually be people who are new to the fandom who MIGHT actually care about the fandom history, and maybe they just don’t know where to go for that info, or how to even begin searching through 16 years of history for things they might actually find enjoyment in, rather than just hauling random out of context garbage out on main and pointing and laughing about it now. People are actually allowed to care about things. It’s not cringeworthy to actually care about things, and you are not alone in actually caring, and there’s this whole big room over here full of people who are thrilled to share in that with you. This post is intended FOR THOSE PEOPLE SPECIFICALLY, so if that is not you, please just continue walking by.)

Yes, I know lots of y’all are new around here right now, but dredging up stuff from years ago that fandom has completely debunked and presenting it as TRU FAX again is just exhausting. We’re not trying to be party poopers, but seriously, we have seen it all and are mostly done with extinguishing bags of flaming dog poop on our front porches for the umpteenth year in a row. I’ve seen a lot of posts that have the same tone as “I saw Goody Proctor dancing with the devil” or “I heard kylo ren has an eight pack” and just... the information is there for anyone who cares enough to find it.

This goes double for “why is nobody talking about this thing I just discovered while watching the show for the first time?!” And, oh hon, we have talked it all into the ground over the last fifteen years. We’re happy you’re discovering it again, but I promise we talked about it plenty when the episodes originally aired. We have such a rich meta history that lots of us have worked really hard to preserve. I encourage you to seek it out, if nothing else than as historical artifacts. The way we have discussed the show has been a 16-year evolution. People have written literal doctoral dissertations on this show. Your shitposts are fun! We love reliving our own experience through fresh eyes, and seeing your wonder at experiencing it all again for the first time! But y’all didn’t invent this fandom in the last six months, either.

Meta Sources and Minerals provided by our friendly neighborhood fandom archivist, @lets-steal-an-archive

Academic books and articles about SPN

A collection of Meta Essays going back to s1 and organized by topic (all of this has happened before, all of it will happen again)

SPN Heavy Meta Archive (s1-3)

Mel’s Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-12)

Oranges8hands Dreamwidth archive of meta (s1-15, with many similar entries to Mel’s... though ymmv on viewpoint in a lot of these too)

Anyone remember Fandom Wank? Not the concept but the actual LJ... No? Okay have a link to SPN topics that ended up there. Through 2013. We have seen so much... including several fandom containment breaches.

for all your art sourcing needs, please see @theroadsofararchive, the repository for so much fandom art.

need to find a gif of something? canonspngifs is a vast repository of gifsets of the entire series. If the gif you want to use in your post happens to be the first gif in the gifset, in the tumblr gif finder thingy just paste the permalink to that post from canonspngifs (which is easily searchable by episode, character, location, situation, quotes, and sometimes even color and clothing items the actors are wearing... it’s really well organized, especially for tumblr >.>) and the first gif will be automatically linked with credit to the gif creator attached. It makes life easy that way. It’s also convenient when trying to remember something specific but can’t remember what episode it’s from. I’ve used the site to jog my memory before going to the superwiki armed with more specific search results to find episode quotes and references. Or sometimes I just scroll through all the nice gifs for fun, too.

Need a screencap of something and know exactly which episode it’s from? Try Home of the Nutty. You might not find the exact screencap you’re looking for, but they have a complete set of caps of every episode, and it’s an incredibly useful resource for quick reference checks and the like. Just give pages a chance to fully load before clicking on the next one. The site is easily overloaded, but it’s still free to use (and again, with credit... Pretty much every screencap on my entire blog is from HotN unless otherwise credited).

As you can see, this is a fandom built on preserving our history. You absolutely are not required to engage with any of this if that’s not of interest to you, but I can only assume that there are people who would be interested in it if only they knew it existed and how to find it. Well, now they do.

6. A few more notes on tags, and how they work on tumblr. The first 20 tags on your ORIGINAL posts are searchable sitewide, so if you want to be able to find something again, tag that thing first before going on general tag rambles. The only place tags on reblogs are searchable is on your own blog. So you don’t have to put 50 tags trying to get a post seen if it’s a reblog. You’re just spitting into the wind at that point. If you have a filing system for finding things again, then by all means add those tags (again, in the first 20, so they’re searchable), but you don’t need to tag a reblog “destiel” and “deancas” and “dean” and “cas” and “dean x cas” or whatever. Pick one for your personal blog’s filing system, that’s all you need.

(this was only added because tagging and searching on this site is so very broken... I get that a lot of folks don’t care about ever searching their own blogs again for anything, so this one only really applies if you do often find yourself trying to find old posts. If not, then it’s not really relevant. It took me years to work out a decent tagging system, and at the beginning of my time here I never thought I’d end up camping out here for a decade and falling this deep into the fandom, and I regretted my lack of consistent tags only years later when I realized I actually wanted to be able to go back and find specific old posts again. So... for anyone who wants to err on the side of caution, working out a sensible tagging system really helps if you’re here for the long term. I personally tag content by episode, because some of my other general tags are so large as to be practically useless as a search term. But whatever system you choose to file stuff on your own blog, it really only has to make sense to you. And again, if this is pointless advice for someone who has no intention of settling here for the long term. Please feel free to ignore it. I just wish someone had explained it this way to me ten years ago and saved me the hassle of retroactively tagging something like 30k posts... especially now that using the mass tag replacer is the fastest way to get your entire blog deleted... oops? so yeah, don’t use the mass tag replacer either >.>)

7. Tags on Tumblr DO NOT WORK LIKE TAGS ON TWITTER. If you @ someone in the body of the post, it will show up in their notifications (if they’re the sort of person who even checks their notifications... not all of us do. For the record, I generally don’t...), but putting actor or ship names in the tags on a tumblr post does absolutely nothing. It’s not the same as tagging the actor’s twitter account in a tweet. Nobody’s getting notifications about you tagging a post about Jensen here as “Jensen Ackles.” There is a difference. Please learn it. (and don’t take headcanons and ESPECIALLY RPF or otherwise explicit art or fic from tumblr to twitter and tag the actors in it. That’s just... not okay.)

(I have seen the pearl clutchers getting all in a huff about the mere existence of RPF or even explicit content of fictional characters if it doesn’t meet their purity standards, but tagging those things allows people who don’t want to see it to actively avoid that content here. Nobody has a right to tell people their fictional content shouldn’t exist at all, or that creators of that fictional content somehow deserve harassment or threats for having dared to create such “immoral” content, won’t somebody PLEASE think of the children... and no... you do not do that here. Don’t be the problematic behavior you wish to ban from the world. Learn to use tags to protect yourself from, as i have attempted to emphasize here, fictional content you are personally upset by. That’s a you problem, not a problem for the creators of potentially upsetting content that they tag appropriately for.)

8. General formatting stuff: If you’re writing long text posts, visually break them up so people aren’t faced with one long wall of text. The enter key is your friend. Also, if you put long text posts under a Read More break and send people to your blog to finish reading, please ensure that your blog is actually visually accessible (tiny text, or light grey text on a dark grey background, or a visually busy background might be aesthetically pleasing to you but nobody can actually read it. Loads of folks won’t even try. Which is great if you don’t actually care whether people are able to appreciate your content or not, but something to at least consider if you *do* actively want to encourage engagement with your work. Confirm how your blog looks on both mobile and desktop and make sure it’s actually functional in both, too).

And since I mentioned that most of my experience on fandom tumblr has been in the SPN fandom, here’s a bit of a reminder for folks who are new around here. With the reminder that I have been here more than a decade and still feel like a newbie myself sometimes...

This is an OLD FANDOM. There are many, many people who have been at this longer than some of you have been alive. The average age for creators in this fandom is older than you think (I think of my friends in their 30′s as young’ins okay? okay). With that understood, you are responsible for the content you consume and are exposed to. Curate your experience. Ship and let ship. YKINMKATOK. Don’t deliberately expose yourself to content you find upsetting for whatever reason. Tags and warnings are your friends, not targets for you to attack in some sort of purity war. People will ship things you do not like (or in specific ways you do not like), will say things you do not agree with, and will find their happiness in things you abhor. That is not your concern. Find what you do like, and support and engage with it, and ignore (or block, or unfollow) the rest. Tumblr has a feature that lets you blacklist tags so the content you’re trying to avoid won’t appear on your dash.

Remember the paradox of tolerance.

It is not your job in fandom to police how other people enjoy the fandom. It’s not *my* job to police how *you* enjoy the fandom, UNLESS your enjoyment is in actively harming other real human beings in the fandom. If you don’t like their take on the character or the show or the plotlines or their ships or anything else, you don’t need to engage with their posts at all! The necessary corollary to this is that clarifying misunderstandings or correcting factual misinformation is not “policing.”

(this is where the peanut gallery reminds me it ain’t that deep, and I plead with them to put down the social media and find just one (1) thing to actually believe in in this godforsaken life, find something other than disdain and cynicism and spite to live for. If those things motivate you to find a larger cause for yourself, then great, use them to your advantage, but use them to find something that makes you a better person or brings you a modicum of joy and connection to your fellow human beings despite living in a dystopian hellscape of a world)

I have seen a lot of posts lately that are founded on the sort of authority that comes with “I watched through tumblr for a few months and then watched the last three episodes of the series” and as such are just... missing the larger context of the entire show, and are unfounded entirely in canon. I 100% appreciate the new enthusiasm for the fandom that we’ve been living in here for years, and it’s wonderful to see new people enjoying the thing we love. Your headcanons are valid, you are valid, but recognize that your headcanons aren’t canon. All of us finale denialists have accepted this in some measure, so we feel you. We truly, truly feel you. But regarding actual canon, we have a resource for that: the Superwiki. Learn it, live it, love it, as Metatron would say.

(which you could discover he said in 10.17 Inside Man, thanks to the superwiki! accept no substitutes!)

(and again, there have been people who have been involved in fandom for years who haven’t engaged with canon in years, either! You can play in this universe however you choose, BUT FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT CANON AT ALL, WHICH I AM AGAIN POINTEDLY SAYING MIGHT NOT BE YOU, READER, AND I’M NOT SUGGESTING YOU ARE WRONG FOR NOT WANTING TO ACTUALLY ENGAGE WITH CANON, but if you DO want to engage with canon, please have some useful resources. Why do people feel personally attacked by being presented a list of helpful resources? Absolutely baffling.)

(also: words have definitions. “Canon” is a specific thing, meaning in this case “the finished media product that aired on television.” Anything beyond those limits is secondary canon (think: john’s journal, which is not canon but canon adjacent at best...), word of god (i.e stuff said by the writers and showrunners), or headcanon (which includes actor commentary-- they may have helped create the show with their acting choices and whatever, but they are not in control of the story overall). If there’s something you dislike about actual canon, you can reject it and supplement it with your own theories or preferred outcomes-- that’s basically what fanfic is-- but that doesn’t make your theories canon (much to all our dismay, that’s just not how any of this works. This is not to invalidate how anyone engages with the show or the fandom, just trying to clarify what seems to have been a source of unintentional misunderstandings. Your theories do not have to be “canon” to be legitimate interpretations.)

***I am setting this section apart, and did make a separate post of just this following information, because this is where we go from being relatively chill about different parts of fandom choosing to interact in different ways and you do you and blog however you want, to “hey can everybody please understand that the way you are interacting with this specific material might be harmful for specific legal reasons, and stating that you do not care about the consequences of your actions does actively make you the asshole here...” Okay, now that we have that understood:

The spnscripthunt collective has been steadily acquiring new scripts (which are posted in full on the superwiki for everyone to enjoy, for free). The language around how some folks are talking about these scripts is... concerning. For very real legal reasons, actually, and not because we’re feeling precious about the collection and don’t wike it when meanies use them in shitposts.

-First off, these scripts are not “leaks.” They are all verified and legally purchased (or gifted, in some cases, but still acquired entirely above board. we didn’t whack anyone over the head in a back alley for these scripts, or swipe them out of someone’s trailer on set).

(in case anyone was unaware, these scripts are the copywritten protected property of Warner Brothers. So yes, how we use them and share them with the fandom could have legal repercussions. We present them as a collected resource of fandom history which SHOULD fall under Fair Use doctrine, but this is untested legal water. Insinuating that the scripts are somehow not entirely legally obtained, or that posting them for public access involved less than 100% transparent and entirely legal transactions is incredibly concerning.

Once again for the peanut gallery, if you don’t care about any of that and are just having a good time with it, at least be mindful of the work and expense a large group of people have gone through to acquire and present the content you’re all too eager to exploit for cheap thrills. Some of us do actually care and are not exactly comfortable with the fact that others don’t seem to care about burning it all to the ground. We can’t force you to listen or behave as we’d hope you might, but at least be aware of the potential consequences of your actions. All we’re asking is for you to not be the douchebag who sets the whole neighborhood on fire with your illegal fireworks display. Is that too much to ask for? more on that in a second, first... a psa)

-If you see a script for sale and are unsure if it’s legit (or believe it might already be freely available in our collection), please feel free to ask us for advice. Our goal is to make as much of our fandom history available to the entire fandom, and we absolutely do not want anyone shelling out money for stuff you can already find for free.

(seriously, we’ve seen a bunch of resellers cropping up selling printed versions of the scripts we bought and uploaded for everyone to enjoy free of charge, or scripts that are otherwise of dubious origin. We’ve been at this for years now and know what’s actually out there. We don’t want anyone to fall for a scam if we can help it)

-Also, the usual reminder that the scripts we acquire ARE NOT NECESSARILY THE FINAL SHOOTING DRAFTS. In fact, the majority of scripts in our collection are NOT. Changes are made daily to scripts, even during filming. Comparing a Production Draft (white pages, effectively the first “final draft” of what usually becomes a series of drafts before filming wraps) to a much later revision (say... green or goldenrod revisions, several of which we DO have in our collection for comparison) and how those earlier drafts often differ wildly from the aired version versus how similar a much later green draft is to the aired version, for example, can teach you a lot about the television writing process. The link above to the superwiki scripts page has a nice little explainer about how this process works.

Differences between our posted scripts (many of which are white drafts, aka FIRST complete drafts, which will likely go through multiple rounds of revisions before filming even begins) and the aired version of the show are not all “acting choices” or a director or editor just cutting whole scenes on a whim. It’s insulting to everyone involved in production to suggest that’s the case.

(and yeah, fine... whatever, make any sort of posts you like regarding how those changes came about, but at the very least understand that it’s not actually the truth about how any of this works. Don’t care that that’s not the truth and want to make the posts anyway because shitposting is fun and that’s the extent of your sense of humor? FINE! You’re entitled to do that! But at least you DO know the truth now, and hopefully so do the people who engage with your posts. Deliberate ignorance isn’t cute, smooth lions notwithstanding)

There’s probably a whole other post to be made on fandom tagging etiquette, but again I don’t really use the tags enough to know what’s going on with that whole situation. I’ve also probably left a lot of stuff out, so please feel free to add things I’ve overlooked.

Thanks also to @trisscar368 and @thayerkerbasy for help compiling this, too. They were kind enough to escort me through the park to feed these pigeons. Now I need to take them out for ice cream. :’D

So I guess welcome to the neighborhood. Make yourself at home, but like... try not to trash the place while you’re here. Some of us live here by choice, lol.

#this blue hellsite (affectionate)#fandom problems #kinda wish i'd made this post six months ago but here we are i guess lol #long post #now edited for the people who are actually personally invested in the fandom #thanks for participating in this little experiment and I hope this version is actually informative to those who are interested #meaning there's a lot more links to stuff and explainers and whatnot...#and one last reminder that for folks just swinging through for laughs absolutely none of this applies to you #if you are legit interested in fandom history and preservation as we move to the post-canon world then hopefully this is useful to you

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chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

"Bye, for now, puddles."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 6,220

warnings: a little angst, missing a meal, death of a parent, i believe that is all.

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story, click here

a/n: hi hi! I'm so excited to finally get this chapter to you guys. I'm sorry this literally took a month. i was taking two writing-intensive courses this summer and i was just burnt out. i hope you enjoy it!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

A grunt escapes you; your contorted body weighs down the top of your suitcase as your damp fingers slip off the metal zipper. The unforgivingly humid weather provokes the heat of your efforts, adding to your discomfort. There’s urgency in your fingers, your frustration growing at each failed attempt to close your suitcase.

“Y/n! Hurry up!” Atticus shouts from outside of the Hermes cabin. As the zipper slips out of your grasp once again, you throw your head back in annoyance, hand coming up to push away wisps of hair that fall on your face. A familiar chuckle comes from the corner of the room, grabbing your attention from the wooden ceiling. Connor sits on the side of his bed; his comic book forgotten beside him as you fussing over your suitcase seems to be more interesting to him.

“It’s not funny,” you grumble, sitting onto your heels.

Connor rises from his bed, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk. He kneels by your suitcase, “It’s kinda funny.”

The corners of your mouth almost curve up, but you stop yourself, opting for a roll of your eyes instead.

“What the hades do you have in here?” The tips of his fingers turn white as he pulls on the little piece of metal. You shift your weight to the corner he works on, but it helps him as much as it helped you earlier.

“My brother’s left a bunch of books behind, so Lou Ellen and I split them up. She’s taking half, and I take the rest. We’ll study them and then exchange notes.” A hum of acknowledgment comes from Connor’s lips as he inches the suitcase closed.

“You guys are a bunch of nerds.” You squint at the other with a playful offense, and he laughs at your hardened features. “I bet you guys study more than the Athena Kids,” he teases.

“There’s a lot to learn,” you say simply, watching as he brings the zipper to the end. He leans back on his heels, and you move to take in the half-empty cabin.

The sight of the Hermes cabin being this tidy was foreign. There aren’t any sleeping bags on the floor; the belongings of your many cabin mates didn’t clutter the walls or the corners of the room as they usually do. It’s funny. There are always complaints of the cabin being too small, but it appears bigger without the mess.

“Will you and Atticus visit throughout the year?” Connor’s expression is hopeful. As the last day of camp approached, Connor’s wishes of a full cabin all year round became more apparent. The shift from a max-capacity cabin to a half-empty one must be a tough transition for social people like Stoll Brothers. If it were you, you’d be counting down the days of everyone’s departure.

You ruffle his brown locks, “we’ll probably stop by for, maybe, spring break?” Connor’s hopefulness begins to sag, and you frown. Spring break is pretty far from now, huh? “Depending on how mortal life treats us. You know, we might be back soon,” you add on quickly, hoping to lift his smile.

Though you wish to go home, you’re dreading all the supernatural activity you’ll have to deal with once you leave. Your father works tirelessly to protect the house, but entities always manage to get in. And if they can’t, they don’t mind hanging outside.

The hopefulness that faded from Connor’s face restores, and he gives you that famous mischievous smirk. “Well, I hope the ghosts bother you guys enough to come to visit early.” His tone is playful, but you can tell he meant some of his words. You laugh hesitantly and nod, rising from your suitcase.

“I’m glad you’re that eager to see us again.”

You thank him as he leans down, lifting the heavy suitcase from the ground for you.

“Y/n!”

“I’m coming!” You tug on the handle, glancing at Connor. “The year will go by fast, and soon this cabin will be bursting at the nails with new unclaimed people. Atticus, Lou, and I included. Anyways, you have your brother. You guys will find something to entertain yourselves.” You nudge him as you make your way outside.

“Yeah, you’re right. You will write to me, yeah?” Connor asks.

“Of course. I’ll send you snacks that you can’t buy at the gas station.” Connor’s arm pumps back to his side, hand in a fist as he hisses a “yes.”

The corners up your mouth hesitantly pull up as you push open the cabin door, finding Atticus and Travis talking on the porch. For the past week, the anticipation of your departure was killing you, but now that it was time to leave, you feel gloomy.

You knew the cause of your heavy heart was the uneasy tone of your going. Living day by day with the intention of moving on was hard. Because every time you look at their newly occupied beds, the sinking feeling in your chest returns. Every time you find yourself wandering in the forest, the memories of your often chaotic magic lessons flood your mind. You remember when Alice misaimed her wind spell, shooting Alabaster far into the trees. While you all rushed to check on him, Alice burst into tears because she was convinced she killed him only to approach a laughing Alabaster who shouted, “Right on!”

Every time you were in the Arts and Crafts center, you remember how you, Sage, and Lou would do Tarot Readings for the campers and how you would argue with the Apollo kids when they insisted your tarot cards are as honest as fortune cookies.

At the armory, you remember how Ambrose ran into James so hard, he stumbled and knocked down half of the shelves of weapons.

In the courtyard, you remember how Ernest, horrified by heights, produced the highest pitch scream he possibly could as he rode a pegasus for the first time under the persuasion of Alabaster.

All these memories, whether hilarious like your spell mishaps or bittersweet like when you and your sibling’s group hugged around Sage when she cried about her abusive stepmother, held a special place in your heart. Because the times where you laughed and cried together reminded you of the genuine bond, the family that was ripped away from you overnight.

“We'll see you guys soon. We should go. Argus will leave without us," Atticus says, relieved that Argus is still waiting for you on top of Half-Blood Hill.

“Have a safe trip, guys,” Travis says, patting Atticus’s shoulder before reaching out his arm and giving you a short side hug. You grab your things, hastily saying a final goodbye, and soon, you and Atticus are trudging up the hill.

Your free hand pats the pocket of your shorts, calming your worry of forgetting the necklace at the cabin. What rests in your pocket is a raw tourmaline crystal, now smooth with the help of Beckendorf, encased in a silver spiral cage.

You and Atticus carry protection crystals all the time, and they help with staying out of the radar of monsters and entities. After hearing Percy’s many stories of monsters bothering him, you figured he couldn’t be too cautious. Then after finding a spell in Alabaster’s many books that can dim down a demigod scent for a while, you decided to make him an enchanted necklace to wear.

You pack into the truck with Atticus right on time. Atticus sits in front of you, chatting away with Cecil as you make yourself comfortable in the back row with Ambrose. You frown; among the three other campers in the van with you, Percy isn’t one of them. Argus peeks into the back, doing a rough headcount. Great, now you’ll have to wait until next summer to give it to him.

Right, when you were going to chastise yourself for not giving him the necklace yesterday when you were done with it, a distant voice shouts, "wait!"

Argus halts in the middle of closing the sliding down and turns around. He shakes his head with disapproval while opening the door all the way, revealing out of breath Percy.

A smile widens across your face as he gets into the back seat with you, and you nudge Atticus’s seat.

"See, I told you we wouldn't be the last ones here.” You side-eye Percy, seeing the corners of his mouth pull up in amusement.

“Some people just don’t know how to get to places on time, huh?” Atticus says, and his eyes flicker to Percy before giving you a wide grin.

“Didn’t sleep in today, firefly?” There is a playfulness in Percy’s voice, and you smile proudly,

“Nope, not today.”

“It’s a miracle,” Percy mutters, loud enough for you to hear, and you scoff. Atticus snickers and nods in agreement.

“We were supposed to gang up on him, not you two on me.” You stick your tongue out at Atticus, and he returns the action.

“It’s more fun making fun of you,” Atticus teases.

“Rude,” you mumble with a slight smile on your face. The two boys chuckle, Atticus turning more into his seat to tell Percy something about a new Marvel movie. Excited voices fill the van as the other boys join in the conversation, and soon they are debating if Batman is really a superhero or just a rich guy in a suit.

You had to admit, as the conversation became more passionate, you were pretty entertained, but as you catch sight of Camp Half-Blood growing farther in the distance, you’re reminded of the ache in your chest. It’s only a temporary leave, but when you return, things will never be the same, and the false hope of your siblings returning has been proven to be foolish.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

Following a ghost dog while weaving through the hustle and bustle of Grand Central is almost impossible. Atticus’s hand is latched to the straps of your bookbag as you move through people, trying not to roll your eyes at the way Ambrose turns to bark as if he was reprimanding you for being too slow. Easy for him to say when he can walk through walls and people.

“Track 28,” Atticus reminds you as your eyes find the number written on the tan bricks of the high walls. You make a sharp left towards the entrance of another hallway, ignoring the groans of a grouchy bystander that you may have cut off. The next hallway you enter is a lot less crowded than the main floor, and you slow down your pace.

“Where do you guys live again?” Percy asks as he jogs up beside you. He had insisted on walking you guys since his train departs in the same station.

“Sleepy Hollow.” Percy scrunches his face as if he recalls something, and you smile, waiting for the question everyone asks when you say you live there.

“Have you seen the headless horsemen?” Percy asks, half-joking. A snort leaves your throat, and you look at Atticus, who’s equally amused.

“Oh yeah, plenty of times.”

“Really?” Percy asks, his eyes wide with surprise, and you laugh.

“No.” Your response makes his face drop comedically fast, and Atticus bursts into laughter. “It’s just a story, but there’s a lot of history there, so the place is crawling with ghosts. We’ve met the guy who wrote the story, though,” you mention.

“No way,” Percy squints his eyes in disbelief.

“I’m serious! Atticus and I take walks in the cemetery sometimes. We leave drachmas on the graves of newly passed people, so their venture into the underworld is smooth, but some people like to wander.” You shrug. “Washington Irving is one of those people.”

“Cool,” Percy says with such enthusiasm that it makes you smile. Ambrose turns around and barks again, standing at the golden entrance that leads to the grey tunnel lit with fluorescent white lights where your train waits beside the concrete platform.

“He always rushes us,” Atticus complains, and Harvey lets out a coo that sounded close to a groan as if he agreed with him.

The marble floors turn to concrete as you enter the tunnel. The blue and silver train on your left hums as it sits dormant in its station. Ambrose trots ahead, peaking into the doors and windows to find an empty cart to occupy.

As you follow a few feet behind him, your fingers fiddle with the necklace resting in your pocket. You’re regretting not giving it to Percy earlier because, for some reason, the idea of giving it to him now was more intimidating than if you had done it earlier on the bus.

Ambrose decides on a cart, and Harvey jumps off Atticus’s shoulder, squealing happily as he follows the hound while completely ignoring a worried Atticus trailing close behind.

"I, uh, made this for you," you sputter, the words coming out fast like vomit. Your fingers pull out the crystal necklace abruptly, and you put it in the palm of his hand. "It's black tourmaline. It has protective qualities; good at keeping negative energy, negative auras, things like that. I put a spell on it to dim down your demigod scent for a while, so you catch a little bit of a break. It'll last for a few weeks, maybe a month or two if the spell caught on well."

You bite your lip as Percy studies the necklace resting in his hand. "Wow, really? Thank you, Y/n. This is great.”

Nervous, you shift on your feet under his bright, smiling orbs. "It's no problem. After everything that happened at camp, I think it’ll be good for you to have one.”

Percy nods, his features softening all of a sudden, and he shifts. “Thanks for protecting me,” he says, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. “Getting rid of that thing became more than you expected. I felt bad that I couldn’t help. Swords aren’t really useful when it comes to demons, huh?”

A small laugh of agreement leaves your lips. “It was nothing. I wasn’t going to let you be tormented by that thing if I could help it.”

An announcement echoes in the hall, reporting the departure of your train in a few minutes. You glance over, catching Atticus, Ambrose, and Harvey with their noses practically pressed against the window as they witness your interaction with Percy. The amused smirk on Atticus’s face makes you roll your eyes; he’s definitely going to tease you when you get on the train.

"I should go.” You face Percy again, catching him securing the necklace around his neck. The stone rests a few inches under his camp half-blood necklace. "Thanks for walking us here. Be careful getting home."

"You too…” he trails off, noticing your brother looking out the window. For a second, he seems as embarrassed as you do and a nervous chuckle leaves his lips. “Your brother is waiting."

“He’s so annoying,” you complain, and Percy’s next chuckle doesn’t sound as hesitant this time. "Well, uh, bye, for now, puddles,” you tease, butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Bye, for now, firefly."

You both awkwardly wave at each other before you turn around, getting on the train with Atticus. With your gaze fixed on the floor, you plop into the seat next to him. You don’t even need to look to know he is smiling teasingly at you.

"How cute,” he teases, nudging your shoulder repeatedly with his own.

"Ew, shut up.” You shove at his shoulder, your nose scrunching as he flails his arms against yours as if you were fighting. Atticus chuckles and a string of sounds come from your familiars as they join in to tease you, and you couldn’t help but laugh too.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

The suburban streets of your neighborhood are filled with the chirps of birds and bugs and the sounds of cars that pass every once in a while. There isn’t much conversation between you and Atticus as you trudge up the hill leading to your dead-end street.

“Gods, I hope we can get inside without being seen,” you manage to say through your heavy breaths, lazily holding on to the handle of your suitcase as it rolls behind you. Ambrose’s nose nudges the back of your knees as if to encourage you, but it’s more cute than helpful.

“There’s no way that we are. Janie and Celia are always sitting on the neighbor’s porch.” You grunt in acknowledgment, knowing that Atticus is right. The neighborhood ghosts are friendly enough, but their company can be annoying.

As if on cue, you hear a delighted squeal from ahead the moment you reach the top of the hill. Two ladies wave their handkerchiefs in the air a handful of houses away.

Celia, the tallest of the two, wears a steel blue dress with a high neckline and a big bow tied on the base of her neck. She has a jacket button closed over her corset with a frill at the end of her sleeves. Her skirt is floor-length and complete, with ruffles cascading down its entirety. And, of course, no one can miss the high-crowned hat decorated with fake flowers, bows, and crimped fabric as it all sits on top of her blonde hair in an intricate updo. Janie, her sister, wears the same style of dress and headpiece only in a burgundy red. The resemblance between the two makes it clear that they’re siblings close in age. They have the same high pinched noses that jut in the air; both of their faces are regal like those in renaissance paintings.

You’ve seen them around for as long as you can remember. They were two sisters who died of scarlet fever a year before their first courting season, which was a big deal according to their constant moaning and groaning about it.

You look ahead, your expression blank as if their high-pitched voices didn’t fill the streets and they weren't racing toward you with their skirts in their hands.

“My word! It’s the end of summer already?”

“Atticus, you’ve grown taller!”

“What a handsome boy! Y/n, your shorts are too short, don’t you think?”

“It’s quite bizarre how such clothing is acceptable these days.”

“How beautiful you’d look in a gown like ours!”

“Where’s Alabaster?” Janie asks, attempting to circle her arm around Atticus’s, but he raises his arm to push back his damp hair to avoid the contact. She scoffs at his rejection and sighs.

“Alabaster was sweeter to us than you guys!” Celia pouts. Your heart sinks a little at the mention of him. Of course, they’d ask about him, and of course, your father will ask too.

Gods! Your father will ask about him.

You had forgotten you’d have to break the news today. These past few weeks, you debated whether or not you should do it by letter, but it felt wrong. It was only right that he’d find out in person.

“We know you can hear us,” Janie huffs.

“I hope dad doesn’t work late tonight. Do you think Grandma will be waiting for us?” You ask. As annoying as it was having spirits follow you, it was a little fun ignoring them when convenient for you. Atticus nods,

“Probably-”

“No one’s home,” Celia cuts in, and Atticus pretends to shoo a bug away to conceal that he paused from her interruption.

“But I don’t think dad is going to take long. He said his last lecture ended at three,” Atticus continues, and you nod.

‘I hope grandma came by to visit. I missed her.”

“I just said no one’s home.” Celia snaps, and you press your lips together to hide your smile.

Atticus sighs. “I know, I’m dying for those moon cookies she makes us.” At the mention of those cookies, your stomach grumbles. You hope Celia was wrong because you’re suddenly craving your grandmother’s cooking and her company. Her funny stories and voice that’s always a little too loud for the indoors never fails to cheer you up. As short and frail as she is, her voice and personality could fill a room.

“Me too,” you say shortly.

“Hello?!” Celia waves her handkerchief in your face, and you persisted in ignoring her. Suddenly, a sound of disgust comes from Janie as she brushes off her skirt.

“Y/n, retrieve this monster of yours!” She squeals as Ambrose bites the fabric of her dress, tugging on it with a growl.

“Damn this dog,” Celia shouts, attempting to shoo him away, but yelps in surprise as Ambrose snaps his jaw shut near her hand. “Get this thing under control! Y/n!”

Your hand comes up to cover your smile even though the two are shuffling behind you and a stifled chuckle comes from Atticus. The sound of Janie’s heels on the concrete becomes louder as she rushes beside Atticus again, and your smiles drop. The sight of your house comes into view, and you tilt your head confused; your father’s car is parked in the driveway.

“You said no one was home?” You say out loud, and Celia gasps beside you,

“Now you speak to me?” She snaps, halting as you approach the fence. She stands tall, hands folded in front of her elegantly as Janie’s expression is gleaming like a child on Christmas. “Your father requested to keep it a secret, so I obliged his wishes. He canceled his last lecture today to make you both a meal. What a lovely man.”

Your hand finds the latch for the white picket fence as you smile at the familiar narrow victorian-style house ahead of you. A path of cobblestone leads you to the brick steps of the small porch.

Your home sticks out from the more modern American houses that surround the area. It’s an antique, a snippet of history, as your father likes to say. The house is a russet brown only because the bricks are so old they’ve darkened in color. The house accents such as the window trims, porch overhang, and columns are copper, and the hipped roof has brown tiles that look like fish scales. Beside the porch, the bay windows from both stories stack on top of each other, and above the porch roof is the dormer that’s a part of your bedroom.

Gods, you’re yearning to be in your room. You just want to pull out your Murphy bed from the wall and bury yourself in your sheets. The idea of being in bed puts a pep in your step, and you are careful to avoid the salt ring that surrounds your house.

A butterfly passes by your face, flying to the bunchberry bushes your father has planted in the front garden. Among the grass, there are various flowers and herbs that your father grows in the summer. You’ve inherited many things from your father, but his green thumb isn’t one of them. He takes his gardening seriously while you can barely keep the cacti in your room alive.

“Enjoy your meal! Come talk to us one of these days. We missed you two!” Janie shouts after you as you make your way up the stairs. You turn around, Atticus smiling at them.

“We missed you, girls, too,” he says as if he didn’t want to admit it. Janie squeals something about how handsome his smile is, and you scoff, amused as you grab the doorknob.

Once you push the door open, you're hit with a rush of deja vu. The history channel plays faintly in the next room as you take in the home you’ve missed dearly.

There are two bookshelves against the wall on your right, a wide ledge with pillows under the bay windows. A messy coffee table filled with letters and stacked with books sits in front of the comfy reading nook, letting you know that your father was recently hanging out there.

There is a brown mahogany staircase that ascends upstairs to your left, and right beside it is the altar for your mother. A statue of her rests in the middle of the rectangle table covered in a black table cloth. On top of it lies the many offerings for your mom. Herb-dressed candles burn beside bowls of fruit, bouquets, a crystal enamel wine glass filled with alcohol, feathers, and other things. You ignore the altar as you put down your stuff beside the door, following Atticus as he takes off his shoes.

“Kids?” You hear your father call enthusiastically from beyond the foyer, and you persist forward into the entryway ahead of you.

“We’re home!” Atticus announces as he enters beside you. Ambrose barks making a beeline to the right and behind the kitchen counter. He jumps on your father with so much force he stumbles back.

“Gods! Why does he look even bigger?” Your father exclaims through a laugh, fixing the round glasses that threaten to slip off his nose as his other hand grips Ambrose’s paw. He yelps in surprise as Harvey's claws rest on top of his head, clinging to his hair to steady himself.

The warmth and smell of home fill your senses as you catch your dad’s gaze. “Well, come here! Are you going to hug your pops or what?”

You rush over with Atticus. Both of you hug your dad tightly on either side of him, and you smile as he presses a kiss on your temples. “I missed you guys so much!”

“We missed you too!” The smile on your face falters as he looks up, scanning the archway as if he was waiting for someone else. You shift, not ready to be faced with the question, and you peer around his body to look at the food on the stove behind him.

Your father notices your interest, and he chuckles. “Come on, let’s eat. You guys came right on time.”

You shuffle through the kitchen with Atticus, making your way to the rounded table at the end of the kitchen.

“Dad, what have you been up to?” Atticus asks teasingly, and your father perks up.

“I've done a lot of things to keep me busy. I volunteered to teach summer classes while you were gone. I’m reading this book with a fascinating perspective of the shift from Paganism to Christianity in Rome. It’s an amazing read; I highly recommend it. Though, I don’t quite agree with it.” Your father hums thoughtfully. “Oh! And I bought gnomes for our garden! And the thrift store had this little house and this old lady figurine! I put it on the porch. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but she’s the official guard of the door," he declares proudly. "And…” He twists and turns before heading to the bookshelves in the living room area. He grabs something from the shelf then he showcases a cartoon Dobby bobblehead with wide arms. A high-pitched cackle leaves his lips. “It completes our collection!”

“Woah! Where did you get it? We went to three different places for it, and we couldn’t find it.” Atticus matches your father’s excitement, and you snort at the two.

“I went to a mythology convention in Boston a few weeks ago. There was a game stop across the street from the center, and I thought, ‘why not?’ I went in, and I saw this little guy by the register.” Your father is giddy as he nudges the head and watches it jiggle in his hands.

You think of what your grandmother’s reaction would be if she saw all the things he bought on his trip to the thrift store. She’d definitely complain. She always said that even growing up, your father had a liking for knickknacks. On your shelves and counters, there are always little trinkets lying around. It even extends to the walls, a variety of paintings and diagrams are neatly hung beside each other. From the state of your house, it’s clear your father is a maximalist in its purest definition.

“Wow! That’s awesome!” Atticus reaches out his hand for it as your father brings over his entire collection of Harry Potter bobbleheads, the toys huddled in his chest before he places them on the dining table. “The whole gang can hang out with us for dinner.”

“I hope they like pasta,” Atticus comments, lining them up as your dad retrieves the pan of food.

Your stomach grumbles at the sight, and you’re quick to serve yourself as Atticus and your Dad talk about anything and everything. You guys discuss what your grandmother has been up to, how your father’s classes were going, which led your father to ramble so much he formed a tangent on top of another. The conversation was going so well that you were sure he wouldn’t ask about your summer, but you had assumed too soon.

“So enough about me! How was Camp?” Your father chirps, and you shift in your seat.

You smile with confidence to hide the wariness you felt. “It was great!” You figured if you keep your answer short, you could move past it quickly.

“Yeah, the usual. Fun as always,” Atticus adds.

Your father’s eyes flicker between the two of you, and the first thing he notices is the way your smiles don’t reach the rest of your face.

The clanging of metal utensils on glass plates fills the room as the both of you fixate on your food but neither take a bite. The camp was never a touchy subject. The sudden unwillingness to speak about it makes his eyebrow cock up in suspicion. His eye averts to the empty dining chair beside you and the dinner place settings that remained untouched. Alabaster was supposed to join your return home. At least, that’s what he had assumed.

“Did Alabaster decide to stay at his foster home?” There’s caution in his tone, and he’s taken aback at how both you and Atticus tense up. The clings of metal halt abruptly, and slowly, you move to glance at your father.

“Dad, something happened at camp this summer.” Now, it was your turn to have a tone laced with caution. Alabaster lived with you for months and quickly became a part of the family. Your father saw him as his second son, and you were afraid to break the news that he may never see him again.

“What happened? Did he get into trouble?” You frown at the sudden edge in his voice. Atticus shifts beside you,

“He took the others to go fight for the Titan Lord.”

“What?”

“Mother came to speak to him and told him that it was best to fight for the other side since their chances are better,” you say slowly. “They left at the end of July. Only Atticus, Lou Ellen, and I stayed at camp.”

Your father’s expression darkens, grief written all over his face. “And you haven’t seen them since?”

You shake your head, not wanting to delve into the details. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing them again in a while and not in the best circumstances.” Your father nods, understanding the implication in your words. “Mother promised that she’d take care of them if they fight for the other side. I didn’t want to go; it wasn’t right.”

“That must be why everything is rotting,” your father mutters more to himself. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Rotting? What’s rotting?”

“Our offerings to your mother,” he clarifies. “All the fruit I leave on her altar goes bad in a few days. The flowers wither quickly too. The garden, in general, hasn’t been doing well either. I didn’t understand why.”

Your focus returns to your plate. Suddenly, you weren’t that hungry anymore.

She must be angry, you think to yourself. A part of you wanted a sign from her to let you know if she was bothered you didn’t join. When the sign didn’t come, you assumed she didn’t care; that, in a way, you were dead to her. It didn’t dawn on you to ask how the altar or the garden your father dedicated to her was doing.

“Can I be excused?” You strain, your face a little hot, and you’re not sure if it was from your anger or from the tears you’re blinking away.

“Of course.” The warm smile on your father’s face fails to budge the dread you’re feeling. “You can be excused as well, Atticus.”

You miss the way your father and Atticus exchange looks as you stood up. There wasn’t a verbal agreement, but Atticus stands up tall, determined to make you feel better. He trails behind you, and suddenly, he slings his arm across your shoulders. “You know what’s one of the things I missed at camp?”

“What?” You ask, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest.

“Beating you at Tekken,” Atticus teases. Your lips curve slightly; his playful nature manages to brighten up your mood a little bit. “Let’s play. I’ll go easy on you, but I’m sure you’ll still lose regardless.”

“You’re on,” you nudge him, and Atticus chuckles, walking ahead of you and up the stairs. Your hand grips the railing, and you walk up a few steps before halting, and your eyes find the front door.

“You don’t get it!”

“I don’t.” You shrugged, amused at the way Atticus’s eyebrows knitted in disbelief. He ignored you, grabbed the remote, and played the Star Wars movie again. You groaned, seeing the slanted letters move up the TV screen. “Atticus! I can’t watch this!”

“Why not?!”

“Well, first off, my dyslexia won’t let me read that quickly, and if a physically written prologue is needed before a movie… it’s not a good movie!”

“How dare you!” You threw your head back as a laugh bubbled in your throat. The exasperated look on his face was too funny. You had no desire to watch these movies, and you figured if you bothered him enough, he’d give up trying to show them to you. The shrug of your shoulders made him scoff. “Just watch it!”

A huff left your lips, and unwillingly, you returned your gaze to the screen. Suddenly, a hollow knock came from the front door.

“It’s late,” you said, but Atticus was too caught up in the beginning battle of the movie to pay any mind to you. Rarely did you get visitors, definitely not past midnight on a Friday. Cautiously, you rose from the couch and moved toward the door.

Rain erratically hit against your curtain-covered windows; the wind and cold made the walls around you creak as they adjusted. Whatever waited for you at the door, you just wished it was a person, not a weird ghost or monster. Your finger latched on the side of the curtain, allowing you to peek through the glass of your front door.

A gasp left your lips. Alabaster, soaked from the ruthless rain outside, was the last person you expected to see. But even though you didn’t expect him, you had an inkling as to why he was here.

Hastily, you unlocked the door and flung it open. “Al?” You sputtered; his green orbs were surrounded by tired eyes and puffy skin.

“He died this morning,” he strained. Your expression softened, and before you could say anything, Alabaster stepped forward and hugged your shoulders tightly. The raggedness of his breath, the shutter of his body, sent your chest a weight of sorrow. You couldn’t imagine being in his shoes and losing your father to a long battle with cancer at 14. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes; the person you looked up to the most was breaking down. You never thought he would need your help for anything, but it seems that you were wrong. “I’m sorry. You guys live the closest to me, and I didn’t know where to go-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted. “Oh, Al, I’m so sorry,” your voice cracked, hands rubbed his back as a sob left his lips. A creak of a floorboard caught your attention, and you turned to see a confused Atticus emerging from the living room. With a sad look, he understood what happened, and soon his expression was mimicking yours.

“I’ll wake dad and get clothes,” he said, then rushed upstairs.

Your father didn’t even hesitate to help Alabaster, opening the doors of your house to him. In his greatest time of need, the three of you stood beside him, and overnight, he had a place in your home and in your heart. The three of you spent so much time playing video games, getting into trouble around town, learning magic. All the good times you and Atticus shared with him, were they really worth throwing away to fight with Kronos? You realize now that his departure was never only a betrayal to the camp but to you, Atticus, and your father, and you couldn’t help but think perhaps, you guys didn’t mean as much to him as he meant to you.

A shaky sigh leaves your mouth at the thoughts persistent to ruin your mood. The desire to leave camp was to avoid all the things that reminded you of your siblings, but now that you returned home, you realize that running away isn’t as easy as you thought.

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if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on!

#percy jackson and the olympian fic #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x you #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fic #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x y/n #my writing #percy jackson and the olympians fanfiction

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harryhandstan · 4 years

Text

so..I hate that this is so late but happy to finally have this done and be posting it for y’all! hope you enjoy! thank you to my betas @tbslenthusiast, @serendipitystyles, and @summertimestyles you’re all angels!! also sham was so kind to help me create a playlist for this fic which you can find here!

this is for @taintedwonder‘s Styles Valentine’s Day fic challenge and most of the photos from the header were my inspo along with prompts 3. Can you just hold my hand? and 6. Let’s run away together.

as always any likes, rbs, replies, and feedback is welcome and very much appreciated!

word count: 4.1k

writing tag | masterlist

You can read his face before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“You have to leave again, don’t you?”

He doesn’t answer at first, just joins you where you sit on the bed, an arm around your waist to urge you closer to him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, as if that will soothe the sting of what he’s about to say. He buries his face into your neck before he speaks.

“Only for a little while, angel.”

You don’t respond by returning the kiss like you normally would, narrowing your eyes down to where he’s hiding his face, “How long is a ‘little while’?”

“You could always come with me, y’know..”

He’s avoiding the answer and he knows it, eyes darting up only briefly to look at your face.

“How long, Harry?”

He’s fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt now, focusing on the loose thread hanging instead.

You nudge him lightly, pulling his attention back up to you, “Just say it! How long?”

He sucks in a big breath before releasing it and then the words come out in a rush, “A few weeks, possibly a month.”

You have to take your own deep breath before asking, “When do you have to leave?”

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

“Promise.”

“My flight’s on the 14th.”

“February 14th? As in we don’t get to spend Valentine’s Day together?”

“M’so sorry, love, I really thought we were gonna get to spend the day together.”

He’s pulled back from where he was hiding his face, studying yours now. It hurts him to see the disappointment written there; the pinch in your brow, the downturned corners of your mouth, the way your eyes have temporarily lost their shine and fallen misty.

“Ya really could come with me, y’know. Take a bit of time off, would do you some good to take a break.”

He knows better, knows it’s just a fantasy that you would ever be able to get that much time off from work to be able to travel with him.

“C’mon, love, let’s run away together.”

The way he’s looking at you know, it really wouldn’t take much more convincing to turn his fantasy into a reality.

“What am I gonna do when I’m cold and don’t have you as my personal heater to help me get warm?”

“S’why I left you my pillow to snuggle with. There’s a ton of extra blankets too, use as many of those as ya need.”

How could you explain that no amount of warmth from any blanket would ever compare to his? A blanket wasn’t capable of softly brushing your hair back from your face or tenderly pressing it’s lips to yours as you drift off to sleep. You open your mouth to try to illustrate such facts, but you close your mouth just as quick. You aren’t trying to be difficult or clingy, and you don’t want your last bit of time together to be filled with your complaints.

That thought only lasts for a moment, your anxiety building with each mile closer to the airport, “Well what do I do when your pillow doesn’t smell like you anymore?”

“I’ll try to be back before that happens, deal? Besides, you’ve got a whole drawer of my t-shirts to sleep in too. They all smell like me, right?”

“They do, but, Harry..what if..”

“Shh, hey, we’ve been through this before, right? S’gonna be hard for me to be away from you too, but I promise we’ll be alright. You can call me anytime you’re missin’ me, remember?”

His voice is that of someone trying to pacify a small child just before a tantrum, and you feel as though you’re being whiny and unreasonable. Missing him when he was away was almost unbearable though; everything seemed heavy and dimmer and you know it would feel like an eternity before you were together again.

“Promise we’ll make up today the second I come home. You plan the whole day and just tell me when and where to show up, okay?’

The fact that it was Valentine’s Day didn’t matter so much to you. You and Harry made it a point throughout your days spent together to express your love to one another whenever you could, so today was really just..another day to spend together. So it’s missing him that has tears forming in your eyes again, just as they had the night before.

“Can you just hold my hand? Until..” You don’t finish the sentence, letting your voice trail off so he won’t hear it break.

“‘Course I can, baby.” He offers his hand, never taking his eyes off the road even as he lifts your hand to his mouth to place a kiss to the back of it.

Though you know he would never admit to it, you swear you feel the speed of the car slow just the tiniest bit, Harry wanting to add as much to your limited time together as he can.

Despite it still being light outside, coming home to the space you normally share together alone makes you want to do nothing but crawl right back in bed. It’s mid-afternoon and with Harry not home to motivate you to do something more productive, that’s exactly what you aim to do.

After dropping your purse and keys near the door and double checking the locks, you’re startled by the sight of a bouquet of bright pink roses adorning your dining room table. They definitely weren’t there when you left, and you pluck the small card nestled between the flowers with your name scrawled across the front. It’s Harry’s almost illegible handwriting and the sight of it makes your heart soar with excitement before you flip it open to read the message.

It’s simple and small, more of his writing scratched across the cream colored paper in bold, black ink. Love, love, love, H. There’s a badly drawn heart underneath the note, and that makes you giggle out loud, filling the silence. If Harry were here, he’d have some cheeky comment about how adorable your laughter is, how he loved the sound of it.

“Don’t want you moping around the whole time m’gone, yeah? Promise me y’ll do more than just sulk around the place until I get back?” This reminder was given just before he’d had to rush off to catch his plane, giving you no time to offer him much more than a quick peck and a sad smile as an agreement.

So technically what you plan to do would not be considered breaking a promise, just..catching up on the sleep you would’ve gotten if you hadn't had to wake up so early to ride with Harry to the airport. Normally that was something you would decline to do, preferring to sleep in, which Harry usually was fine with; but this time he had insisted on you accompanying him on his drive, wanting to get as much time with you on this day as he could.

Just as you're about to venture down the hallway to the bedroom, you spot another item you’re sure hadn’t been on your coffee table earlier that morning when you’d left. It’s a medium sized box, messily wrapped with red paper and tied with purple ribbon and a bow. It’s quite heavy when you lift it, so you sit on the nearby couch to avoid dropping it. You waste no time tearing the paper away, lifting the lid to reveal a candle surrounded by tissue paper.

There’s a pack of two lighters wedged next to the candle, and you curiously pull it from the box first to see more of Harry’s handwriting on a red sticky note.

Baby you light up my world like nobody else...

That pulls another laugh from you, this one is bigger and echoes through the dimly lit space. The candle itself is a scent he knows you love, and you bring it closer to your face and inhale deeply. The smell of it helps ease even more of the unease and sadness of him being gone. You dig your phone out of your pocket to check the time and try to calculate whether his plane has landed and he would be able to answer a call from you.

You ultimately decide to nap first and give him a chance to get settled. He would most likely be calling you later anyway, missing you just as much as you missed him and wanting to hear your voice. You could thank him then for the flowers, candle, and the laugh. So you continue your journey to the bedroom, slipping out of your clothes and sliding open the drawer of Harry’s t-shirts. He’s right, they do all smell like him and you run your fingers along the soft fabrics before selecting one.

It’s plain white, one of his undershirts normally tucked beneath his expensive button ups and ruffles, but today it’s perfect and comforting attire to doze off in. It’s loose and just long enough on you that you don’t feel the need to put on a pair of your pj shorts with it, The bed is still messy from the morning, and you swear you can still see the outline of where Harry’s body normally tucks next to you on his side. You pull the blanket back and crawl into your usual spot, but it doesn’t feel right; it’s too empty and quiet without Harry.

You grab his pillow from his side and try your best to replicate the way you would curl yourself around him if he was here. It takes a bit of time to adjust, but eventually you give up and just try to relax into the mattress as much as possible, covering your head slightly with the blanket to surround yourself with warmth.

You peek through the space uncovered to the alarm clock on the bedside table on Harry’s side, the bright red letters read 12:32 p.m. and you let out a deep sigh before drifting off to sleep. If you weren’t so tired, the thought that crosses your mind might just make you laugh again.

Alone in bed in the afternoon on Valentine’s Day. What a shame.

You wake with a start, bolting upwards at the sound of your phone ringing loudly from somewhere near the bed. You don’t even bother to open your eyes to see who it is, just following the motions to answer and plop back down onto your spot as you let out an almost breathless and groggy “hello?”

“Not missin’ me too much, I see, took you a whole minute to answer,'' You know he’s joking by the hint of amusement in his voice and relief floods through your chest before any other feeling at the idea of him making it safely to his destination, “You alright, love? Sound a bit outta breath. Having some fun in our bed without me?”

“I..no, I was napping, promise, your call just scared me awake..how did you know I’m in bed?”

“I’m only teasing. Just a guess, figured you’d find your way back to the bed not long after you got home.”

“Found the flowers and the candle. Your note on the lighters made me laugh, thank you. How’d you do that though? They weren’t there when we left for the airport and you didn’t come back in.”

“Had one of my assistants drop the flowers off, and the candle’s been stashed in the closet for a week so she set it out for me while she was there. Wish I could’ve been there to see your face and hear that laugh,” He giggles at the thought of it, “S’that all you found? The flowers and the candle? I assume you found the one in the bathroom too, right?”

You’re more alert now, sitting up again to try to process what he’s saying more easily, “What do you mean? There’s more? The bathroom?”

“A few more, yeah. Hid here and there for you to find.”

“You left me a scavenger hunt? Do I at least get clues to help me find them all?”

“I’ve just given you one, haven’t I? Might be persuaded to give you a few more later.”

You’re up off the bed now, making your way to the bathroom where another surprise awaits. You hesitate for only a moment, stopping just as you reach the door.

“What’s in the bathroom? More flowers? One of those big, fluffy teddy bears?”

“M’not gonna tell you! You gotta go in to find out!”

Flipping on the light switch has you gasping at what you see. A heart, entirely made from more red sticky notes, each one embellished with reminders of his love for you. You stumble over words, trying to form a coherent response.

He senses your shock even through the phone and graciously gives you a moment before asking, “S’the heart all wonky or does it look nice? Told them to make it as straight as possible.”

“H..it’s beautiful! How did you have time to write all these before you left?”

“Finished up most of them last night after you fell asleep. They came to me a lot easier with my muse snoring next to me.”

You truly don’t know what to say to that. You’ve never had someone be so bright and loud with their love for you and just this simple expression makes you feel so incredibly special and loved.

You know that emotion is flowing through the phone when he speaks again, softer and lower, “Y’sure you won’t let me fly you out here to be with me?”

There’s the sound of another voice before Harry barks out another laugh, “Jeff says m’proper miserable without you. He said he’d pay you whatever your salary would be for the next month just to have you here.”

“Tempting, but..” Harry knows how much you love your job and how such a long absence would jeopardize the career you’ve built, so you know he probably won’t mention it again.

“Technically it was gonna be part of my present for you, so..I’ll give you another clue.”

“How very generous of you, H. Will this one make me cry too?”

“Maybe. Knowing you, probably,” You roll your eyes but listen for further instructions, “Just remember I had to rush and there’s still a few I didn’t get to add but, go get your laptop.”

“What’d you do to my laptop?”

“Would ya just go get it? C’mon I’ve gotta hang up soon and I wanna hear your reaction before I hafta go.”

“Alright, I got it. What now?”

“Go to your music library.” He gives you a moment to navigate through your programs, “Should be a playlist there with your name on it, lovie. Wait, are you already crying?”

“Shut up! Yes!” You wipe at your eyes with the hem of his t-shirt you’re still wearing as you try to read over the list of songs, “This is so sweet! The flowers, the candle, the heart and now this. Harry..I didn’t get you anything and you did all this for me. Thank you, I love you.”

“Love you more,” You can just picture the smug smile on his face, pleased that he’s done a good job of surprising you, “You can make it up to me later.”

“Don’t push your luck there, H. You’ve just been forgiven, I still have time to change my mind, you know.”

“I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” You hear what you assume to be Jeff’s voice again in the background, “I gotta go, babe. I’ll try to call again later, alright?”

“Wait! I don’t get any more clues? Can you at least tell me how many more are left?”

“S’no fun for me if I give away all my secrets now, is it?”

It’s only a day later when you find yourself in the kitchen, uncertain about what to make for dinner, eyes scanning over the ingredients in your pantry. Your laptop sits on the counter nearby, and you hum along to My Girl playing through the speakers, a song selected for you by Harry for the playlist he recently made for you.

You’re about to give up and heat up your leftovers from the Italian take-out you had treated yourself to the night before, when you spot the pack of Haribo gummy bears wedged in the corner. You almost have to stand on your tip-toes to reach it, and when you run your hand along the shelf you find another bag of sweets not far from the gummy bears. You smile down at the two bags, his favorite candy and yours sitting side by side.

There’s another of Harry’s red sticky notes on the pack of gummy bears: Being away from you is unBEARable. More of his cheesy jokes you’re sure he thought of himself. Your candy is void of any words, just another messily drawn heart, this time with your name in the middle.

You decide to FaceTime him this time, wanting to see his face. It only takes 3 rings for him to answer, a tender “Hi, baby.” falling from his lips. The room he’s in is dimly lit, but you can still see him well enough to notice his hair is damp. His curls are more pronounced than usual, which was a sign he’d been too tired to much more than probably run his fingers through after his shower.

“Found another of your surprises.” You hold the candy up for him to see and he smiles.

“Better save me some of those Haribo, and not just all the colors ya don’t like either.”

You tear open the bag, sticking your tongue out at him before popping a few into your mouth, “I might, if you tell me where all the other surprises are.”

You can see him temporarily consider it, biting his bottom lip and meeting your gaze before he shakes his head, “Nah. I will tell you there’s only one more though..well, depends on how you look at it, but to me they only count as one.”

“They?”

He mimics locking his lips, and you decide to drop it for now, knowing you would most likely have to trick or beg him to tell you later. You’d let him think he won. For now.

You roll the top of the bag of candy down, opening the cabinet to tuck them back into the same corner you found them in. They just didn’t taste the same without him there to enjoy them with you. Plus you still had a still had leftover garlic knots and mushroom ravioli you planned to dig into later.

“S’that the playlist I made for you? Sounds like it.”

The song has changed to At Last, Etta James’ voice filling the small kitchen, “Yeah. I love this song.”

“Me too. Reminds me of you now..my love,” You sway a bit to the music before stopping, leaning forward to where your phone is propped on the counter, “Wish I was there t’dance with you.”

You try your best to hold back your emotions of missing him, but you imagine how he would rest his hands on your hips if was here. How he would spin you to face him and move his hands to rest on your back while he led you around in a slow circle across the floor. It wasn’t just his hands you longed for, it was the way he would bend to your ear to sing along to whatever song you were dancing to, especially one like this he knew you loved. You missed his voice in person, the way it would surround you with a comfort and peace you’d never be able to replicate with anything else.

No matter what you do you can’t stop your thoughts from trailing to how when the song was over, he would lift you to sit on the counter and kiss your forehead. You’re wearing one of his hoodies tonight, and you pull the sleeve down over your hands to use to try to quickly wipe away any tears before he sees them. Once you feel you’ve reined in your emotions to the best of your abilities, you clear your throat before speaking again.

“I miss you, H.”

“I miss you too, angel.”

The music has changed again, Don’t Worry Baby by The Beach Boys lifting the mood enough you don’t feel so heavy and overwhelming with your yearning for him. You take a deep breath, planning to ask him about his day, but before you have a chance he says, “Go to your bedside table. The top drawer.”

“What?”

“M’tryin’ to tell you where your last surprise is. Go to our bedroom and look in the drawer. I’ll wait.”

You flash him a smile before turning to make your way out of the kitchen, through your living room and down the hall to your bedroom. It takes a bit of searching before you uncover a stack of bright, pastel colored envelopes tied together with the same purple ribbon as the candle from the day before. You work quickly to untie the knot and turn the lamp on so you can read the front of each one. There’s 4 total; open when you need a laugh, open when you miss my hugs, open when you need a reminder of my love, open when you miss me.

You tear into the final one immediately, setting the others aside for later. It’s not very long, the perfect length to boost your spirit even further. Just the thought of him taking time to sit down and write his expression of love for you makes you grin, and has that same feeling of being loved spreading through you as it did the previous day when you saw the heart on the bathroom mirror.

You had almost forgotten leaving him on hold in the kitchen until you hear, even from 3 rooms away, the sound of him singing along to whatever song is playing now. You close your eyes, picturing for a moment that it’s a typical night when he’s home, darting around the kitchen while he makes dinner or puts dishes away.

You make your way back through the house to him, envelope in hand. Each one had been a different color so the second he sees which one you have his eyes brighten, his smile growing bigger the closer you get.

“Of course you opened that one first. Did y’like it?”

You shake your head no, breaking into a laugh when you see the look of disappointment on his face, “I loved it. Very charming of you to do all this just for me, H.”

“Yeah? I did a good job surprising you then?”

You roll your eyes. This man and his need for praise was too much, but he was yours, and you were his and you would do anything to assure him that you loved him just as much as he loved you.

“You did an amazing job, really, Harry. I never expected you to be able to do so much so last minute.”

His mouth drops open in mock dismay, looking down and shaking his head, “I can’t believe you would ever doubt me!”

You don’t say anything, just shake your own head at his teasing, sharing a look of adoration before you look away.

“Hey, did I leave my lip balm there? The coconut kind I use before bed? Thought I had it in my duffel but I couldn’t find it when I got here.”

“Yep. I used it earlier when I got out of the shower. Want me to send it to you?”

“Nah, you don’t have to, but..you could bring it to me in person if you wanted.”

“I would if I could, Harry.”

The tone of a new text from your phone startles you, and you try to suppress your elation as best you can at who it’s from. It’s Jeff, confirming the time of your flight he’d helped you schedule for the following day. Harry knows you too well, would instantly be able to read your face and be suspicious of what you were up to. You step away from his line of sight to let the thrill run through you, to let it fully wash over you so he wouldn’t see. You return as quickly as you can, brushing it off as if you’d just gotten a text from your boss or a friend. He was oblivious, none the wiser at what you were planning.

It was your turn to surprise him.

#stylesvdaychallenge #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing

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snowdice · 3 years

Text

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 67]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Got many things to do today, though I do have a meeting in a bit over an hours, so there will be a break.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

“Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

“A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

“No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

“Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

50234

Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

“Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

“Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

“Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

“Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

“It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

52142

“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

“It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

“I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

“Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

“That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

…

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

#proofread stories #not writing

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youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Wash Out.22

[Master List]

Banners: @purpleskies1999 Pairings: Dolphintrainer!Taehyung x SharkDiver!Jin, Mer!Jimin x Reader, Scientist!Namjoon x MerKing!Jungkook, Mer!Yoongi x Mer!Hoseok. Rating: 16+ Genre: Mystery, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, little bit of Action, Slice of life, Enemies2Lovers, Friends2lovers, Social media au, Fake Texts, Fake Subs.

Summary: Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung’s rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

[Prev]

There was no limit to which Taehyung could grieve. But there was a limit to his bank account. The new CEO Tom was a kind man, offering them a chance to mourn their losses and collect themselves before returning to work. There was a small funeral and memorial for Mr Schmidt within the theme park.

Although the employee’s were respectful they remained impartial to the change of leadership. With new management came more appropriate wages.

Waking beside Y/n reassured him things would be okay. You were the only reason he got out of bed and Taehyung suspected you felt the same. Uncanny how the two of you were sporting matching puffy eyes and pink tipped noses. Taehyung gave a soft smile, you had been supporting him while he broke down assuring him that Seokjin would return.

It was time to show Y/n that she had someone to lean on. Knowing you had lost the first person you had developed such a strong bond with. There had been a few before Jimin and there may be more to come, but like magic the two of you had a special kind of love. The rare kind that happens only to few.

Taehyung wondered what you were thinking, if you were really okay, or just saying you were because that's what people wanted to hear. Dressing quietly he noticed you stir out the corner of his eyes. Begrudgingly pulling yourself out of bed and getting ready in the bathroom.

The playful banter on the way to work became silent pondering of thoughts. Hands reaching for one another if those thoughts turned dark. Taehyung was grateful for the company, grateful for the silence. He had no pressure to act like things were okay when they weren’t.

In saying that pulling into the employee parking lot Taehyung cut the engine. Pulling the visor down to look in the mirror, he tested a small smile. Almost foreign and unfamiliar to him, the muscles seemed to have weakened.

How many days had it been? Two and a half weeks later, as the days passed any hope of Seokjin or Namjoon’s return dwindled extensively.

“Tae, we should go in,” Y/n smiled hand ready on the door handle braced for work like it was war.

“Yeah, sorry.”

The security seemed awkward greeting them, rightfully so they had been accused of stealing money from the theme park. It wouldn’t surprise them if everyone kept their distance. Dolphins on the other hand seemed to understand their feelings better than humans. Bubbles, Captain, Dolly and her new pup Hopster came up to greet them, sensing their mood and trying to cheer them up with little jumps, squeals and splashes.

It pulled soft genuine smiles from you both, it was mid practice when a voice called from the bleachers behind the show tank. “You know Joonie, I have never seen a dolphin show, but it looks pretty lackluster, the dolphins are doing all the hard work. The instructors don’t really feel committed to the show.”

“I think they have been having a rough week, maybe they might have lost someone close to them.” Namjoon said softly. “You can never know what someone else is going through without asking.”

“Should I go ask them?” Seokjin said, standing and strolling over, the two looked clean and fresh like they had just come back from a vacation and not the bottom of the ocean.

Taehyung had broken down in the water, crying as the dolphins playfully bumped him with their noses trying to stop his tears. You pulled yourself out of the water and ran over, hugging Seokjin. His whines echoing around the small amphitheater.

After practically suffocating Seokjin in a firm hug you pulled Namjoon in as well, he was surprised by the action. Probably because the two of you were never really close but unlike Seokjin he didn’t complain about the wet patches left on his clothes.

Taehyung had practically crawled out of the dolphinarium show tank, the dolphins wiggling on their bellies beside him on the small raised surface. Seokjin walked towards him sorrowful and compassionate, opening his hands for the young dolphin trainer and groaning when he was pulled into the knee deep water. Letting Taehyung clutch him tightly, his complaints ceased when he felt the younger man shaking in his arms.

“It seems you must have been suffering with me gone.” He tried to coax Taehyung’s head from where it had buried into his neck, but it only encouraged him to grasp tighter and bury his face deeper into Seokjin’s chest. “Hey, you can’t be crying like this, you are going to make me sad.”

“I thought you had died,” Taehyung whimpered voice broken and small, his hands clutching the soft sweater fabric pulled tight over Seokjin’s shoulders. Taehyung looked up, eyes wet, puffy and red for yet another time this week. “I thought I lost you, before I had a chance to tell you properly.”

“Tae, I can barely understand what you are saying,” Seokjin wiped his sleeve under Taehyung's nose, “You have to speak clearly, don’t ruin my good pants for nothing.”

Taehyung pulled him forward kissing him passionately. Taehyung was thrilled to have Seokjin back in his arms. He was unable to stop himself from slowly walking backwards more and more until he reached the edge of the water. Seokjin was too distracted by the kiss to realise until it was too late.

Pulling the older man into the dolphinarium and giggling when they resurfaced. “Ya!” Seokjin shouted, “We were going to dinner after this, I was dressed up and everything.”

Taehyung was apologizing, his grin never faltering as he chased a soggy Seokjin back to the locker rooms. The three of you emerged from the change rooms spotting Namjoon standing awkwardly by the entrance.

“Are you ready to go?” Y/n asked, slapping his back playfully, “I hear Seokjin is paying for dinner tonight.”

“What, you wanted me to come to dinner?” Namjoon said his words, stumbling unsure and confused.

“You don’t want to come to dinner, Namjoonie-Hyung?” Taehyung grinned up at him, before the two of you took Taehyung’s car following Jin’s from the parking lot to the restaurant. It was a small barbeque place, it was a secret treasure known to only a few.

The drinks started flowing. Namjoon seemed awkward at first but he was soon laughing with the rest. “I have never really done this before.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Drank?”

“No, I haven’t had dinner with friends before,” His ears were pink and your smile fell, Taehyung felt like the worst person to ever exist. “I know Jin and I tried but there were always things getting in the way.”

“Hey, we are your friends now, we were just rude idiots. We didn’t know about how cool you were until Seokjin told us how special you meant to him.” Y/n explained pouring him another drink.

“You weren’t rude, I just am really awkward and I know I talk about crabs a lot. It isn’t the most appealing conversation people want to have.” Namjoon waved his hands trying to calm the sad looks around the table, “I am just happy you think of me as your friend.”

Seokjin gasped, pulling a small cloth from his pocket, “Jimin asked me to give this to you.” He placed the cloth in your palm and you opened it slowly. “He got back safely and was definitely worried if you were okay,”

Opening the cloth to reveal a necklace, a cream shell spiraling in a cone shape and in the opening fitting perfectly secure was a gold Pearl. Taehyung leaned over, taking the necklace and helping you secure it around your neck.

You were called into work early one morning by Namjoon, he said something was wrong with Dolly and her pup and he needed help. Taehyung was outside and you sleepily let them drive you across town. You were being pushed into the old marine clinic, Taehyung threw you some swimmers and pushed you into the change room.

Moving quickly you followed Namjoon who was talking about the pups condition seriously, “This is our last chance, just go in first and check on how he looks and appearance and then we will begin the treatment, make sure you keep him calm and make him feel safe.”

You nodded, slipping slowly until you were treading water by the catwalk, about to ask a few questions when you were pulled under by the ankle. Confused and scared, you spotted Jimin in the water, his face showing how happy he was to see you. He swam at you grabbing your waist and resurfacing. You started crying and you wiped your eyes laughing and coughing from the water you had partially inhaled in shock.

“I am leaking,” Jimin touched his cheeks and you kissed him happily.

“How did you get here?” You sniffed, “We have to get you back to the water.”

“Hey, it's all good I have something special with me this time, it allows me to walk on the ground just like you. Our king Jungkook gave it to me. He says I can visit whenever I want, because you are my promised.”

[Prev] THIS IS THE END! YAY! I hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: @backinblack1967 @miriamxsworld @moccahobi @simplymemyself @a-gayish-unicorn @ella-mella @vjinfan23

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bibbawrites · 4 years

Text

Beach Baby - Single Dad!Charlie x Owen

THIS IS PART 4 OF THE SINGLE DAD!CHARLIE SERIES YOU CAN READ PART 1 HERE , THE PREQUEL (PART 2) HERE AND PART 3 HERE

Request: none

Word Count: 3907 words 😳

Summary: Part 4 of Single Dad!Charlie, Margaux and Charlie reunite with Owen in Hawaii after months apart due to lockdown, just in time for Margaux’s fourth birthday

Warnings: technically underage drinking, i guess technically i have to warn that this is implied mutual crushing between owen and charlie, if you dont feel comfortable with romantic chowen do not read

A/N: i couldn’t get this out of my head so i had to write it, and boy did i write it this is the longest non-chaptered fic ive ever written and honestly i could have made it longer but i didnt want it to drag on any more that it already did this is literally more than double the length of my normal fics, i got very carried away

also just a note that i’m not trying to be rude about the fans who met the boys at the airport and i’m sure in real life the boys were happy to stop and chat, but from a parents perspective charlie’s first instinct would be to protect his daughter so i just thought i’d add that. please don’t get upset for that part!

sorry for any mistakes, its 4am and im half asleep trying to read through this to post lol anyways, hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals @bartok-the-magnificent @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @katrina765 @fandomxreaders @ifilwtmfc

“Papa!” Margaux screamed, racing across the airport to Owen, the blond boy scooping up the nearly four year old and spinning her around when she reached him.

“Maggie! I’ve missed you so much.” Owen exclaimed, pulling his mask down to pepper her cheeks with kisses, causing Margaux to giggle loudly. “Where’s your Daddy?”

“Right behind you.” Owen spun around to find Charlie standing there, clearly smiling at him despite the bandana that covered his mouth, and Owen’s heart skipped a beat at how good Charlie looked in the early morning sun streaming through the airport windows.

Meanwhile Charlie was thinking the exact same thing, admiring how attractive Owen was, especially when he was in his dad mode. He really understood why girls had such a weakness for cute boys with cute kids when he saw Owen with Margaux.

Charlie stepped forward, pulling Owen into a tight hug and Margaux whined in complaint at being squished between her dad and her self declared papa. They pulled away from each other, both boys fighting to hide their slightly flushed cheeks.

“I’m hungry.” Margaux whined, and Charlie was snapped out of his heart eyes daze, his whole focus back on his daughter.

“Let’s get some food into you before our plane leaves then eh.” He replied, and Margaux nodded happily.

Feeling bold Owen grabbed onto Charlie’s hand, lacing their fingers together. It wasn’t unusual for them to do this but it was the first time doing it when they were well known enough that someone might recognise them. But neither of them really cared. They were just happy to be back together again.

The minute they arrived in Hawaii they were met with fans. As much as he loved meeting the fans Charlie couldn’t help but sigh slightly as he tried to protect Margaux as much as he could.

It wasn’t that the fans didn’t know about Margaux, because it was a well known fact that he was a single dad, it was more that he wanted to keep her away from the spotlight. She hadn’t asked for her dad to become a well known actor, and she didn’t deserve to have her life changed because of it. He was determined to give her the most normal life possible.

Eventually they made it to the villa house that they were staying in while in Hawaii, and after throwing their bags into their rooms it was time to have a bit of fun.

“Swim time swim time!” Margaux sung, running laps around the living room. Kenny chuckled at the small girl, looking up at Charlie who was following closely behind her.

“It seems like only yesterday she was a tiny two year old who cried every time you left her side.” He said, and Charlie smiled fondly, sitting down on the chair next to Kenny.

“She’s growing up too fast.” He agreed. “I can’t believe in less than 24 hours time I’ll be a dad to a four year old.”

Margaux tripped on the tiles, landing with a clatter, her bottom lip jutting out. Charlie jumped up, but before he could even think about moving across the room Owen was by Margaux’s side, helping her up and pulling her into a tight hug. He whispered something in her ear and Margaux giggled loudly, her fall already forgotten.

Charlie smiled softly at the scene, his heart filled with love for both the blond boy and his little princess.

“Daddy.” Margaux called, snapping Charlie out of his daze.

“Yeah baby?” He answered, finally making his way across the room.

“Can we swim now?” She asked, grabbing onto his leg. Charlie subconsciously ran his hand through her soft curls.

“Of course we can.” He replied. Margaux glanced up at Owen.

“Papa too?” She questioned.

“Papa too.” Charlie agreed. Margaux peered past him, her gaze landing on Kenny.

“Coming Uncle Kenny?” She asked, and Kenny laughed, standing up.

“Coming Little Gillespie.” He replied.

Margaux smiled contently, taking both Charlie and Owen’s hands to pull them outside towards the pool.

She really did have every single one of them wrapped around her little finger.

Dinner that night was special, as it was supposed to be Carolynn’s last day on the island. They decided on a joint party for her last night, as well as celebrating Margaux’s birthday a day early.

They had headed to a tiny restaurant near their villa, and Charlie had allowed Margaux to pick whatever she wanted from the menu, not that it mattered because she chose chicken nuggets and chips anyways.

The meal was nice, and before they knew it they were arriving back at the villa. Jeremy, Carolynn and Kenny all excused themselves for bed, and Tori settled into the couch, flicking the TV on.

“Bath and bed time baby.” Charlie told Margaux, and she pouted but obeyed, following him into the hallway.

“Hey Char, can I ask you something?” Owen asked, trailing behind the father daughter duo, and Charlie stopped, letting Margaux run ahead to their room.

“Anything.” He smiled.

“Do you mind if I share your room? I know the other bed was meant to be for Margaux but-” Owen started, playing with his fingers slightly.

“She can share with me.” Charlie cut him off. “Bed’s all yours.” Owen looked up, his eyes widening.

“Really?” He checked.

“Of course.” Charlie smiled. Owen grinned, throwing his arms around Charlie’s neck.

“Thanks Char. I just didn’t really want to sleep alone.” He admitted, and Charlie squeezed him tight.

“Any time.” He told Owen, and the blond boy pulled away with a smile, before heading off to the room he was originally going to stay in to collect his bags.

Charlie entered the room that he and Margaux, and now Owen, were sharing, finding his daughter already snuggled into one of the beds, still wearing her dinner clothes. Charlie sighed, moving to pull her out of the bed. Owen entered the room, bags in tow, and Margaux looked up at him excitedly.

“Papa! Are you sleeping here?” She questioned. Owen placed his bags in the corner before answering.

“I am Miss Maggie.” He said, and Margaux cheered.

“You don’t mind sleeping with Daddy?” Charlie checked, and Margaux shook her head, jumping up to throw her arms around Charlie’s neck.

“Nope! More cuddles!” She stated. Charlie laughed, picking her up.

“Exactly right. Now, it’s bath time.” He said, grabbing Margaux’s pyjamas as she clung to him.

“Bye Papa!” Margaux called as Charlie moved to leave the room. Owen waved.

“Bye Maggie!” He replied, matching her enthusiasm. Charlie couldn’t help but smile.

Margaux was so lucky to have someone like Owen in her life. They both were.

“Daddy! Wake up!” Margaux screamed, jumping on top of Charlie. He groaned, squinting as he looked up at his daughter.

“What time is it?” He mumbled. Owen sat up in his own bed, grabbing his phone to check the time.

“4:47am.” He informed Charlie, his voice thick with sleep. Charlie tried to ignore how sexy Owen’s morning voice was, instead focusing on his daughter.

“Mags it’s too early to be awake.” He told her. Margaux pouted, flopping down on top of him.

“Daddy, it’s my birthday!” She exclaimed. Charlie smiled, kissing her cheek.

“I know baby, happy birthday. Now can we sleep for a little bit?” He tried. Margaux thought for a moment.

“Only if Papa comes here too.” She decided.

Charlie’s eyes widened slightly, eyes fixed on Owen as the younger boy sleepily slid out of his bed with no hesitation, and into Charlie’s, snuggling into Charlie’s side the minute he laid down. Margaux squirmed her way under the covers, squishing herself in between the two of them.

Charlie shut his eyes in an attempt to get back to sleep, but it was no use. He opened his eyes again, staring up at the ceiling, as Margaux slept soundly next to him.

His mind was racing, noticing every single little place where Owen’s warm skin was in contact with his. It felt like he was on fire.

“Stop thinking.” Owen mumbled, and Charlie turned his head to see Owen staring at him, his eyes half shut with sleep.

“How did you know?” He questioned. Owen gave him a small smile.

“I always know. Whatever it is, just ignore it for now. Get some sleep, it’s gonna be a big day.” Owen whispered. Charlie paused for a moment, just staring at Owen in the dim light from Margaux’s nightlight. Even half asleep in the almost complete darkness of the room Owen still looked gorgeous. Charlie swallowed.

“You’re right. Thanks O.” He replied.

“Love you.” Owen yawned in response, his eyes shutting again. Charlie smiled softly, moving his hand to brush a bit of Owen’s hair off his face.

“I love you too Owen.” He replied, despite the fact that the younger boy was already asleep. He pressed a soft kiss to Owen’s head, and lowered his voice to no more than a whisper.

“More than I probably should.”

After what felt like no time at all Charlie was being shaken awake again.

“Daddy is it time to get up now?” Margaux questioned, sitting on his chest. Charlie yawned.

He reached over and checked his phone. It was just after 6:30am.

“Okay we can get up. But we’re gonna leave Papa to sleep a little bit more, okay?” Charlie compromised. Margaux thought for a moment before agreeing. Charlie grinned, sliding the both of them out of the bed careful not to wake Owen. Once they were out of the bed Charlie lifted Margaux up, placing her on his hip. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“Now. Let’s go make some birthday pancakes.”

“Happy birthday Little Gillespie.” Jeremy sung, entering the kitchen with Carolynn close behind him.

Margaux grinned, her mouth full of pancake.

“Thank you!” She exclaimed, her words muffled by her food. Carolynn stepped past Jeremy, moving to place a gentle kiss on Margaux’s head and whisper to her. Margaux grinned before looking up at her father.

“Hey Daddy?” She spoke. Charlie made a noise in response.

“Yeah?” He said, flipping pancakes onto a plate for both Jeremy and Carolynn.

“Do you think the birthday fairy could found me here?” Margaux questioned, her eyes full of hope. Charlie couldn’t help but smile, not even bothering to correct her words, as he placed the pan down.

“Should we go find out?” He asked. Margaux’s eyes widened in excitement.

“Yeah! But first we have to get Papa.” She decided. Charlie nodded.

“You wanna go wake him up? Tell him we made him some pancakes?” He asked, and Margaux grinned, already sliding out of her chair.

“Okay Daddy!” She replied, before rushing out of the room. The room fell silent for a few moments before Carolynn cleared her throat.

“So Charlie...” She raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been in love with Owen?”

Charlie choked on his coffee.

“I’m sorry, what?” He spluttered. Carolynn grinned.

“You heard me.” She said. Charlie hesitated.

“I’m not-” He stopped. “I-”

He groaned. There was no use denying it if clearly he was obvious enough that his friends had figured him out.

“Since filming.” He admitted. Carolynn cheered.

“You owe me $20.” She told her husband, who glared at Charlie.

“You just had to admit it, huh?” Jeremy shook his head, and Charlie shrugged, a small smile on his face.

“Admit what?” Owen’s voice came from behind them, deep from sleep, and Charlie took a sip of his coffee to try to distract himself. Owen always looked good but in the early morning light, his hair still a mess from sleeping, he looked ethereal. Charlie bit his lip to stop himself from staring.

“Nothing important.” Carolynn replied, and Charlie shot her a thankful look.

“Can we see if the birthday fairy visited now?” Margaux sighed, clearly impatient. They all laughed.

“Of course baby.” Charlie told her, standing up. He grabbed the plate of pancakes he had made for Owen, handing them to the younger boy as he passed him.

Margaux lead the way to the living area where Kenny and Tori were already sat waiting, squealing with excitement when she saw the small pile of presents on the table.

“They came!” She exclaimed, and Charlie couldn’t help but smile, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Margaux settled down on the couch as everyone spread out around the room, and one by one she opened the presents, eyes widening with excitement at every single one.

Charlie had gotten her a few dolls that he knew she had been wanting, plus some new clothes, books and other toys.

Jeremy and Carolynn had gotten her a small paint set with a Frozen paint by numbers.

Kenny had gotten her a tiny version of the Sunset Curve shirt that the cast had all received.

Tori had gotten her a little lilac tutu.

Madi, Jadah and Savannah had sent their presents, some handmade earrings, little stud versions of the ghost drawings that Carolynn had created from Madi, a small pair of overalls from Savannah, and a colouring book from Jadah.

But her absolute favourite gift had come from Owen, a tan coloured bear from Build-A-Bear that he had dressed like Luke, and the clothes to change the bear into Reggie, Alex and Julie if she wanted to.

After hugs all round the group decided to go their own ways, with Kenny heading off to spend the day relaxing, and Tori, Jeremy and Carolynn going to the beach to sunbathe since Carolynn’s flight had been delayed.

“Where do you want to go today birthday girl?” Charlie asked, as he and Owen collected the pile of gifts to move them back to their room.

Margaux frowned in thought, the bear still grasped in her arms.

“Hiking.” She decided, and Charlie laughed. She was definitely his daughter.

“You sure? We can do whatever you want to do.” He checked. Margaux nodded, her attention focused on her new clothes that Charlie had placed on the bed to fold later.

“I’m sure.” She said, reaching for the Sunset Curve shirt and overalls. “Can I wear this?”

“Of course you can.” Charlie agreed.

“I’m gonna have a quick shower.” Owen said, grabbing some clothes out of his bag. Charlie nodded, focused on helping Margaux change out of her pyjamas into her new clothes.

“Do you think we can have some time tonight just you and me?” Charlie asked once Margaux was dressed, moving to grab her hairbrush and some hair ties.

“Yes please Daddy.” Margaux agreed, sitting on the edge of the bed as Charlie sat behind her.

“We could go get dinner just the two of us, and then come back here for birthday cake.” He suggested. Margaux frowned, clearly thinking.

“Is it chocolate cake?” She asked after a moment, and Charlie paused from brushing her hair to kiss the top of her head.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” He teased. Charlie finished tying her hair up into two little space buns, not quite proper buns but as close as he could get with her shortish hair.

“I hope it’s chocolate cake. I love chocolate cake.” She giggled, standing up on the bed and turning around to hug her father. Charlie wrapped his arms around her, a gesture that was so safe and familiar.

“Me too baby, me too.” He agreed. Margaux snuggled her head into his shoulder.

“Is Papa coming hiking?” She questioned. Charlie grinned to himself.

“Do you want him to come?” He asked. Margaux didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes.”

“Then I’m sure he’d love to come.” Charlie assured her. She pulled away. looking him in the eyes. Charlie had always loved that she had gotten his eyes.

“Do I ask him?” She said, eyes wide. Charlie struggled to contain a laugh at how serious she looked.

“When he comes back, yeah.” He nodded.

“When who comes back?” Owen asked, re-entering the room. Margaux jumped up, throwing herself at the 20 year old. He lifted her up with no hesitation.

“Are you gonna come hiking?” Margaux asked, her bottom lip jutting out in a pleading way.

“Of course I am. Wouldn’t want to miss spending time with my two favourite people.” Owen grinned, kissing her nose causing her to giggle. Charlie’s heart skipped a beat at the declaration that he was one of Owen’s favourite people.

“Yay! Can we go now?” Margaux turned in Owen’s arms to face her father. He nodded, standing up from the bed.

“Shoes, and then we can go.” He said, and Margaux squirmed her way out of Owen’s arms to go find her running shoes.

Charlie exchanged a look with Owen, the both of them thinking the same thing.

It was going to be a long day.

Hiking with a just turned four year old was exhausting, even despite them choosing the easiest possible trail so that she wouldn’t have any issues.

It was fine at first, Margaux excitedly looking at the plants and trying to spot any animals in the trees, but after about twenty minutes she got bored and tired, and Charlie and Owen spent the rest of the hike passing her back and forth between the two of them.

Finally they made it back to the villa, and after a quick stop for lunch Margaux was recharged and ready for the rest of the day.

“Can we swim?” She asked. Charlie nodded.

“We’ll go and get changed, and then we can go in the pool for a while until we have to get ready for dinner, okay?” He suggested.

“Okay Daddy.” Margaux smiled sweetly.

After quickly changing into their swimmers, Charlie, Margaux and Owen ended up in the pool, Jeremy and Carolynn lounging nearby.

They swam for a few hours until Margaux got thirsty, and with a promise of apple juice she and Charlie climbed out of the pool leaving Owen to go sit with the Shada’s.

Charlie walked inside the villa, finding Kenny sat at the kitchen bench reading while Tori lounged on one of the couches, staring at her phone.

“Why don’t we do cake now, so that you don’t have to worry about rushing home?” Kenny spoke up, as Charlie manoeuvred through the kitchen to get the apple juice out, Margaux clinging to his chest like a baby koala.

“That’s a good idea. Do you want to do your birthday cake now Mags?” Charlie asked his daughter, pouring her some apple juice. She sipped on the juice, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah!” She exclaimed. Charlie smiled.

“Okay, can you go get Papa, Aunty Care and Uncle Jer for me?” He asked, placing her down. She nodded eagerly, handing her cup of juice to him before rushing outside to where Owen, Jeremy and Carolynn were still sat.

Charlie grabbed the cake out of the fridge and placed it on the bench, before putting the four candles in, and grabbing a lighter.

“Have you seen my camera Kenny?” He asked, and Kenny just pointed to the end of the bench where the camera was sitting. Charlie smiled gratefully, grabbing the camera.

“Want me to take photos?” Tori offered, and Charlie nodded, handing her the camera.

Margaux re-entered the room, Owen and the Shada’s following close behind her, and when she reached her father he lifted her up. Kenny took the lighter, lighting the candles on the cake and together they sung Happy Birthday to Margaux, Tori snapping photos as the four year old blew out her candles.

Charlie held Margaux close to him as Kenny divided the cake up, thankful that he had such an amazing family to spend his little girl’s birthday with.

When Charlie and Margaux made it back to the villa after their dinner that night, the newly four year old was ready to fall asleep. Charlie carried her to bed, silently thanking his past self for deciding to give her a bath and do her birthday cake before they went to dinner because now all he had to do was change her into her pyjamas.

He changed her quickly seeing that she was almost asleep, and tucked her into the bed.

“Did you have a good birthday baby?” Charlie asked softly, settling down next to his daughter.

Margaux just nodded in response.

“That’s good.” Charlie ran a hand through her curls. “Goodnight baby girl.”

“Big girl.” Margaux mumbled sleepily. Charlie smiled, leaning down and kissing her head.

“You might be a big girl now but you’ll always be my baby girl.” He whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too Daddy.” Margaux replied, her eyes already shut and her arms wrapped tightly around her new bear. Charlie stood up slowly and headed to the door, leaving it open a crack for a little bit of light to shine in.

He paused for a moment, just taking in the reality that Margaux was already four years old, and that she was growing up too fast. With one last look at the door he made his way down the hallway and outside to where he knew Owen was waiting.

“She’s asleep.” He announced, flopping down on the outdoor sofa next to Owen.

“I’m not shocked, she’s had a big day.” Owen replied, handing Charlie a cold beer that he had clearly gotten for him. Charlie took it thankfully, taking a large swig.

“Can you believe that she’s four already? It feels like she was only just born and I was waking up to find out that her mother was gone and that it was only me and her. It was terrifying at the time, but looking back I wouldn’t change it for the world.” He rambled. Owen rested his head on Charlie’s shoulder and Charlie wrapped his arm around the younger boy, pulling him closer.

“You should be proud of yourself Char. You’ve done an amazing job.” Owen complimented, snuggling closer to Charlie as he took a mouthful of his beer.

“You think so?” Charlie questioned. Owen nodded against his shoulder.

“I know so.” He sat up. “Margaux is the most well behaved kid I’ve ever met, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her misbehave once in all the time I’ve known her. She’s an amazing kid and it’s all because she has the most amazing father.”

“Thank you.” Charlie whispered, suddenly realising how close Owen was to him. He could feel Owen’s warm breath on his lips, and he found himself leaning in, the urge to kiss Owen overtaking his entire being. His lips brushed against Owen’s ever so slightly, but before they could properly commit to the kiss they were interrupted.

“Hey, we’re gonna play...” Tori’s voice came and they jumped apart quickly. She trailed off, eyeing them carefully. “Were you two about to kiss?”

Charlie cleared his throat. Owen’s eyes widened.

“Uh... no?” Owen lied. Tori shot them a suspicious look but clearly decided against pushing.

“Right... well we’re gonna play Cards Against Humanity if you want to join us.” She told them, before turning and heading back inside. Neither Charlie nor Owen moved, the silence was deafening. Finally Owen spoke.

“Sorry.” He muttered quickly, before standing up and rushing inside. Charlie groaned, watching him leave, the feeling of Owen’s lips still lingering on his own.

“Fuck.” He sighed, downing the last of his beer before standing up to join the rest of the group inside.

He would have to deal with the Owen situation later.

#single dad!charlie #single dad!charlie x owen #charlie gillespie #owen joyner #owen patrick joyner #dad!charlie #chowen

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peachyproserpina · 3 years

Text

Oops Pt. 2

Jason Roberts (SVU) x Fem!Reader

Part one here!

Here it is! It's kinda jumpy but I hope yall enjoy it! Tagging my love @glassbxttless for all your help with this and the fact it's dedicated to you!

TW: Smut, Alcohol, Drugs, Food, lots of Crying, mentions of abuse, mentions of Death, pregnancy, babies, swearing

As always! If I have missed a tag let me know and I will tag it!

You hiss when the cold jelly gets smeared on your stomach, you’re fucking pregnant, test after test after fucking test and you’re pregnant. You booked an appointment with Planned Parenthood as soon as they would let you and made Jason come with. They confirmed with a blood test that yes indeed you we’re pregnant and about 5ish weeks along at that point. You both looked at each other and the nurse could see the panic between you too. She sent you home with a stack of pamphlets as thick as your arm and assured you that you have options, even if you needed to make them quick.

That was 3 weeks ago when your bras still fit you, this isn’t your first ultrasound but the jelly never gets any better no matter how much you prepare. Jason is here, he’s insisted on coming to every appointment. He was clingy before but ever since you found out he’s been even worse. Watching the cameras and your location more so then before and having you facetime him whenever you’re out of the apartment. Clingy.

You’re at 12 weeks now and your monkey is about as big as a lime and really fucking with everything they can. You’re showing now, now matter how many layers or flowy dresses you put on, and between the cravings and the aversions (Chocolate is a go but for some reason tacos make you gag) you’ve put on a few pounds. Jason loves it, after the shock wore off and you both decided to keep it, always wanting kids but never knowing when. It just. Felt right. He picked up on your moods and cravings just as well as he did before and the fact your chest is so big now you cant even wear a bra is a plus. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve been woken up with Jason between your thighs as soon as he’s home from work, or when he gently fucks you awake, big hand covering your whole bump and cooing praise in your ear before filling you with cum and letting you get the sleep you need. You’re both adjusting and determined to ‘keep you safe babygirl’ Jason got a promotion with a healthy wage and he’s kept you cooped up at home where he can watch you and his monkey.

“I’m so sorry you have to grow up without a Daddy monkey.” You’re gently rubbing your bump as you walk down the street, en route to your old apartment. The one right across the hall from Jason used to live, where his mom still lives.

“He’s just so dumb for telling grandma I’m going to kill him before you’re born I’m sure of it.” You don’t notice the looks from the people milling on the stairway of the building, too bust fuming at the fact Jason managed to do the one thing you asked him not to do.

Tell anyone.

You wanted to keep it until you knew the gender, maybe post something on your socials, call your family about it. Invite Estelle over for a dinner and let her know then. But nope, Jason as much as a mommas boy he is, spilled the beans a day after you asked him not to. Causing you to make your way to the old building for a ‘baby-baby shower’ with his mom, with a strict “No boys allowed!’ leaving Jason a mess as you walked around New York, knowing he was never far, always watching you helped calm him down. You don’t even have to kock before Estelle is rushing you in the door, and you can’t tell if it’s the spread she has thoughtfully laid out or the hormones but you’re already crying.

There’s cute little cakes, caffeine free tea, candies, chocolate, pickles, and everything else you have possibly been craving spread all over her kitchen table, you hug her close and try to stop your tears.

“Let's get you sat down before you hurt yourself honey.” She sits you in one of her kitchen chairs and brings you a tissue, you thank her as she hands you a cup of tea and you both settle in for the afternoon celebration. She’s dipped into the brandy and brought out all of Jason’s old baby stuff she’ll be sending you home with, you’re flipping through and laughing when you stop on a picture of newborn Jason being held in a man's arms. You furrow your brow and she picks up on that. “He was an awful man you know. Beat me black and blue and Jason too.” Her words take you by surprise, Jason never talked about his dad, just that he was a deadbeat and glad he was dead.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Jason never.” She cuts you off with a soft hand on your thigh before she gently rubs the top of your belly.

“He died young you know, I-” she takes a swig of brandy before she continues. “He beat Jason so bad he broke his arm. Can you believe that? Jason wasn’t much older then 7, still a baby and that bastard broke his arm.” You’re speechless as you flick your eyes between Estelle and the photo of Jason’s father. “He was sleeping around too. Thought I didn’t know, it was the 90’s of course I fucking knew when his pager was going off at all hours. He didn’t even have a pager for work.” You sniffle and nod your head, you really had no idea, Jason never talked about his father and you let it be.

“He shoulda known better, sleeping pills and coke are a dangerous mix you know. Add in some tramp and all the clubs he was going to it was bound to happen sooner or later.” She smiles at you then and you’ve seen that same smile on Jason, recognize that smile. That’s the one he gave you after he came over and installed the first camera. Your blood runs cold for a second before you’re pulled out of your head by Estelle flipping the page and cooing at how cute Jason was taking apart his first Nintendo console.

20 weeks, 5 months and you’re suffering. Your hips are aching and popping, there’s this nerve in your back that keeps pinching and sometimes it’s so bad you can’t even move. You can’t even sleep a full night before the little one is moving around or you’re dying from how hot it is. You whine as Jason gets up, jostling you awake.

“Jas no, come back to bed I finally got some sleep.” You’re making grabby hands at him and he walks around to your side of the bed and pressing kisses against your hair.

“I cant baby, we’re gonna have people over for your shower and I should clean up a little.” Jason is rubbing his hand up and down your belly as he talks, settling the little one and you can feel angry tears well up in your eyes.

“Do we have to? I don’t want to Jason, please?” You can feel the tears leak out now and you’re mad, mad at him, mad at your monkey for keeping you up, mad at yourself for getting pregnant. He kisses your tears before giving you a filthy kiss and teasing his fingers over your clit that makes you gasp and forget all about how mad you just were.

“You have friends come over and we get to know whether it’s a boy or a girl. Then we get to think about names. So no. I’ll get the bath ready for ya momma.” Jason's walking away before you can pull him back and demand he makes you cum. You shut your eyes and try to get ready for this day.

The party is easy breezy, gifts were exchanged, weird games were played, and your friends organized a cute revel, filling a box with so many pink balloons and streamers, and ribbon you’re sure you’re going to find them even after your baby is born. Jason’s getting nervous again, you’ve kicked everyone out saying you’re tired and they left without complaint.

“Whats wrong Jas? I can feel you worrying from over here.” You scoot over on the couch and make room for him, he moves from where he was cleaning stuff up and drops into the seat. He’s running his hands through his hair before you pull one to your lips and kiss it. He’s lets out the breath he was holding, letting the tension drop from his shoulders as he rests his head back on the couch. Spreading his long long legs out wide, you feel the pang of arousal as you eye up his thighs, his crotch the way his adam’s apple bobs when he smiles before he letting everything out.

“What if I’m not right for you? What if I’m just like my dad? I don’t think I’m good enough to raise your ba-” you cut off his tirade by straddling his thigh and rubbing your cunt against it. You whipped off your bottoms as soon as everyone left, just in your panties and a tank as you lounged and watched Jason. His head snaps up and he whimpers when he can feel you soak through his denim already. You pull his hands up to cup your chest, sighing as you catch your clit as just the right angle and he lifts up your heavy tits, giving your back a little bit of a break.

“You’re gonna be fucking perfect Jason.” You’re getting desperate and the way Jason is looking at you like you single-handedly hung the stars in the sky is feeding your ego and your arousal. His chest is rising and falling just as fast as yours is and his cock has filled out so fast he’s light headed. You keep going, so desperate after that little tease this morning you’re already close to coming and its not fair. Jason tenses his thigh under you and you gasp. “Do that fucking again Jas. Right now.” He whines and does as he is told, as the little change helps push you over the edge and you’re cumming, soaking his jeans and hungrier than before for his cock. You weave your fingers through his hair and yank, hard.

“Take your cock out right fucking now.” He’s nodding eyes glazed over as he rushes to do what you’ve asked. You don’t let up on the death grip on his hair, covering his neck with dark hickies and bites that he’ll have to cover up when he leaves for work. You feel the trail of precum as he frees his cock from his pants and it slides up your thigh, you pull back and when you see it, so angry red and big for you you grind down onto his thigh again and moan. You’re maneuvering yourself so you can sit on Jason's cock and ever the worrier he is, he's helping. Spreading his legs wider, his hands holding your hips so you and your belly can fit against him tight on the couch that is probably too small to be doing this on.

You let go of his hair, pull his lips to yours as you finally sit down on his cock, the moan you rip from your chest is almost as pretty as Jason’s sigh.

“You’re so fucking tight for me baby girl. So fucking hot.” Jason's mouth is running and you huff, not happy he’s coherent enough to do so. You kiss him again, nipping on his bottom lip hard as you start to move. His hands are everywhere, your tits, your thighs, your back pulling you close so he can shove his tongue down your throat. You haven’t been at this long but you can feel the orgasm building right at the base of your spine, where lately it’s only hurt. It’s not long before Jason has a thumb on your clit and a nipple in his mouth. You hold him close to your chest as you bounce bounce bounce on his big dick.

“Fuck I'm gonna cum Jason. Please keep doing that.” You tilt your head back and grind yourself onto him, you’re so fucking close and you can feel from the way Jason’s pulsing inside of you he’s not too far off either. He pinches the nipple he doesn’t have in his mouth hard and that's enough to tip you over the edge, soaking his lap yet again as you cum. Thighs shaking tense as you clamp down on Jason’s length and he is right behind you. Filling you up to overflowing with his cum, messy as you both come down.

“JASON!” You’re frantic as you call for him,m knowing damn well he is not there. You can feel your water pool where you're standing in the kitchen. Of course the ONE DAY Jason has to go into work your water breaks. You reach for your phone that's ringing as you shift worriedly in your spot in the kitchen.

“What's wrong babygirl?” Jason’s on the other line, frantic, you can hear shouting in the back. It might be his boss but you’re starting to freak out and the first contraction hits and you wail. “Baby, talk to me, I can see you but the cameras don’t have microphones yet.”

“I- my water just broke Jas, I just had a contraction I need you here.” You’re crying, panicking and you can hear Jason huff and puffin your ear. He’s surprisingly calm on the other end as you sniffle into the phone, trying to remember those stupid breathing exercises you learned about in that Virtual birthing class you both took.

“I’m almost home love, can you get to the bag near the door?” You move, stiff and awkward but you’re moving. “Good job baby girl. Get to the bag by the door and I’m almost home. We'll get you to the hospital soon, promise.” You’re taking those deep breaths as you waddle to the door.

“Jas, how are you almost home? It takes 20 fucking-” you gasp as you feel another twinge and take big gulps of air. “You’re 20 minutes away if you take the train.” You’re puzzled as you hear him breathing heavy through the line.

“I just ran. It’s faster.” You nearly drop the phone at that.

“You did not! Jason! You are going to die!” You’re laughing and you can hear his footsteps pounding, you’re at the go bag by the door and you try to bend over to pick it up and nearly fall over. You’re still not fucking used to being this big. The door slams open as you’re resting against the wall bag as your feet and ruined clothes. Jason's there, your man, your creepy fucking neighbor who spied on you and now got your pregnant. He’s sweaty, he really did run all the way from work for you and the thought makes you want to laugh and cry at how much you fucking love him. But then another contraction hits and you're crying out in pain again. He’s picking up the bag at your feet before he’s helping you step into some slides and gently ushering you down the stairs to Estelle's car that is waiting to take you to the hospital.

One Epidural and 14 hours of labor later you have your baby girl, Delilah Stella Roberts, sleeping against your chest and Jason is trying not to cry as she has him already wrapped around her finger.

#jason x reader #jason svu #adcu fanfiction #adcu fic #jason roberts (svu) x reader #reader insert #tw: drugs #tw: swearing #tw: anxiety #tw: food #tw: pregnancy #I really hope yall like this #sorry if it feels rush #but i did have fun reading it #peachy writes

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yoongsisbae · 3 years

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Content Tag Game

thank you @inkofyoongi for the tag and also bless you for the Poetica teaser I'm crying already!!! Yoongi and y/n kissing oh my heart.

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)? Harry Potter and Attack on Titan

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for? BTS

3. how long have you been writing? Writing online, I wrote HP ff when I was a preteen. Oh god it was horrible, it was a lot of silly meme worthy stuff, but that was half the fun in the HP fandom back in the day, then years later I tried to write one AOT ff and it did not do well lol, I think I maybe got two comments one of them being really mean lol and I gave up and left my story unfinished and moved on from ff (funnily enough I based a scene in one of my HOAL chapters off of it and no complaints so ha!...lol.) Then a friend bought me a dream journal, and I fell back in love with writing again after HOAL 🥰

4. on which platforms do you post your stories? I have a Wattpad and I just created an Ao3 to crosspost.

5. what is your favourite genre to write? Angst, I guess I am just a masochist.

6. are you a pantser or a planner? Well I am definitely not a planner, so I guess I'm a pantser lol. I rather just write the story instead of planning. I vaguely know the endings, the problem is most of my stories start out as dreams, and what usually happens in dreams??? That's right, you wake up BEFORE the ending. So then I have the arduous task of figuring out what else is supposed to happen lol, I feel like if I just write it out it will somehow magically come together in the end, planning is unnecessary stress I don't need lol.

7. one shot or multi-chapter? You know I really admire one shot writers, but I am just not built like that...

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion? I would say as a writer and what I also prefer reading, between 6k and 10k is the sweet spot.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete? Handshakes of a Lifetime is almost at 55k words 👀 and I would say it's half way done?

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most? I really love writing HOAL, some of the chapters were very therapeutic to write 🥲. During the beginning chapters I was going through a lot of chronic pain and there were long stretches where I was so engrossed I forgot about the pain which if you've ever suffered from chronic illness, is like finding a raft in the middle of the ocean. But also Run Run Run made me hysterically laugh for hours (the visuals in my head are something else man), I already know I am going to have so much fun finishing that story.

11. favourite request you’ve written and why? I don’t take requests, however there have been times when I requested myself to write lol. Instead of word vomiting all over my blog and oversharing to you guys who probably do not want to listen to my ugly problems, I said, hey, why not just take all that pain and channel it into a story instead? Because that's why people follow me after all and I'm a woman of the people lol, and that's how Blue and Grey was written. It's short and simple, and it's one of my favorite stories I've ever written.

12. are there reocurring themes in your stories? Hmmm pain lol, whether it be pleasurable pain or not lol. Again, my stories start out as dreams, so they are pretty random. I do notice there's a lot of “escaping”, that might just be a dream thing idk.

13. current number of wips? HOAL, C!HOC, RRR, BV:ITS, a cross over fandom story I am so excited for and will write before the year is up (I just somehow need to become a smarter writer before then), a cute theme story I want to release on Halloween, 6 angsty one shots for each member (Namjoon's is already written), and an unnamed invasion AU story that I hope will see the light of day, but I have so many questions as to what is going on and have to figure out those answers before I post it (also I don't know know if I should add another ongoing fic and do that to myself lol)

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing? I love cliff hangers, they are just so much fun, I truly can't help myself. I also can't help putting a hopeful spin on my writing, even when I think I shouldn't, the story would be more meaningful if I didn't, but I am a hopeless romantic so sue me. And even if my stories are very fantasy driven, I try to be as realistic as possible, especially during smut scenes, I need realism, I don't like writing unrealistic sex, so sorry if it’s not that fantastical sometimes, I try to make it up in story pacing 🥲🥲.

15. a quote you like from a published story. Chapter 4 of HOAL is full of sentences I am proud of lol. "...a storm so final in its answer, it must be controlled by the Grim Reaper himself." and "...rain droplets clash against the ocean, open like umbrellas, and the sea throws back tiny gems of water." I really tried to portray that calm before the storm feeling throughout the chapter.

16. a quote from an unpublished story. Here is a part of the unnamed story, "Namjoon never came back. You take out your phone, pull up Namjoon’s number. You don’t have a pen or pencil, and you’ve never been good at memorization. But this time you have to, you must remember the ten numbers as if your life depended on it, because you’re starting to feel like it might."

17. a space for you to say something to your readers. My dreams had been haunting me for awhile until I finally said, "okay, let me just try, I'll just try to and see if this whole writing thing will work for me." Sometimes you have thoughts that you just need to scream out into the world before they consume you and the fact that people are hearing me, and being moved in even the littlest of ways by my stories lifts the pressure off my shoulders just a bit every day. A lot of my stories are anonymous love letters to people in my life, memories I want to preserve and transform into stories people can enjoy, happy and painful, for better or for worse. So to my readers, thank you for enjoying my stories, for hearing me. ❤️

I tag: @cloudteawrites @bangtangalicious @smasmashin @alpacaparkaseok @deepdarkdelights @btsaudge @koosbabygrl and any other writer who wants to share! 💕

#your question 14 I am taking as confirmation of Yoongi being utterly in love with Poetica y/n 😭😭😭😭😭#ask game #tag game

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peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years

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Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane

~^~

Saturday, 16:43

Song: Ruel - Dazed & Confused

Jens peeks another look at his phone, but no notifications appear over the call screen. He picks the phone up and drags the top bar down, just in case there’s one he missed, but his notifications are empty.

“Jens!”

He whips his head up to look at the screen to find that he’s about to be shot down, and he drops his phone in favour of smashing the buttons on his control. He can hear Robbe’s protests through the phone and knows, seconds before he wipes out, that he’s too late. Robbe sighs only a second later, and Jens can hear the clatter of him tossing the control away as Jens flops back on his bed. He rubs a hand over his face and manages to mumble out, “Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere. Just didn’t notice in time.”

“Jens. I called your name like four times before you reacted.”

Jens muffles a groan behind his hands then grabs for his phone, dropping it closer to his head. Robbe stays quiet, and Jens tries to figure out what to tell him. There is no truth that seems better than the other.

“What’s up?” Robbe prods gently, lightly, when Jens is taking too long to answer.

He tucks his shoulders up in a shrug, even though Robbe can’t see him. “Nothing. I was just distracted.”

“By?”

Jens huffs. He licks his lips as he stares at the ceiling, thinking of how he should explain when he’s not even sure himself. But he supposes it’s just Robbe. Robbe won’t judge him. “I haven’t heard from Lucas.”

There’s a moment of silence, in which Jens feels a little judged.

“Were you expecting to?” Robbe eventually asks, sounding more confused than anything.

Jens heaves a sigh. “Kind of? I’d at least like to know that he’s alive.”

Robbe gives a small laugh. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“He’s gone home for the weekend.”

“Oh. Really?”

Jens hums.

“But wasn’t he at the party with you?”

“Yeah but that’s also the thing. He left that without even saying goodbye.”

The silence this time is less nerve-wracking, because Jens knows that Robbe is simply thinking. It makes him feel less like he’s over-exaggerating. If Robbe thinks it’s weird, too, then he isn’t overreacting.

“When did he tell you he was going home then?”

Jens grabs his phone and pushes himself up into a sitting position. He shifts until he can flop back against the pillows, setting his phone on his stomach. “I caught up to him after school to tell him about the party and he told me he couldn’t go because he was going home. And I convinced him to just stick around and go for an hour, and he said he would if I hung out with him ‘til then. And he was super chill the whole evening. And then at the party I went to get us drinks, and I came back just to have Moyo tell me he left in a rush with no explanation.”

Robbe is quiet for another moment. Then he says, “Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, maybe he got a message or something? Or forgot he had to do something else before he left? I mean, that must have been a really late train you were making him get, Jens.”

“I wasn’t making him stay,” Jens mumbles. Although, looking back, he’d worried the same thing. The first thought he had, when Moyo told him that Lucas had left, was that he had scared him off. Without even thinking about why at the time, the fear had instantly sunk in and settled in the pit of Jens’s stomach, and then he’d begun picking it apart.

He’d been very insistent that Lucas stay, and that he should go to the party with him. He hadn’t even bothered to come up with any excuses. He’d just poked and prodded because he wanted Lucas there. That thought was eased by the argument that Lucas had given in easily enough and simply requested more time with Jens.

But he hadn’t asked Jens to take him to his favourite fast food place and make him a part of his beloved tradition. He hadn’t asked Jens to guide him through the streets with quite so much physical assistance. He hadn’t asked Jens to dance with him like that.

Jens has been very pleased, for the past week, to have a friend that feels like his. He’s used that as an excuse for every time he would seek Lucas out, every time he made sure Lucas was next to him, every time he sent a text only hours after seeing him in person. He was excited to have someone new that he got along with, someone who wasn’t obsessed with their relationship or too busy with their own life to pay him any attention.

He’s just beginning to think that maybe he’s been a little too excited, and it’s led him to push the boundaries with Lucas a little beyond what would be considered friendly.

Which is a thought that opens up a whole world of questions Jens doesn’t want to answer.

“I would understand that,” Jens continues quietly, when Robbe says nothing to rationalise his complaints. “It’s that I messaged him after to say I hope he has a good weekend and he hasn’t even read it. What if he like, got attacked on the way there or something?” Jens almost expects his friend to laugh this specific worry off, but Robbe stays quiet. It only makes the anxiety in his stomach kick up into something a little more frantic. He hadn’t even been considering that as the biggest possibility—thinking more along the lines of having freaked Lucas out and scared him off. He’s worrying now that it may have been a selfish thought and he should have genuinely been more worried.

“Do you text him often then? And he usually replies quickly?”

Jens is almost embarrassed to answer, but Robbe’s tone is merely curious and Lucas does message him often and quickly. That is never one-sided. None of their interactions have felt one-sided. “Yeah, instantly almost, most of the time.”

“Okay, so I agree that it’s strange,” Robbe says softly. “But these are different circumstances. He was probably in a rush last night, and then over-eager to see his friends this morning. Maybe he hasn’t even checked his DMs.”

“Yeah,” Jens mumbles. “Maybe.”

“Did you check to see when he was active last?”

“He hasn’t been active since yesterday. Isn’t it weird that he hasn’t posted anything either? Or that his friends haven’t?”

“You’ve already checked his friends too, then,” Robbe says, and now he sounds almost amused.

Jens pulls a breath in through his nose before letting it out on a long sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’m overthinking it, aren’t I?”

Robbe hums. Jens can hear the smile in it. “Maybe a little bit. Which is weird for you, because you usually don’t think at all.”

“Ha, ha,” Jens replies dryly.

Robbe snorts. “It’s nice, though. That you’ve taken him in. He’s lucky to have been picked up by you.”

Jens doesn’t know about that, but his chest warms all the same. “So you think he’s okay?”

“I do. I think you would know if he wasn’t. You could text him again, just to see, but he’s supposed to be back tomorrow right? Maybe don’t worry about it until then.”

Jens sighs again. It’s harder than it probably should be, to do what Robbe says. To stop worrying. It is odd. He usually doesn’t think this much.

But there’s the worry that Lucas really is lying hurt and half-dead in an alley somewhere, or there’s the worry that Jens had messed things up. He’s currently not a big fan of either option, and he’d really been hoping that Robbe would have provided another.

He supposes he has. Jens feels like he would know, if something had happened to Lucas, would feel it deep down in his gut where all his natural instincts lie. The worry would be more prominent than this. This is an ache in his chest and a niggle in the back of his brain telling him that something is wrong, spurred on by his own insecurities.

Lucas probably is off having fun. With his friends. His real friends, back home, who know about his mother and his birthday and his favourite things that Jens is still in the dark about. He probably just isn’t even thinking about Jens at all.

“You’re right,” he eventually tells Robbe. “He’s a big boy. Doesn’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m always right,” Robbe teases back. “And I do have more experience with complicated boys.”

“Do you think Lucas is complicated?”

“Everyone is complicated, Jens. Do you want to play another round?”

Jens considers, and begins to hum in agreement only for someone to knock on his door and then carefully push it open. He raises his brows as Lotte pokes her head in, with a wide, innocent smile on her face.

“Mama wants you in the kitchen.”

“Now?”

Robbe huffs in quiet amusement at the complaint in his voice as Lotte just nods.

Jens sighs. “Fine. Go tell her I’ll be there in a sec.”

Lotte gives a chipper nod and skips back down the hall, leaving his door open behind her. He rolls his eyes and picks up his phone, turning off the speakerphone and bringing the device to his ear. “Sorry, duty calls. Maybe later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Robbe says easily.

“You don’t have any plans with Sander?”

“He can just come play, too.”

“I’m not sure I want to be involved in those games,” Jens teases.

Robbe snorts, and Jens can picture him shaking his head. “Goodbye, Jens. Let me know if you hear from Lucas, yeah?”

“Yep,” Jens promises as he finally climbs off the bed, making his way to his door and then the top of the stairs as he adds a, “Bye,” and Robbe hangs up.

He pockets his phone and takes a steadying breath in and out through his nose as he trots down the stairs. He rounds the door into the kitchen with his hand on the frame and a complaint already on his lips. “What did you wa—“

He stops in his tracks in the doorway when he doesn’t find his mother in the room. Instead it’s a woman of a smaller stature and darker hair with her back turned to him, wearing jeans and a cropped jumper he hopes to <i>never</i> see on his mother. She whirls around at the sound of his voice and beams.

“Lies?”

“Hey.” His sister wiggles her brows at him as her smile brightens even further. When he continues to stand there, staring, she holds her arms out towards him and wiggles her fingers instead, brows raised. “Since when do you have nothing to say?”

Jens barrels into her and wraps her up in a tight hug, lifting her slightly off her feet. She laughs and slings her arms around his shoulders to hold herself up, pressing a kiss to his cheek and pulling fondly at his hair.

“Hi,” Jens breathes. He sets her back down but doesn’t let go, ducking his head down to rest on her shoulder instead. “What are you doing here?”

She pulls back and tucks her hands into her pockets once Jens lets go. “Reading week.”

Jens furrows his brows and tilts his head to the side. “Isn’t that next week?”

“No, midterm is next week. This is like a study week organised by my lecturers.”

“But...you haven’t even been back that long.”

Lies rolls her eyes and pinches his cheek. “Are you happy to see me or not?” she prods.

Jens bats her hand away with a grin. He’s tempted to hug her again. It’s weird, maybe, that he is so happy to see his older sister, but he has never really gotten used to her being away. With only a two year age gap between them, Lies had grown up alongside him without appearing miles ahead. They’ve always been close, and Jens is getting used to missing her when she leaves and counting the days until she comes home. She has always made the home environment feel better to Jens. She has, oddly enough, always been on his team—and vice versa. He isn’t alone when Lies is home.

Which is why she usually tells him when she’s coming back.

He frowns just as quickly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lies deflates, sighing as she performs the same drawn-out shrug as Jens. “I don’t know, college life is stressful, and I didn’t even realise I hadn’t mentioned it to you. I thought you knew. And then Mom was surprised when I mentioned it last week and I realised. Then I thought it would be a nice surprise, but…”

“It is,” Jens argues quickly. “It’s a fucking great surprise. I missed you.”

“But I only just went back,” she mocks, teasing him. He draws her in with an arm around her neck and musses her hair, earning a shriek followed by a shout of protest and a jab to the stomach. Jens’s gasp turns quickly into a laugh and he changes the hold to another short hug, smiling when Lies gives in and hugs him back. “I bet I still have more interesting stories to catch you up on than you do with me.”

“Nope,” Jens denies happily. “Not this time. I have a whole new person to tell you about.”

Lies immediately leans back and snaps her head up to look at him, eyes wide. “You got a new girlfriend?”

“No,” Jens laughs.

She squints. “Boyfriend?”

He shoves her away with another laugh, shaking his head and ignoring the stutter of his heart. He can think about all the things that are confusing him later, when Lies isn’t carefully examining him. “Friend. Lucas. He just moved from Antwerp like a week ago.”

“And you’ve already managed to corrupt him?” Lies smiles.

Jens tilts his head side to side, smiling with her. “I’ve certainly started.”

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

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Sweater | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey Lovelies! Hope you're all doing well in this time of uncertainty, I know it can be tough. Never fear though, as always the Mikaelson boys are here to the rescue. I almost wrote another smut, like I had to put my laptop down and walk away, but alas I kept the tale on track. Kind of. None of my stories ever stay on track. Oh well, here you go loves, happy April 1st! Also, stay tuned for a master list that I will be posting sometime in the coming days!

Description: The Mikaelson household is a household that shares everything, something that Y/n finds out when she unassumingly picks up a sweater and puts in on without a care.

Pairing: The Mikaelson boys x Fem!Reader, definitely leaned this in Elijah's favour though

Warnings: None? Sharing? Is that a warning? They share Y/n there, I said it, you've been "warned"

Word count: 3798

Tags: FLUFF, very light smut, like not even just a heavy make-out scene,

(Photos do not belong to me but the mood bard does :) )

Life at the Mikaelson compound is, by no means, an ordinary one. It’s a lot of loud conversations, a lot of even louder fights, and a delirious amount of laughter. The kind of laughter that immobilizes people. It’s a life of never being alone, even when you want to be. Someone’s always around; chewing loudly when you want to read, sitting on your bed while you pick your clothes in the morning, hell even hanging outside the bathroom while you shower. It’s a life of love, the kind that fully consumes you.

Above all, though, life at the Mikaelson compound is a life of sharing. Food, books, beds, you name it. This house coined the phrase “what’s mine is yours”, literally. After two centuries of life with the Mikaelson siblings nothing surprises you anymore. Clothes are the main culprit. You don’t bat an eye these days when Rebekah strolls out of your room in a newly purchased dress or pair of pumps. You simply couldn’t care less. That’s just how things are.

That’s why it doesn’t cross your mind when you pick up a hoodie that someone had lazily draped over the back of a dining room chair. You were freezing and it was there. It’s probably Kol’s. Holding it up, it’s massive. You shake your head. Definitely not Kol’s. There’s a chance it’s Bekah’s but it doesn’t strike you as something she would wear. It's a cream white color with a Cambridge logo. Someone must be feeling sentimental. You settle on it being Klaus, the temperamental artist, pulling the hoodie over your head without a second thought.

You continue on your way to the den, padding barefoot in a pair of lounge shorts and your newly aquired hoodie. It has a familiar scent, one that riles your senses in the most delicious way, but you still can’t place it. Pine and nutmeg. You would think that a surplus of two hundred years with the same people would make you better at this but it hasn’t.

It’s unusually quiet. Considering you didn’t wake up cuddled next to Bekah, you’re already a little off centred. You haven’t woken up alone in years. By now you should have encountered at least two of the brothers and maybe a sister. Kol is usually up early. It’s kind of suspicious. You hear the slightest hum of noise as you get closer to your destination. Nothing crazy, but it’s there.

Entering the den, your questions are answered. Almost everyone is piled in, draped across the couches, sprawled on the floor, curled in armchairs. That’s more like it. Only one person is missing. Elijah. He’s been gone for a few days now. Your heart hammers at the thought of him. His smile flashes through your mind. Your veins sing. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s calling out to him. You seriously need to get that in check.

“Something on your mind, love?” Kol’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

Of course he heard your heartbeat pick up, he’s a millennium of trained vampire hearing, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

You walk over to the couch he’s stretched over, tucking yourself under the book he’s holding and into his chest. Cuddles are a big part of the Mikaelson household, just as much as sharing. He smells heavenly too, but different from the sweater. Sweeter, not as earthy. It’s just as lovely. Your mind falls from Eli as Kol places a kiss to your forehead. His arms are cool and you try and keep your pulse in check this time. This whole family has had you enamoured from the moment you first met them.

He nuzzles his chin against your hair, “that’s what we do, hun.”

“I know,” you murmur, your heart slowing back to normal as you pull a comforter from the back of the couch onto your legs. You’re still chilly, he’s not helping much with that.

“Hey, no fair,” Rebekah whines from the floor, “I want cuddles.”

You giggle from Kol’s hold, “guess you should have waited for me this morning then, huh?”

She pouts from her own pile of blankets, giving you puppy eyes. Bekah has perfected that look for centuries. Her blonde hair is piled in a messy bun on the top of her head, a few strands trickling down around her face. She’s wearing one of your t-shirts, the blue one you got at the New York Zoo a few years back. She makes it look like a ballgown.

“Don’t pout, sister, it's not becoming,” Klaus calls from the armchair he’s sat in, his bare chest on display for your viewing pleasure, “besides, I do believe that it’s my turn.”

Klaus is no exception to the Mikaelson charm. He's mischievous and playful. Yes, he can be ruthless and, yes, he did have a reputation for boxing his family members when you first met him, but now he’s different. He cares recklessly, a page he must have taken from Rebekah’s playbook.

Not to mention he’s undeniably gorgeous and he makes your chest flutter every time his blue eyes sear into yours. You are in way too deep.

Kol grumbles, tightening his arms around you before whispering, “can’t I ever have you for five minutes before the wolves descend?”

Naturally, everyone hears his complaints.

“Vampires, Kol, vampires,” Klaus chimes in, a devilish smirk on his lips, “now hand over the girl, brother.”

“Y/n, babes, cuddles please,” Bekah intensifies her pouting and you giggle again.

They’re in an all out war for your attention, but what else is new. Your eyes dart between Bekah and her pile of blankets and Klaus’ outstretched arms. You hate to say it, but the choice is a pretty obvious one.

You rest your head against Kol’s chest, breathing his intoxicating scent one last time, “I promise I’m all yours next time.”

He gives you a tight squeeze in return, “whatever you say, love.”

You wobble slightly as you stand up, readjusting your sweater and pulling it down where it had ridden up. The chilly air nips at your exposed legs as you stumble over to Rebekah, whose arms are now open and waiting. There's a blanket around her shoulders ready to engulf you. You’re more than ready to jump into her little nest.

Klaus’ words stop you though, “that’s a nice sweater, doll, where'd you get it?”

Wait, what?

“It was in the dining room, I figured it was yours,” you more than figured; you had been certain.

His laugh sends tingles flying up your spine, “unfortunately no, love, but I’ll never turn down the opportunity to get you in my clothes.”

“Or out of them,” Kol chirps from the couch, his nose turned into his book without a care in the world about who heard him.

Your cheeks flush at his suggestive words. Not because you aren't used to them, though. Comments like these were quite usual in the Mikaelson household. It wasn’t a normal day if at least one of them didn’t make you want to squeeze your thighs together and jump one, or maybe all, of them. No, you blush because it's been two hundred years of not one of them having actually followed through on anything and it pushes you closer to doing it for them everyday. Especially lately.

His words made your legs tremble but you continued with the topic at hand, “Kol, is it yours?”

He pulls his head from his book, his eyes dark with something you can’t say you haven’t seen before, “I wish.”

The sigh that leaves your lips is not of your own volition. His brown eyes burn into yours, daring you to turn away. You do. Sorry Kol, now is not the time for a staring competition. You cross your legs desperately and put your hands on your hips, looking to Rebekah for relief.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but that’s not my sweater.”

You run a frustrated hand through your hair. You don’t know why this is bugging you so much. Your whole body feels like it's being pulled in every direction by every Mikaelson. Except Elijah, who’s not here. His name in your mind alone, though, is enough to add him to the rest. He doesn’t need to be here for you to feel his pull. Everyone of your senses is on fire right now. The earthy scent hits your nose again and you close your eyes, trying to soak up every last drop. It's driving you mad and you can swear it’s getting stronger, but it’s probably just your sanity wearing thin.

You can hear the flimsy distress in your voice, “then who, pray tell, does it belong to?”

“Me, love,” your head goes fuzzy at the sound of his voice.

You spin around on clumsy legs, practically falling into Elijah, “Eli!”

He catches you easily, pulling you against his hard chest. You don’t hesitate to throw your arms around him, standing on your toes to get closer to him. Even through his suit jacket you can feel how strong he is. You hadn’t heard him come in, too distracted by the other three Mikaelsons in the room. He smells exactly like the sweater, which makes sense now.

He laughs into your hair, squeezing his arms tighter around you, “I missed you too, baby.”

His words make you breathless. They’re so unlike Elijah. Well, not the ‘I miss you’ part. It would be unusual if he didn’t say that. But baby? That’s very much not a word he frequents often.

“Elijah,” his name is a whisper coming from your lips.

Your heart pounds furiously in your chest. Being so close to him makes you delirious. You struggle to keep from pressing your legs together. You know he can read it all over you, they all can, his lazy smirk giving it away. Your face flushes again for what feels like the millionth time today. His eyes darken, the same way Kol’s had, and drag all the way down and back up your body.

He takes your face in one of his hands keeping the other arm hooked around your back, drawing his words out slowly, “you look ravishing in my clothes, baby.”

“Eli, what-”

You’re cut off by a pair of warm lips colliding with your own. His arms wrap once more around you fully, pulling you closer to his hungry mouth. You kiss him back like you haven't been kissed in years, and you haven’t, lacing your fingers through his hair and feverishly pulling his lips harder against yours. It takes everything in you not to moan against his mouth in the middle of the den.

“Awe, no fair Elijah,” you pull back, shocked and breathless, at the sound of Kol’s whiny voice, “I wanted to be the first one.”

He glances over your shoulder, past your wide eyes, at his brother, “too bad, little brother. I gave you two hundred years. You had plenty of time.”

“Well, I’ll be damned if I’m not the second.”

In the blink of an eye you’re in Kol’s arms, being dipped theatrically as he places his own lips where Elijah’s had just been. He tastes different, like berries and honey, whereas Elijah’s lips were peppermint. You kiss him back just as strongly, twisting your fists in his tee and pulling him as close to you as possible. All your senses are consumed by Kol, just as they were Elijah.

When he pulls away, your head is swimming, “I’ve been waiting for that for an eternity, hun.”

His eyes are shining, a huge grin on his pink lips. You haven’t been kissed this much in as long as you can remember. You feel lightheaded, like you’re walking on a cloud. When you peer up at Elijah, he doesn’t look upset. He probably should. You feel guilty for reeling at the new kind of attention.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you're pulled into a new pair of arms that scoops you into a firm chest.

“My turn, love.”

Klaus’ lips taste like chocolate. Kissing him is, again, different than both his brothers. Playful. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently. You sigh into his mouth, your hands on his face. He spins you around, laughing against your lips. Your heart soars once more. All you can see is Klaus.

When he sets you down, you break away from the three of them, at a loss for both words and air. Your whole body is on fire. Somehow, you can taste all three of them on your lips at once. You can hear your heartbeat furious in your ears. Your eyes dart between them, like a deer in the headlights. Your hand finds your lips. Swollen. But what did you expect? Your legs start shaking again but less out of pleasure and more out of shame. The room feels like it’s shrinking. You wish it would just swallow you already.

You whip your head around to meet Rebekah’s eyes, who looks as shocked as you feel. She sends you a small smile, though, nodding her head. She doesn't seem disappointed, but, then again, you could go on a killing spree and she would still look at you with kind eyes. You grasp at your chest, trying to slow your pulse even slightly. You can’t breathe. Your eyes dart to the door and then back to her eyes. She nods again. Then you bolt.

The Mikaelson boys are fast, they're a thousand years old after all, but you’re determined, and that makes you faster. You just barely close your bedroom door before there's a knock.

“Y/n, it’s Elijah,” his accent flows like honey through the door right to your ears, sending traitorous warmth to your core, “please open the door baby.”

“Why, are you all going to kiss me again?” Your voice is shakey.

You can hear him try to stifle a laugh, “I can if you want me too.”

You huff, frustrated, “I am serious, Eli.”

“It’s just me, love. Let me in?”

That makes you feel the slightest bit better. At least you only have to face one right now. You debate just leaving him out there but he’d probably bust the door down. Elijah is a gentleman but when he wants to talk nothing can get in his way. You run a hand through your hair, trying to make yourself look more presentable, less wanton. You pull the sleeves of the sweater over your hands, trying to hide the shaking.

Opening the door, you come face to face with a half worried Elijah. There’s a small smile on his lips but also a tinge of hesitance in his eyes. You step aside, letting him in before shutting it once more. He grabs your hand leading you towards your bed where he sits on the edge, drawing you to stand between his legs. His hands move to settle on your hips, settling under the hoodie and tracing small circles with his fingers.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your laugh is humourless. What are you thinking about? He can’t be serious. Each of the Mikaelson boys just kissed you, one after the other, all in front of each other, and he wants to know what you're thinking about. The weather Elijah, you’re thinking about the weather. God, you feel so dirty, which you know wasn't their intention but you can’t help it. You feel something for each of them. Something you definitely shouldn't feel. Something you had pushed down for a very long time. It’s hot and throbbing and you don’t think you could bear it if you had to choose between them.

You can’t look him in the eyes, “what do you think I'm thinking about?”

You don’t realize that you’re crying until you open your mouth, your words choppy and broken. As soon as you do, though, it’s like the floodgates have opened. You start sobbing heart wrenching cries, hands over your face, blocking out the now very concerned man. At the thought of losing any of them your lungs constrict. For someone who’s pretty indestructible, you feel like you’re suffocating. You barely register the curse that flies from his mouth before he has you tucked into his arms, his hands sliding over your hair and rubbing your back. Really, doing anything he can to get you to calm down even a little bit.

“Baby, shhh,” he’s frantic, trying to calm you down, “it’s okay love. You’re ok. We’re ok.”

“Eli,” you hiccup into his chest, “what happened out there?”

He holds you tighter against him, “you happened, Y/n. From the moment you walked through our door that’s been it.”

You pull back slightly, finally looking into his eyes, “what are you talking about?”

“We want you. All of us. Kol, Klaus, myself. Hell, even Rebekah is enamoured by you,” he picks you up before sitting back down, still holding you, “Am I too forward in assuming you feel the same?”

Your cheeks flame, the familiar heat returning to your thighs, which are straddling Elijah’s lap, a position you weren’t aware of until now. You wish you were still clueless, though. You positively ache for him, let alone the rest of his brothers.

“I shouldn’t Elijah, it’s not normal,” your hands rest on his shoulders, bringing you to his eye level for once.

He laughs quietly, leaning in close to your face, his breath hot on your lips, “baby, we aren’t normal.”

“How are you okay with this? You should think I’m easy. A tramp,” you cast your eyes downward, landing on his red tie.

He grabs your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him again, “I would never, could never, see you that way. Love, you’ve been with us for two centuries and haven’t touched us once. You are anything but easy. I have loved you for two hundred years. So have they. If sharing you means I finally get to have you then I am ok with that.”

Your lips are on him the instant the last syllable leaves his lips, your hands curled around his tie pulling his mouth to yours for the second time today. It’s not like you to make any sort of move but if ever there was a time it’s now. He groans into your mouth sending electricity dancing down your spine. You squeeze your thighs hard around him, reveling in the feeling of his hips bucking up to meet your own. His hands slide up underneath his sweater, grasping at your skin desperately. He pulls it up and over your head, tossing it on the floor without a care before attaching his lips to your neck.

“That's what made me cave, baby, seeing you in my clothes,” he mumbles into your skin, hands under your tank top, roaming up your sides.

“Mmph, Elijah,” you can’t stop the moans from flowing freely from your mouth, you don’t want to. You’ve waited for this moment for what feels like an eternity.

Your hands tug on his tie, practically ripping it off his neck before starting on his shirt, pulling it open without a care for the buttons popping off around you. He leans back on his elbows, looking up at you with dark eyes. His hair is a mess, falling into his face in a very un-Elijah fashion. His shirt is wide open, putting his toned stomach on display for you. His breathing is heavy, his chest rising and falling harshly with the air. He looks positively disheveled. Undone just for you. Sexy.

You slam your lips to his once more, pulling the shirt off his body before dropping it on the steadily growing pile of clothes. You wrap your arms around his bare shoulders, trying to get as close to him as you possibly can. Your fingers claw at the bulging muscles of his back, pulling a moan from him. The sound is music to your ears. You wish you could listen to it on a loop all day, every day.

His hands pull at your tank top, bringing it over your head and leaving you in nothing but a pink bralette and your shorts. His eyes devour every inch of bare skin, soaking up every curve and dip of your body on his. He looks exquisite. He looks hungry, his eyes pitch black and wanting. Elijah looks like a god.

His mouth attacks your collarbone, sucking harshly at the skin at the base of your throat. Your hands land in his hair, tugging at the soft strands. You never knew he had this side to him. This dominant, hungry side. It makes the ache between your thighs grow. Two hundred years of pent up energy threatens to spill over now and you don’t want to stop it.

So, of course, now is when someone decides to knock on the door, “Surrender the girl, Elijah, you already got the first kiss. Time to share, brother.”

Make that ‘someones’; Kol chuckles at his brother’s antics from behind the door. Klaus’ voice is playful but you can hear the serious note at the end. It makes your already lust-clouded mind even foggier. You know you have to go out there.

You pull Elijah in for one last kiss, sighing into his parted lips, “that’s my cue I think.”

He presses a kiss to your lips reluctantly, “I suppose it is.”

You stand, separating from him for the first time since he walked into your room. You dig his hoodie from the pile of clothes, reveling in the way his eyes, which had only recently gone back to their usual brown, turn black again when you pull it over your head. That will never get old. You toss him a knowing wink before reaching for the door. When your hand hits the knob he spins you back into his arms in a dizzying kiss. Your head twirls from all the times his lips have been on yours today.

With a slight growl, he pushes you out the door, “hurry back.”

You stumble into the hallway, giddy and full of life, right into Klaus’ waiting arms. He doesn’t waste any time throwing you over his shoulder, giving you the perfect view of his gloriously sculpted backside. You can't help the giggles that fall freely from your lips.

“Finally,” he starts jogging down the hall, towards his room, “now, about that sweater, Love.”

You look over his shoulder at Kol who shakes his head but smiles nonetheless. You barely make out the ‘me next’ he mouths at you before Klaus kicks the door closed and tosses you on his bed. The last thing you think before his mouth descends on yours is that you should have picked up that sweater one hundred years ago.

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