#the chapter was packed BEFORE i started adding extra stuff

[noco7]

people might be wondering about the state of ch.12 and uhh it’s going. I got a late start on it because my internet was being wonky this past week. But now I’m working on it, so here’s the update

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor | Extra Credits 02

Extra Credits 02: FRENCH

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female Anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: You give Eddie a French lesson.

WC: 2.9k

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI! This part isn't explicit, but the rest of the series is, so MDNI!! Fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal.

A/N: This takes place between Extra Credit 1 and Lesson 3. It’s an added extra to The Biology Tutor series.

My masterlist

Despite your best efforts to keep things cool, you and Eddie’s relationship at school has shifted.

Eddie will greet you with a cheery, “Heeey, Princess”, whenever you pass in the corridors, and you’ll sometimes give him a cheeky wave in the lunchroom. You both flush a little whenever your eyes lock, thinking about all the intimate stuff you’ve done together over the past days and weeks.

Thankfully, as yet none of your friends have noticed the way you’ve started to giggle a little more loudly at Eddie’s antics on the lunch tables, or the way he shoots you cheeky glances to check that you’re watching. Each of your social groups would likely have something disparaging to say, and you’d prefer to avoid that kind of attention for the time being.

You’ve become even more aware of your physical proximity in Biology class. Even though you could probably reach out and touch each other (and you would really, really like to do that…) you try not to draw too much attention to yourselves.

You’re finding it hard to keep your focus on the front, knowing that Eddie’s sitting inches away behind you. But you revel in the fact that he’s there at all (and is, in all likelihood, checking out your ass).

At the end of class, Mr Clarke calls you over.

“I wanted to thank you for your efforts regarding the private tutoring. Mr Munson’s work has certainly improved since you began, as has his class attendance, which is remarkable in and of itself. And he seems to have become more enthusiastic about the human biology aspect of the syllabus too, which is… unexpected, but really good to see.”

He looks off to one side, momentarily bemused, but recovers quickly and continues,

“Nevertheless, there is a big test coming up which, as you know, makes up a sizable proportion of your grade. I would very much like to see Mr Munson do well. I was hoping that you might help him prepare, and in the hopes that you’d agree, I’ve already booked private study room 2C in the library specifically for this purpose.”

You know the library well, and the one he’s describing is a particularly quiet one, located at the back of the rarely-used reference section. If you can get Eddie to join you, it’ll be the first time you’ve ever been alone with him at school. You experience a frisson of excitement at the thought.

You readily agree, figuring that even if that wasn’t reason enough, getting further in the good graces of Mr Clarke wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. However, you do think convincing Eddie to relinquish his entire lunchtime might be another matter entirely.

You approach him in the lunchroom, managing to get to him before his usual table fills up with nerds. He was initially aghast that you were anywhere near him, but once he realised nobody was really interested he listened to your proposal.

“You seriously do this shit voluntarily?” is his only response, until you mention, more quietly, how it would mean spending an entire hour in a small, isolated room. With you. Alone.

Suddenly, he’s all for it, packing up his stuff as you exit ahead of him. He extols the virtues of ‘accepting with grace the assistance the universe offers you’ to the smattering of confused Hellfire boys before hightailing it out of the hall, stuffing pretzels into his mouth as he goes.

You reach the study room first, and are already setting out books and pencils as Eddie barrels in. He practically skids to a halt, and ambles towards you, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to act nonchalant.

“Hey, Princess.”

He plops his bag onto the tabletop, and as he gestures to the empty seats next to you and across the table, he drops his voice to a lower timbre as he asks you,

“So, uh, where do you want me?”

Thanks to his mildly suggestive question, an image flashes across your mind of perching him, naked, on the edge of the table and climbing atop him, but you quickly shake it.

You tap your hand on the seat next to you, and he enthusiastically flops himself down in it. He sits up straight, clasping his hands in his lap, theatrically attentive.

As he’s already managed to fluster you, you decide to fluster him right back.

“You’re so good at doing what I tell you, Eddie. I like that.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink and he swallows hard. It worked.

It doesn't take long for you to go over the test questions. Eddie’s picked up more than he’d thought from the parts of your sessions where you’d actually studied, and he flies through most of it, only getting stuck on a couple of gnarly chemistry formulae. What’s more, he actually looks like he’s having fun, gaining genuine satisfaction from answering your questions correctly and beaming as you let him know,

“That’s it, Eddie! You’ve got it!”

You can’t tell whether it’s the academic achievement, or the broad smiles and encouragement that you’re giving him, that’s his biggest driver, but at this point you’ll take either as a win.

You've gradually started sitting closer as the session has gone on. You’ve scootched to the edges of your seats, and your elbows and knees are gently knocking together. You can feel Eddie’s breath on your cheek as he jabs at his test total on your pad, screwing up his face and making a fist with his other hand in triumph. You’re genuinely thrilled for him, and not just because the very idea that you could be the reason for those gorgeous dimples popping makes your tummy flip.

Checking your watch, you realise you have a few minutes left before you have to leave, and there’s another new ‘skill’ that you’ve been thinking about trying with him.

Once all your supplies are back in your bag, you check the time again before asking,

“Eddie, would you like to try another quick practical session?”

He looks around the room, eyebrows disappearing into his bangs.

“What, here? Now?”

“Yes, but not like our, um, previous sessions. Something less… involved.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“Eddie, I hope you don’t mind me asking you this, but have you ever kissed anyone?”

He looks a little abashed as he answers,

“Umm, does kissing your relatives on the cheek count?”

You can’t help smiling at his cute admission.

“For the purposes of this discussion, I’m gonna say no.”

He looks self-conscious, maybe even a little ashamed. Staring at the edge of the table, he clears his throat before replying,

“Then, uh, no.”

Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, you reassure him,

“That’s okay, Eddie. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

After a beat, you continue,

“Would you like to try it? With me?”

“What?”

“Would you like for us to kiss, Eddie?”

His eyes become locked on your mouth. He swallows audibly, eyes shining with want.

“Umm, yeah. Yes. Yes, I absolutely would, Princess.”

“Just so I know how far you want to go, would you like us to… French kiss?“

“You mean… W- with, y’know, tongue?”

“Yes, Eddie. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Are you okay with that? I mean, you don’t have to…”

Shaking your head a little, you reassure him,

“I’m the one who suggested it, Eddie!”

He looks down at his hands, now clasped again as he rubs his thumbs together.

“Only if you’re sure. I might be awful at it.”

“Well, that’s why we practice, right? So, first of all, we need to get a little closer…”

You turn your seat so you’re facing him directly, encouraging him to do the same. You pull your seat forwards, slotting your knees between his. You see his eyes scanning your face, and his fingers fidget, suggesting he’s not really sure what to do with them.

“You can rest your hands on my legs if you’d like, Eddie.”

He does so, but not without a little trepidation, and you see him swallow again.

“Just relax. I’m not gonna bite you. Not this time, anyway.”

You give him what you hope is a cheeky smirk. He smiles shyly, not sure where to look when you’re this close to him. Nervously, he licks his lips. The sight makes your thighs clench.

“Close your eyes and relax, Eddie. I’m gonna start with a quick peck.”

“O- okaaaay.”

He does as you ask, and you spend a few moments appraising him before you lean into his space. He looks angelic, his wild curls framing his pretty face and his rosy pink lips looking soft and inviting.

You turn your head slightly so your nose will slide past his, close your eyes, and ever so slowly connect your lips with his. Pursing them a little, you press forwards, and you hear a slight intake of breath.

You said it was going to be quick, but you’re enjoying the feeling so much you relish in it for a few moments. Eddie’s lips are plump, warm, and just a little moist from where he’s licked them. A tiny amount of stubble tickles your top lip. He smells of old leather, some kind of spicy cologne and vanilla chapstick, with a hint of cigarettes and weed. It’s a heady scent you could easily get lost in.

Gathering yourself, you pull back, rolling your lips inwards to taste him.

Eddie still has his eyes closed. If you’re honest he looks like he’s about to faint. Even after all you’ve done together you’re still a little nervous, and you’re suddenly mortified that he found it repulsive.

You did remember to brush your teeth this morning, didn’t you? Did you eat garlic last night and forget? Do you have spinach in your teeth, even though you definitely haven’t eaten spinach in weeks??

“H- how was that, Eddie? Did you like it?”

Suddenly, his eyes pop open. His lips part a little and he nods his head quickly, causing his chestnut locks to bounce around his face. He stares at you for a few more moments before he manages to say in a tiny, cracking voice,

“More? Please?”

You smile widely, and lean in again.

This time you move a little, pursing and softening your lips, changing their position slightly to find out what he likes, slotting them in different places.

To your surprise, this time Eddie starts to kiss you back. His plump lips press against yours and the tiniest moan emanates from his chest. He’s tentative at first, but as he gains in confidence he presses a little harder, and moves a little more.

Your lips move in sync as you rhythmically purse and relax them.

Eddie exhales heavily, and more than a little shakily, through his nose, and you feel his warm breath dance across your face and décolletage.

You part from him with a subtle wet smack.

He swallows thickly, and the grip on your knees strengthens.

You smile at him again, and his eyes flick between yours as he mirrors your expression.

“Okay Eddie, if you’re ready, this time I’m gonna use my tongue. You don’t have to do anything, but if you want to, just do what feels good. Alright?”

Eddie gives you another tiny, fast nod, and you feel him squeeze your knees again.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready…”

He surprises you again as he shifts his hands slightly and slides them up your thighs, leaning into your space a little further. They feel warm, strong, and you can’t help but imagine how they might feel elsewhere.

What would it be like to hold his hand properly? Would his hand feel warm as it cupped your face? Would you be able to feel his rings? How would his calloused fingers feel running up your back, or across your…?

You’re broken from your thoughts as he closes his eyes again, a slight curl to his lips as he lets you know he’s ready.

You lean into his space again, and connect your lips as before. This time, you part your lips slightly and allow the tip of your tongue to poke out, and ever so gently brush across his lower lip. You hear that sharp intake of breath again as he stills, unsure of what he’s supposed to do, but then he parts his lips ever so slightly, and you slide your tongue past his lips and pearly teeth and into his mouth. You move it slowly, enjoying the feeling of his lips against it, the scrape of his teeth, the softness of his tongue beneath yours.

He moans again, and just as your tongue curls up to tickle the roof of his mouth suddenly his tongue is moving against yours, slowly, reverently, experimentally, and another moan leaves his chest.

His grip on your thighs tightens as he gets bolder, eventually pushing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth.

Abruptly, he turns his head slightly and pushes in more deeply, his tongue almost filling you. He’s insistent yet gentle, and now it’s your turn to gasp - he’s good at this - and a low whine leaves you.

You feel a chill on your legs as Eddie’s hands leave them, and you’re momentarily disappointed, but this rapidly turns into delighted surprise when one comes up to cup the back of your neck, the other grabbing the edge of your chair and pulling you closer towards him. He’s moaning continually now, turning his head to try different angles, licking and curling and sucking like you’re the very air he needs to breathe.

He’s pushing hard but not too hard, and when your teeth knock it’s adorable rather than uncomfortable.

It’s wet and messy, and oh, so fucking hot.

Your hands start travelling almost of their own accord, slipping up inside his jacket, sliding around his rib cage and settling on his surprisingly muscular back.

His hand travels up to your hair, mussing it, and you’re making his shirt ride up, but you couldn’t care less, lost in the sensations of your lips melding and tongues dancing.

There’s a pulsing heat in your core, and a wetness building in your underwear. You don’t think you've ever been this turned on just from kissing.

And how on Earth is Eddie so good at it?

You eventually both pull back, needing air, breathy and inhaling deeply.

Your eyes dance around his face, wanting to take it all in. His plump, kiss-bitten lips, his blown pupils, the way he’s looking at you with a stunned half-smile.

Needing a break from the intensity, you drop your eyes. But almost wish you hadn’t when you spot the obvious bulge in the front of Eddie’s pants.

He’s clearly enjoyed this as much as you have.

Just as you’re both leaning forward for another round, lips just brushing, the harsh and loud ringing of the school bell indicates the start of afternoon classes.

You and Eddie break apart with a start, exchanging breathy smiles, both a little surprised at how well that went.

He chuckles as he lets go of your hair, tidying it as best he can, and you pull down the hem of his shirt to straighten it.

”So, uh, I think I’d consider that lesson a success. Wouldn’t you, Mr Munson?”

He huffs out a little giggle, shaking his head slowly. His brow furrows and he fixes his face into as serious an expression as he can manage, as he dips his chin and replies,

“Oh, Princess, that feels like a great start. But you know, lessons work with me. So, just to be on the safe side, I think I might need a whole lot, lot more practice...”

He’s holding your gaze and nodding, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips for emphasis.

You nearly snort at his brazenness, constantly amazed at how he so easily flips between abject fear and bolshy confidence, and manage to squeak out,

“Well, we’ll just have to see what we can arrange, won’t we?”

He grins at you again, those dimples even deeper this time, and tidies one more strand of hair at your temple.

Reluctantly, you both gather your things and leave the study room, still with shiny lips and heat in your cheeks.

You walk leisurely, your upper arms brushing, through the racks of dusty tomes. Neither of you is in any particular hurry to get to your next class.

You glance to your side, and notice that Eddie seems bigger, taller. He’s puffing his chest and is carrying himself a little differently. You like it.

He turns to you as he asks, “D’you think we should, y’know, leave separately or whatever?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Awkward questions, and all that.”

You see Eddie’s eyes glance to the floor, then flit to the section containing the large encyclopaedias and dictionaries, before he adds,

“You know what, you go first. There’s something I want to check out in the reference section anyway…”

He flashes you a wink as you round the door jamb, causing something to revolve in your chest as you step out into the corridor. You definitely want to offer Eddie plenty of opportunities to practice this particular new skill.

As you head off to your next class, you wonder what on earth he could be up to. But more than that, you wonder how he’ll react to what you have in mind for your next study session…

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Thanks so much for reading!

Remember, writers thrive on your comments and reblogs, so if you liked this little extra please show some love 💕

A/N 2: I added this as an extra because I wanted Eddie and reader to share a special first kiss, but couldn’t work out how to fit it into the main Lessons without making them ridiculously long. I hope you like it!

The taglist for this series is open whilst it’s ongoing, and I have a general one now too - just let me know if you’d like to join either 😀 My masterlist, where you’ll find more Eddie and Steddie fics

Taglist (open whilst this series is ongoing): @airen256 @bimbobaggins69 @urlbitchin @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @sadlittlesquish @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie

[kinzis-writing]

Better than Revenge | M.R [5]

With the upcoming holidays, Y/N feels the pressure as she constantly gets letters from her parents and finds it hard to escape the burden of the job the death eaters have given her. It's safe to say, hiding may be her best bet, unless she can distract herself.. just for the holidays though, right?

Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Y/N Nettleby

Warning(s):

v. "i, i loved you in secret."

Chapter Five

I apologize because this chapter is sucky, I had it ready to publish days ago and when I came back to tag everyone half of it was gone so i had to rewrite it and I had no clue where it left off so I just re-wrote it and I honestly hate it, but...

Note: While I will be referencing the movies, it is not going to exactly the same. There is going to be very mild similarities between the them. Umbridge probably won't happen in my little mini series, I probably will not go into detail about the wizard war, and a lot of stuff that probably would not happen will happen.

Word Count: 2.28k

*Not proofread or edited*

*Gif not mine*

“Are you positive you don’t want to come to the burrow with us?” Hermione asked as she packed her last item in the duffle bag. Hogwarts was officially on Winter break and most everyone would be heading home to spend the holidays with their family. Hermione and Harry were going to be spending the holidays with the Weasley’s and even though Y/N had been invited she had been trying to distance herself from her friends.

Y/N shook her head, “Pansy and I planned to stay here.” She lied. She hadn’t talked to Harry or the Weasley’s much since the death eaters meeting. This led Harry to know that something had happened that she did not want to talk about it, so none of them pushed her, knowing she’ll talk when she gets ready.

The Granger girl gave her friend a sad smile, “Mrs. Weasley has a place for you if you change your mind.” She assured, earning a nod from the Nettleby girl. “I know you don’t want to talk about what happened. But, if you need anyone to talk too, We’re here for you.” She added picking up her bag and leaving with her last comment.

After she was sure that the carriages had left Hogwarts, Y/N gathered her things and set off to find Dumbledore. She knew that he would more than likely be in his office, waiting for someone to come and bother him. Maybe even taking care of the whole situation that her family had going on. That still did not stop her from being nervous when she knocked on the door and walked into his office.

“Miss Nettleby, I didn’t expect you to be stopping by.” Albus spoke in his calm and content voice as the girl stepped further into his office with the door closing behind her.

“I have a couple requests, but they may seem odd.” Y/n spoke honestly as she slipped her bag off her shoulder and held it in her grip.

Albus shook his head, the look in his eyes never leaving. “When you get to be my age nothing is odd.”

Y/N carefully laid her bag on the ground before pulling out three stacks of letters, ones that were meant for her eyes only. “I have heard about there being an extra dorm, one that no one wants to use… and I was thinking maybe I can move into it?” Dumbledore gave the girl a slightly surprised look before grabbing the letters that she was handing him. “It’s my understanding that not many people know about it because it’s charmed, and I feel as though it may be a way for me to hide.” She concluded.

Dumbledore moved his gaze down to the letters stacked in front of him, and carefully started opening each one. He had read every letter that had been sent to the girl since returning to Hogwarts after that dreaded weekend. “I see.” He spoke as he noticed the girl taking the letters back and placing them in her bag. If her parents ever found out that she confided in Dumbledore, then it would be over for you. “May I ask why they expect this out of you, but your brother has yet to have an assignment.”

“Well, you see professor, they consider me a disappointment because I was sorted into Gryffindor, and they overheard Sean and I talking about not wanting to become a follower of you know who.” Y/N explained. “I think they have had this planned since they found out about my house and that Harry was here.”

Albus nodded, understanding the girl’s predicament. “I will allow you to use the charmed dormitory, remember that Tom Riddle did not know about the existence of this when he was here. Be sure that those you let in are the ones that you can trust.” He reminded. Knowing that Snape had reported many things to him, including what the girl had wanted to talk about and how a certain Riddle boy had been trying to figure out the plans to help her as well.

“Of course.” Y/N nodded before thanking him and leaving his office to head back towards her now-former dorm.

Y/N sat on the bed in the boy’s dormitory in the Slytherin house. Sean had decided to go to his girlfriend’s family for Christmas, Draco was going home for the holidays because his family always threw a Christmas Party, Enzo had gone home, and Theo was either at home or with his girlfriend.

“What makes you stay at Hogwarts anyway?” Y/N asked as she swung her legs up on the bed and scooted back against the headboard of the Riddle boy’s bed. “You don’t want the inside scoop about what they’re planning.”

Mattheo shook his head, finishing up what he was doing. “I try to stay away as long as I can, but I know the life that I am destined to live.” He shrugged acting as if he didn’t care, but Y/n knew that he cared more than anything.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Teo.” Y/N promised softly. “We were friends for two years before the whole thing went down.” She added and watched him carefully as he sat down on the edge of his bed.

The boy thought for a moment, how did they end up in this situation? It was easy, he thought she deserved better, and she ended up with Theo before he talked himself into telling her how he felt. “I don’t want to be like my father” He finally spoke up. It was the only way that he could express his worry without physically admitting that he was scared.  

Y/N sat up further and scooted herself closer to him, “Why would you be your father? You’re far from it.” she asked, her hand resting on his back as she scooted herself up to be more even with him.

Mattheo shrugged, “My father expects me to be, and my mother will carry out anything that my father says.” He muttered knowing exactly how his family works, within the next year he would be walking around with the dark mark and there was nothing he could do about it.

Y/N thought for a moment. Everyone knew that his father was the way he was because of love potions. Anyone conceived during a love potion was unable to love, one of the bad side-effects of using a love potion on anyone. “You are far from your father.” Y/N started hoping to get his spirits up. “Your father is unable to love and care about people, and I know deep down, whether you show it or not, that you care about people.”

“I care about you.” He muttered as he carefully met Y/N’s gaze.

‘Well,” Y/n started completely startled by his open statement. “I am a person, and I care about you too, Teo.”

Mattheo’s lips quirked upward for a split second before leaning forward a bit. “Why did you go out with Theo?” he asked quietly, not breaking the tension between them.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion about why it mattered. “I don’t see why that matters.” She replied not sure what Mattheo was wanting to hear from her. She had originally dated Theo to forget about Mattheo and to get her parents off her back. That didn’t make it hurt any less when he cheated on her, because at the time she would have told you that she loved him, now she realizes that it wasn’t love. It was far from love.

“Why do you have to make this harder than it has to be.” Mattheo mumbled before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Their bodies turned to face each other as he deepened the kiss and Y/N’s hand moved to the back of his neck, her hand in his hair. They kissed until they had to break apart for air. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment you walked into the great hall with him.” He whispered carefully, bringing his hand up to her face so she wouldn’t pull away.

Instead of replying, Y/N just molded their lips back together, because if the truth was known, she had been craving Mattheo’s affection for two years.

Waking up on Christmas morning was different than any other holiday morning. Mainly because the snow would line the ground and the pretty decorations would be hung up. This year was different, because Y/N had woken up in Mattheo’s bed. Nothing sexual had happened between them recently, but it was safe to say that the “fake dating” was becoming more real with each day.

“Merry Christmas, love.” Mattheo’s raspy morning voice spoke as he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck to get her to wake up.

Y/N woke up with a bright smile, the warmth of the boy next to her surrounding her. “Merry Christmas.” She replied, turning over to face Mattheo. Both of their hair was messed up, due to sleep and they had probably slept through breakfast since they had both felt well rested, but neither of them cared.

“You want breakfast?” he asked softly as he pushed some of her hair out of her face. He was shocked at how easy it was to be himself around her. It was something that he had never expected or experienced. True, they were close previously, but he never let himself show much emotion. “I may be able to get a snack until lunch.”

Y/N shrugged, “s’up to you.” She mumbled, closing her eyes again for a split second. Mattheo took that as his chance to casual steal a kiss. It was short and sweet and nothing drastic. Y/N peeled her eyes back open a smile on her face, “You’re getting comfortable kissing me, teo.” She teased, placing her hand on his cheek.

A cheeky grin graced Mattheos, usually emotionless, face. “You’re finally letting me.”

She shook her head at his statement, “I told you when we started this that you could do anything you wanted.” She recalled noticing his eyes narrow at the mention of the plan that started this.

“I wanted it to be real, I’ve always wanted it to be real.” He quietly admitted, feeling shy for even telling the truth about it. It showed how he was scared to tell you how he felt, especially with you having dated his best friend.

“You,” Y/N started as she leaned up a bit to meet his gaze face-to-face. “Are turning into a sap.” She teased and let out a laugh when she noticed Mattheo’s cheeks turn dark pink. “Lucky for you, I love those types.” She finished crashing her lips to his and feeling the similar rush that she had two years ago.

The make-out session had gone on for a bit, until they were interrupted by Mattheo’s stomach. With that the two officially parted and agreed to meet back in Y/N’s new dorm after they had gotten ready, and he had gone to get food since they had missed the first meal of the day. Lunch would be rolling around soon, so their hunger was not a huge issue now. Mattheo had returned to Y/n’s new dorm with her favorite snack and the two had just spent Christmas in the presence of each other.

The winter break had flown by for the duo and soon it was New year’s, and the train and carriages would be returning to Hogwarts the next day. Somewhere between the jokes, conversations, and bookathons, Mattheo had asked Y/N to officially be his girlfriend and not just around his friends. Given, anyone who was left at Hogwarts could tell that something had shifted between them. What little group of students were left often had their eyes focused on the two worse than they usually did. Maybe it was because they were showing more pda, or maybe their relationship looked more real after they had a full two, almost three weeks to bond.

“Why did this break go so fast?” Y/N complained as her head rested on Mattheo’s lap. The couple sat in the Slytherin common room, on the couch that their friend group always occupied. The green hues showing as the flame moved was interesting to Y/N, especially because it was starting to become her favorite color. “I enjoyed the break from Veronica trying to ruin my life.” She muttered, her boyfriend playing with her hair making her more relaxed.

“She can’t ruin your life even if she tried.” Mattheo remarked back as he sat the book in his hands down. “You coming with me out to the lawn?”

Y/N shook her head, knowing that mattheo had hardly smoked since the break. Maybe it was a habit that affected him worse when he was worried or stressed or maybe it had been what she had said during their game of truth or dare. Whatever the reason, she had noticed how Mattheo relaxed more easily when it was just the two of them. It didn’t matter what they did because he was laid back and never seemed like he worried about anything. Sometimes, Y/N wondered if he could feel the dread or the bad vibes like she did. She knew she was feeling them due to what was about to happen, but she didn’t know if it was the letters from her parents or what was brewing and fixing to start. Either way she knew that it was going to be bad.

One thing she knew for sure was that she would protect her friends and everyone she loved at all costs. Regardless of what would happen to her and not caring about what her family will do.

again, I apologize because I hate how this chapter ended and how it went. I promise to try my hardest to make the last few chapters better. With that being said, i will now be saying my drafts on word, even after writing them here to prevent further deleting any part of the story!

Tag List: @yoichiislovie @hedwigprewett12 @justhavingsomefun1 @lafrone @julesandro @prongsprincessworld @bruher @mattiesgirl @kiwi475 @frogtape @blueeweeb @wildlyobserving @harrysnovia @devotedlycrookeddonut @oi-itse @dear-fifi @grandtheoristpeach @dory-98 @jetblackpayne @b4b3tte @xmadigurlx @thecraziestcrayon @whoknowsbut @lovesanimals0000 @cmervns @urrsa @starkeylover @taylors--version @snow-onthebeach-13 @supernatural-lover @ivy-34 @jasmine2105 @yazzy1004 @itsamusical4lifee @rainy-darling @topguncultleader @primscat

I am sorry if it didn't tag you, I tagged the wrong person, or you no longer wish to be tagged. Just let me know and i will fix it!

[bloodycyrano]

I want to lore dump about my BG3 storyline and OCs so bad, but at the same time I don't want to release any information before it would come out in the future chapters of my fanfic, so to stave off the dark urge, here's.... 🥁🥁🥁

Team Tadpole doing sweet things for each other part 2!

Sometimes, when Astarion has trouble resting at night, Gale will stay up with him and play chess- They started with card games, but Astarion cheats like a fox. He still cheats at chess, but not as often.

Karlach probably notices when her comrades are in pain after battle, and will hug a sack of rocks until they heat up to make a sort of makeshift heating pad for sore muscles.- Bonus points, She'll borrow some scented oils from Halsin to add an element of aromatherapy.

Gale has 100% done talis card readings for Team tadpole when they deal with heavy emotional stuff, if only to help them find their path forward. Maybe he isn't the best at verbal comfort, but magic is one thing he knows he can use for at least some benefit.

I feel like Gale also notices when people aren't dealing well with things, and will purposefully annoy Durge so they have someone to pick on and hopefully feel a little better afterwards. They're definitely the sort of friends that pretend to hate each other, but are there when you need them. Durge definitely brings out his petty side, but its all in good fun. Usually.

While maybe they have a bit of a rocky relationship, I also believe Durge would indulge Gales special interests and let him ramble about things, because they know what it's like to have to shut up to make other people happy. I also feel like Gale would return the favor and deliberately ask about weird, macabre things so that Durge actually has an excuse to bring up topics that interest them.

Wyll has a knitting hobby. You probably wouldn't expect it, but he definitely does. And he's really really good at it, too. He uses every holiday as an excuse to gift people things like socks, scarves, mittens, etc. And I mean EVERY holiday. Earth day, valentines day, national owlbear day (Which is totally not something he made up as an excuse to give people their presents early), etc. The thing is, he notices when people complain about their socks getting worn from traveling, and gets random ideas for gifts at 3 AM, and then spends the rest of the night knitting. He has also been known to make cute little knitted outfits for the group pets in the winter, because he thought Scratch was getting cold.

Adding onto this, Lae'zel is the only person Wyll is willing to go to for a blunt and honest opinion on the gifts he makes before he gives them. Lae'zel doesn't take this lightly, either. While maybe she doesn't show it, she takes this very seriously and is somewhat honored that Wyll came to her instead of anyone else.

Shadowheart tends to replenish Wylls yarn reserve without telling him as well. She asks Lae’zel what colours he's run out of, and then sneak some extra spools into his pack. Wyll still doesn't know who's been doing it, but he's thankful nonetheless. And it's one thing the cleric and the gith can actually be somewhat peaceful about.

Durge doesn't take all of their kills lightly. When it comes to someone they actually respected, there's a ritual they perform afterward that they read about in Withers old temple. They'll grind bone and ash into ink and take time to write out the names of those they respected, and bury it with the bodies. As well as little offerings as well. It isn't a short process either.. Durge will spend the entire night locked in their caravan burning incense, praying their name to Jergal in hopes that the spirit will find rest, and doing little things in honor of the dead.- It isn't hard for team tadpole to figure out when Durge has taken the life of someone they held a genuine respect for, and will be careful not to disturb them, or leave bones or herbs/flowers on the steps of their caravan. Karlach and Astarion will occasionally come to check on them. While maybe it doesn't happen often, it does happen. Withers was particularly surprise to begin receiving prayers after all this time, but it strengthened a sort of bond between the two.

[roxygen22]

Still Here (Chapter 4)

Summary: Timothée invites you and Madison out to the lake.

A/N: This Timothée variant is so dad-coded that I'm falling in love with him myself.

Catch up on previous chapters here.

You spent the next few days helping your mother clean out and rearrange your old room to be livable once again instead of a dedicated craft space. You checked your phone constantly the first couple of days after your lunch with Timothée, but slowly resigned yourself to the fact that he may not reach out after all. You wouldn't blame him if he had changed his mind. The two of you hurt each other pretty badly all of those years ago and were practically strangers again thanks to time and distance.

On the fifth day, as you were perusing job ads in the local newspaper, you heard your phone ding. You stared at the device for a moment in disbelief. Was it going to be a message from him, or just another spam text that gets your hopes up? You flipped it over and spotted:

"Want to go out to the lake on Saturday?"

You bit your lip and grinned, hugging your phone to your chest. Finally.

"Sounds fun! Let me see if my parents are available to hang out with Maddy." "She's welcome, too."

Wow. You weren't used to that. Your "friends" in California weren't much on kids tagging along on your outings. It got to a point where you didn't go out much at all because getting a sitter was too expensive.

"Really? Thanks! I think she'd enjoy getting out of the house." "Of course. Let's meet at my place early around 7am so we can have some fun before it gets hot. Do you remember how to get here?" "As long as you are still on Hawk Road, I can manage ;)" "Yep. See you in a couple of days."

<><><><><>

Saturday morning finally arrived. It was hard to convince Madison to get out of bed, but with some persuasion (i.e. favorite breakfast) she was up and dressed relatively quickly. You went through your verbal checklist to ensure you had everything you both needed for day of fun in the sun:

"Phone charger, check, snacks, check, cooler of drinks, check, sunscreen, check, spare clothes, check. Alright, I think we have everything. Let's load up!" As expected, you were able to find Timothée's place with ease. He had a small house on the same land as his parents. You had spent enough time there as a teenager that you still knew the route like the back of your hand.

Timothée was already outside packing stuff into the bed of the truck when you arrived. He turned and waved as he heard your car make its way down the gravel driveway. Once you stopped, he walked up and opened the door for you. Another gesture you weren't used to anymore.

"Good morning!" You looked up at him from your car's seat and smiled. He hugged you once you stood.

"Morning, [Y/N]." He pulled back to look at your face, smiled again, then looked to the side as he spotted movement behind the car. "Hey, Madison!"

"Hey," she replied flatly as she walked up to the two of you. You pulled the girl into your side.

"Mornings aren't her favorite. She'll warm up eventually." You looked down to give her that "mind your manners" look.

"That's alright. I'm not a morning person either, unless I'm up for something fun. Like today!" Timothée said cheerily. That's when you noticed something connected to his truck.

You leaned around him and exclaimed, "You have a boat now?!"

He chuckled. "I did grow up a little bit while you were away, [Y/N]."

You laughed awkwardly, but then quickly froze when you realized, "Oh no, we don't have life jackets. I didn't know, so I didn't plan for..."

"Don't worry, I already thought through that. I had an extra adult one on hand and borrowed a kids' life jacket from the neighbors. By the way, they have some kids around Madison's age. I think their youngest may even be in the same grade in the fall. They want to meet you both."

"Oh, it would be so great if Madison could at least know one other kid when school starts up. Are they new in the area?"

"Relatively. They moved in about five years ago," he replied.

"Ah, I see. I have a lot of catching up to do," you noted. You looked down at your daughter and squeezed her shoulder, "And we have new friends to make."

"I may not even still be here when the new school year starts, remember?" Madison grumbled.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to have some friends around when you come visit your grandparents, though, right?" Timothée chimed in.

She shrugged. "I guess not."

"Right, well, back to the fun at hand. Before I saw the boat, I was going to offer that we all pile in my car since there is more space. We can just follow you over there instead," you stated.

"Nonsense. We can all fit in my truck. Here, let me put your things in the back." You opened the trunk and allowed him to transfer your bags and cooler.

As he walked away, you bent down to talk to Madison quietly. "His truck only has one row of seats. Are you okay with sitting in the middle between us?" Just because you had known Timothée most of your life didn't mean she would (or should) be automatically comfortable around him.

"Sure, I've never ridden in a truck like this before, or in a boat!" You could tell she was starting to perk up. She ran over when Timothée opened the heavy passenger door of the old blue truck and climbed inside eagerly. "Whoa, we're so high up compared to your car, Mom!"

Once you followed suit, Timothée shut the door and ran around the front to the driver seat to join you. "Alright, everyone buckled up?" he asked. You and Madison nodded. "Then let's go!"

As he drove, you pointed out some of the places from your childhood. This triggered some reminiscing on Timothée's part about some of the shenanigans the two of you got into, which made Madison giggle. She seemed to enjoy hearing about some of your irresponsible moments. Hearing her laugh again was like music to your ears. You looked over at the two of them as they laughed together. Even though it was at your expense, you couldn't help but smile. Maybe this is what it could have been like had you stayed, the two of you together with a child in between.

Your arrival at the lake interrupted your reverie. Soon the three of you were out on the water and heading for a cove Timothée liked to frequent. Madison sat at the front of the boat with you close behind. She was nervous at first, gripping the edge of the boat, but quickly loosened up. Her long blonde hair flowed behind her as she faced into the wind. She looked back at you with a grin and yelled, "It feels like I am flying!" You laughed and waved, then looked back at Timothée, who was watching the two of you with a soft smile...

...which quickly turned into a mischievous grin. "Watch this!" he shouted. Now out on open water, he opened the throttle on the motor. The nose of the boat raised out of the water with increased speed. This time, you were the one gripping the edge of your seat while your daughter screamed, "Woohoo!" with both hands in the air. You could hear Timothée laughing behind you.

Much to Madison's disappointment, Timothée had to slow down as you neared the cove. When you approached the shore, he turned the motor off and jumped out to drag the boat to the bank. The girl jumped from the boat to the sand. "That was awesome!" she exclaimed as she shucked her lifejacket.

Timothée offered his hand to help you down then grabbed the bags and cooler. "Glad you're enjoying yourself, kiddo. Now, can you help me find a spot to set up our stuff?" he asked.

Madison ran up a small hill and quickly spied a dry grassy space to lay out the blankets. "Over here!"

"That's perfect, Maddy." You laid out a blanket. "Why don't you sit here, take your shoes off, and put sunscreen on, then you can go wade around while I get everything else set up. But no swimming until one of us can join you."

Madison rolled her eyes. "Okayyyy..."

You raised an eyebrow. "Or I could make you sit here all by your lonesome while Timothée and I swim, if you're going to be like that."

"No, no, I'm good. Shallow water only." She gestured to cross her heart then ran back down the hill.

Timothée set the cooler down beside you. "I know it wasn't part of your plan years ago, but you're really good at that."

"What's that?" You gave him a questioning look.

"The whole mom thing. You seem to have a knack for when to give her space and freedom, and when to rein it in. Oof, and that eyebrow raise. Even I stopped in my tracks."

You laughed. "Oh just wait until I have to break out her middle name. That's when it's really serious, Timothée Hal Chalamet." He playfully shuddered. "But, uh, thanks. I feel like I fail at it all the time. Especially these last few months. Parenting is supposed to be a two person job, you know. Or more. Like they say, it takes a village." You dropped your head to prevent him from seeing the tears welling up in your eyes.

Timothée reached out to lift your chin. "I think you'll find a village here to help you, if you give them a chance." He brushed a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

Before you could respond, Madison interrupted with a squeal. He dropped his hand and cleared his throat as you quickly turned to investigate. "A fish touched my leg!"

You both chuckled. "I guess we better get down there," you said. You both undressed down to your swimwear and joined her. The three of you played and swam for hours. Once Timothée caught you by surprise by grabbing your waist, hoisting you out of the water, and throwing you back in. Madison giggled when you came back up spluttering, then asked to be thrown next.

This continued for several rotations until he was worn out. Both you and he needed a break. Madison was still going strong but was willing to come back into the shallows if it meant staying in the water.

Timothée sat beside you on the blanket as you dried yourself off. You could tell an idea dawned on him by the look on his face.

"Is it alright if I let her drive the boat around a little when we're back in open water? With help, of course?"

"Sure. That should be incentive enough to get her out of the water." You paused. "Thank you for today. I haven't seen her smile and laugh this much in months. It's all been so hard on her."

"Oh, think nothing of it. I come out here all the time to get away from life for a bit. Based on what you told me at lunch the other day, you hadn't had a chance to just stop and have some fun. I'm glad I could offer that."

"You...you're being so sweet to me."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, we never talked about the way we ended things. I'm sorry if I made you feel like you weren't important to me."

"No, I'm sorry. I should have been happy for you. Instead I selfishly focused on what I was losing versus what you were gaining. After some time, when I was able to see past my own hurt and look at things more objectively, I realized how incredibly brave you were to pack up and chase your dreams," he replied.

"I didn't reach them, though," you said sadly.

"Yet. You still have time," he said matter of factly.

You scoffed. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, but life is too crazy right now to even think about finishing school."

"Well, just don't lose sight of it. K?" You nodded. "So shall we pack up and head back?" He stood and offered you his hand.

"All good things must come to an end, sadly," you replied, allowing him to help you stand. The two of you folded up the blankets and hauled the stuff back to the boat.

As you predicted, Madison whined when she saw what was going on. "I don't want to go yet!"

You smirked and looked over at Timothée. "I got this," he muttered to you under his breath. "Hey, kiddo, would you want to go if I let you drive the boat?"

"Really?!"

Timothée nodded. "Only when we get out in open water, but yes, I'll show you how to steer."

Madison looked at you with big puppy dog eyes. "Can I really drive it, Mom?"

"Hmm," you put your finger and thumb on your chin to look deep in thought. "I suppose so."

"Yes!" She jumped up and down and pumped her fist in the air.

"Now go get your shoes and lifejacket back on," you instructed. You all loaded up in the boat and set on your way. Madison was visibly vibrating with excitement as she sat beside Timothée next to the motor.

"Ready?" he asked once out of the cove. She nodded emphatically. "Alright, we're not going to go as fast as we did on our way out here, ok? Now, you have to face forward, but put your hand here on the handle behind you. Good. You will need to push or pull the handle in the direction you want to go. If you want to head right, push right. Left, pull left."

"Got it. Right is right, left is left."

"Ok. I am going to twist the handle to get us going again. You focus on where we're heading." She looked at him very seriously and nodded. Timothée slowly increased the speed. Madison looked nervous for a brief moment as she experimented with how far to push or pull to get the boat to move.

"You're already a pro!" Timothée shouted.

"Look Mom, I'm doing it!" She beamed. It was a beautiful sight. You pulled out your phone and took their picture. You made a mental note to send it to Timothée later.

Madison steered the boat almost the entire way back to the boat ramp, and then Timothée took over. After he expertly brought the boat to rest at the dock, you and Madison unloaded your belongings while he got the truck. After loading up and heading out, Madison fell asleep against your shoulder before you even got to the highway. You rested your cheek on her head, reveling in the closeness. She didn't come to you for cuddles like she used to.

The girl stayed asleep even once you arrived back at Timothée's house. He gently picked her up and carried her to your car.

"Thank you for your help," you said softly as you stood by the car door. "And thank you again for today."

"I enjoyed it. Hopefully we can do it again sometime this summer."

"I'd like that, and I think it's safe to say she would, too." You grabbed the door handle and turned. "Hey, uh, want to grab dinner sometime this week?"

Timothée smiled. "Yes."

<><><><><>

Chapter 5

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess

@bluizh

[not-a-space-alien]

K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 7

Part seven of the fourth crossover with @whumpsday!

K&J masterlist

MMSS masterlist

K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist

To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday

Warnings for this chapter: None

In this chapter:

***

Valen thinks about it over the next couple of days. He doesn't like making rush decisions.

He calls Jim every day, and every day he hears about how scared Jim gets at night. Jim tries to downplay it, and it still sounds horrible. He can hear the tiredness in both his and Liz's voices.

He barely knows Jim. He doesn't have to babysit Jim. He can't focus on the work that had seemed so important last week.

He starts getting mail from Priscus. A picture of a cat, saying it's his if he comes back to the estate. Sent directly to Valen's supposedly secret address. The wording in his communications is getting more insistent.

He calls Jim and says he'd like to move in with him and Liz, if such a thing is still agreeable to them.

Jim jumps on the offer ecstatically. "Of course it's still agreeable! We'd love to have you! Come on over!"

Valen regretfully tells his landlord he's breaking the lease. He's not attached to any of the furniture. He packs up his books, his lab equipment, his clothes, the blood he has on hand. His stash of valuables he'd taken from the Kithrara estate. Priscus will surely demand those back as soon as he's no longer in denial that Valen isn't coming back, and wasn't just "borrowing" them. Which will likely happen when he finds out Valen is now living in human territory, at which point he'll be out of reach even to the Kithrara family's manipulation tactics. He needs his ill-gotten goods to save himself from having to work a job.  He’s capable of it, he simply doesn't want to and tells himself his research project is more important.

His things aren't too heavy to carry, but they are a little bulky. He buys a cheap car. It's even harder to drive. He's already shunted his previous car off onto Jim to be rid of it. There are no rentals that will allow him to return it in human territory. He may just abandon it on the side of the road when he's done with it. Having money has let him turn to being wasteful as a coping method for his anxiety.

He loads up all his things and stops at the store to get a generous supply of blood packs. He puts them in a cooler and drives straight to Liz and Jim's house.

Jim runs out to give him a tackle-hug as soon as Valen arrives. It's the first time he's been outside at night since Valen took him to the store. "I missed you."

Valen lets himself be pummeled by the hug. Why had he ever left this? What could be more important than this? "I missed you too."

Liz follows. "Welcome back, roomie. Lemme help you with your stuff."

When Liz starts to carry his things, he untangles himself from Jim. "Please, please allow me. It's much easier for me, don't trouble yourself. Where shall I put them?"

Liz waves him off. "I can carry shit no problem."

"We cleared out the extra room. We can still share a bed and stuff, but that way you've got your own space to put all your stuff," Jim says. "Hey, you wanna see something fucked up?"

"Stop showing it to everyone who comes over," Liz admonishes.

Valen's eyes widen. "Oh dear. What is it?"

Jim strips his shirt and turns around. His back is covered in bullseye rashes, like someone stained his skin with red watercolor. "I got Lyme disease."

Liz rolls her eyes. "Put your shirt back on."

"I feel like crap, but it looks kinda cool!" Jim insists. "'Fore you ask, already saw the doctor, already on meds for it."

"Oh dear!" Valen cries, "I hope it clears up quickly." Jim has been showing his bare back to "everyone who comes over"...? For some reason, the thought of more humans coming over to the house where he now lives hadn't really occurred to him. It's really scary, for some reason, to be surrounded by humans. "Who, um, who have you been showing this to?"

"Laken. Friends who I haven't seen since before. Plus a reporter. They wanna put me on TV," Jim brags.

Jim is going to be on TV. What is Valen going to do when more humans keep showing up here? He starts to second guess his decision. Can he really live here, in human territory? Everyone here except a small group of Jim's connections will see him as a dangerous and hateful animal, or a curiosity at best. "Ah," he says nervously. "Just, just give me ample warning before that happens so, so I don't also get on TV."

Jim puts his shirt back on. "Oh hey, yeah, of course. It'd be during the day, and not here. And you know, they were asking about the story of how I escaped, and that's all you. You're like a hero. But if you don't want me to go on, I won't. You feeling comfortable here's more important." 

"Well, you can–I don't want to limit you. You deserve to tell everyone your story. I'm just nervous as to what it could bring if, if the spotlight comes on me at all." He rubs his arm. "Thank you for calling me a hero, but there are probably people out there who would think that doesn't matter."

"Well, I think it matters," Jim protests.

"I made sure all the hunters in this district know you're with us. You won't run into any trouble here," Liz assures him.

"I'll make sure to keep you out of the spotlight," Jim says.

Liz pats the trunk. "Hey, open it up so I can start helping."

They unload Valen's stuff, and he shyly asks if there's somewhere he can have space to set up his lab equipment so he can continue working on his project.

"Wherever there's room, go for it," Liz says, gesturing around the house. "Kitchen, living room, Mom and D–your room. Wherever you wanna set up.”

He catches the slip up in what Liz calls the room, and figures that given all the clues, Liz and Jim's parents must have passed away. "Was that your parent's bedroom?" Valen asks. "I'm sorry. Thank you for sharing it with me. Are you quite comfortable with me using it?" Part of him is afraid they're about to tell him their parents were killed by vampires.

"Yeah. Better that someone's using it." Jim says. "It's been... almost ten years, now. Time kinda gets away from you, huh."

"Mm-hm." Liz looks away. She doesn't like talking about it.

"My condolences. Well, I'm glad the two of you have each other now, at least."

"Yeah. And now we got you, too." Jim smiles at him.

Valen eventually decides to set up his lab in the living room, liking the idea of being out in the open where anyone can come ask about what he's doing, to give him an opportunity to gush. He does make note that he'll have to carefully label anything that comes in contact with the mushrooms, since they're dangerous to humans.

Things are alright for a while. Jim is a lot less paranoid than he was when Valen was hundreds of miles away, and the hunter that shot at Valen comes over briefly to apologize and thank him for bringing Liz's brother back. 

Valen is touched that all the vampire hunters and miscellaneous humans around accept him so easily. Despite his good deed, he'd expected much more pushback and more suspicion. But everyone is just being nice to him. It's refreshing, and not at all what he expected. 

Jim has trouble re-meshing with his old friend group: they've grown into different people in their time apart. But he has Liz and Valen, so he's okay. Laken takes a liking to Valen. Valen likes Laken a lot; they're bold and curious and don't take themselves too seriously.

Valen encourages Jim to get in touch with his old friends, but he himself has lost most of his old friends and he knows how difficult that can be when things have just changed. He encourages Jim not to let it get him down, and reminds him he'll have plenty of opportunities to make new friends down the road.

The hunters in the area know to leave Valen alone. Valen goes back to vampire territory every once in a while to get more blood, and occasionally other supplies he can't seem to get on this side of the border. He generally dislikes being in vampire territory, though, because of his own paranoia about being found. He avoids anyone who might have even tangential connections to his husband's family, not even telling his own family where he went. He misses them, a little, but he can't bring himself to be too sad about cutting them off. Talking to them usually only earned him misgendering and scolding.

Jim and Liz argue about her returning to work. Jim doesn't want her to, he's terrified for her safety, but Liz insists that this is her calling and she needs to protect people, and that Laken will get themself killed without her. Jim does end up conceding, begrudgingly, since he can't actually stop her.

Valen agrees with Jim that vampire hunting is dangerous, but he reminds Jim it's a noble profession that needs to be done to protect humans. He offers to start escorting Liz on hunts to help ensure her safety, but he sees the look on Jim's face at the thought of the consequences of that possibility: either he will be alone at night, or he'll have to come as well. Valen retracts the offer in front of Jim, but then later privately reoffers to Liz.

Liz declines Valen's offer for now, but thanks him and says maybe they can try that when Jim's more stable. Honestly, she's worried about Jim being alone at night, too. She already lost him once.

Jim sleeps in Valen's room. He's loathe to be apart from him for very long: not just because he likes being around Valen, but also because of a creeping feeling of danger he gets whenever they're apart. He's not coping as well as he'd like to think he is.

Valen gets more comfortable around Jim and the idea of another relationship, in whatever form that will be. They are both dealing with different kinds of trauma, and unfortunately they are creeping into territory where it's very easy to trigger Valen, sleeping next to each other and being affectionate. Jim has Valen to get him through his bad episodes, but for Valen, Jim is usually the cause of those episodes, which Valen tries to hide to spare his feelings. He knows logically that Jim can't overpower him, but the wounds of being overpowered are deep, and it's all he can do not to slide into learned helplessness rather than speak up about his feelings. He's less afraid of being physically dominated and more of the emotional side: Priscus had been kind early on in their marriage, and then had gradually lost patience and gotten more and more condescending and pushy. What if the same thing happened with Jim? Jim could start being less considerate, less respectful, and whatever positive emotions he'd been experiencing would be gone and their memories tainted. It felt fragile, just as safety did for Jim, the shared fear of being treated as an object manifesting in different ways for both of them.

He thinks that if Jim one day started telling him how to cut his hair or dictating what he could wear, he would never recover enough to trust anyone with his heart again.

Valen occasionally makes comments to Jim along the lines of "Thank you for allowing me to wear trousers," which probably strikes Jim just as weirdly as the occasional relapse Jim has where he begs and promises to be good strikes Valen and Liz.

It feels good. No one is too pushy. Everyone is just concerned about keeping each other happy and safe.

***

@barebarb

@cc1010foxy

@emcscared-whumps

@gt-daboss

@hurtpluscomfort

@jakersdaboss

@lolrpop

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@pigeonwhumps

@secretwhumplair

@some-thrilling-heroics

@t0rture-me

@thecyrulik

@thejinglingcourtjester

@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

@whuarri

@whump-cravings

@whump-my-heart-away

@whumpycries

@wolfeyedwitch

@whump-addict

@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

[sleepless-in-southlands]

written in my blood

Ao3

Summary: Turns out? Talking about Inscryption still isn't easy, not that Luke isn't trying. If Luke had known what trying would cost him, though, he probably wouldn't have even bothered. Content: Hurt/comfort (heavy on the hurt for this chap though...); talking about the past, trauma, disassociation, delusions, eye trauma, fear, promise it isn't As bad as it sounds but it isn't Great, inscryption exposition-ing Pairings: Lucky Jumbo (Luke Carder/Mumbo Jumbo), Luke Carder & Rendog & Docm77 Notes: Part eight of Lucky Jumbo. Chapter one of Love Letter to a Bullet

~

“Won’t you answer at least one question?”

“We’re talking about you right now.”

“And we will! But you can’t just drop that on me and move on without an explanation.”

“I think you’re trying to deflect.”

“I think if I had suddenly revealed the existence of my robot son to you, you’d want to change topics too.”

“We can talk about Grumbot later.” Mumbo lightly bumped his shoulder against Luke’s, as if trying to push him back on track. “You were saying Inscryption was a card game and a computer game?”

Luke sighed. Admittedly, there was a small part of him that was happy to find any excuse to abandon the current conversation (a conversation he had started, nonetheless), but his curiosity was genuine. He had been prepared to give Mumbo a very long, very in-depth explanation of what exactly a computer was, not for him to know exactly what one was due to having built one with Grian as a mayoral-election-helper slash accidental-son.

But the two dozen questions he had (such as, ‘where is Grumbot now?’ and ‘does this make me a stepfather?’) would have to wait, apparently. “Officially, it was only a card game. The computer version never got released to the public, but I- er- stumbled onto a copy of it.”

“How’d that happen?”

I followed the coordinates written in a dead woman’s card pack to a spot in the woods, dug it out of the ground, and immediately found a way to play it. Smart move, right? “I got it from someone who worked for the game company that developed both.”

“A friend?”

Luke closed his eyes for a moment, tight enough he could almost see the newspaper article against the back of his eyelids- tragically, young video game developer Kaycee Hobbs died from fire related complications. Fellow victims were a type of friend, probably. “Kinda. We had similar interests.”

Mumbo squeezed his hand lightly, and Luke reopened his eyes to find Mumbo looking at him with a small moustache frown. Considering Luke hadn’t said anything awful at that point, he wasn’t really sure what the frown was for.

“The sigils come from the game.” Luke said before Mumbo could do something sweet like remind him again that he didn’t have to talk about Inscryption if he didn’t want to, because Luke wasn’t strong enough to reject that offer another time within the same night. “They give the cards they’re on special effects in battles. But they’re not actually supposed to do anything.”

“What’s the point of sigils that don’t do anything?”

“I mean- in the game, sigils make your cards stronger or improve their attack or give you extra buffs. But the card itself is still a card. It doesn’t change because it has a sigil on it. The wing symbol doesn’t mean the card starts flying.”

Mumbo’s frown shifted into a different kind of concern. “You said sigils were similar to enchantments.”

Luke made an aimless gesture with his hands. “In the computer game Inscryption, you were sometimes able to put sigils on your cards yourself, and to do that you’d have to, you know, make sacrifices and stuff. And once you’ve added the sigils, the cards do gain the given effects, just not literally.”

“Sacrifices?!”

“Er, you guys use that blue stuff to make enchantments work, right? Same idea.”

“I don’t think you can… sacrifice lapis lazuli.” Mumbo said haltingly. “I know you said that you can’t get the activation materials here, but what did you have to use for the sigils? In the game?”

Well sometimes you buy them with virtual currency from a robot who doesn’t care about storytelling that much. Sometimes you find an old woman wandering around who'll give you a totem that will imbue certain cards with the power of certain sigils for free. Sometimes you stumble upon a bloodied altar in the heart of the darkened words where a voice echoes through the trees and tells you that to make one stronger, one must be offered as-

“It depends on the type of card.” Luke said, a bit hastily, as if he might be able to discombobulate Mumbo- and his own thoughts- if he spoke fast enough. “And most of the time, the sigils come already on them. You don’t add that many yourself.”

He didn’t fully achieve the intended outcome, but he did manage to briefly divert Mumbo’s attention. “There are different types of cards?”

“More like different battle styles, but yeah. Inscryption has four of them.” Luke raised his free hand, putting out a finger for each group as he went through. “There are Magick cards, which are played in tandem with Mox gem cards that allow them to exist. And then there are Technology cards, which cost a kind of battery energy that charges up between turns.”

Luke hesitated. Magick and Technology cards had complicated game mechanics, but the concepts behind them were simple and (in a literal sense) painless. But the Beast cards, which required blood sacrifices, and Undead cards, which were paid for in bones?

Hermits didn’t bleed, but it was a common enough ‘mod’ that Luke knew Mumbo knew what blood was, as evidenced by the time he had panicked over not having any and Mumbo had understood the issue with minimal explanation. And he definitely knew what bones were. Luke couldn’t just casually use the words and hope Mumbo wouldn’t ask any further questions.

“And the other two?” Mumbo prompted gently, and Luke forced himself to take a breath. He was overthinking card game rules. The computer game had been cursed, yes, but sacrifice had always been part of Inscryption. Surely killing fake animals was nothing compared to hermits (playfully) killing each other over the most trivial pursuits.

“Undead cards, which cost bones to play. You get bones whenever your cards die, either because an enemy card killed them, or because you- you sacrificed them.” Luke's hand, still outstretched with three fingers up, twitched for a moment, involuntarily curling around an unseen handle. That word was coming up a bit too much for his liking. “That’s how you play the fourth set. Beast cards require blood to be played, taken from your own cards as sacrifice.”

“That seems… harsh.”

“It’s just how the game is played.” Luke dropped his hand back into his lap, no longer necessary as a visual counter. He could expand the point, explain how other strategy card games had similar mechanics with different names, or how ‘sacrificed’ cards were only temporarily out of play, not gone forever (Luke thought of the Bone Lord, of crimson eyes peering out of a skull with twisted horns, of trading boons for blood that remained spilt even as he moved to the next event, and corrected to most weren’t gone forever), but he had a feeling that would confuse Mumbo more than it would help anything. “Which brings us to the point I was trying to make- the sigils are part of Inscryption, they’re not something that exist or happen outside of the game. Is that… normal? For carry-overs?”

Mumbo looked as though he wasn’t quite ready to switch topics, hesitating before he did so. “It can depend. Was Inscryption a big part of your old server, or crucial to life in some way?”

“Not… really. The game wasn’t that big, and I certainly wouldn’t call it crucial to life.” Luke said, not technically lying in any regard. Inscryption had never been a smash hit of a card game, important to interested collectors and not many else, and his final experiences with it had left an impression more akin to a poison than someone’s lifeblood. It wouldn’t be right, however, to give Mumbo the idea that the game was entirely impactless to Luke, so he tacked on, “Near the end of my li- my time in my old world, though, I was doing a lot with it.”

“Doing what with it?”

Being driven mad, mostly. “It’s a game, Mumbo, I was playing it.”

Mumbo chuckled, although the sound was a bit strained. “It’s just- no, I don’t think carry-overs from games are normal. But neither are potion carry-overs written in unreadable code.”

Luke wanted to argue false equivalence, but he caught himself before he did. Mumbo didn’t know that there was more to Inscryption, that Luke having carry-overs from it might not be limited to sigils. Luke had brought up Inscryption to Mumbo for a reason, and he had never planned to keep the entire game a secret from him forever, but there were some things he had no intention of mentioning, and for good reason. Most were simply insignificant, not worth bothering Mumbo with, but there were a few things Luke knew better than to mess with, even if the lesson had taken some teaching to stick.

There isn't much left. Inscryption is mostly gone. All that remains is the [NONONONO]. It is recommended that you do not access it. You will not heed the advice.

Luke ignored the slight headache that kept popping up whenever he thought about the Woodcarver. He hadn't listened to her warning, and what had that gotten him? Personally acquainted with something so vile he didn't dare think its name, that’s what. He wasn't going to make the mistake of trying to describe it, or any of its consequential ilk, to Mumbo.

“Yeah, I guess- I guess the unusual is kinda usual for me, huh?” Luke said after what was probably a little too lengthy a stretch for a reasonable pause. “With my code, at least.”

“A bit,” Mumbo repeated in agreement, tilting his head to catch Luke's gaze from where it had gotten stuck staring somewhat aimlessly at the floor, “but that’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s not a good thing either.”

“It doesn’t have to be. It’s ok if your code’s doing some unusual things. The Hermitcraft server has seen a lot, weird code included.” Mumbo pressed closer to Luke’s side, and Luke resisted the urge to lean into him and do something foolish like spill everything he had thus far been keeping successfully bottled up. “Nothing terrible is going to happen to Hermitcraft because of you, Luke.”

In his lap, Luke curled his free hand into a fist. “I… I know.”

“Do you?” Mumbo asked, words too soft to mistake the question for cruelty. “I know fear when I see it, and when you realized why the sigils were working… you’re afraid of Inscryption, and I don’t know why.”

Mumbo paused, short enough Luke didn’t have to say anything but long enough he could if he wanted to. The only thing Luke wanted to do was remove his mouth and pretend he didn’t know what Inscryption was.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Mumbo’s voice, somehow, got even softer. “But I want you to know you can tell me. And that, no matter what it is, no matter what other carry-overs or code oddities you have, we’ll figure it out, and it’ll be ok. You don’t have to be afraid of tearing the server apart just by being here.”

Luke let out a shaky breath. Squeezed Mumbo’s hand. Continued, with herculean levels of strength, to restrain himself from slumping against Mumbo’s side and uncontrollably mumble things like I love you and I’m sorry and I’m afraid that evil has followed me here and there is nothing I can do to escape it.

“...Thank you.” Luke said lamely instead, trying to convince himself he truly believed that Hermitcraft was safe from the infection that had taken over Inscryption. It was dark, and powerful, but Luke had- quite literally- left it worlds behind him. While he was certain it could have followed him, that didn't mean it had. “I think- I think I'm ready for bed now.”

“Alright.” Mumbo said easily, making no attempt to push him into saying more, which only made Luke feel worse about swerving the relatively short and uninformative conversation into a dead stop. The less Mumbo knew about Inscryption and Luke’s final days before arriving in Hermitcraft, the better, but it felt wrong for Luke to be keeping so much from him. “I’ll get the lights.”

Mumbo kissed Luke’s cheek and squeezed his hand again, reassuringly, before he got up to turn off the lights. Luke flopped down on the bed while he did so, using the growing darkness to shove the heels of his hands against his eyes. Truthfully, he wasn’t that tired, especially not after dredging up so many Inscryption memories, but it had already been too long of a day. He wanted to sleep for the sake of then waking up to a new day, one that had nothing to do with Inscryption.

Luke managed to go from lying lifelessly on top of the covers to lying underneath them by the time Mumbo returned to the bed, levers presumably flipped on all the redstone lamps in the bedroom. Mumbo slipped beneath the blankets with him, wrapping his arms around Luke and tucking him close to his chest.

Guilt wriggled in the back of Luke’s mind for accepting the comfort of having Mumbo close, aware that he didn’t fully deserve it with how he was keeping Mumbo at a distance from the truth about Inscryption. The thought of trying to push Mumbo off was more unbearable than not, however, so Luke did his best to ignore the feeling.

“Goodnight.” Mumbo murmured, kissing Luke’s head. Luke returned the gesture by craning his head backwards, pressing a somewhat lopsided kiss to Mumbo’s chin. Somehow, doing so both soothed and increased his sliver of guilt.

“Goodnight.” Luke echoed back, settling in for what he already knew would be a restless night. As much as he wasn’t looking forward to the sleeping part, Luke was more than willing to deal with it in exchange for a fresh start in the morning.

Luke closed his eyes, blocking out what little light the stars had been contributing to the room, and resolutely dreamed only of things with no connection to Inscryption.

~

As predicted, Luke slept poorly, waking up early after he managed to toss and turn himself out of bed. His shoulder smarted from the fall, and it took him a few minutes to get himself free of the sheets tangled around his legs. How Mumbo was still asleep was beyond him, but Luke took the opportunity to begin the day with some time to himself, to collect his thoughts and decide what he wanted to do after Mumbo got up.

Luke slipped out of the bedroom as quietly as he could, enough light from the partially-risen sun coming in through the windows for him to successfully avoid running into any walls as he went. He headed towards the kitchen out of habit- it was too early for breakfast, but having some water sounded appealing.

And that’s when Luke got stabbed in the eye.

Luke stumbled at the sudden burst of pain, hitting the ground hard. He tried to focus, determine who- or what- was attacking him, only to have his eye stabbed again, and again, and again. No one was around him, he was completely alone, what was happening?!

A squelching sound interrupted what few thoughts Luke had managed to cobble together, and one of Luke’s hands flew to cover the right side of his face a moment too late. There was no blood on his face, but the pain had tripled, and there was an oddly familiar hollowness that told him exactly what had happened.

The realization that the phantom attacker had taken out his eyeball came mere seconds before Luke heard a distinctive metallic clanking, one he could have identified missing both eyes and trapped in a windstorm. In an instant, everything slotted into place.

It was the special dagger, obviously. He didn’t know why he had used it as his opening move, usually it was a last resort item- had Leshy brought out the bears? But, no, Luke couldn’t see any cards out of his good eye, he must have used the dagger to end the round. But that didn’t make sense either; if the round was over, where was the box of eyes? Leshy wouldn’t make him keep playing half-blind.

Luke forced himself to move his gaze off the ground, trying to find the game table, the box, Leshy, anything to recenter himself with. But there was too much light in Leshy’s cabin, meant for the darkness, and everything was a blur around him. The one thing Luke could focus on was the person right in front of him, confusion growing when he saw it wasn’t Leshy.

It was Mumbo.

His moustache was moving, presumably saying something, but Luke couldn’t hear any of it over the rush of panic at seeing him. What was Mumbo doing in Inscryption? He shouldn’t be there, couldn’t be there- had Luke said something? Had he left the game out, unhidden and unmarked, and Mumbo made the mistake of booting it up?

It didn’t matter. How Mumbo had ended up there wasn’t important, getting him out was. Luke couldn’t leave, not until the game was up, but Mumbo-

Five minutes too late (in his defense, he was a bit preoccupied), Luke remembered that- regardless of how many of the in-game characters were alive and sentient- Inscryption was a one-player horror. Mumbo couldn’t be in the game if Luke already was. Which, in theory, meant neither of them were; a theory that held up nicely so long as one looked past the fact Luke was missing an eye.

“-ke? Luke, can you hear me?” Mumbo sounded like he was talking a mile away through a staticky radio, but at least Luke could hear him again. His attempt to tune back into his surroundings failed, the world around still too bright, burning his eye, and Luke opted to focus on the grounding weight of Mumbo’s hands on his shoulders instead.

“Where- where are we?”

The worry already present in Mumbo’s expression deepened. “This is Hermitcraft, we’re inside your house.”

Luke blinked a few times as he tried to parse the given information. Hermitcraft… right, he had been heading to the kitchen, hadn’t he? But the special dagger got played- Luke couldn’t use items outside of battles, Leshy didn’t let him, so somewhere in between the two events Luke must have started a round. Not that he remembered doing so. Not that it should even be possible, not in Hermitcraft, not after everything Luke had done to keep the two worlds separate.

“Luke, what happened?” Luke’s contemplative silence had, apparently, dragged on too long. “I woke up to you screaming, and you were completely unresponsive for- for a long time. I thought I was going to have to call someone.”

More details to mull over- screaming? unresponsive?- that Luke chose to mentally tuck away for later, when Mumbo didn’t look like he wanted to build Hermitcraft a hospital solely for Luke. “It’s- it’s nothing, just my eye.”

“You hurt your eye?”

“It… sorta… fell out?” Oh, that was- that was a lot of panic in Mumbo’s expression all of a sudden; Luke was running damage control not five seconds after the words had left his mouth. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, I can… do you have a spider eye on you? I can fix it.”

“A spid- ah, ok. I- ok.” Mumbo’s grip briefly tightened on Luke’s shoulders, and Luke briefly compiled a mental list of which hermits would be best to call if both he and Mumbo needed help. “Can I take a look at your eye?”

“It should be on the scales, but-” Luke cut himself off, shaking his head. The round was over, Leshy would have cleared the scales. “No, I think- I think it's gone.”

“...Can I look at the injured side of your face, then?”

Unconsciously, Luke dug the tips of his fingers into the side of his head, applying more pressure to a wound that technically didn’t need any. “It might not- uh- won’t it be hard? To look at?”

“I need to see exactly what we’re dealing with.” When Luke didn’t say anything, Mumbo added on, gentler, “Just a quick peek, okay?”

Another long moment passed before Luke eventually nodded, his extremely rational desire to say yes to Mumbo winning out against the arguably illogical one of leaving his hand glued to his face until his eye grew back on its own. It took even longer for him to actually move said hand, as though he was pulling a tooth out instead (pulling a tooth out was easier), but Mumbo waited patiently until Luke managed it.

Luke dropped his hand onto his lap, ignoring how cold his eye socket felt uncovered. A small part of him had expected his sight to clear up without the blockage, but it didn’t, the right edge of his vision remaining dark and blurred.

Mumbo cupped Luke’s cheek, an action he more felt than saw, slightly tilting Luke’s head as he examined the injury. Whatever was there didn’t seem to startle or disgust him, which Luke belatedly realized made sense. There wouldn’t be any blood or gore, after all, and skeletons walked around missing both eyes all the time. His old life’s severe medical emergency was Hermitcraft’s- and, really, Inscryption’s- mild annoyance.

“Luke?” Mumbo focused back on Luke’s good (only) eye, voice still soft. “When you said you hurt your eye, what happened? Did you trip and hit your face, or…?”

“I won.” Luke said without thinking, rushing to cover for it. “I mean- I don’t- does it matter?”

“Considering your eye’s not missing, it might.” Mumbo held Luke’s shoulder tighter as he spoke, as though worried Luke might try to bolt. “I can see it, it looks fine. What do you mean, you won?”

Luke only heard the first five words. Not missing? That didn’t make any sense- what else could have tilted the scales? A tooth was just worth one point, and Luke didn’t remember making a masterful play right before Mumbo had arrived. Plus, there was the pain, the messed up vision, the cold empty feeling in his eye socket- no, his eye had to be missing. It had to be. It was.

Careful not to push Mumbo’s hand off his cheek, Luke replaced his own over the right side of his face. Infection wasn’t really a thing in Hermitcraft- at least, not in any of the ways Luke had known it to be- but he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of leaving his wound exposed to the open air. “It’s- it’s not there, Mumbo, I don’t know what you mean.”

An odd look passed over Mumbo’s face, some impossible mix of both confusion and understanding. “You’re sure?”

Luke closed his eye, tight enough it almost hurt. The sound of the scales tipping was ringing in his ears. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s my eye.”

Mumbo didn’t immediately respond, conversation lapsing into silence as he considered Luke’s words and Luke considered the possible ramifications of replacing his old eye with a spider’s. He would have his vision back, sure, but he also might have to see spiders with sparkling eyes and maid dresses, and the mental toll that would take on him probably wasn’t worth the eye.

“I think…” Mumbo started slowly, Luke opening his good eye to find his face bunched up with concern, “I think you need to talk to Ren and Doc.”

“Our competitors? Why?”

“They’re only competitors during business hours.” Mumbo said with a weak laugh, apparently choosing to ignore that Boatem’s business hours were twenty-four-seven. “Doc’s the expert when it comes to missing eyes, and Ren… will be able to help too.”

An extremely vague (and slightly worrying) way of referring to someone’s helpfulness, Luke decided, but he put it down to Mumbo not knowing how to kindly say that the eye business would be entirely in Doc’s wheelhouse and not at all in Ren’s. If one could consider ‘missing eyes’ to be a wheelhouse, anyways. “I- I don’t want to bother them.”

“You wouldn’t be.” Mumbo reassured him, tacking on a moment after, “It seems… it seems your old server might have handled eye injuries differently then we do, is all.”

Luke looked to the side, trying to determine how sensical the idea was.

(Hermitcraft worked differently than Inscryption did. What did Hermitcraft have to do with any of it, when he was in Inscryption? He couldn’t be in Inscryption, Mumbo was there. Mumbo couldn’t be there, he was in Inscryption. Where was Leshy? Where was his eye?)

Luke shook his head, pulling himself out of the circular thought process. It couldn’t hurt to talk to Doc and Ren. At the very least, he could hopefully get one of them to lend him a spider eye, since Mumbo’s earlier reaction to the concept suggested he wouldn’t be doing so. It wouldn’t be ideal if all the spiders turned into maids, but hey, worst comes to worst he could always replace the eye again. “Yeah- yeah, you’re right. Should I- do you think they’re busy? Will they be at the Octagon?”

“I’ll message them to see if they’re free, and then we’ll see where works best for them to meet. It probably will be the Octagon, but they won’t mind coming over here either, if that would be easier for you.”

“No; no, uh, that’s alright. I’ll go to them.” Luke’s house (Leshy’s cabin) was still too bright around him, and the idea of bringing anyone else to him (the table) was unappealing enough on its own.

“They really won’t mind.” Mumbo reiterated, clearly preferring that plan to Luke’s. Not that Luke could blame him. His navigation skills in Hermitcraft were bad, at best, and that was when he had both eyes.

But Luke would much rather get lost and run into a few trees than so much as entertain the possibility of letting anyone else get anywhere close to Inscryption. “It’s ok, I want to make the trip. The fresh air will be good for me.”

Mumbo hesitated, looking as though he wanted to protest further. In the end, he did reach for his communicator, removing his hand from Luke’s cheek to do so. Luke did his best not to think about how cold his face felt without that warmth. “Okay. I’ll see what they’re doing.”

The slow tap-tap-tap of Mumbo one-handedly typing out his message to Ren and Doc filled the quiet left behind as Luke and Mumbo stopped talking, Mumbo’s other hand having moved to reassuringly run up and down Luke’s arm. Luke focused on the motion and the comfort it offered, drowning out the thoughts still twisting and thrashing in his mind as the various facts he had at his disposal fought over the correct answer to the question of where the hell he was.

(Hermitcraft? No, his eye. Inscryption? No, the hermits. Home? There was someone at the door.)

“Ren says he’s in the woods near Octatown, happy to chat whenever you want to pop by.” Mumbo’s words helpfully derailed Luke’s train of thought, startling it off its tracks. “Doc’s out material gathering, but he’ll be done soon.”

Mentally, Luke did his best to picture the distance between Boatem and Octatown. It was a long walk, but not unreasonably so, and it wasn’t as though Luke had that many other options available to him- flying was out of the question, and while Luke could technically take a boat, it would require the use of both his hands, one of which was still busy covering his lack of a right eye.

“Alright.” Luke stabilized his free hand on the floor, attempting to get up for the first time since he had fallen. “I’ll start heading over now.”

Mumbo followed him in standing up, his grip on Luke’s arm doing more for getting Luke on his feet than Luke was managing on his own. “Now?

“No better time than the present, right?” Luke left out the part where he was avoiding the possibility of Doc deciding it would be easier to swing by Boatem for a visit rather then head all the way back to Octatown, depending on where his material gathering took him. Plus, with how much time the walk would take, Doc would probably be back with Ren by the time Luke reached either of them anyways.

“I suppose.” Mumbo allowed, warily letting go of Luke as if testing if he would fall over the instance he did. Initially, Luke did wobble a bit, but he was much more stable standing then he had been getting off the ground. “I’ll grab a boat.”

“I, uh, I’m going to walk, actually.” Luke hastily told Mumbo before he had a chance to go searching for the marine vehicle. He waved his right arm slightly, an awkward jutting motion with his bent elbow. “Pretty sure I’d row myself in a circle like this.”

Mumbo, fortunately, didn’t point out that Luke could take his hand off his face. Unfortunately, he did have to make a point about what a good boyfriend he was. “Oh, no- I wasn’t going to ask you to row, Luke, I can do that. It’ll get us there faster than walking.”

Luke glanced away from Mumbo. “I don’t want to mess up your plans for the day. I’ll be fine walking.”

“My plans can wait, I’m more worried about you than any of my builds.”

“I don’t- it looks worse than it is, really. Nothing to get too worried about.” The false reassurances tasted bitter on Luke’s tongue, but he swallowed his self-distaste down. Separate, separate, separate. “I’ll go over to Octatown, have Doc take a look at my eye, and be back and better before you’ve had time to finish a redstone circuit.”

No immediate response. Luke refused to meet Mumbo’s gaze, even as he felt it boring into the side of his head. “...You’ll message me if anything changes? Or if you need help?”

“Of course.” Luke managed to kiss Mumbo’s cheek, despite having his hand over his face and despite him being the absolute worst boyfriend to ever boyfriend. “I’ll be back soon.”

Mumbo didn’t respond verbally, instead offering Luke a tight moustache smile as a send-off. It was clear he was attempting to look unworried but was coming up short of the goal by a mile. If Luke didn’t know it would undoubtedly worry Mumbo more, he would have abandoned the plan to meet up with Ren in favour of finding another special dagger to take out his left eye with.

Luke made it out of Boatem without running into any of its other members, which was for the best- he didn’t want to answer any of the questions they would obviously have about his eye. He kept close to the shoreline as he walked, knowing that if he followed the curve between the land and sea he would (theoretically) end up where he needed to be.

By the time Luke had reached the outskirts of Boatem, his thoughts had started wandering again, no possible coworker interactions holding them back. Much as Luke would have preferred to ignore them for a while longer (or, perhaps, forever), they had piled up too high, blocking off any other thoughts for Luke to feed his attention to.

For one, it had finally registered for Luke that the brightness in Leshy’s cabin his house had been coming from the sun, much higher in the sky than he had remembered it being. Time moved differently in Hermitcraft than Luke had been used to, but he had adapted to it, and he was certain they couldn’t have gone from early morning to nearing midday as quickly as it seemed. A single round of cards only took a few minutes, and Leshy would forfeit if it got too drawn out, so where had the time gone? Mumbo had mentioned him being a little unresponsive; had he been that badly caught up in the round (a round he couldn’t even remember) that he hadn’t noticed half of the morning passing outside of his house Leshy’s cabin?

Which prompted another question- why had Luke started a game in the first place? He hadn’t played once since landing in Hermitcraft, the unnatural pull of the game having been severed along with his- his- his what? The word slipped out of Luke’s mental grasp, almost taunting as he glared at his moving feet. 

Luke shook his head, dislodging the thought. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had broken his streak of avoiding Inscryption for no apparent reason. Before Hermitcraft, he had played Inscryption for his Youtube channel, and- as he got further into the game and the secrecy that surrounded it- his own need to get to the bottom of the supposedly nonexistent disk. That self-driven interest had eventually corrupted into something darker, evil incarnate latching onto Luke and drawing him in, but if that darkness had creeped into Hermitcraft, Luke would have noticed and fled the server long before he would have willingly opened a cursed save file in the heart of his new world.

And yet he had, eye missing and memory on the fritz for it.

Thinking about Inscryption was most likely what had gotten him into this mess, but Luke risked doing so again in an attempt to think of any other time the game had left him with a hole in his memories. There were plenty of instances of it leaving him with weird memories, but never the absence of them.

(Granted, if it had, it was perfectly reasonable to assume Luke wouldn’t remember not remembering.)

Luke couldn’t recall a time he had booted up Inscryption for no reason either. Be it a good or a bad one (usually bad), Luke had always gone into Inscryption with some sort of goal or purpose. It wasn’t a video game he threw on for fun. Not when the gameplay involved pulling teeth and plucking eyes. Except… Luke had never had to do that himself, had he?

Without realizing, Luke began to drift from the coastline he had been following, wandering more into the wooded area away from the water. He was distracted by flashes of the past, of sitting at his computer and picking up pliers and daggers that had existed solely on the opposite side of the screen, nothing but ones and zeros, never real. He had never lost an eye, his character had. He had never been in Leshy’s cabin, his character had.

Luke (not his character) ran into a tree, having completely stopped paying attention to where he was walking. The collision shook him, but not his thought process, and Luke glanced wildly around the forest suddenly surrounding him. The sun was still high in the sky, bright and warm, but it felt dark and cold, linear, a single path leading to a poorly lit cabin- Leshy’s forest, except it couldn’t be, because Luke had just reestablished for himself that he had never been in that forest, that it didn’t really exist. So he wasn’t at Leshy’s house (virtual, pixelated, he could feel the wood digging into his fingers), so he wasn’t at his house (green screen, computer setup, someone’s at the door), so he wasn’t at his house (green wool, poppy potion, Mumbo’s in the kitchen)- where was he?!

“Luke?”

At the sound of his name, Luke turned his head in the direction it had come from. Standing only a few blocks from him was Ren, axe in one hand and part of a tree trunk on the other. Despite his complete lack of a sense of direction and… whatever was going on in his head, Luke had managed to stumble his way into the Octagon’s forest.

“Ren.” Luke copied Ren’s name greeting, a beat passing in silence before he added, “I didn’t see you there.”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for a few minutes, dude.” Ren informed him, tone a touch incredulous but not harsh. “I know something’s up with your eye, but your hearing hasn’t gone bad too, right?”

The question might have been a joke, but Luke still reached up to check that neither of his ears had managed to fall off without his noticing. “I don’t… think so?”

“I was mostly teasing you.” Ren moved to put his tree-chopping supplies in his pockets, mumbling more to himself than Luke, “Mumbo did say you were a bit out of it…”

Luke considered protesting the statement, deciding against it after he reminded himself how high in the sky the sun was. “Yeah, uh- how much, exactly, has Mumbo told you?”

“That you hurt your eye this morning, and you seemed a bit… confused… but you wouldn’t tell him what happened. Oh, and that he’s worried.” Ren tilted his head slightly. “You wanna move somewhere else before we keep talking? You seem a bit wary of the trees.”

“Oh, no, it’s not- I’m not- the trees are fine, I’m fine. We don’t have to move.” Luke stumbled his way through a very good impression of someone who was absolutely not fine and was, in fact, extremely suspicious of the trees. He cleared his throat, trying desperately to sound any kind of normal as he continued, “Very fine trees, actually- can I ask, uh, whose they are?”

Based on the look Ren was giving him, Luke had missed normality by a mile. “They're closest to Octatown, so I guess me and Doc could claim them, but I think it’s more fitting to say most of our trees belong to Hermitcraft.”

“Most?”

“Treesa belongs solely to Mumbo and Grian.”

The finality with which Ren spoke startled a laugh out of Luke, caught off guard by the levity. “That’s- yeah, that’s true.”

One side of Ren’s moustache ticked up, mimicking a half-smile as he chose to lean against one of the Hermitcraft- not Leshy’s, Hermitcraft’s- trees next to him. “Any other non-technical questions I can answer for you? Doc’s making his way back, but until then it’s just the two of us.”

Right. Luke’s main reason for visiting Octagon- talking to Doc about his supposedly missing eye. “Actually, ah- there is one other thing.”

“Yeah?”

Luke took a step closer to Ren, hesitating before he slowly pulled his hand away from his face, exposing whatever was-or-wasn’t beneath it. “Complete honesty, can you- what do you see?”

Ren’s brow furrowed slightly at Luke’s request. Actually seeing whether or not Luke still had a right eye couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, but it took Ren longer than that to reply, looking as though he was carefully weighing his options before he spoke. “I see an eye. No visible signs of injury.”

“Okay. Okay.” Subconsciously, Luke covered his apparently-still-present eye again. “That… that makes sense.”

“Did you expect something else?” Ren asked, and Luke would have taken it as a joke if it weren’t for how serious Ren sounded.

Luke mentally oscillated between a reassuring lie (which Ren would likely see through immediately) and the truth (which he didn’t actually want to share) before settling on an uninformative, “Why would I?”

Much to Luke’s chagrin, the vague rhetorical seemed to only increase Ren’s concern. Standing as he was, slanted against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest, Luke got the distinct impression he was being sized up. “Luke, mind if I ask you a question of my own?”

“Technically you already have.” Luke pointed out, as if humour could save him if he believed in it hard enough. “But, uh, yeah, go ahead.”

“What state do you think your eye is in?” Ren’s tone remained serious, an admittedly odd thing to hear from the usually laidback hermit. “Not what makes sense for it, not what me or Mumbo have said about it; what does it feel like to you?”

Luke moved his gaze to the side of Ren, avoiding his eyes. Once again, the option to lie was available, and tempting, but Ren asking the question alone suggested he already knew there was something Luke wasn’t saying. He likely wouldn’t press if Luke did lie, or otherwise refused to answer, but he would still know Luke had purposefully left something unsaid.

Underneath his palm, Luke’s eye socket pulsed with a familiar foreign pain.

“It feels like it isn’t there.” Luke admitted, quietly, neither looking at or away from Ren. “Not just that it’s injured, or not working- it feels like it’s completely gone.”

Out of his limited peripheral, Luke watched Ren's expression change, although he couldn't quite tell what it had become. “Can you tell me what you think happened to it?”

Luke bit back on what he was fairly certain would only sound like a bitter laugh. “What else? It got taken out.”

Ren didn't push for what Luke meant by that, which Luke appreciated. He didn't particularly feel like recounting the exacts of how a phantom dagger gouged out his eye. “Have you ever lost your eye before? In your previous server?”

“I have both my eyes usually, don't I?”

“Most injuries heal.”

Luke shuffled his feet. Right, Hermitcraft, where eyes regenerating was completely normal. “Aren't we a little past you asking one question?”

Arms still crossed, Ren raised one of his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I don't mean to interrogate you, dude, I'm just… trying to see if this is what I think it is.”

“...What do you think this is?” Luke asked, feeling both hesitant and hopeful. If he had any say in the matter, he'd prefer that there would be nothing going on with him; that, with enough time, his eye- which was extremely present and functional- would stop hurting and his thoughts would settle and he would be able to write off the whole situation as the result of stress and exhaustion from the day before. But if that didn't happen, if there was a distinct thing occurring with him… he'd prefer it be something a hermit could name, rather than be something only Inscryption could explain.

Ren didn't reply right away. “Do you know what code confusion is?”

“Please tell me the name is completely unrelated to the condition and it has nothing to do with code.”

Again, Ren took a moment to respond, though Luke doubted thinking had anything to do with the second pause. “Well, it's not technically a condition-”

Luke groaned, aware the non-answer was as good as a direct confirmation. “I have the worst code on the server.”

“I haven't decided if you have it or not!” Ren said with a laugh. Luke was glad to know his suffering was amusing. “And that's not really how code works.”

“My code doesn't work.” Luke snarked despairingly. He'd be lying if he said he fully understood what code was in Hermitcraft, or how it worked, but he knew enough about it to know his was weird and possibly hated him. Was it his fault for coming from a world without it? Probably, but that was hardly his choice, he didn't deserve to deal with the consequences of it. “Let's just- what does it mean to have ‘code confusion?’ Run me through the checklist.”

Ren deliberated Luke’s request for a moment. “Alright man, let’s try this. I’ll name some of the most common symptoms for code confusion, and you can tell me how many of them currently sound like something you’re experiencing.”

“Okay.” Luke nodded once. “Ready.”

“Your perception of the world around you and certain events doesn’t match up with how other players are perceiving things. Some of what you’re perceiving goes against logic and doesn't make sense when you think about it. You’re experiencing things that shouldn’t happen here, but you’ve gone through before on different servers. You don’t feel entirely connected to the world around you, meaning you miss stretches of time or struggle to identify where you are- in general, your memory isn’t as solid as it usually is.” Ren listed out, oddly concise. When Luke didn’t immediately speak, he added, “Any of that seem familiar?”

Luke shot a glance at the trees around them. “Uh. Might be ringing some bells.”

“Which ones?”

“Oh, well, you know. It’s the- they’re all sorta-” Luke made a useless gesture with his free hand. “How many did you- it was a couple of them, like tw- three? Yeah, like three of them. Three bells. Or so.”

Unsurprisingly, Ren didn’t look convinced by Luke’s indirect, barely decipherable response. Luke was barely won over by it himself, and he was more than happy to try and convince himself that he hadn’t hit every item on Ren’s list.

Mimicking how the conversation had been going, however, Ren didn’t try to press Luke for any more helpful information. His expression was caught somewhere between concern and something Luke still couldn’t quite place, watching Luke with it for a moment more before nodding. “Yeah, that sounds like code confusion.”

Luke sighed, feeling simultaneously like a winner and a loser. “Do you guys have awards for having the most messed up code in a server? Because I think I deserve to at least get a trophy for my troubles.”

Ren chuckled. “Code confusion’s not as weird as you’re making it out to be. Most players deal with it at least once, even the low-risk ones.”

“It has risk levels?!” Luke exclaimed before waving his hand, dismissing his own question. “No, nevermind, I probably don’t want to know.”

“Code stuff really throws you, huh?” Ren asked rhetorically, presumably more so to make fun of Luke than to make any notable observation. Luke, who had accepted his place as being the perpetual ‘new hermit on the cube,’ huffed but didn’t try to defend himself (it was not a defense he could hold). “Certain player traits can make code confusion more likely to occur, that's all. They also affect what type of confusion it is.”

“Stop describing it like it’s a Catch Monster’s move.” Luke ground the palm of his hand against the spot where his eye was-and-wasn’t, ignoring Ren’s baffled expression at the reference Luke knew he wouldn’t understand. The playing field was even now. They were both confused. “What exactly is code confusion?”

“Shouldn't that have been your first question?”

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to learn anything about it other than the name.”

Amused, Ren shook his head. “It's exactly what it sounds like. Confusion caused when a player's code conflicts with external code, like server code.”

“...And you said everyone experiences this at least once?” Luke asked, vaguely horrified, trying to reconcile his understanding of code (the minecraft molecules that made up everything) with the concept of them ‘conflicting.’ Was it like blood poisoning? Like getting stabbed (his eye) by pure lifeforce energy? Like the universe was screaming directly at you? None of the options Luke’s imagination offered came off as casual, blasé experiences, even for the unflappable hermits.

“Most occurrences are mild and don’t last very long.” Ren said with a shrug, as if to spite Luke for daring to think the coolheadedness of hermits had a limit. “They’re things like thinking a moment happened twice, or a hybrid’s mob traits coming through when they shouldn’t, or-”

“Are you talking about me?”

Turning his head around fast enough to have broken his neck in his old world, Luke found the source of the sudden voice to be Doc, emerging from the trees behind him. His mechanical wings whirred quietly from where they were settled against his back, suggesting he had flown in and landed somewhere outside the trees before making his way through them to Ren and Luke.

“Not directly.” Ren answered as he pushed off the tree he had been leaning on, the three of them forming a poorly shaped triangle with how they all stood across from each other. “I was explaining code confusion to Luke.”

“Ah.” Doc tucked his hands into the pocket of his lab coat, nodding. “It’s a good thing I’m here, then. Ren is not a trustworthy source on these things.”

“Hey!” Ren protested, faux offended. “I know what I'm talking about.”

“Which is precisely the problem.” Doc replied, giving Ren a look that had him glancing away, suddenly sheepish. Doc sighed before turning to Luke. “What has he told you so far?”

“Nothing comforting.”

Ren had his hands up in surrender before Doc could fully materialize a glare against him. “Not my fault, man. He hates everything to do with code.”

“He’s right, I do.” Luke confirmed. “Actually, Doc, if you could tell me that code confusion isn’t even a real thing and this is all an elaborate prank, that would be great.”

“Code confusion is very real.”

“I will also accept being lied to, if that’s what it takes.”

Doc huffed a laugh. “No lying. Code confusion is helped by talking about it, not,” Doc looked back towards Ren as he stressed the word, tone suddenly very pointed, “by keeping secrets.”

“Iiiin general, yes, but if you have enough experience-”

“You spent a week convinced we had all been taken over by a mysterious virus that was going to crash the entire server.” Doc interrupted bluntly. “We only found out when you collapsed from exhaustion trying to build an anti-doomsday device.”

Again, Ren looked away, abashed. “I didn’t want to worry anyone.”

“Mission unsuccessful.” Doc said flatly, staring at Ren a moment longer before shaking his head and returning to Luke. “Code confusion can technically go away on its own, but it takes a very long time. Talking to other players about it helps. Do not make secrets out of it.”

“...And what happens if I… do make secrets out of it?”

Doc looked disappointed that Luke was even asking the question, which Luke regrettably couldn’t hold against him. “Nothing good.”

Luke looked to Ren, as if the man who had just been repeatedly proven to be untrustworthy when it came to handling code confusion would provide him with a different, more helpful option. He didn't. “Doc's right. Ignoring code confusion only makes it worse in the long run. Something I was going to mention, for the record.”

“Sure, Ren.” Doc said placatingly in reply, prompting Ren to pull an expression that was more fitting for a Shakespearean tragedy than Hermitcraft jabbing. Doc simply refocused his attention on Luke. “Why did you two start talking about code confusion anyway? Mumbo said you were coming over to get your eye checked out.”

Ren, busy with recreating the moment Brutus stabbed Caesar, was unhelpful in providing Luke with a segway between the two semi-connected topics. “Uh, well… I mean, I am still here because of my eye.”

Doc's mechanical eye whirled quietly as he squinted at Luke, slightly confused, before he shrugged. “Mind if I look at it, then?”

Skillfully, Luke had backed himself into a different corner, one where he actually had to show Doc his technically-present eye. It would have come up eventually, no matter what he said, and the whole point of his visit was to let Doc check out his eye, but that didn't magically make Luke want to do it. Honestly, the spider eye plan was looking better every second.

But Doc was still waiting, looking more confused by Luke's lack of an answer with each passing second, and Luke decided showing off his not-missing missing eye would be a lot less effort than producing a reasonable excuse for why he didn't want to do that.

Feeling more like he was offering up his eye to Leshy than Doc, Luke slowly pulled his hand away from his face, once more revealing the area of interest. Doc took a step closer to Luke when he did so, mechanical eye once more humming with redstone as it- presumably- zoomed in on Luke's face.

“My scans aren’t picking up on any physical issues with the eye.” Doc said after a moment, blinking and returning to focusing on Luke’s face instead of only his eye. “What problems have you been experiencing?”

“Just that I can’t see out of it right now,” Luke answered, adding in a mumble, “because it doesn’t feel like it’s there…”

“What was that?”

Before Luke had the chance to dodge the question, Ren answered it for him, having dropped his dramatics while Doc was performing his scan. “He thinks his eye is missing. That it was… removed.”

“Ah.” Doc said, the single syllable sounding much more knowing than Luke liked. “That's why you were talking about code confusion.”

With a sigh, Luke replaced his hand over his face. “And that's why I'm trying to pretend it's not real, yeah.”

Doc crossed his arms, suddenly much more grim than he had been. “Is this something that happened on your old server?”

“My eyes were and have been fine since I arrived.” Luke reminded, uncomfortably aware that wasn't really the question Doc was asking. “Ren already asked about it.”

“We know you don't have a perma-injury.” Ren confirmed, his mood having come to match Doc's. “But code confusion usually sources from actual code, including that generated on past servers.”

Though neither Doc nor Ren had technically asked it, the question clearly on both of their minds hung in the air between them and Luke, with tension you'd need a diamond sword to cut through: what happened on your last server that took out your eye?

Luke just turned his head away from them, silent. What was he supposed to tell them?

It happened on my old ‘server’ to a character I was playing in a cursed game.

My eyes are fine, my eyes have always been fine, except in the game that owned me more than I owned it.

It doesn't matter, it was my choice anyways.

It doesn't matter, I had to win.

Picking up on his not-at-all-hidden discomfort, Luke watched from the corner of his eye as Ren and Doc had a quick, silent discussion. Luke was sure he would have found their ability to do so more impressive were it not for the fact they were currently using it to talk about him in front of his back.

“You don't have to talk to us about it.” Ren said when he and Doc had finished, genuine despite it being obvious they wished he would. “But… you need to tell someone.”

“To help with the code confusion.” Doc expanded on when it remained clear Luke was still very not interested in the idea of doing so. He added, softer, “And to help in general.”

Luke, instinctively, wanted to protest. Talking about Inscryption the video game had not once, in his life or after it, done him or anyone around him any good. Even if it would theoretically help with his eye, that only made it- at best- a necessary evil. Not something good. Not something helpful.

But Ren and Doc didn’t look like they’d accept any of the arguments he’d have to offer- not that he even could offer any, since he wasn’t going to try and convince them that the reason he couldn’t do anything was because of ‘evil’- and along with that, there was a look in both their faces that Luke couldn’t quite place, something like a knowing worry. It made something twist in his gut, in the empty not-empty space of his eye socket, with self-directed sympathy, forcing him to consider that maybe their advice was sound.

“Who you talk to about it is up to you, it doesn’t have to be someone in Boatem.” Ren continued when Luke, contemplating, remained silent. “But you probably should tell Boatem whoever it ends up being. Past-specific code confusion can’t always be helped without its… context.”

Luke very much did not like how Ren said ‘context.’ “Okay, yeah, I’ll… I’ll do that.”

Luke wasn’t sure how convincing he sounded, given he was still only half-looking at them and hardly sounded thrilled about the situation he was apparently trapped in, but he was briefly saved from any further scrutiny by Doc grimacing. “Speaking of Boatem… you may want to go back soon, Luke.”

“Why? Is something happening?” Luke dug his free hand into his pocket, pulling out his communicator and checking for messages. It didn’t have any new ones, which made sense given he hadn’t felt it buzz, but Luke didn’t entirely trust in its ability to always reach him from his ‘inventory.’ “I didn’t think we had any group plans today.”

“It’s not…” Doc hesitated, clearly trying to decide the best way to phrase whatever he was about to say. A small bit of Luke’s Inscryption-centric worry graciously broke free to independently devote itself to worrying about whatever it was Doc was about to say. “It’s about Mumbo.”

“What?!”

“He’s fine, just stressed.” Doc reassured, placing a hand on Luke’s shoulder to prevent him from doing something like sprinting back to Boatem or falling over. “Which is having an amplified effect on all of Boatem, since he won’t tell them why, but they’re fine too.”

As fast as it had shot through him, Luke’s panic soured and curdled into guilt, pressing heavy against his chest. “But the sooner I get back, the better.”

Doc nodded in confirmation. Ren shifted in place. “Do you want help with a flight back? It’d be fastest.”

Luke made a helpless gesture with the elbow of his occupied arm. “I’m a bit limited in my travel options right now.” He said, feeling foolish but not able to help it. He knew it’d be fine if he uncovered his eye, that even if his eye was missing (it was, it wasn’t, it didn’t matter) his hand wouldn’t be achieving much anyways, but he couldn’t imagine trying to make a flight with it uncovered, wobbly and unbalanced as the wind rushed directly at his face-

Doc removed his hand from Luke’s shoulder, taking a moment to search through his lab coat pockets before holding something out to Luke. It took Luke a moment to actually process what it was, distracted by his thoughts, but when he did, he found it was a black eyepatch, different from ones Luke had seen in his old world only because of its square shape and blocky corners.

“I use these when I take my mechanical eye out for repair work.” Doc explained, extending his hand a bit further when Luke didn’t immediately take it. “It might help.”

Brain having caught up to what was happening, Luke quickly accepted the offered solution. He slipped the patch under his hand and over his eye before pulling its band around his head, making it so there wasn’t so much as a second where the painful non-injury was uncovered.

Miraculously, the code confusion attempting to ruin Luke’s life accepted the eyepatch covering over his hand. Luke dropped his arm to his side for the first time since the attack that hadn’t happened, the stiffness gained from holding the same position for so long only barely registering to Luke as he focused on exchanging his communicator in hand for his elytra and rockets instead.

“I think I’ll be fine to fly back on my own,” Luke started as he tugged on his elytra, trusting in the politeness of the group to not point out that his definition of ‘fine’ when it came to flying was equivalent to aiming for a successful crash-landing, “but thank you both for reminding me how awful code is, and the associated advice.”

“Any time.” Ren said lightly, both him and Doc stepping back while Luke prepared to take off. Luke appreciated the rare display of Hermits practicing safety. “Stop by again later, alright, dude? I promise we won’t talk about code at all.”

“Sounds great.” Luke replied, honest if a bit preoccupied as he readied his incendiary devices. He waited an extra few seconds, making sure neither of the Octagon leaders had anything else to add, taking off as soon as it was clear they didn’t. He went airborne with what was more luck than ease, not yet breaking his streak of not accidentally blowing himself up with fireworks, though the semantics of such things couldn’t be further from Luke’s mind in the moment.

Instead, his focus was entirely taken up with getting back to Boatem and getting back to Mumbo.

[lovelyfanatical]

I Get a Sugar Rush Whenever I'm With You - Chapter 6.2

Happy Friday fellow Drukkari stans, or whatever day it is for you! I come bearing the next mini-chapter! If you missed any prior installments, you can find all of them on my new table of contents here. Previously, Druig and Makkari got to have an extra fluffy baking session, but can the sweetness last? Find out now in the next installment of Drukkari in the Great British Bake Off!

Druig was riding high into the weekend, even if he’d been dreading this particular week since he’d found out what it was. He’d never been much for dieting, as he didn’t see the point of limiting what he ate if he didn’t have to, so an entire week based around cutting out certain ingredients seemed rather daunting. Nevertheless, he’d been in a noticeably better mood ever since his afternoon with Makkari. She hadn’t stayed too long after they finished baking (and eating half the éclairs they’d just made). She’d helped him clean up a bit, packed up the rest of the éclairs, and given him a hug goodbye. He wouldn’t quite call it a date. They were just two friends baking and hanging out. In secret. Even so, he’d enjoyed it immensely, and it seemed like Makkari had as well.

They greeted each other as usual outside the hotel, and Druig couldn’t say for sure, but it felt like something in the air had changed between them. Standing with their friends, it felt like Makkari stayed closer to him than usual. That said, she always stood close enough to bump shoulders with him or reach over and punch his arm if he provoked such a response. Today, however, Makkari didn’t do either of those things. She just stood by him, occasionally chiming into the conversation, and while she didn’t turn her head, Druig thought he’d seen her glancing at him from the corner of her eye, a smile playing at her lips. It was a wonder she could keep up with the conversation at all, as he’d stopped listening almost as soon as he noticed her looking. When he finally tuned back into the group, he saw Ajak eyeing them, one eyebrow beginning to rise. Druig looked away as calmly and casually as he could.

Like he had during weeks prior, Druig held onto that happy feeling as the day progressed. The first challenge wasn’t too bad, but it definitely could’ve gone better. Now that he’d made ice cream during a technical, making it during a signature didn’t seem quite as stressful, even if it was dairy-free. That said, he’d also chosen a more basic flavor profile, making things slightly easier for himself. He’d gone with almond milk vanilla ice cream, dipped in chocolate with a hint of chili. The judges found it simple but effective, though Arishem had also added that he found it a bit underwhelming after last week’s performance. It certainly wasn’t his most glowing review, but Druig found that his wasn’t the opinion he most cared about.

The good thing about the chocolate dip was that he’d been able to save one for Makkari, much to her delight. She happily ate it, remarking, Sorry, I wish I could’ve save one of mine for you.

While Druig was quite curious about hers (Makkari had made mango ice cream topped with chili powder), he’d only replied, Guess you’ll just have to make it again for me sometime.

She gave him an amused look, but before she could respond, Kingo came trotting over, Phastos trudging along behind him.

“It’s days like this that I’m glad I don’t have to do the baking anymore,” Kingo said.

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t have a lactose intolerant child with a sweet tooth,” Phastos replied. Despite being a busy engineer, husband, and father, he’d picked up BSL quite quickly and had already started signing along where he could.

You really don’t miss competing? Makkari asked Kingo.

“I mean, I do. It was a really great experience, but sometimes, it really is more fun to just watch,” Kingo responded.

“No offense, Kingo, but the behind-the-scenes stuff seems to suit you better than being in front of the camera,” Druig added. Kingo’s mouth fell open at the remark.

“Was that an actual back-handed compliment?” he asked.

“You’re actually touched by that?” Phastos asked, visibly confused.

“I’m pretty sure that’s as close as Druig’s ever gotten to complimenting me, so I’ll take it,” Kingo explained matter-of-factly.

“Who’s handing out compliments?” Sersi called over as she and Ajak approached the table.

“Druig said I was doing a good job!” Kingo answered excitedly.

“I also said you weren’t good in front of a camera,” Druig corrected.

“Well, that makes more sense,” Sersi said as she sat down.

“At least he said something nice,” Ajak added. “It’s good to change things up sometimes. Although, I don’t think I’ll be making dairy-free ice cream again any time soon.”

A few of them groaned in agreement (including Kingo, though Makkari threw a crouton at him in retaliation, much to Druig’s amusement). Ajak hadn’t gone for anything too complicated, but her chocolate ice cream hadn’t quite set, making for quite the mess when it came time for judgment. The others had done alright, but Druig could sense that none of them were looking forward to the next two challenges.

One person who hadn’t struggled at all, however, was Sprite, whose avocado ice cream had only garnered praise. As she and Gilgamesh neared the table, completing the party, they started applauding. She paused to roll her eyes but gave them a playful bow before she took her seat and accepted the onslaught of compliments.

“Well, I did have the advantage. I’ve been vegan since I was 12,” Sprite said.

“So last month?” Gilgamesh teased, which earned him a few chuckles, but Sprite was not amused.

“I’m sure you get this all the time, but one day, you’ll be glad you look young for your age,” Ajak tried to reassure.

“You’re right, I do get that all the time,” Sprite replied wryly.

If you do well on the technical, do you think your mom will let you come to dinner with us? Makkari asked.

“Tell her we may seem like grown-ups, but we’re really just a bunch of oversized kids,” Gilgamesh added. “And we promise not to be bad influences!”

“Oh, I don’t actually need her permission. I just didn’t want to hang out with a bunch of adults twice my age and above,” Sprite replied, grinning snarkily. Several members of the group voiced their discontent at this statement, but she cut them off, saying, “I’m kidding! I already asked her, and she said I could make an appearance.”

“What about you, Phastos?” Ajak asked.

“We’ll see. Jack likes me to Facetime him before he goes to bed,” Phastos explained.

One of these days, we’ll get you to dinner, Makkari signed, a playful look in her eye.

“Assuming I make it through this week!” he lamented. No matter how well he did, Phastos always seemed to think he was one mistake away from elimination.

“Well, considering you got Arishem to enjoy peanut butter ice cream, I’d say you make it to next week,” Druig interjected.

“Again, with the almost compliments!” Kingo remarked. “Next thing you know, he’ll start being nice to people not named Makkari!”

This time, Makkari handed Druig the crouton. It hit Kingo right in the forehead, drawing plenty of laughter from most of the table, a light scolding from Ajak, and another eye-roll from Sprite as she muttered something about being more mature than most of her fellow competitors.

-

I may not agree with her actions, but as someone who's always looked young for their age, I can relate to Sprite 😆 Likes, comments, and re-blogs would be much appreciated!

Part 20

[omegasmileyface]

The Forest, the Trees, the Fire I: CATALYST

Chapter 7

chapter 6 was also posted earlier, so go check that one out if you missed it! Authors: @attackradish, @ectolemonades, me. Artist: @/crunchysart

For the full characters list, word count, content warning, and a directory to all the currently available chapters and related content, see the Table of Contents!

full summary: The world outside of Amity Park has learned about the existence of ghosts, and the time for first impressions has arrived. The delicate public consciousness could be disrupted by the slightest ripple. Danny Fenton is being ripped apart from all sides, and when he finally breaks, the ripples will be very big indeed.

warnings: references to racism and classism

words: 2467

AO3 link

first chapter

previous chapter

next chapter

===

January 16, 2007

Jazz was trying very hard to focus on her dinner and not the growing anxiety around her new syllabi when her phone chimed. She had tried to set a boundary that she would never check her phone during meals and take that important rest period away from herself, but it was the first time it had gone off since Christmas. She couldn't resist!

Tucker Foley: (17:20) dannys missing. havent heard frm him since th 5th

Well. That certainly ruined the mood.

You: (17:20) Crap. R we sure that he's not just busy? 11 days is a lot but he's weird like that from time 2 time

Tucker Foley: (17:22) c thats the thing. hes been MIA a lot recently. several days at a time. but im more worried this time bcuz the portals gone

Oh. Oh, shit, that was new.

You: (17:22) The portal is GONE? How do u kno? What happened?

Tucker Foley: (17:23) whole ectomap is diff. not sure. phone call? i can get us some better communication

Jazz was shaking in her dining hall seat. Danny was gone, with no reliable way of getting between realms? Mom and Dad were alone, in the middle of an anti-ghost government incursion, and with their life's work inactive for whatever reason?

Maybe everything added together in the ways she feared, maybe it didn't. Either way, something terrible was either happening or about to happen. She could already feel the guilt weighing on her for not thinking to go back home before now.

You: (17:25) Maybe. I'm coming over tho.

Jazz managed to clean up her dinner and start heading back to her dorm before Tucker called.

"You're coming, for real?"

"Yeah. Clearly stuff's going on in Amity, and I need to be there for it."

"Yeah, but, like, don't you have classes that you can't miss?"

Jazz double-checked that her roommate wasn't in before continuing. "Tucker, my baby brother is missing, while my parents are working with the group that's getting his existence criminalized across the whole country. Why would that not be worth pushing my degree back a bit?"

"Just feels like a waste of loan money, is all."

Jazz shrugged. "I'll just loot Vlad's house and sell all his Packers merch."

"I imagine the feds already beat you to that. Good luck, though."

At least five outfits and two pairs of pajamas, check. Toiletries, check. "What'd they do with all his money, anyway? Maybe it's still out there and you could wire me some of it."

"Why do you think I can do that? I'm not a comic book character, Jazz, I'm a teen with a piracy hobby."

Jazz hesitated for a moment before packing Bearbert Einstein. "Worth a shot. So, what's been up with you?"

"What's been up with me? Oh, you're chatting. We're chatting. You really must not have any friends of your own."

"Tucker!"

"Sorry, just an observation. I'm sorry. Well. I made a little system people in town can use to plan pro-ghost protests and stuff, but otherwise I've been trying to stay out of it, even though it's been a little lonely."

Jazz hummed. She'd better pack a towel. For all she knew, the extras back home had been sewn into some kind of ectophobic parachute.

"Lola got in trouble at school for defending Phantom in front of the vice principal. Like, she had to stay after school while he checked with the GIW to make sure they didn't have to write her up or anything. Fuck that guy, honestly. So my parents have been on edge, and they don't want me drawing any attention. Lola's eight years old, and pretty fuckin' cute too! If she gets in that kinda trouble, imagine what'll happen if they think me or my parents are pro-ghost."

Jazz cringed. "That really sucks."

"Yeah. I know."

She gave the room another quick once-over to be sure she didn’t miss anything she'd need for the next month or two. "How's Sam?"

"Couldn't tell ya. Her parents were pissed when they found out she was leading all those protests, and they moved away."

"Oh. Haven't you been talking?"

"Not really. What would we talk about, anyway? She's still mad because I wouldn't join her on the front lines. She doesn't get it. If she gets arrested protesting, she gets an embarrassing picture in the newspaper and her parents pay a fine and life goes on. If the same thing happened to me, my future would be ruined, forget that I'm not eighteen yet. Nobody employs a Black kid who has a criminal record before graduating."

"I'm really sorry that's something you have to worry about."

"Whatever. It's Sam! I'm sure she'll figure it out in a couple months and immediately pivot to doing the exact opposite. She never turns down self-sacrifice when it makes her look good."

Jazz gathered up her backpack and duffel by the door. "Wow, sounds like you really haven't been getting along at all lately."

Tucker sighed on the other end of the phone. "Honestly, we never would have been friends if Danny wasn't there. He made it make sense somehow. Not that I don't like hanging out with Sam! She manages to keep up with our humor and stuff. But it's hard when there's nobody there to buffer her. …Or me. Probably shocking to hear this from Too Fine himself, but I know I can be kind of a hassle when I lose my impulse control."

"That's a really intelligent thought, Tucker. Maybe it'll help you build new friendships, if you want."

He scoffed. "You really therapy-talking me at seven PM? You must miss Danny bad."

"Could you give me a sec? I need to write something."

"She's deflecting now!" The line went quiet.

Jazz gathered up her roommate's sticky notes and pen. Sorry, Lin. I'm gonna be gone for a while, at least a week. Family emergency. Not sure when I'll be back, but if you see a ghost who looks like me and she asks for my stuff, let her take it. Thanks!

"'Kay. Anything else to say?"

"Not really. I honestly wasn't expecting a conversation. I guess, um… how have you been?"

"Eh. College. Hey, I'll be back in Amity by… midnight. Make sure it's not up in flames by the time I get there?"

"You're driving now? I knew you got your dad's bad road habits! Please don't fall asleep at the wheel, okay? I'll do my best to keep everything un-up-flamed until you get here."

Jazz clipped the seatbelts over her bags, just to be extra sure they wouldn't fly around. "Of course! I've got my soundtrack. Later, Tucker." She shut off her phone and stuck in her favorite hip-hop CD she kept hidden under the passenger seat. Time for a very reasonable amount of speeding.

===

"Huntress!"

Valerie looked down from her latest capture to see the Doctors Fenton, waving their hands like little kids to get her attention. She went down to meet them.

"Yes?"

"We've always been really impressed with your efficiency at dealing with ghosts," said Maddie.

Val thought back to all the times the Fentons had shown up to a ghost sighting already yelling, plotting their every move out loud. Sure, she had better tech nowadays, but she was pretty sure her greatest weapon against ghosts was common sense. "Thank you." Still, not bad to kiss up when it came to making connections. "That means a lot, from professional hunters such as yourselves."

"You may know that we've been working with the Garrison Irving Walker Commission recently," said Jack.

She didn't, but it didn't particularly surprise her.

"Well, we've been wanting to have you come in so we can talk business!"

"And by we," chimed in Maddie, "he means the Commission."

Mentally, Valerie prepped a fake signal to go off on her suit so she had an excuse to leave if she needed. She knew the GIW weren't after her, but she had been sort of avoiding them recently. Just in case. "Business?"

"We're all wondering how you make it look so easy!"

"And how you made that flashy suit!"

"It's not an interrogation or anything, we just want you to share some tricks of the trade if you've got time."

Valerie wasn't sold, so she used a technique she'd picked up when applying for jobs. "I'll have to make some time. Could I contact you later with a schedule?"

"Sure! The FentonWorks phone number—"

"Maybe a GIW number would work better? Since it's set up with them."

"For sure!" Maddie grabbed a business card from her utility belt. "If you just press 0 a bunch, you'll get to the receptionist eventually."

"We look forward to hearing from you!"

===

"What would they do if you said no?" Damon Gray asked. He handed Valerie another soapy plate.

She let the water finish running over the plate before she spoke. "I almost don't want to think about it. I mean, I want to think that they'll just respect my privacy as a fellow ghost fighter, but they didn't really have a lot of reason to look into Mr. Masters, did they? If they're that paranoid, won't they look into me too?"

"Well, let's think about it this way." Damon hung the dishcloth back on the faucet. Nice, sub-ten-minutes dishes! "What's the worst outcome if they do look into you?"

"Well, they find my secret identity."

"And then?"

"And then… they get mad at me for doing vigilante stuff. They arrest me for the property damage I've done in fights, and take my suit away because I'm a kid."

"Is that it? Could be worse. I'm sure the people will be on your side because of how much you've helped the cities before. Will they look into your suit at all?"

"Ooh, yeah, if they can. It's sort of bonded to me right now."

Damon frowned but didn't interrupt.

"They might find out that I'm using tech that came from ghosts. I bet they wouldn't like that."

"They all use ecto-technology stuff too, right? I'm sure they wouldn't mind too much, since you're human."

Valerie didn't respond.

"…Well," said Damon, "I'm gonna go get the mail. Let me kn—"

"What if I wasn't?"

"Sorry?"

"I mean— not that I'm not human! And I'm definitely not a ghost. But what if there were some ghostly things about me?"

"Sweetie, what aren't you telling me?"

Valerie turned away. "…Weird ghostly stuff has been happening to me for a few months and I think it's because of my suit."

"Valerie Gloria Gray!"

"It's not that bad! Like, y'know, sometimes when I'm embarrassed I'll get kinda see-through for a sec. O-or when I want my suit to do something, it does it before I tell it to."

"No, as a matter of fact, I do not know!" Damon sighed. "But I'm glad you're okay."

Valerie nodded.

"I'm going to want to talk about this later, but right now I'm getting the mail. I'll just say this before I go; the GIW is supposed to be protecting humans, right? If they're any good at their job, they won't do anything drastic because you're so human."

"Okay. Yeah."

"Love you."

"Thanks, Dad."

Still… better safe than sorry. Valerie was going to find a phone booth tomorrow and schedule the meeting for Saturday.

===

Danny hated the basement of the Keep. He hated it, even more than he hated the rest of the place. Even when it was updated with shiny black and white stone and glass like the rest of the building, it still felt old and foreboding.

When people called the building a "keep", they usually meant it more metaphorically, or they just didn't know that keeps were short-term military hideouts. Most of the structure was more like a palace, enduring and luxe. The basement, though, was the site of a permanent last stand. It had morphed out of the old throne room and kept all the miasma from before, without most of the deathtraps. It was the heart of the palace, in the way that a fear response starts in the heart and radiates outward.

And here Danny was, trying to open up old wounds.

The Fright Knight's resting place was exactly where it had been before, dutifully beside his old king, even if they were both cursed to sleep forever. It was sort of romantic, almost. Like poetry. If you squinted.

But when Danny took the sword out of the pumpkin, the Fright Knight only had to look around for a few seconds before he kneeled, seemingly having figured out the whole… situation. Not that he had expected any serious loyalty out of the knight after his previous escapades, but that was sort of sad.

It didn't seem like the knight was going to stand up unless Danny said something.

"Um… hey. Hi. You can stand."

He stood.

"You have a lot of military leadership experience, right?"

"Yes, my King."

"Alright. Have you ever dealt with passive defense? Like, not going out and fighting so much as preparing to only defend if necessary?"

"Of course. While it is not a responsibility I've had particularly often, it is something I've studied and practiced."

"Okay. I think the entirety of the Infinite Realms are going to be attacked soon."

The Fright Knight valiantly concealed a look of skepticism.

"Honestly! There are humans with a lot of technology, a lot of brainpower, and an unthinkable amount of hatred. I'm going to be doing all I can to prevent things from getting that bad on the diplomatic side, but... I don't want to ignore any possibilities."

"That's very intelligent, my King. Would you like me to suggest strategies on defense?"

"Yeah! I'd like to talk through any thoughts you have on defense and anything else, if that's okay. You have way more experience than me."

"Understood. Would it be possible to bring me something on which to write? I believe it would make the explanation easier."

"Of course. We can do whatever makes you most comfortable. I'm not planning on putting you back in there any time soon— I mean, unless you do something terrible— so you may as well get cozy."

The pair moved into the library and before too long, talk of a general ghost defense movement turned into full lectures on the possible  ways to handle the humans' anti-ghost shift. Tactic after tactic came back to one thing.

"We will only have negotiating power if you tell the humans that you are prepared to destroy them and mean it."

Danny weighed that thought in his mind for a bit. He turned the idea around, considering its taste. He didn't like it.

"And will you mean it, Phantom?"

"Mm… I think I will."

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 16

Hello! I managed to figure out what I was gonna write, and I'm pretty happy with how the story's slowly unfolding as the girls settle into the Shire. I promise some more weird stuff is gonna happen next chapter. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 1814

Warnings: Nothing really, this chapter's pretty chill.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

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< Chapter 15 // Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 >

Part 2: Chapter 16 -

'Let's go on a shopping spree!' They said, unemployed.

Rúnda (Definition): Magical, mysterious, secret, confidential (Adjective / Origin: Old Irish / Ron·dah)

“You mean to tell me that the glowing ghost of a dragon popped over for a visit to give you your stuff whilst I recovered from a near-death experience?”

I had explained to Kay the events of last night, sparing no details as I recited the story from when I went to blow out the candle, to waking up and finding my trunk and bag in the wardrobe.

“More like lunged at me and gave me a new fear of wardrobes.” I said as I folded the final top into one of the empty drawers. “It’s like Middle Earth wants us to think we’re going to die before letting us have anything nice.”

“Tell me about it.” Kay agreed as she touched the gash on her forehead that was now scabbed over.

I strained my ears to listen for Bilbo, and hearing the clanging of pots, I figured he was still in the kitchen. Making my way across the room, I whispered to Kay.

“We need to leave the dragon part out of the story when we tell Bilbo though. Can’t have him scared shitless about something that happened in his own home. And if it even was a dragon, they aren’t well received here.”

Kay nodded, returning to emptying my trunk that was unsurprisingly still overflowing with stuff I had unnecessarily packed. Almost elbow deep she pulled out a black mass, and I gasped excitedly as she threw me my Toothless teddy. I walked to the head of the bed, tucking the soft dragon into the covers, amused at the apparent dragon theme that was repeatedly appearing. Turning around, my eyes landed on Kay pulling out a small wooden chest, it’s length the about the size of a medium sized book. She side-eyed me with a stare.

“I didn’t pack that.” I stated, pointing at it.

“Sure you didn’t.”

“You think I’m gonna pack my whole witch box???”

“I wouldn’t put it past you to pack the kitchen table.” She retorted.

I dead-panned at the remark, then let out a frustrated grunt, flopping onto the bed.

“Ok you got me, but I’m serious when I said I didn’t pack the box.” I explained.

“I know, I remember watching you unpack at the hostel. Which means there could be some other things in here from our actual homes.”

I sat up as a thought came to mind. “Doesn’t that mean you’ll have extra stuff in your suitcase?”

Kay remained in thought for a moment. “It could!”

“Well then, why don’t you go and see?” I suggested.

She nodded, placing the chest down next to me before she was out the door. I reached over, picking up the maroon-stained wooden box and placing it on my lap. It looked just like how I left it, sigils and runes gently carved into the lid and sides. Sliding the two metal clasps out of their locks, I lifted the lid, peering inside.

The contents were your run-of-the-mill witch supplies, coloured candles, oils, a set of tarot cards, jars and bottles – some empty, some full – and a box containing a few of my favourite types of incense. I figured my box of herbs was hidden somewhere else among my stuff. It wasn’t anything special, considering I was in the very early stage of learning witchcraft, barely on the brink of becoming intermediate, and being an atheist your whole life brought its difficulties, because of how much my sub-consciousness would doubt any of it was real or not. But I was determined to learn, even if it was for the rest of my life.

Setting the chest down on the duvet beside me, I stood up and walked over to the trunk sitting open on the floor. I then spent the next half-hour or so rummaging through and organising everything that was left. During that time, I had discovered the small box of herbs, filled with corked jars and miniature bags of every herb and plant I could find. Alongside it had been my Grimoire and Book of Shadows, now relieved that I could continue my journey of learning and be able to document it. I flicked through the pages, glancing at my loopy handwriting smudged with ink splotches until I landed on the ones that were yet to be filled. Snapping them shut, I locked the clasp on one and tied the band around the other, hiding them away in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. Though I knew that Bilbo would find them eventually – probably whilst he was putting washing away or dusting.

Admiring the now empty floor, I let out a satisfied hum and exited the bedroom. Arriving at the kitchen, I saw Bilbo in the same setting I had found him last night – his hands protected by a tea towel as he poured steaming tea into cups – but this time he was surrounded by plates loaded with an English Breakfast (or whatever the people of Middle Earth called it here).

Breakfast flew by, and we both told Bilbo about how my things had appeared overnight, purposely leaving out the ghost creature. I wasn’t officially sure whether or not it was a dragon, but its features closely resembled one, so I automatically went with calling it one.

We cleared up, and Bilbo announced that we were heading over to Gladiola Greenfoot’s place, whom he had mentioned during our first morning here.

“We’re going to see if Mrs Greenfoot is willing to measure you both up and sew you a couple outfits.” He explained. “And you can offer some kind if service in return.”

“Are you sure?” Kay asked. “Because our clothes should do us fine.”

“They’ll do you good until Mrs Greenfoot’s finished, because then you’ll both fit in easier.”

I nodded in agreement, remembering how easily tarnished our Earth clothes became after only one day of hiking in the rain. As we walked into the entrance hall, I looked for our shoes, only to find them missing.

“Uh, Bilbo?” He hummed in response. “Where are our shoes?”

His mouth made an o shape as he recalled what he had done earlier. “Ah, I uhh, put them away. You won’t be needing those things around here, barefoot should be just fine.”

We blinked in surprise.

“But our feet –” I lifted my foot up, showing the smooth sole underneath. “They’re not as tough as yours, and they’re way more sensitive so it’ll hurt if we step on anything sharp.”

Bilbo stared as if he had never seen a human foot in his life, before replying. “Well you should be fine, it’s mostly grass and you should get used to the dirt and stones in no time. Saves you both even more strange looks if you were to wear those shoe-things anyway.”

Kay and I looked at each other incredulously, wondering what had gotten into the hobbit. I let out a sigh and relented, Kay following not soon after. With a grin Bilbo strode towards the door, swinging it open and marched out into the warm early autumn sun. Not bothering to put on any more layers – due to the warm temperature – we both trailed after Bilbo, preparing ourselves for any sharp object that would eventually find its way underfoot.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

“Bilbo Baggins! What in Yavanna’s name have you done now?!”

Bilbo cringed at the taut voice of Gladiola as he neared her hobbit hole, the hobbit calling out to him through the open front window. Disappearing out of sight, she quickly appeared again as she swung the yellow circular door open and marched out into the front garden until she reached the fence.

She was the embodiment of your stereotypical female hobbit. A short but full and curvy body, along with a round face framed by light brown curls that were half-tied up – though not too round to where it complimented her sharper, light brown eyes and brows. But despite the scowl on her face, her smile lines were still prominent along with the fresh wrinkles that had begun to show her aging. She was adorned in a simpler outfit compared to the frills and pleats of the upper class lady-hobbits that lived near Bilbo. A dusky maroon underskirt was half-hidden by a floral patterned gown that reminded Kate of marigolds and straw, ending about six inches above the underskirt. The top layer was a comfortable looking, tan-brown bodice, laced up with ribbon, along with a shawl tied loosely around her shoulders, the maroon colour matching the underskirt.

“I haven’t done anything!” Bilbo cried in protest.

“You call that ‘not doing anything?’” She jabbed a short finger in our direction. “Look at the two of them! The poor girls are barely clothed!”

The girls heads raised from where Kate was trying to pry a stone that had embedded itself in her foot, then looked back down at their clothes confusedly, wondering why a simple pair of loose, baggy joggers and oversized T-shirts were considered barely clothed. That was, until they remembered where they were.

“And why are they covered in cuts and bruises?!” Gladiola scolded, gesturing at the two again. “Honestly Bilbo, I can’t leave you for a minute otherwise you’d end up wandering off to marry some orc or dwarf or whatever those adventures bring!”

“Mrs Greenfoot!” Poor Bilbo protested, his ears and face flushing a rosy pink. “Dr Noakesburrow has already seen to them, and they’re healing just fine! I brought them here to see if you would help with them settling in. They’ll be staying for a while with me, you see – shelter in exchange for work and chores.”

“I see.” Gladiola raised an eyebrow. “I can only guess you’re here to get them clothes?”

Bilbo nodded whilst letting out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, please.” He breathed, relieved that the conversation had veered to what he wanted in the first place. “Though they haven’t got any money to give you, so they’re willing to repay you in work hours.”

Mrs Greenfoot stood silent for a moment as she pondered the possibilities. Turning to the girls, she spoke.

“Are you two any good at looking after kids?” She asked, the demanding tone in her voice causing the girls to stand at full attention. They both nodded. “And how long are you staying to do it?”

“As long as you need.” Kay replied, a polite smile on her face.

The hobbit turned back towards Bilbo and gave him a pointed look. “And are you willing to let them stay for as long as I need them?” He also nodded.

“Alright then!” Mrs Greenfoot clapped her hands together, causing the other three to jump slightly. “It’s settled! Bilbo, go fetch us some of that tea leaves from Bree at the market.” She beckoned the girls towards her with a warm smile that contrasted the stern expression she had earlier.

“Let’s get you both measured up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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< Chapter 15 // Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 >

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[stardustspell]

A Shadow in the South

Chapter 5: Secrets

Fandom: The Rings of Power Rating: E Word Count: 30960 Tags: Galbrand,Haladriel,homophobic cops,Homophobic Language,Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform,Monster Slayer AU,Smut,just FYI,galadriel is a witch,elrond is bi,how many lotr nods does it take to inspire violence, i guess we'll find out, Cunnilingus, There will be sex, halbrand is a mechanic, You're Welcome, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Werewolves, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sex, takes place in louisiana mostly, galadriel worked in finance, circa 2008, CONTENT WARNING: Culty Baptist Church, lite ABO dynamics (I continue to be the worst tagger on the face of the planet.)

Chapter summary: In which Gail experiences the consequences of undercasting a powerful healing spell in her urgency to save Ed, discovers the werewolf's hideout, and says farewell to Hal.

Notes: I'm so sorry this took a while, but I made this chapter extra long to make up for it!

I'm adding new tags to this fic for this chapter since I fully wasn't expecting to have lite ABO dynamics in here-they're heavily implied, but not explicit (e.g. I never use the terms Alpha or Omega, or any of the typical parlons). I kind of put my own spin on it. Just to be safe, if you're not a fan of ABO generally, this chapter may not be for you.

If you want to risk it for the smut, be my guest and continue reading. WARNING!! HERE THERE BE LITE ABO SMUT.

Excerpt:

She moved on to the next room—a bedroom, and found the four-poster bed a mess. The room itself was plastered with floral wallpaper that seemed far too feminine and vintage for its current inhabitant. A pair of Levis with a brown belt with a metal buckle still threaded through the loops lay discarded on the hardwood floor—as did a few basic crumpled t-shirts, and three flannel shirts—each in different colors.

Anticipation started to itch at the back of her brain and her nose, the point on the back of her neck throbbing almost painfully, but she muscled through it. Gail took the thick red plaid shirt from its perch on the back of a beanbag chair in the corner of the room and lifted it to her nose. Spicy cologne, deodorant, and cedar—probably from having to hike all this way, and something else that smelled warm, inviting, and… delicious ? Gail recoiled, pulling the shirt away from her nose to scowl at it in disgust, before huffing a sigh and pressing the warm flannel to her face again to place the scent. It smelled like breakfast. 

Gail licked her lips and raised the shirt to her nose again.

It wasn’t unfamiliar.

She knew who this scent belonged to and she could almost feel their mouth on her neck.

“Fucking shit,” she growled in frustration at the annoying coil twisting up her insides. It made her stuff the shirt into her pack and moved to the closet. There, she found a few folded pairs of jeans, two nice shirts, two nondescript black suits, and a wool camel jacket. She felt her entire body lock into place. It looked just like the coat Hal had worn last night. 

You can read chapter 5 here, or start at the beginning here!

[ravagedarkness]

Spider-Man: Home Rebuilt, Chapter 42: Invasion

The morning of the mission arrived.

Our first few hours awake went by in a blur. First, we all got our stuff packed so we could get ready to check out. During this, Scott and Joanna did a thorough sweep of all the rooms to make sure we didn’t leave anything behind – especially anything that could have been used to link us to the incident at the bar.

Servicemen and servicewomen, am I right?

Once that was done, we loaded our stuff in the SUV and checked out. From there, we drove off. Once the motel was no longer even a dot in the rear view, Scott took a turn into the dessert. We drove for a few miles before we saw a shimmer. After the shimmer, the heavily modified Airbus we rode in appeared, hovering in place with its loading ramp lowered. Scott drove into the back of it. Happy was waiting for us. After the SUV was parked, we all exited.

“So, I take it you got the information you needed,” Happy commented.

“Yes, we did,” Scott confirmed. “What we saw earlier… or didn’t see… is a whole secret facility underneath the gas station. It’s been operational for years, though it ceased operations between the times of The Stark Expo Incident and Hammer’s release and reinstatement as head of Hammer Industries.”

At that, Happy scoffed. “I can’t say I’m the least bit shocked. I never did like that weasel.”

“Ditto,” I replied.

Scott turned towards us. “You guys have one hour. During that hour, I suggest you eat, hydrate, and make any last minute preparations you feel are needed. After that, we’re going straight there.”

“What about our stowaways?” Joanna asked as she looked over her shoulder at MJ, Ned, and Betty.

Scott stared at them for some seconds. He then sighed. “We might need them on the ground – but outside in the SUV. We’ll need a getaway driver, and I’m sure Ned’s skills will come in handy.”

“…No objections from me,” Craig replied quietly. At that, Ned smiled before he held his hand up towards MJ for a high-five. MJ gave him a glare, prompting him to lower it sheepishly.

“None from me either,” Kitty added. She then looked at MJ, Ned, and Betty. “But, if anything goes left, I need you guys to haul and contact Pepper. Understood?”

“We got it,” Betty assured.

“Okay,” Scott said as he nodded. “Your one hour starts now.”

For me, that one hour was busy. First, MJ urged me to eat. I wasn’t reluctant or anything. I just didn’t realize how hungry I was until she took time to cook the biggest omelet that has ever been put on a plate in front of me, made with peppers, mushrooms, spinach, and bacon. It didn’t stop there – she continued to move about and raid the kitchen, making sure I had Greek yogurt and nuts to go with my omelet and orange juice and green tea to drink. By the time I was done, I didn’t even want to move. But then Craig walked in and asked if we had time to build him a suit.

It didn’t take long for us to make it. Craig’s suit was rather simple – though a bit unusual.

“How does it fit?” I asked.

Craig turned around and looked at me and MJ. He nodded. “Feels like I never left the gridiron,” he replied.

His whole outfit was basically a take on a football uniform. For his inner layer, he was wearing a vacuum-fitted black suit that covered him from the bottom of his face down. Said suit was made of Kevlar reinforced by a carbon steel wire mesh. Over his upper body was heavy duty armor that looked like shoulders pads worn by football players. The difference was that there were extra panels on the front in the back, providing protection for Craig’s back and stomach while still giving him mobility. He also had on shin guards over athletic boots, and a girdle with shock absorbing pads for protection for his upper legs, groin, and butt. Over the padding and armor – save for the shin guards – was a custom football uniform. The pants were black with a burnt yellow stripes running down each side. The jersey was mostly black with exception of a large X on the front of it in burnt yellow and his codename on the back of it in the same color. Over his head was a black helmet with a burnet yellow facemask and visor that covered his eyes. That visor wasn’t just for show – the visor was basically the screen of the computer system that was in the helmet, giving Craig a heads-up display to use out on the field.

“Like, I know you’re a superhero and all, but why the gaudy costume?” MJ asked. “You’re usually pretty low-key when it comes to outfits.”

“…It’s…” He looked down at the ground and kicked at it bashfully. “Carmilla and I had these cheesy nicknames for each other. When I told her about how my mutant powers emerged, she called me All-American as a joke. I’d call her Chicken Carmesan in response. And, eventually, they became pet names.” He looked up at us. “I guess I’m trying to live up to the name.” He sighed. I couldn’t help but smile. Low key, Craig was as much as a sap as me. He then looked up at MJ, who gave him a sympathetic smile. “Anyway, speaking of suits, I need to get you, Ned, and Betty some flak jackets. We got some on deck.”

MJ nodded. “I certainly wouldn’t be opposed.” She then tilted her head. “How’re you holding up, Craig?”

At that, Craig shrugged. “I’m hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. I don’t think there’s much else I can do.”

“Well, whatever happens, we all will be right with you,” I assured.

“I know, and I’m glad for that.” He then chuckled. “Also, whatever happens, we’re going right back to New York to deal with Scorpion – with all the X-Men this time.”

I raised my eyebrows briefly. “I’ve been so focused on this mission that I almost forgot about him.” I then paused for a moment. “Wait… who’s looking after the city while we’re gone?”

Craig waved his right hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. Scott got Luke Cage and Daredevil holding things down in Manhattan and a couple of birdies watching over Queens for you. We’re good.”

I let loose a breath of relief. “Okay.”

After the hour was done, we were all standing in the loading bay. I was in my Black Dahlia suit. Shadowcat was in her midnight blue suit, complete with two holsters – one on each thigh. Frenzy was dressed in a black t-shirt underneath a flak jacket, khaki cargo pants, and black boots. Slung over her shoulder was a shotgun of some kind. I want to say it was a Mossberg 500 (my gun knowledge comes strictly from video games, so I was no expert). Around her waist was a belt with many pouches. Betty, MJ, and Ned were in t-shirts and jeans. All of them were wearing ski-masks and flak jackets. Cyclops, himself, was dressed in the same outfit he wore during the Midtown High Incident, battle visor and all. We all had our communicators in our ear.

With everyone gathered, Cyclops stepped forward before he faced the whole group.

“Before we set out, I want to tell you all how grateful I am you’re here, even if things began with a bit of a hiccup,” Cyclops began. “I also want to state that what we will be doing is highly dangerous. The potential for death is more than sizeable. And as much as I’ll do everything I can to make sure we all make it home alive and in one piece, I can’t guarantee that. Frictor, Shadowcat, and I are on board. The rest of you however… I understand that you all have a lot to look forward in your lives and people you love. So, if you want to back out now, I won’t hold it against you. I’ll have Happy take you home and we’ll find our own way back. What say you?”

We all stayed silent as we looked at each other. I then shook my head as I looked at Cyclops.

“You guys are half the reason my life is back on track,” I spoke up. “What type of person would I be if I left you guys in your time of need? Especially when we’ve already gotten this far.”

“That’s means I’m going as well,” MJ declared. I felt my arm move. I looked down to see MJ taking a hold of my gauntleted hand. “We’re a package deal.”

“I’m part of that package, too!” Ned cut in. “Where would Peter be without his Guy In The Chair?”

“You know I’m sticking around,” Betty added. “Besides, we American Idiots have a Valentine’s Day dance to go to.”

“I’m not in the habit of taking jobs and not finishing them,” Frenzy said. “And besides, I got to make sure you get home safe, too, Cyclops – you’re way too fun to let die.”

Cyclops nodded. He took in a breath before he turned towards Happy Hogan. “Thank you for everything. Please be on standby. We’ll need a quick escape.”

“You got it,” Happy assured. “But make sure everyone is in one piece. Pepper will have my head if anything happens to you guys – especially Peter.”

“Noted.” After that, Cyclops turned towards the rest of us. “X-Men, let’s go.”

We entered the SUV. Cyclops took the driver’s seat and Frenzy rode shotgun. Craig took the second row with Shadowcat and Betty. That left MJ, Ned, and I to take the backseat. As soon as the loading gate of the Airbus dropped, Cyclops started the Suburban and put it in reverse, backing out until we were on desert sand. He then put the car in drive before he turned it and drove off. The car ride was quiet at first. After a couple of minutes, Ned chuckled before he spoke up.

“All of this low-key started at St. James,” Ned said.

I shook my head. “No, it actually started with Cyclops,” I corrected. “After one talk from him, I was finally semi-open to hanging out with you guys again.”

“It started with Shadowcat, too,” Frictor stated. Everyone except for Cyclops looked at him, though I was sure Cyclops was listening – he was just being a responsible driver. “I went through therapy over my messy breakup with Carmilla. Even with that. there was a long period that I didn’t go outside the crib except for work and patrols. But, Shadowcat got tickets for the show and she convinced me to live a little. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

“I guess it started with Betty as well,” MJ added. “Had she not had an extra ticket, Ned and I wouldn’t have invited you along.”

“‘Coincidences are a huge part of my life’,” Shadowcat said before she looked over at me. “You told me that.”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to realize how true it is,” I replied as I chuckled.

“You guys are really one big happy family, huh?” Frenzy commented. I looked over at her, seeing the sad smile on her face.

“You have any family of your own?” Betty asked. At that, Frenzy scoffed.

“Nope. At least, not any present in my life.” She sighed. “My father was an abusive ex-soldier that forced my mom to hightail it. My brother… he was cool. And I loved him to death, too. But, unfortunately, he was killed in action. My father loved him too, you see. So, when my brother died, he decided to use that as his current excuse to beat me. And he beat me bad. Unfortunately, for him, that’s when my powers emerged. I literally punched a hole straight through his chest. I was scared of what I became and scared of what was going to happen to me. So, I ran away for a bit. As soon as I turned 18, I joined The Marines.”

“…Oh.” Betty looked a bit downcast. “Frenzy, I’m – ”

“Don’t apologize.” Frenzy smiled. “I have no regrets. Not anymore, anyway. I guess just seeing you guys makes me wonder how things would’ve turned out if my family was like you guys when I was growing up.” She then changed the subject. “So, how are we going to handle this situation?”

“We’re going in loud and dumb,” Cyclops replied. “We’ve been going about our escapades rather discreetly. So, I don’t think they expect us to hit them head on. So Spider-Man can focus on doing his part of the rescue, we’ll have Ned be our eyes and ears via the security system. We’ll use Edith to patch in Ned and we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ned said. He pulled out his laptop and booted it up. “I’ll make sure I’ll have my computer ready.”

“Sounds good.”

Some minutes later, we arrived at the abandoned gas. Cyclops pulled up next to one of the non-operational pumps. I was about ready to step out when I felt my hand being tugged. I looked over to see MJ lift up her mask and smile at me.

“Remember our deal,” MJ stated. “Thirty days without getting shot or stabbed.”

Underneath the mask, I grimaced. “I think today should be a freebie.”

“…I’ll think about it.” She then brought her hands up and lifted up my mask before she placed a chaste kiss against my lips. I reciprocated before she pulled away a couple of seconds later and pulled her mask down. “But seriously, come back to me safe – and bring everyone else back to me safe, too.”

“I will, Em. I love you, Michelle.”

“I love you, too, Peter.” With that, she pulled down my mask.

I nodded at her. I then looked at Ned and Betty. “You two look after her, okay?”

“Of course,” Betty replied with a nod.

“You know we will,” Ned added. “First chance you get, have Edith patch me in.”

“I got you.”

“Remember, if anything goes left, drive off and contact Pepper,” Frictor reminded. With that, he stepped out of the SUV.

I, along with the rest of the X-Men and Frenzy, stepped out of the SUV. I looked around the area, taking in the worn appearance. We then walked towards the garage. Without a word, Cyclops moved in front of us and placed the index and middle finger of his right hand against the side of his visor before he shot a red beam out of his eyes, punching a large hole straight through the tambour door of the garage. We all walked through the hole. As we did so, we saw about four armed guards on the floor. They slowly stood up, looking disoriented. Without hesitation, Cyclops blasted one of them into a wall. Quickly, I webbed that same guard to the wall he hit, making sure he stay put.

During this, Frictor ran in and lowered his shoulder before he tackled one of the guards to the ground. As he sent forearm after forearm into the face of the guard he tackled, another guard tried to run behind him. However, he was intercepted by Shadowcat, who dropped kicked him into a pile of abandoned tires. That just left one guard. I felt the rush of air to my left as Frenzy zoomed past me. In a split second, Frenzy was holding the guard up off of his feet with one hand. The guard tried to struggle out of Frenzy’s grasp, but it got him nowhere. As the guard gasped for air, she brought the guard closer to her until they were face to face.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you this one time and one time only,” she threatened with a growl. “How do we get underground?”

“The… the red switch,” the guard choked out. I looked around until I saw the red switch in question on a wall. I walked up to it before I grabbed the handle.

“Open sesame,” I deadpanned as I pulled the switch down. Nearby, the floor opened up, revealing a staircase. “Wow, that’s awesome! Do they sell that at Lowe’s?”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Frictor replied as he stood up from guard he was mounted on. Said guard lay limp – no doubt he was knocked out. In Frictor’s hand was a keycard of some sort. “But Ikea might got it, though.”

“Let’s roll,” Cyclops ordered. Frenzy tossed the guard to the side. I immediately webbed him down. After a moment of thought, I webbed down the others, too. I then walked after the others. We made our way down the stairs, not even carrying a pretense of stealth.

“Hey, Edith,” I muttered. “Would you kindly patch Ned into the security system?”

“I’m patching him in now,” Edith replied. “Also, Frictor’s helmet is compatible with the system in your suit. If you’d like, I can patch it into your suit so I can support him.”

“Do it.”

A few moments later, Frictor’s head jerked upward. “Whoa, who the heck are you?”

“I am Edith, Peter’s personal A.I,” Edith explained. “You’ve been patched in so I can provide further support.”

“Oh, you don’t say? Well, I’m Frictor, pleased to meet you. …How’d you end up with the name Edith, anyway?”

“It’s an acronym given to me by my creator Tony Stark. Specifically, it stands for ‘Even Dead, I’m The Hero’.”

At that, Frictor scoffed. “Wow. That’s… wow.”

Edith chuckled in response. “Well, Tony was always fond of acronyms.”

“Ain’t that the truth?”

“Who are you talking to?” Frenzy asked as she looked at Frictor in confusion.

“Edith,” Frictor explained. “Apparently, my helmet is even more high-tech than I thought. Spidey was able to patch me in so she can help me out.”

Frenzy raised her eyebrows briefly. “Must be nice.”

“Hey guys,” Ned said over our communicators. “I’m fully patched in now, thanks to Edith. Probably a little too late to say something now, but you’ll be approaching an elevator soon. It’s a platform lift. It also has a control console.” Just like he said, when reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a lift waiting for us. As we stepped onto it, Shadowcat made her way over to the control console.

“Guys, come look at this,” she said. We all walked up behind her. We looked down at the screen of the console. The console had a small keyboard and a card reader. It asked for a keycard or code. “Frictor, let me see that keycard of yours.” Frictor handed it over to her. She took it before she looked it over. She then looked down at the console before slid the card through a reader. After a few moments, the screen flashed the words “ACCESS GRANTED” before showing the floors that we had access to.

We only had access to the first floor.

“Of course,” I commented with a sigh. “We don’t want things to be easy. Make it as hard as possible, please.”

“Ned, what does the first floor look like?” Cyclops asked.

“From what I can see, there are about twenty men with automatic rifles aimed at the door,” Ned replied. “There could be more.”

“Sounds like my kind of party,” Frenzy replied as she grabbed her shotgun. After a moment, though, she let go of the gun, letting it hang from its sling. “Let’s go meet them, but I need you all to stay behind me, though. I can take a lot of bullets.”

“Stand behind two of us, you mean,” Frictor stated as he stepped up.

Frenzy looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “You’re bulletproof, too?”

“In a roundabout way.”

“Okay,” Cyclops replied. “Shadowcat, would you kindly?”

She nodded before she tapped the screen, selecting the option for the first floor. The lift started to descend a few moments later. As we waited, I decided to check up on MJ.

“Hey Em?”

“Hey Dork,” she greeted. “What’s up?”

“How’re you holding up?”

“I’m okay. I have to say, it’s interesting seeing things through your perspective.”

“Well, if you’re prone to motion sickness, you might want to look away. I’ll be bouncing around in a bit.”

“I think I can handle it. But if I get sick, you’re buying me medicine.” I couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

“…I just realized that I have access to the PA System,” Ned stated. He then chuckled. “Anyone got any song requests?” I didn’t expect anyone to reply. But Frictor spoke up.

“You have the Space Jam soundtrack on deck?” Frictor asked.

“I think I do. What do you have in mind?”

“I need that Hit ‘Em High.”

“Alright, coming right up.”

As soon as the door elevator came to a stop, Cyclops, Shadowcat and I moved behind Frenzy and Frictor. At this point, the large door split open. As Ned stated, there were many men with guns aimed at us. They were dressed in black jumpsuits and vests that I assumed were bulletproof.

“Surrender now or we will terminate you!” one of them yelled out.

“Uh, guys, no need to be hostile,” Frictor called out. “We’re here on business!”

“What kind of business?”

“Oh, nothing major – we’re just a here to run a train on your mom!”

The whole room went quiet for the most part. However, there were a few snickers coming from me, and some of the guards. Meanwhile, over the communication frequency, I heard Betty, MJ, and Ned laughing out loud.

“Terminate them!”

That was when the gunfire started. Shadowcat grabbed both me and Cyclops by the arm. Frenzy and Frictor took most of the bullets, which bounced off of them. Frenzy didn’t even move an inch. Frictor, for his part, did a yawning gesture with his right hand – he was definitely using his powers to slow down the bullets. The bullets that did manage to make it past them flew right through us harmlessly – Shadowcat phased herself along with Cyclops and I. Still, I grimaced at the sound of the bullets hitting the wall behind me. After a few minutes, the gunfire stopped. The smell of discharged gas was in the air. Spent shell casings were on the floor. But, most importantly, there were a lot of shocked expressions on the faces of the gunmen.

I clapped my hands together a few times. “Wow, I have to give it up to you guys,” I mockingly complimented. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen so many bullets spent to take me down. Of course, none of your bullets did anything, but I can’t knock the effort!”

“It’s the termination order for me,” Frictor added. “But um… Cyclops, is it our turn?”

“Yes it is,” Cyclops confirmed.

It was at this point that a song played over the PA System.

Greetings, Earthlings We have now taken over your radio

As Method Man sung the chorus, Cyclops gave one order.

“Take them all down.”

We needed no more motivation. We all ran out of the elevator.

I quickened my steps before I jumped into the air. I somersaulted before I kicked off the back of one of the guards. I somersaulted again, landing on my feet. Quickly, I turned around and shot two strands of webbing at the guard’s back. I then turned and yanked him, sending him flying through the air. I sidestepped, feeling the rush of air and as he flew by. I turned and watched him, seeing him fly into two of the three guards that were making their way towards me.

“Not quite a strike,” I commented. As the last guard approached, I performed a backflip, catching him in the chin and sending him upward. I landed on my feet before I did a 360, sending my elbow into his midsection and sending him sailing before he hit the floor and skidded to a stop. “Consider that a spare.” I looked around to see how the others were doing.

Shadowcat was running forward. She phased through one of the guards trying to take her down, leaving him to be clotheslined by Frictor. She then continued run forward, meeting a group of four guards head on. Quickly, Shadowcat jumped into the air. In a move that would make Michael Jai White nod in approval, she sent four kicks into succession, one at each head of the guard. She landed on her feet as the guards hit the ground.

Frictor, for his part, grabbed the guy he took down by the vest. He stood up, picking the guard up with him. He then looked over his shoulder a group of three guards ran after him. He quickly turned, putting the man he was engaged with between him and the incoming group. He then brought his foot up and kicked it into the man’s stomach. He went sailing backwards at a high speed, no doubt having no friction underneath in his feet as he barreled into the group. After all four of them fell down, he ran forward before he jumped in the air and splashed down on top of them.

Another group of four tried to go after Frenzy. Unfortunately, for them, that would prove to be a mistake. In a blur, Joanna ran around them. She grabbed the trailing man by the back of his vest before she tossed him to the side. I cringed when I saw him hit a wall. The group of three turned around before the rushed at her. As soon as they were close enough, she grabbed two of them by the neck before she lifted up her right leg and sent the sole of her boot into the third one’s face with a crack. She lifted the two her grasps up in the air and held them there, choking them out until they went limp. She then dropped them unceremoniously.

Finally, there was Cyclops. He placed his fingers against the side of the visor and let off three shots, knocking three guards out with blasts to the face. He then lowered his hand and started walking slowly towards the lone guard. The guard reached for his pistol and pulled it out of its holster. However, he barely had time to aim it before Cyclops blasted the firearm, shattering it into tiny pieces. The guard yelped as he clutched his now bloodied hand. Cyclops continued to walk forward until he stopped a couple of feet short of the guard.

“Cut the music,” Cyclops said. The music abruptly stopped. He took in a breath before he addressed the injured guard. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You, I, and my teammates here are going to walk to this elevator. You’re going to override our floor restriction and get us down to the bottom floor. You help us, and I’ll knock you out quickly. You refuse, however, that injured hand will be the least of your problems. Is that understood?”

“Y-y-y-yes sir,” the guard stammered out in fear.

At that, Cyclops nodded. “Good. Let’s walk. X-Men, let’s go.”

We all made our way to the elevator, with Cyclops gripping the back of the guard’s vest. Once inside of the elevator, Cyclops pushed the guard towards the console. The guard spared one glare towards Cyclops before he pulled out his keycard and swiped it. We all gathered around him and looked down at the screen. When the floors showed up, all of them were able to be accessed except for the bottom floor.

“…What is your name, sir?” Cyclops asked in grimly quiet tone.

“…I’m Bob, sir,” the guard replied. “Bob Dobalina.”

“Well, Mr. Dobalina, am I a joke to you?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Then would you kindly tell me why every floor is able to be accessed except for the one we’re trying to get to?”

“I-I-I-It’s not my fault! Th-thi-this only happens when there’s an emergency going on in the fourth floor!”

“How does that make even a lick of sense?” Frictor demanded.

“It’s to make sure the other experiments aren’t freed or hurt!”

I sighed. “Hey, Guy In The Chair?” I spoke. “Can you see what’s going on in the fourth floor? I just need to know if I have to punt this guard into the nearest wall!” Bob looked at me with wide, fearful eyes. I chuckled. “I’m… semi-joking.”

“Yeah, give me a few moments,” Ned replied. There was some seconds of silence. And then he spoke up again. “…Um, Betty, MJ… Am I seeing what I think we’re seeing?”

“…I would say yes, but that means we’re both crazy,” MJ replied.

“That would make all three of us crazy,” Betty added.

“Hey, guys,” Shadowcat cut in. “We need to know what’s going on. Would you please tell us?”

“I will,” Ned replied. “I just don’t know if you’ll believe us.”

“Just tell us already!” I complained.

“Guys… I promise I’m being dead serious when I say this. There are two dragons rampaging on the fourth floor.”

[hollandorks]

middle of the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter two

summary:  y/n’s life changes immensely, starting with the Batman falling out of the sky right in front of her and ending with a promising new job at Wayne Manor. As her life intertwines with that of both Batman and Bruce Wayne, she begins to figure out that there’s more to both than meets the eye.  No spoilers for the Batman movie.

a/n: thanks everyone for loving this fic so much after just one chapter! This chapter is just filler/ foundational stuff. The next two chapters after this will be a lot more interesting I promise. I thrive off reader feedback so please feel free to drop a comment, ask, or even yell in the tags if you reblog! I’m also creating a taglist I’ll update with every chapter so let me know if you want to be added to that. 

Series Masterlist 

word count: 3572

But he was gone. Armor and all. The front door was still locked and–there, at the window, a shadow.

Batman was gone.

Y/n spent the next week going over every single detail of that night. For two nights, she stared up at the signal against the clouds and hoped for a glimpse of him. She told no one of their encounter and went along with life as usual. But she couldn’t stop thinking about how Gotham’s protector had been in her apartment. How real he had been. The flesh and blood beneath the suit. She’d always known there was a man under there, but now she’d gotten a glimpse of him. The real man. The real Batman.

A week after her encounter with Batman, there was a new job posting. 

For Wayne Manor. 

It was just for a housekeeping position, but still sent a little thrill up her spine when she saw it. There were going to be scheduled interviews–by appointment only–for the next week at the Wayne Enterprises offices. No pay information was available, but she didn’t care. Anything was better than what she had. 

The official company wasn’t hiring, but apparently Bruce Wayne himself was. 

She immediately sent in her resume. Anything was better than working at the club. Well, almost anything. But she much preferred cleaning up after one spoiled rich man than a whole bunch of drunk and handsy ones. Plus the manor was huge. She could escape from one handsy rich man easily enough in a space that big. 

Anything, anything to help pay off her debts. And if the hours worked out, she could still work at the club sometimes too. Two jobs would be much better than one. She doubted, too, that the Penguin would let her go so easily. 

Plus she’d been in culinary school for a few months before her mother got sick. She hoped that made her application valuable enough for Bruce Wayne. She really doubted she would get the position. Applying and hoping was better than suffocating at the Iceberg Lounge most nights. 

Within a day, her appointment for an interview was confirmed, much to her surprise.

The day of her interview, she dressed carefully in her best business attire, packed up an extra copy of her resume, and headed towards Wayne Enterprises. 

The weather had finally dried enough for the subways to run again. She was glad, because it was starting to drizzle outside again, though the weathermen were confident it would only last into the afternoon. She had never missed the sun so much. 

Wayne Enterprises was a huge, towering building. She wondered briefly why Bruce Wayne didn’t hold the interviews at Wayne Manor. He didn’t have much to do with Wayne Enterprises these days from what she heard on the news. But then again, he probably didn’t want a bunch of strangers traipsing through his empty home trying to steal a glimpse of his private life. 

She gave her name to the receptionist on the ground floor to sign in. The receptionist guided her to a bank of elevators and to the third floor. 

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a hallway where at least another dozen people waited to be interviewed. As she took a seat in the only open space, a door at the end of the hallway opened and a girl quickly hurried out. She got into the elevator without a word and was gone. 

Name after name was called. Even with appointments for interviews, y/n was surprised at the number of people here. Mostly women. She thought Bruce Wayne would have been a lot more selective off the cuff. 

Some of the other women waiting whispered among themselves. Most craned their necks every time the doors opened and closed, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive billionaire. Y/n listened to their idle gossip without participating. She didn’t care about Bruce Wayne. Just the job. 

“Do you think he’s hiring based on looks?” one woman asked with a smirk as she tugged her low cut shirt even lower. Y/n hoped he wasn’t. Mostly because that was what guys like the Penguin did. 

“I wonder how much I could get for a photo of him from TMZ,” another woman said. There was a chorus of nervous laughs. But they’d had to surrender their cell phones at the security checkpoint inside the front door, to be collected at the reception desk after their interviews. 

When her name was finally called, y/n stood on shaky legs. 

She entered the office to find an older man. He had salt and pepper hair, the beginnings of a beard, and was dressed immaculately. His clothes held no wrinkles or lint. He even had cufflinks at his wrists that glimmered as they caught the light. 

“Have a seat,” he said in a pleasantly accented voice. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth, Mr. Wayne’s butler, assistant, and longtime guardian. I’ll be conducting your interview today.” 

Y/n wasn’t sure whether or not she was disappointed that Bruce Wayne wasn’t there. This guy seemed much more professional anyways, and she figured–if she got the job–she’d work with him more than Bruce Wayne. From what she understood of household staff from period dramas on TV, butlers were basically in charge of all staff. At least, she thought so. This butler was also apparently important enough to represent Bruce Wayne’s interests and conduct all interviews. 

He started by telling her the job requirements, most of which required discretion, several NDA contracts, and regular hours during the week. Then he asked her all kinds of typical job interview questions, went over her resume, and asked what her expectations were for pay and benefits. He didn’t even stumble over her listed position at the Iceberg Lounge despite it’s bad reputation. 

When she told him the pay she’d like to make–after having looked up several similar enough jobs online–Alfred Pennyworth smiled. 

And then he countered with a much more generous offer.

“I have to say, I really think I’ve found the person for the position,” he continued, as if her heart rate wasn’t high enough already. “I’ll have to clear it with Mr. Wayne first of course, but your application seems very promising.” He smiled kindly. 

“I–thank you–wow, thank you,” she stuttered. She stood and shook his hand eagerly. “You have no idea how much this means to me. Really.” 

“I do have to finish the rest of the day’s interviews, but I really do think we’ve found what we need in you. I’ll give you a call tomorrow most likely, as long as Mr. Wayne is amenable.” Alfred stood and gestured to the door. 

Y/n hesitated and then blurted, “Why me?” She immediately clamped her mouth shut. Heat settled in her cheeks. “I’m sorry–I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I just…my resume doesn’t exactly scream prior experience.” 

Alfred seemed to soften a bit. “My dear, you seem plenty qualified. And, most importantly, you’re the only one who didn’t ask after Mr. Wayne upon seeing myself. Privacy and discretion are very important to him, and so far everyone else has failed to uphold those values from the start. Or failed the background check.” He chuckled. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know if the position is yours.” 

She thanked him again, profusely, and walked to the elevators with her head in the clouds. 

The job wasn’t hers yet, not for sure, but she couldn’t help the bubble of hope that grew in her chest. With the hours and the pay and the benefits…she would be doing so, so well. She could still work at the club one or two nights on the weekend, and her debts would be paid off in–she quickly tried to do the mental math. Two years, maybe. And that was if she found a nicer apartment to rent. If she continued living in her shitty apartment, she’d be paid up with the Penguin even sooner. 

The next morning she received a call from an unknown number. 

“Hello, y/n speaking,” she answered breathlessly. 

“Good morning,” Alfred Pennyworth’s warm voice answered. “I’m calling to formally offer you a position working at Wayne Manor.” 

Y/n clamped down a squeal of delight before it could escape. “Yes, I accept. Absolutely. I–you have no idea how much I need this job, thank you.” 

“You haven’t even heard the full offer yet, dear,” Alfred said with a light laugh. “Mr. Wayne would like to not only offer you the pay we discussed yesterday, but also health benefits and…well, I understand it’s rather unusual, but he also offered one of our many guest rooms for your use. You would still work the same hours, but live on the property.” 

Her jaw fell open with an audible pop. “I–That’s very generous of Mr. Wayne, but I couldn’t possibly afford–”

“Rent free, of course,” Alfred continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “And it would not be deducted from your pay either. In Mr. Wayne’s words, he has too much unused space to let it go to waste. Besides, the rest of the staff live on the property as well, myself included.” 

Something in the way he said it clicked in y/n’s brain. “You mean Mr. Wayne wants to keep an eye on everyone to better protect his privacy. Don’t you?” Hastily she added, “I don’t mean to be rude in saying that.” 

“No, not rude at all, but perceptive. Yes, I do believe that that is Mr. Wayne’s thinking in his offer. That, and he is actually quite generous, once you get to know him. No need to accept the offer right away. You have my direct number. Please let us know by next Monday your decision, in case we need to fill the position elsewhere.” 

Brain whirring a mile a minute, she said, “No. I mean, yes, I accept. When can I start?” 

Rent free and not deducted from her pay. Health benefits. Regular hours. Weekends off. Living in a fucking mansion. It was almost too good to be true. 

As long as Bruce Wayne didn’t turn out to be a creep, peeping Tom, or a rapist, it was exactly the life-changing thing she needed. 

“I can pick you up Monday, give you time to pack and get your affairs in order. Unless you need to work out a two week notice with a previous employer?” 

“No, I’m–Monday is perfect. Thank you so much.” She gave Alfred her address, then hung up.

Things were really, really starting to look up. 

That weekend, she requested a meeting with the Penguin to explain her new job situation and that she wasn’t quitting, just cutting back her hours to pay her debt off more quickly. 

If shit was going to hit the fan, it would be in this meeting. The Penguin wasn’t a nice guy. She knew that firsthand already. But surely, hopefully, he loved money enough to let her do this in exchange for paying him more quickly. She didn’t care if he raised her debts a little, either. Anything to get out from under his thumb more quickly. 

But all the Penguin did was lean back on his plush leather couch and look her over with a smirk. “Sucked Bruce Wayne’s dick for a job, did ya? I thought you were too good for that sort of thing. Oh well, good for you. Remember that I charge three percent interest on my debts, though. And if you forget…” He glanced over at the thug who’d slapped her the night of the incident with the spilled drink and the handsy man. 

Y/n clenched her teeth so tightly it hurt. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, she told herself, but she hated the idea that a rumor might spread about her working for Bruce Wayne just because the Penguin was a scumbag. 

“Yes, sir, I understand. Three percent interest. Thank you for your generosity.” Because that’s what he wanted, what he liked. The ass-kissing. The gratitude. And it rang true this time, when it hadn’t so many other times they had spoken. Shit hadn’t hit the fan. He was letting her go. And, hell, three percent interest really wasn’t too bad. She could do three percent. And living at Wayne Manor, she wouldn’t have to worry about rent or subway fees or a car payment or gas prices. 

Bruce Wayne definitely couldn’t be as much of a creep as the Penguin. 

–

Monday morning dawned early. She had barely slept all night. Her nerves were wound tight. The rain had started up again in the early hours before dawn and showed no signs of letting up. 

Y/n’s bags were packed. Her meager belongings waited patiently by the door for her move to Wayne Manor. It was a dream come true, in a lot of ways. She had resented her tiny, shitty apartment since she had been forced out of the one she had grown up in–just her and her mother, all those years. Now her mother was gone, and all that was left of their life together was packed in a small cardboard box. That box was really all that mattered. Y/n had only bothered to pack it, her clothes, and her quilt and pillow. Everything else was staying in the apartment. 

A soft knock sounded at the door. 

She opened it to reveal Alfred, who was startlingly dry for all of the rain roaring down from the sky outside. 

“Good morning,” she said. 

“Good morning. Shall I help you with your belongings?” 

She only had her backpack, two suitcases, the box of memories, and her pillow with her quilt shoved into the pillowcase. 

For some reason, as Alfred helped her carry everything down the stairs and loaded it into the car outside, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by her surroundings. At her obvious lack. Had it been too desperate of her to leap at a chance to live in Bruce Wayne’s giant mansion without thinking it through? She had never been one to take handouts so readily, but in the past few years that had changed drastically. She would take whatever she could get–which was only underscored by the fact that all she’d been able to do was make a deal with a criminal to try and save her mother’s life. 

Wayne Manor was just barely inside of city limits. It was close to everything while still just separate enough to scream wealthy. A huge brick wall stretched around the property. A wrought iron gate swung open to reveal a long driveway lined with trees. 

As Alfred drove up the drive, he explained the security system to her. Cameras all along the walls, alarms, security guards patrolling and watching the gate. Security never came near the house except in an emergency. He also explained, gently, that she likely wouldn’t see much of the master of the house. He tended towards the nocturnal and often went out for most of the night and slept during the day. The way Alfred said it was almost affectionate, like he was used to Bruce Wayne’s antics. 

The long driveway suddenly ended. A huge, Gothic manor was revealed. It sprawled across an equally massive lawn. Gargoyles sneered down at her from the edges of the roof and towers. She felt her mouth pop open in surprise. It was…well, enormous. 

They pulled around to the back of the house towards what y/n guessed was the servants entrance. 

“I’ve given security your information and identification. You’re free to come and go as you please, of course, but we ask that you simply alert the guards at the gate each time you leave and come back.” Alfred parked the car in a small spot near a door in the back. “Your rooms will be on the second floor. My rooms are right next to yours. Master Wayne’s are on the first floor. The kitchen, library, pool house, and stables are free for you to use whenever you would like. The basement, however, is completely off limits. There is a code to enter, but I figured I would warn you. It’s Master Wayne’s private study and he doesn’t like to be disturbed.” 

They entered through the backdoor into a storage room. It led into a kitchen that was, by itself, larger than the shitty apartment she’d just left behind. 

“We’ll pause here for some paperwork, if you don’t mind. Then I’ll take your things upstairs for you to get settled.” Waiting on the kitchen island was a stack of paperwork that included the typical employee and tax forms, health benefit contracts, and also a thick stack of contracts that included heavily binding NDAs. She tried to take a moment and look it all over like it didn’t overwhelm her. From what she gathered, she was allowed to say she worked at Wayne Manor, but not in what capacity. She wasn’t allowed to mention Bruce Wayne, his comings and goings, or anything else about the house to anyone other than Bruce Wayne himself and Alfred. Taking any kind of photographs of the house, grounds, or the occupants was entirely forbidden. If she broke the contract, she would be immediately fired and sued. 

Head swimming, she signed all the forms. Alfred made tea while she signed paper after paper. She preferred coffee but she would take whatever caffeine she could get to help her through the huge stack of forms. 

By the time she finished, the dregs in her cup had gone cold. 

“Now that’s done, let’s get you settled,” Alfred said as if it were simply any other regular day. Y/n supposed that, working for a billionaire, it probably was. 

As they made their way up a servant’s staircase, Alfred’s soft, accented voice kept up the narration from their drive. “I would also ask you not to disturb the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne’s rooms on the third floor. They have been…kept the same since their passing.” 

“Of course,” she murmured. Obviously, her curiosity was piqued at the mention of forbidden rooms–including the basement–but she needed this job more than she needed to satisfy her curiosity. 

The house itself was more of a Gothic castle or Gothic church than it was a house. Intricate stone and woodwork was everywhere, from the arched ceilings and moulding to the carved banisters on the servants stair. The stairs kept winding upwards, but they took the first landing and came out at the very end of a long hallway. There was a stained glass window that overlooked the estate below them. 

“You’ll have the rest of the day to get settled and explore, if you’d like. You’ll officially start tomorrow morning. This first door here belongs to me. And…here you are.” 

Alfred stopped at the next door on the hallway. 

“I’ll leave you to get settled. Text me if there’s anything you need.” He set her stuff politely beside the closed door. “Oh–we all fend for ourselves with meals. The kitchen is fully stocked, so help yourself.” With that, Alfred disappeared back down the stairs to do…whatever it is he did as butler. 

Pushing open the door to her room, y/n swallowed her apprehension. 

She had to use the doorjamb to hold herself up when she saw what was before her. 

When Alfred has used the plural of room, he hadn’t made a mistake. There was a small living room, a huge bathroom, a bedroom, and a walk-in closet. It was the size of at least two, if not three, of her apartments. It had been recently cleaned, though the furniture was a bit outdated. There was a thick comforter and set of pillows on the bed that looked to be the most updated things in the room. It was a muted gray with blue and green accents. 

There was a small couch, a sitting chair, a desk, a fireplace….Her head spun. This alone was such luxury compared to what she had just come from. And she had the run of the house when she wasn’t working, save for a few off-limits areas. Kitchen, library, grounds, pool house…

Taking a deep breath, y/n began unpacking her things. Her clothes barely took up a quarter of the closet. 

She set her photographs on the dresser and bedside table. One of her as a baby with her mother–still glowing with youth and young love. Another of them when she was a teenager, at one of Gotham’s music festivals. Another taken when her mother was sick, the last photograph of them together. Around the photos went other various sentimental items. 

Already she could tell that the house was gloomy and barely lived in. There was a pervading smell of dust in the air. She flung open the heavy drapes in the bedroom and living room. With a satisfied nod, she resolved to open more curtains in the house. Maybe bring in some fresh flowers once in a while. Alfred had told her that the gardener and groundskeeper–a married couple–lived in a cottage farther into the property. Maybe she could ask one of them for permission to bring flowers inside sometimes so she didn’t have to buy them. 

It would take some getting used to. But she would work hard. She would save money. She would pay off her debts. And then Wayne Manor would just be something in the rearview for her on the way to something better. 

It wasn’t a Cinderella story, but it was a good stepping stone into the rest of her life.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@pop-rocks-and-skittles @calumspupils @n1ght5h4d3-24 @keepingitlokiii @11mb0 @illicitghosts​  @passionandpeaches

[jellifysh]

Getting Back Into the Swing of Things (part thirteen)

Or, Namjoon falls back in love with his ex (and his boyfriends do too)

Ot7 x reader (slow burn, roommates au, fluff, picnic :) )

A/N: taglist closed! omg guys I'm so sorry, I'm so swamped 😭 the next drabbles are going to take a while to come out. I'm working on them, I promise, in fact the next ex-fiancees au drabble is almost finished but the spy au one is half done and the college au one is not started yet. First and foremost, I will make sure that above all GBIST always comes out on time because I promised myself and you all that I would never miss an update, and the drabbles are side stories, not my main focus so unfortunately they will have to suffer 😔 With that being said, enjoy the chapter <3

A week went by in no time, Jimin keeping you guys posted and sending you videos of him behind the scenes while people touched up his makeup and clothes, and you all sent back videos of you doing stuff around the house, like when Jungkook did a backflip off the balcony into the pool after Taehyung dared him to and the lecture he got from Jin after he found out, or when Hoseok tried to teach you some of the choreography he was doing with his students and your shoe flew off and hit the ceiling.

Actually, they had added you to a bunch of group chats now that you had your phone: one that was all eight of you, and one that was just maknaes and you, one that was just the hyungs and you, plus one with you, Hoseok and Jungkook that was made to make fun of the others for not liking mint chocolate chip ice cream and ended up being a chat for you all to send memes to at three in the morning.

You also had a group chat with Soobin, Kai, Taehyun, Beomgyu and Yeonjun, and talked to them often, but they were super busy. Apparently, they were training to participate in an international dance competition and ran a YouTube that they had all their practice work on. They were super popular and really funny, doing vlogs and dance covers and everything.

But, right now, you were making food for the picnic planned before Jimin left, making mini sandwiches and strawberry shortcake slices with extra whipped cream, as well as chocolate dipped cheesecake bites, a recipe you had found late at night while scouring for apartments and fighting midnight cravings. You even found a cute little picnic basket Jin let you borrow, packing the containers onto the soft fabric lining the basket.

You were leaving for the picnic soon, placing the basket off to the side and going to your room to get ready. It had been rainy and cloudy for the past week after Jimin came back, confining you to the house, but now rain had left perfect weather. You stared up at the dress that had been bought for you, still thinking it was way too gorgeous and classy for a smile picnic, but you took it off the hanger anyways, musing on your newfound friendships, especially Jimin's now that he considered you to be close to him.

Jimin's friendship was an interesting one to receive, to say the least.

Now that Jimin was no longer wary of you, he seemed to be trying to make it up to you entirely through cuddles, snuggling up to you on the couch and bringing you everywhere he went, even if it was just down to the kitchen for some water. Since he's been home from his trip, he hasn't spent a second alone and recommending a movie marathon where you all lay around and catch up with each other, making smores and hot chocolate. And with Taehyung there it was twice as bad, hands playing with your hair and laying next to your other side.

You had definitely grown in your friendship with both of them, Taehyung especially making an effort to include you in as many things possible now. He and you started a tradition of movie marathons, where you would bake something and then eat it together, while discussing the movie you were watching and everything you loved or hated about it. He'd pull you along to the couch randomly, saying something like, 'come watch this movie with me, it's one of Jungkook's favorites,' and sit hip to hip with you like there was no space. Music listening was another hobby you shared, and he would often go to you with song recommendations, gently placing headphones into your ears, and playing music for you while telling you, 'I think you'd really like this song.' Once after you had washed your hair, starting to dry and style it, he helped you, taking a brush and gently combing knots or tangles out of your hair. 'Let me play with your hair, it's so pretty,' he had said, doing cute styles like space buns and ponytails, twining pretty ribbons and clips into it.

Jimin had also brought gifts like he promised, souvenirs and more things, more clothes and more jewelry. He had come into your room the first night he was back and emptied out a bag stuffed with clothes he'd brought for you onto your bed, helping you put them away and pick what you liked, all the latest fashions of wherever he was modeling in. He had also bought home for you a bigger jewelry box already filled with gold bracelets, silver necklaces, diamonds earrings, things so shiny it almost hurt your eyes.

It was becoming more and more obvious that he liked sharing things with you and buying things for you, getting you some matching outfits and letting you borrow some of his stuff or even raid your closet-- full of clothes he'd bought you in the first place anyways. He seemed to like sharing jewelry, getting you both a pair of earrings to share. He'd taken one dangly diamond earring out the box and handed the other to you. 'This way, we always have something to remind us of each other,' he had said then, insisting that you wore it when you went out together, arguing that it'll let people know who you're with. You pointed out that people don't usually pay that much attention to earrings but he just rolled his eyes. 'People pay a lot of attention to me when I go out, so this way they'll pay a lot of attention to you, too.'

It's become quite obvious that the boys liked to show affection with gifts and favors, like Yoongi offering to fill up your cup of water for you so you don't have to get up, or Namjoon giving you a book he thought you'd like, and Jimin even more so, showering you in things he found that reminded him of you while he was gone, like the fancy necklaces and shoes he brought back.

In these cases, you figured it was better to just take it rather than put up a fight like you used to. If they got joy from giving you things, why turn them down? You did like the things they gave you and at this point turning them down to be polite would upset them more than anything. You had trouble thinking of yourself like a friend, used to being a burden to most people you came in contact with. You tried to make yourself small as to not bother them, but it seemed like they kept trying to pull you out of your shell, wanting you to be as loud and active as them.

A knock sounded at your door as you stared at the dress on you, as dreamlike and pretty as it looked when you found it. It made you look like something out of a fairytale, like a princess on an adventure, you couldn't help but stare. "Come in!" You called out, still admiring yourself.

It was Jimin, of course, vibrating with excitement. "Hey," he said, coming in and looking at you in the dress. "You look so gorgeous." He smiled, looking in the mirror while standing behind you.

You smiled back, still too stunned for words, and he hummed, a sneaky smile coming onto his face. "You know, I think I have the perfect necklace to go with this." He said, taking your hand and pulling you to the door. He led you down the hall to his room, digging through a bag until he pulled out a black velvet box.

"Here," He placed it in your hands. "Open it." Jimin said, looking up at you with eager excitement. What could be in this box? You had no idea what would make him so excited, even when he was giving you the gifts he wasn't this anxious. You flipped open the top.

You gasped, seeing a familiar sight. The pink diamond necklace from the shop all that time ago. You plucked it out carefully, holding it gently as you lifted it from the box and looked at Jimin again, your eyes filled with happy confusion. He started to explain, rambling nervously, "I bought it then when we first saw it, but I figured I'd wait until you would actually accept it from me." He had a sad smile on his face as he tried to figure out how to phrase his words. "I've never dealt with anyone like you, but I'm glad I have. Knowing you has been... different. In a good way." He quickly reassured after you didn't say anything for a second.

You listened quietly as he spoke, looking at the warmth in his eyes, directed at you. It was really true. Jimin had accepted you as part of his inner circle, he had regretted what he had said to you and he wanted to have you around and do things for you.

You smiled, wobbly and watery, and placed the necklace down. "Jimin, this is... I don't even know what to say." You wrapped your arms around his neck, squeezing him into a grateful hug. "I forgive you, I can't imagine it was easy to have me around, but thank you for trying to be nice to me, and thank you for all the gifts and things. We had a rough start, but you've more than made up for it."

He squeezed you back tight, smiling in relief. "Thank you princess, but I have a long way to go before I can make up for anything. I hope you're ready for more presents, because I'm not letting you say no to gifts anymore."

"You never let me say no to gifts in the first place," You teased, pulling back so you could look at him. "I still need to put on my shoes," you added trying to step away, but he held tight, pulling you back to clasp the necklace around your neck and then grabbed your hand.

"I'll come with you." He said, walking with you back to your room.

"My room is just down the hall."

"Sure, but things are more fun when you do them with other people." He said, swinging your hands back and forth.

Entering your room, you picked up the shoe box, you hadn't taken them out because they looked to so pretty and white, you were worried about staining them. However, taking them out the box one handed was a struggle and putting them on seemed like it would be even harder. Luckily, Jimin took them from you, ushering you to sit back on the bed.

"Here, I'll do it." He kneeled before you, sliding it onto your foot and tying the straps around your calves.

"This is just like Cinderella," you giggled, and he smiled up at you, moving onto the next shoe.

"Does that mean I'm the Prince?" He joked, standing up again as he finished. "I guess we know what we're doing for Halloween."

You both made your way downstairs, seeing Jungkook and Taehyung standing by the door with the picnic basket, then looking up as your footsteps sounded on the stairs.

"Woah," Jungkook breathed in awe. "You look incredible! If I knew we were getting all dressed up, I'd have worn something fancier." He scratched the back of his neck bashfully, but you shook your head, surveying his outfit.

He actually looked really good, wearing a white button down casually rolled up to his elbows and jeans, but he made the outfit so much more classy just by wearing it. Taehyung and Jimin looked good too, but that was a given, both of them wearing comfy looking sweaters fitted to their physiques, Taehyung's warm tan and Jimin's jet black.

You patted Jungkook's arm in reassurance, replying earnestly. "You look fine to me, Kookie, don't worry about it."

His eyebrows shot up in shock, meeting the messy wavy hair over his forehead. "Did you just call me--" he cut himself off with a laugh and turned to Taehyung smugly. "I got the first nickname! I told you!" Taehyung groaned as he gloated and you looked between them confused.

"The first nickname?" You inquired, blinking owlishly.

Jimin explained, laying a hand on your shoulder, "They made a bet over who would get a nickname from you first. Tae thought it'd be him and Jungkook thought it would be him, so we all bet fifty dollars over who would get it."

Taehyung was sulking as Jungkook laughed in his face, and rolled his eyes, marching to the car. "Whatever, I'm still her favorite."

"No way!" Jungkook immediately argued. "I'm her favorite! You two have only been friends for like, a week. Me and Y/nie have been friends forever!"

"Well, I don't see you with a personalized playlist." Taehyung shot back.

"You made him a personalized playlist?"

All the way to the park, Taehyung and Jungkook bickered over what makes them a better candidate to be your favorite while you and Jimin held back giggles. Eventually they turned to you, asking you to settle it, right there and then.

"Why don't we ask Y/n who her favorite is?" Taehyung asked turning to you expectantly. "Just because you got a nickname first doesn't mean you're the favorite." He said to Jungkook who rolled his eyes playfully.

"Doesn't Jin technically have first nickname?" You deflected.

Jungkook scoffed. "No, everyone calls him Jin. That's different--"

"Oh look, we're here!" Jimin announced, driving up to the entrance of the park. The park rolled into view as you looked out the window, bright green on a perfect sunny day. Jimin parallel parked on the curb, all of you hopping out.

You looked over the park, mostly empty with a few people milling about or jogging in workout clothes. You subtly clutched the skirt of your dress, feeling overdressed until Taehyung took one of your hands. "Let's find a good place to sit." He suggested, squeezing your hand and walking you onto the path.

For once, you looked dressed up enough to match the boy's stunning appearance. They attracted attention easily, now you didn't look so out of place like usual. A part of you imagined always looking like this, dressed and attracting attention with them and not just fading into the background behind them, being with them and being seen with them, but you shook that away. You were friends, to want more from them would be draining, they were already giving you so much.

"Let's head over there!" Jungkook pointed at a patch of grass under a tree, sunlight streaming through the leaves. You would have to walk off the path though, through the grass and dirt. You frowned and lifted your leg, preparing to untie your shoes.

"What are you doing?" Jimin asked, watching you with slight concern. "Do the shoes hurt?"

"No, I just don't want to get them dirty." You replied, and before you knew it, you were swept up, Jungkook's arms wrapped around you and carrying you princess style.

"I've got you." He hefted you easily over the grass towards the tree, and after Jimin rolled out the blanket, he placed you gently down. Jimin quickly stole the spot on your right and Taehyung sat on your left, making Jungkook roll his eyes as he settled across from you, the furthest away.

"Let's see all the tasty treats Y/nie made for us." Taehyung cheered, unpacking the picnic blanket.

"Oh, I'll show you!" Yoi chirped excited for them to see the things you made for them. You took out the trays of food and bowls of fruit, showing them off one by one. "This is the strawberry shortcake, these are the finger sandwiches, these--" you heard a click as you held up a bowl of raspberries with honey drizzled over them, seeing Jungkook aiming a camera at you.

"Don't take pictures of me," you tossed a napkin at him and he simply laughed.

He raised an eyebrow, lowering the camera. "Oh, come on the whole reason we're out here is to take pictures."

"Of, like, flowers and stuff. Not me." You pouted and he acquiesced, though his smile didn't make you feel confident he would keep his promise.

"Fine, no pictures." He replied, eagerly grabbing the paper plates out the basket, passing them out. "Let's eat! I'm starved."

You all dug in, the boys praising your cooking and you beamed happily, glad you could do something to make them happy. You watched them eat until they noticed you weren't taking anything.

"You aren't going to have any?" Jungkook said, noticing you didn't take a paper plate.

You waved your hand dismissively, refusing, "I had some when I was making them, you all can eat the rest--" Taehyung pushed a bite of sandwich into your mouth while you were distracted, feeding you himself off his plate.

"You should still have some." He said. "You worked so hard to make these, you should have an extra treat."

"And you should definitely have dessert." Jimin added, holding a chocolate bite up your lips until you ate it. He watched the way your lips parted to close around it with a little too much interest, but you hardly noticed.

"And this whipped cream is delicious!" Jungkook chimed in, holding a bite of shortcake on a fork up to your mouth and watching you lick it up. You didn't even realize how perfectly you were posed, wiping some whipped cream off your face with and licking that off as well, your lips wrapped around your finger just so. You were walking art and you didn't even seem to realize it.

You let a small giggle, being bombarded with food, as you heard another click. You turned, seeing Jimin with the camera now and you held your hand up to block him. "Stop!"

"I don't do anything," he lied with a innocent smile, handing it back to Jungkook. "I was just testing it."

"Sure." You huffed. Most of the food was gone now, so you sat back again, letting them eat the rest now that they weren't spoon feeding you anymore. Jungkook quickly stuffed his mouth with the rest of his slice of shortcake then stood eagerly.

"Let's go take pictures now." Jungkook held out a hand to help you up and scooped you into his arms again. "These losers can stay here and keep watch over the stuff." He stuck his tongue out at them, carrying you away to another stone path you could walk on without dirtying your shoes.

"Where are we going?" You asked as he set you down and led you forward.

"There's a botanical garden here," Jungkook explained, holding your hand as you walked. "They have flowers native to this region and butterflies fly around there all the time."

You looked around as you entered, white stone archway and vibrant tall green hedges marking the entrance. Sunlight filtered in spots through the leaves, and butterflies were perched on colorful flowers, blues and purples and pinks mixed with green.

"Wow," you murmured quietly, slowly stepping up to an orchid. As you stared, a butterfly landed on it, blue wings opening and closing as it rested. You heard a click and looked over to see Jungkook taking another picture of you. "Seriously?" You scoffed as he grinned playfully.

"What? You look pretty. See?" He held the camera out so you could see the screen, a profile picture of you and the butterfly haloed by the sun, the dress making you look angelic.

"You really are talented." You commented. For him to make you look so good so easily, he must really know what he's doing.

"It's not hard to take pretty pictures when you have a pretty subject." Jungkook replied, murmuring low as he approached you. He wrapped his arms around you, putting the camera into your hands and holding them, focusing on the flower in front of you. He continued, shaking into your ear over your shoulder, pressed closely to your back. "You use this button to zoom in, this dial to focus, and this button," A click sounded and then a picture of the orchid with the butterfly fluttering off appeared on the screen. "To take a picture."

You looked up over your shoulder at him as he smiled softly down at you, then stepped away slowly. "But that's just the basics. There are more settings you can play with, but for now," He held his hand out to you. "Let's see what your phone camera can do."

You handed him your camera and he started going into detail about it, most things that went in your ear and out the other, but you found it hard to retain anything as he spoke, confidently and swiftly, you getting caught up in how cute he looked when he was excited and rambling about something. His nose scrunched up slightly and his smile had a charming slant.

You shook yourself, breaking away from that train of thought. No thinking about your new friends as cute. They were gorgeous, anyone with eyes could see that, but you would not allow yourself to catch feelings and ruin this. You focused back on what he was saying, taking the camera and snapping pictures around the garden like he showed you.

Jungkook leaned against a tall tree, watching you interact with the things around you. You gently touched flower petals, ran a finger over smooth leaves, watched butterflies flutter with wonder in your eyes. Everything about you was so amazing.

He lifted the camera again, snapping a candid photo of you standing still so a butterfly could perch on your finger. He would have to make sure to transfer these photos later, maybe post them on his Instagram or Twitter. He wanted to share these photos with a the world, let as many people as possible know that he knew you.

"Are these good, Kookie?" You asked, soft voice echoing slightly in the quiet space. You looked up at him, waiting for approval and he took the phone looking at all the pretty pictures of flowers and plants you took. You were skilled indeed, it seemed like you were a natural. He complimented your work then looked up at you, smiling wide and proud of yourself and had to hold back from kissing the cute swell of your cheek.

"You know, I'm glad you feel that we're close enough to call me Kookie," He started, handing your phone back and stepping closer, watching your eyes widened as he stepped closer into your space. "But I think you should call me Oppa instead."

Your eyes twinkled, pushed into half moons by your smile. "Really? Why? Because you're a couple months older?" You teased him back, smile curling smug and alluring, Jungkook being drawn in and leaning in more towards you, absolutely awestruck.

He continued, voice growing lower as he focused on you in front of him, spots of sunlight making your skin and eyes glow. "I'm older so it still counts."

"Sure." You replied mockingly and he rolled his eyes, but secretly he loved how playful you were being. It was a sign that you had truly adjusted, that you felt comfortable enough to tease, that you wanted to connect and laugh with them.

"You're going to be mean to your Oppa when I showed you how to take good pictures with your camera? How ungrateful." He crossed his arms in mock indignation and he could see your teasing attitude melt.

"Okay, okay." You placated him, deciding to humor him and said again, more genuinely, "Thank you, Oppa."

His heart fluttered and he whooped, scooping you up again and running with you back to the picnic blanket, your laughter filling the air. First nickname and the first one you called Oppa, he thought to himself. He was definitely your favorite.

Shortly after, you all had headed back home, folding up the blankets and packing everything back into the car. When you reached your room, you carefully removed the dress, hanging it back up carefully and placing the shoes back into their box. It was a miracle they didn't get dirty today, you were sure that the dress needed to be dry-cleaned and you didn't have the money for a place that could properly take care of your dress.

Speaking of money, you picked up laptop, deciding to use the rest of your day to search for jobs and apartments. You had applied to a couple jobs in the area already but none had responded, so you figured you might apply for more.

Moving through the living room to the back porch, you encountered the rest of the boys settling on the couch in the living room.

"We're playing video games, wanna join?" Jungkook offered, flashing a video game case at you as he set up a console on the low table. Mortal Kombat 11, you appraised. "We're playing story mode and everytime someone loses a fight, we pass the controller."

"Which means Namjoon and Hoseok won't be seeing a lot of play time." Taehyung teased, a pillow getting tossed at him by Hoseok and an eye roll from Namjoon who seemed mostly invested in a book.

You shrugged, explaining. "I was just going to sit outside for a bit."

"Sit in here, you can hang out with us." Jin waved you over and you say in the seat next to him, his arm laying on the back of the couch behind you as the first cutscene began to play on the screen. "I've been meaning to ask if you wanted more stuff to decorate your room with. You know, different furniture, repainting, anything like that."

"I don't think that be a good idea." You declined, logging into your laptop.

"What's the harm?" Hoseok interjected over the sound of Jungkook already beating up the first opponent. "I'd be nice for your room to have a more personal touch, right?

"Well, I don't want to use up any of your money when I'm going to be moving away." You remarked casually, turning your laptop so they could see the apartment listing you had been looking at, but the room hushed, all attention turning to you.

"Who said anything about you moving?" Jimin replied, trying to be casual but couldn't help the slight wariness in his tone.

"I just..." You blinked owlishly, confused at the tense reaction. Isn't it good that you'd be leaving? "I'm gonna move eventually. I can't live with you forever. I already have a few apartments I've been looking at and when I get a job, I'll have my own place to decorate."

"You wanna leave?" Jungkook asked you, character on the screen long past defeated as he stopped playing, feeling his heart gripped with cold at your words.

"I can't stay forever--"

"Yes, you can!" Taehyung insisted, cutting you off before you could finish.

"What Tae means is... we wouldn't mind if you did." Jin placed a warm hand onto your shoulder, looking you in eyes, brown eyes serious but comforting. "You're far more than just a housemate now, if you want to stay, we won't kick you out."

"You mean it? It doesn't bother any of you?" You asked, looking around the room and being met with heads shaking no.

"Good." Jungkook said, looking around at everyone. "Everyone's okay with it, so you're staying." He announced an air of finality to it, turning his attention back to the screen.

"Unless you want to leave..." Taehyung looked at you, sadness tinging his tone. It hurt to think about but he had to address it. It was only fair to you to have the choice.

"But you don't. Right?" Jungkook looked back at you, eyes piercing yours as he searched for an answer in your face. No way you were leaving, over his dead body.

Yoongi met eyes with you, silently observing and encouraging you no matter what you chose, and Hoseok seemed to be sitting this one out. The last thing he wanted to do is force you to stay or make it seem like you had to stay for their sake. Namjoon was looking back and forth the way he always did when you interacted with the boys, analyzing the way you acted with each other as your relationships evolved. It was interesting to watch, especially in times like these when he could tell how close you had gotten with everyone. Usually they had to convince people to get away from them. Asking someone to stay and live with them was definitely new.

"Kookie, she has to have the chance to refuse." Jin said, his own tone sounding reluctant. Even if we really don't want her to, went unsaid, but it didn't matter much. In the next moment, your eyes brimmed with tears and you slumped into Jin's chest, hiding your face and letting him hold you.

"You mean," you began, voice wobbly as you slightly peered up at Jin, eyes wet and wide, still pressed to him. "I can stay? With all of you for as long as I'd like?"

"Oh darling, of course you can." His arms held you tight to his chest, squeezing you like it was this hug that would keep you home with them. "Besides, I need my cooking buddy or else I'll lose my mind."

You giggled, it sounding like magic and twinkling chimes after the tension of the moment. "How could I ever let that happen?" Everyone, consciously or not, let out a breath of relief. Jin held you to his chest for what was probably way longer than typical for a hug but you weren't pulling away and he sure as hell wasn't either.

"Anyways, Jungkook lost, so it's my turn!" Taehyung snatched the controller out of Jungkook's hands. "I'll show you how a real pro does it."

"No fair, I wasn't even paying attention!"

"You snooze you lose."

----

The next day, you were laying in bed, your bed in your room, like you've been doing more often with Taehyung cuddling you all the time (you had a feeling you'd never be done paying back those cuddles), and Jungkook using you as a pillow while he played video games. You were starting to think that you were just a fancy pillow to them, with how comfortably and constantly they'd lean into you or against you.

This time though, it was Jimin, head on your stomach while you laid on your back on your bed, watching funny videos on your phone and trying not to drop your phone on your face. Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you glanced up at Jimin. He had the front camera of his phone angled towards you, taking a video and zooming in on your face. "Stop," You pushed it away laughing, both exasperated and amused. Jimin seemed to have a penchant for capturing moments on camera and lately he seems most interested in you.

You weren't in the habit of taking pictures like the other boys, always updating and keeping their followers engaged with whatever content they uploaded, but it didn't seem to be an issue. Every photo of you they uploaded, including the pictures from the picnic and the festival, they tagged you in, causing people to wander over to your Instagram page. You had noticed more followers, people following you out of loyalty to the boys probably, fans who were curious about you asking about you in their comments, not that they answered. While they seemed to like showing you off, they didn't answer any questions about you. Maybe they were respecting your privacy or maybe they just didn't care to interact with their followers but you noticed they all liked the comments people left calling you pretty.

After seeing the photos, Beomgyu and the boys followed you too, messaging you about how they needed to take pictures with you too and you promised them you would meet up eventually.

Though, it didn't seem like that would happen soon, the maknaes keeping you busy all the time with stuff they wanted to do, movies and video games and TV shows. You and Jimin had recently started binging some TV series with a bunch of seasons that you never had the chance to watch before until Jin had to literally pull you away from the TV in the living room after you sat in front of it for almost twenty four hours. Jimin had laughed about it the whole time all too delighted.

"You're a bad influence," you had told him then after getting scolded by Jin for the first time. He only smiled more mischievously and whispered, "There's a TV in my room, let's go finish the episode."

"I'm gonna go cook with Jin," you wiggled out from under Jimin and he pouted, rolling off the bed and following you to the kitchen.

"Ah, look who decided to join us." Jin announced from behind the sink. He and Jungkook were wearing their matching aprons from the first day you met them. So much has passed since then, you thought, and so much has happened in these last couple months.

As if proving your point, Jimin slinked past you, pressing against your side as he walked like a cat would rub it's tail against a person's leg. He kissed Jin and Jungkook steeping over to the stove. "What's for dinner?" He asked, peering into a pot.

"Beef stew and rice, with some grilled pork belly on the side. We already finished making it, it just has to finish cooking now." Jungkook explained, tossing a dish towel aside as he dried his hands. "Which will take another couple hours for the stew."

"And since you were late to the party, you can take of the dishes." Jin said to you, and Jimin scrunched up his nose.

"Yeah, good luck with that." Jimin said, quick to leave you to wash dishes alone. "I'll set the table."

He stepped into the dining room and you put on dish gloves and turned towards the sink, picking up the sponge to start washing. Jungkook stirred the soup over at the stove making sure it was cooking properly.

"You two seem closer." Jin murmured to you, voice low as Jimin was in the next room over. He leaned against the counter next to the sink. "Did something happen?"

"What do you mean?" You asked, scrubbing at a pot and looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

"I mean, you were talking to each other before, but now you're all cuddly. Jimin usually only gets like that when he's really comfortable."

"What do you mean? Isn't he just the cuddly type?" You asked and Jungkook let out a scoff.

"Jimin? No way, he hates touch from anyone he doesn't like." He answered, turning to you with a bite of stew for you to try.

"But he's always all over you guys?" You said, eating the bite of stew and pulled the curry powder out of the spice rack, indicating it needed another dash.

"That's cause he calls us the pieces of his soul." Jungkook replied, adding the curry powder and mixing it in, preparing another bite for you. "He's comfy with us. And now with you, I guess."

"I guess so. I hadn't really thought about it like that. You're all so... different around each other. Seeing that for myself is new."

"Well, you've been officially indoctrinated now," Jin joked, taking a spatula and tapping each of your shoulders with it, pretending to knight you. "Welcome to the family."

You laughed, but it really touched your heart, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It made you want to reach out and hug everyone, made you feel just as cuddly as Jimin had been acting.

"We're all so close now. Its like you've always been here." Jungkook commented, feeding you a bite of grilled pork belly, Jin telling him to stop picking at the food. He laughed and continued talking, putting the fork down. "I couldn't imagine you leaving. Y/n even made Tae a playlist a couple weeks ago." He spoke that last sentence to Jin.

Jin had started to rinse the soapy dishes you set aside, and said, "I didn't know you were making playlists, where's mine?"

"I don't what kind of music you like." You shrugged.

"But you knew Taehyung's?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow.

"It was a guess."

Jin spoke, "It makes sense, Taehyung and Y/n have been glued at the hip lately."

"Whatever. I'm still her favorite," Jungkook scoffed. "Right?"

You didn't respond, just smiling.

"Y/nie, I'm your favorite right?" He asked more insistently, seeing your smile and the way you avoiding his eyes, leaning so he was in your vision still.

"Oh please, she doesn't want to answer because we all know it's me." Jin argued.

"There's no way!" Jungkook disagreed, the two of them starting one of their dramatic mock arguments.

You felt a hand on your back, rinsing your hands and turning around. Jimin was standing there, hand trailing into yours. "Y/nie, there's a festival at the beach an hour away." He gently pulled at your hand, urging you forward. "I'm going now, Wanna come with?"

"Sure," You nodded. He smiled widely, voice dripping to a whisper. "Great. Let's go while they're distracted."

Sure enough, the two men were still arguing over who was your favorite, and you and Jimin slipped away from the kitchen, the two of you giggling once you were in the car.

The ride was pretty fun, Jimin playing songs and you had a pretty similar music taste, the two of you singing the whole way there. As you got closer and closer you could smell the salty air, crossing a bridge over the water with ocean on both sides, making you excited as you realized you were almost there.

Soon, Jimin was driving over sandy road, the sea in the background you approached a small town on the coast, sea themed stores called things like Joe's crab shack or Robbie's Board Shop. You could see flags in the distance and banners proclaiming the location of the beachside festival.

Walking around, it was similar to the one you had attended the other week, stalls with sea themed art, large canvas tapestries that resembled waves and sunsets, smoothies of tropical fruits and grilled kebabs.

"We have to buy some tacky tourist clothes!" Jimin insisted, pulling you towards a store with Hawaiian shirts and neon bikinis. The air conditioning washed over you, cooling you from the heat outside and refreshing you.

Jimin had beelined to a rack of Hawaiian shirts, grabbing ones with the sunset illustrated in blues and pinks. "Grab some souvenir for our boys!" He told you while walking over to the flip-flops.

Looking at the various collectible items they had, you grabbed some basic key chains, one of those singing wall fish for Jin, a shot glass for Yoongi with a little painting of the beach on it, and some beaded bracelets for Tae and Hoseok.

Exiting the store, now decked out in tacky shirts, flip flops and oversized sunglasses, you moved around the rest of the festival. Jimin was beaming the whole time, laughing about sinking into the sand while you walked and pulling you to take pictures with him everywhere. He looked insanely good in the beach clothes, unfairly so, the Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned to the top part of his chest and the majority of his arms on display, his hair pushed back by the sunglasses in that messy fashionable way that made stray hairs frame his face.

"What?" He asked you when you went quiet staring at him. "Is there something on my face? Cause you're staring pretty hard." He teased, leaning in towards you.

You scoffed, looking away from his intense gaze, and pretended like you were dusting sand off his shirt. "I was just looking at that store behind you. There's a pretty pink scarf in the window."

Jimin turned, looking at the scarf and nodding when he saw it. "Oh yeah. Did you want it?"

"No, I just--"

But Jimin was already pulling you towards it, entering the store and getting goosebumps from the A/C again. It seemed like another tourist store, but with much less tacky decor. They had scarves, as well as bandanas, handmade dresses, knit bags, shirts with the store logo emblazoned on them, and personalized jewelry and mugs with random common names on them.

Jimin got the pink scarf, attention caught by the initial necklaces off to the side. He picked up two, his initial and yours and bought those and the scarf.

"Aren't those a little too tacky for your sophisticated style?" You remarked as he came back to you, tying the scarf around your hair.

"I'm literally wearing a ten dollar Hawaiian shirt right now." He replied, handing you your necklace. "This is the least tacky thing I'm wearing." He put on his necklace, looking at the both of your reflections in the mirror for a moment.

"You know what? I think this would actually look prettier on you." He said, draping his initial necklace over your neck and clasping it.

You raised an eyebrow at his weird idea, watching your mirror self copy you. "But it's your initial, and it looks weird if I'm wearing two initial necklaces and you're wearing none."

"Mm, you're right." He hummed, unclasping your initial and putting it on himself. "There." He smiled in satisfaction, grabbing your hand and pulling you back outside.

"Now let's go get another mango smoothie, it was so tasty!"

The sun started to set, the two of you settled at the coastline, the water rushing up to cover your feet and back again in waves, the two of you slurping at your smoothies and checking your phones. Earlier on, Jimin sent out a text to the group chat saying he took you out for a trip to the beach and shut off his phone, avoiding the wave of texts complaining about how he didn't bring them. This trip was for you two only, he decided, shooting a glance at you playing with the water with a cute smile on your face as you slurped at the stars of your smoothie.

He posted the pictures he took with you today, the boys instantly liking them and whining about how much you were having without them. Jimin laughed to himself, then almost choked on his smoothie looking at his feed.

"Xolani is having an exclusive fashion show!"

You tilted your head, looking over at his screen. "Who's Xolani?"

"Xolani is this super famous fashion designer, all her stuff is incredible." The post had sneak peeks of colorful, innovative designs that would only be displayed at the show. "I wanna go so bad." He groaned.

"Xolani Knight?" You asked again, face something Jimin couldn't decipher.

"Yeah," Jimin replied, a bit confused. "That's her full name, but her label is called Xoxo. Do you know her?"

"Oh my god, yeah, we went to school together! Good to see one of us made something of ourselves." You sighed, half happy for your friend and half downcast. Jimin laid a reassuring hand over yours on the sand. You shook your head, signaling that you were fine. "It's okay. She was always super talented. She was getting internships in her first year, everyone knew she'd make it big."

You were interrupted by buzzing, now that your phones were on again and Jimin had posted those pictures, the messaging was coming back tenfold asking when you'd be back.

Jimin looked at the horizon, basically almost fully sunk by now. "Mm, it's a little late to head back now... I saw a good hotel nearby, let's check in there and stay the night, hmm?" He suggested, already firing off a quick text about what you'd be doing to the group chat, shutting off his phone again. He stood, holding a hand out to help you up. "Besides there's really fun second part to the festival tomorrow where they bring in a bunch of cool foods, I saw it on a flyer, let's stay!"

You nodded, taking his hand as he walked you back to the car and drove all the way to the hotel, checking in at the front desk and getting room on a high floor, overlooking the sea.

"Gosh, that day was so much fun!" He cheered, opening the door to your hotel room, the card reader beeping and glowing a cool green. He pushed it open then stopped in confusion as he looked into the room.

"There's only one bed?" He stared in disbelief. "I thought I made sure-- they said a double queen suite." Jimin stared as if another bed would appear if he just looked hard enough and then groaned. He pushed you in gently, closing the door behind you both.

"Go ahead and sit down, I'm going to see if I can figure this out." He pulled out his phone to call the front desk quickly, striding out onto the balcony and waiting for someone to answer.

The room was nice, extremely classy actually, a large queen bed in the middle against the wall with a flat screen tv directly across. The walls were a soft beige and the carpets a jewel toned red that was plush and soft under your feet. There were modern artwork hung on the wall, splashes of color and shapes, and gold accent ran through out the room, lacing the blue and white sheets on the bed, lining the paneling on the wall, the wooden dresser having gold knobs. It was everything you had never had before. The doors on the wall went to a walk-in closet and a large bathroom complete with a jacuzzi, a separate round bathtub and shower unit.

The balcony Jimin was on overlooked the city, separated from the main bedroom by glass so clear it didn't even seem like it was there. You poked around, looking at the couch, moving the pillows and cushions. To your delight, it was a pullout.

"Apparently, double queen suite means 'a room with one queen bed and an occupancy space of two'." He scoffed. "They should've made that more clear." He looked at you, standing around awkwardly. "You can go ahead and lie down on the bed, I don't have the energy to change rooms now."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Oh, no, I'd rather you take the bed then have to sleep on the couch. I'll take the couch."

"Who said anything about taking the couch? If anything we'll just share." Jimin gave you a confused look, walking closer to you to gently usher you towards the bed. "It's been a long day, princess, lay down and try to rest, okay? You've been up on your feet for too long."

"But I don't have anything to sleep in."

Jimin rummaged through the bags you had with you, pulling out his sweater from earlier in the day and handing it to you. "Here, change into my sweater. I stole it from Namjoon so it's extra big."

He whipped off his Hawaiian shirt, just in his tank top and shorts, setting up his side of the eyed to sleep, plugging his phone into charge. You were stock still, hyperfocused on the definition of his toned arms. You had gotten a sneak peek with the shirt but it was different now, glimpses of his back and his side and your chest, your initial still dangling between his collarbones.

He smirked, feeling your stare. He bit his lip to try and hide his smile and moved to lay down. You looked away feeling creepy and fiddled with the sweater. You felt the bed move from where Jimin was settling under the covers.

"You having trouble putting on the sweater?" He drawled, obviously having fun watching you get flustered.

"I'll just go into the bathroom and change." You squeaked, standing and rushing towards the bathroom, hearing his giggles.

When you came back out, the sweater draping down to your thighs and slipping off your shoulder from how big it was, you tried to quietly walk back into the bedroom, seeing that Jimin had turned the lights off and wasn't moving. You slowly slipped onto your side of the bed, your back facing Jimin.

The A/C was blowing way too hard, cool air reaching you even under the blanket. You tried not to shiver too much, but Jimin spoke up, "Are you cold?"

"Just a little," you said, an obvious understatement with how your teeth were practically chattering, and you expected him to turn the A/C down. Instead, you felt the bed move again, strong arms pulling you closer to the center of the bed.

"How's this?" He spoke into your ear, warm breath brushing your cheek as he melded his body to yours.

"It's fine," you whispered, voice losing all strength being so close to him. He giggled again.

"You sure?"

You nodded, knowing he could feel it. It did feel nice, you liked cuddling even if you weren't as used to it. He squeezed you tight, holding you around the waist like you were a stuffed animal then sighed.

"I really am sorry."

"Hmm?"

"For everything, I mean. I was a jerk to you for no reason and you're so incredible, I just--" He paused, the humming A/C filing the space. "I wish I could take it back."

"You've apologized a thousand times." You replied.

"And I'll apologize a thousand more." He said back. "Every minute you show me that you weren't worth the way I treated you."

He groaned playfully, breaking the tension. "It's embarrassing just to think about. I was a mess."

"No, you weren't," you insisted but he shook his head. You turned around, looking at him through the moonlights streaming in through the window.

"Just, how would you feel if you found out your boyfriend had an ex who was apparently super special to him that you never heard about and now they were living in your house? On top of that you're like super pretty and nice and genuine, and he totally still has--" Jimin cut himself off before he said something he shouldn't.

"Has what?" You blinked unknowingly, eyes innocent and wide.

"Uhh... he, you know," Jimin back-tracked, figuring this wasn't his secret to tell or the time to do it. "We still have so much room to grow in our relationship, I guess I was scared you would throw that off." He corrected, hoping you wouldn't notice.

"Jimin, I would never do anything to jeopardize your relationship." You said, firm and honest. Your hair spilled out on the pillow case underneath you as your cheek pressed against it. You looked sleepy and adorable and Jimin wanted to laugh. How had he ever thought you'd be anything but a gift?

"I know, princess." He smiled softly at you through the darkness. "Now go to sleep."

--

Taglist closed: @sunshinehobissunshine @pb-n-juju @bunnyrhe @7soulsbts @tinyoonsblog @royalchickens @urvirtualgfteehee @tazzi-baby @deathincarnation @alngelias @jinswifeyy @not-all-are-the-same @btsizlyfe @justsomoneliving @purplelady85 @just-me-and-myselfs @thinkaholicer @kookstempo @kosmicbomb @squishyturtle @bunzom @fuckinglittlekitten @canarystwin @scuzmunkie @stupendousliteraturewritingoaf @sugarrush-blush @bt21chim @maries110911 @bjoriis @creatorspalace @highinhopess @little-dark-empress @onlythebest-106 @cestlabellemort @rapunzel76 @kamen-tenshi @totallynoanalien @singukieee @gingerupset @sunshinee0-0 @avadakadabra93 @lvrseok @musicismyoxygen @missinggot7 @silscintilla @jcrml @chosovisionaries @hwa-loves @placeoftime @embrace-themagic

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: vomiting, light angst due to body image issues (pregnant!reader)

A/N: i have been working on a WIP all day! it’s going to be my longest one-shot by far. if you would like a hint, click here (another hint: it’s not a retelling of the episode)

Masterlist

Chapter 28

Gradually over the summer, your bump started to peek out just a little bit. The bottom of your belly would poke out of your tank tops slightly.

Spencer loved it because it gave him better skin-to-skin contact. He would constantly be rubbing and kissing your tummy while whispering softly to the baby.

He would often visit you in your office for lunch so he could bring whatever you were currently craving. You learned this the hard way once when you packed a chicken caesar wrap for lunch one morning and by the time it got to noon, it made you nauseous just looking at it. Spencer brought you watermelon that day because it was the only thing that sounded good.

You were just finishing up an email when there was a knock at the door.

“It’s open,” you announced.

“Hi, love. How are we doing today?” Spencer inquired.

“Better now that you’re here,” you looked up from your computer to give him a kiss.

“I brought you your fruit salad with extra watermelon and your prenatal vitamins. Also, I don’t know how your stomach is feeling but I would like you to try to have some protein because fruit does not have much sustenance for you and little one. I brought tofu, peanut butter crackers, or a protein bar, whatever you think you can get down,” Spencer unloaded his bag.

“I finished the whole 64 ounce water bottle before noon. Aren’t you proud of me, babe?” you beamed, proudly displaying your empty bottle.

“So proud, I’ll go refill it right now so you can take your vitamins,” Spencer lifted your blouse up and placed a gentle kiss right on your belly button, “Daddy will be right back, little one.”

-

You awoke to the sickly twisting feeling in your stomach and you carefully rose from the bed in an attempt to not upset your stomach any more.

Spencer was up and out of the bed as soon as he heard the first retch. He grabbed a hair elastic and tied your hair back, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Spence, I can’t be sick today,” you cried.

“Jo will understand, love. I’ll tell her you are taking care of little one.”

“I don’t want to miss her first day of first grade,” you sobbed into his chest.

“I will facetime you and take so many videos and pictures, you won’t miss a thing,” he promised you.

“I’m going to call you out of work. Then, I’m going to get you some tea, plain crackers, and iced water,” he kissed the top of your head.

“Will you be okay in here by yourself for a little?” he asked quietly.

You sniffled and nodded.

“Okay, shout if you need me. I’m going to go get that stuff for you and wake Jo up.”

“I want to at least say bye to her. I want to see her in her first day outfit,” you insisted.

“Of course, we’ll be back up in a little,” he assured you.

About 15 minutes later, Spencer returned with a tray of just about every drink and food you had been craving for the past week.

“I love you,” you smiled.

“I love you more,” he replied, setting the tray down on your nightstand.

“Mommy, brother or sister is being bad?” Jo asked.

“No, baby,” you motioned for her to climb up on the bed with you, “They are just growing and it is making Mommy a little sick but it’s okay. I’m sorry I can’t drop you off with Daddy today. But luckily, I heard your new teacher is super nice and you have Henry in your class again this year.”

“Bye, Mommy. I’ll miss you,” she hugged you, “Bye, brother or sister,” she waved to your belly.

“Bye, Baby J. I am expecting a full report on everything that happened as soon as you get home,” you smiled.

“I’ll be back in 30,” Spencer helped Jo off the bed, looking at you worriedly.

“Spence, I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” you assured him.

“Call me if anything happens like even if you just think you’re about to throw up, call me,” he insisted.

You nodded, “Have fun!”

-

“There’s my big first grader!” you smiled with open arms.

You were waiting on the couch for Jo and Spencer to come home from pick up time.

“Mommy!” she ran into your arms, “Ms. Moore is so nice. She let us color whatever we wanted for an hour during craft time today and she had a whole bin of dinosaur books in the library. And, me and Henry played on the big kid swings at recess today and I jumped off into the air!” she exclaimed.

“Oh my gosh! What a fun day you had!” you smiled.

“And you didn’t even hear the best news yet, Daddy signed up to be a classroom helper,” she beamed.

“Did he now?” you grinned, turning your attention to Spencer.

“Ms. Moore had the sign-up sheet out at pick-up time. How can I resist spending more time with Jo? I’m going to get lonely when both my girls are at work and school,” he plopped down on the couch and squeezed you both.

-

You couldn’t find a single cute blouse that still fit you that morning. You had to wear an ugly wrinkly gray one from the back of your closet that you bought a while back and hated but never got around to returning. You brushed through your hair quickly and forwent any makeup because you already felt like utter crap.

You would have called out sick but you had an important department meeting today that you had to sit through. Luckily, that meant little to no talking but you just had to pray that your stomach would settle.

At the end of the long day, you went home and changed into sweats. In an attempt to cheer yourself up, you drove to Jo’s school to see Spencer in action. It was his first day as class assistant.

You approached the classroom to see Spencer surrounded by a group of moms. They were all over him, practically swarming him like bees to honey. These were the exact moms that were horrible to you last year. They were all dressed in high heels and skinny jeans, stuff you couldn’t wear anymore.

You turned around and headed back out to the car.

-

Spencer immediately noticed your car wasn’t in the driveway when they got home.

“Love?” Spencer called out, setting his keys on the table when they entered the front door.

No response.

Spencer tried your cell but it rang out.

He immediately had Garcia on the phone next, “Penelope, I need you to track Y/N. She’s not home yet and not answering her cell and I’m worried.”

“Oh, McDonald’s? Okay, yeah thanks. That’s been one of her cravings recently,” Spencer hung up the phone.

“Why did Mommy leave school and now she’s not here?” Jo questioned.

“Mommy wasn’t at school today, Princess. I think you are confused,” Spencer furrowed his brow.

“Daddy, I saw her,” Jo stated.

“Okay, I believe you,” he picked the little girl up and exited the house once again.

-

You didn’t want to be the crazy pregnant lady in a McDonald’s crying with a chocolate milkshake and a large fry but that is who you had become.

You heard the bell chime but you didn’t look up, dipping your next fry into your milkshake.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

Spencer was standing over you, looking very concerned and carrying Jo on his hip.

He set her down and whispered, “How about you go play in the play place for a little, Princess. Daddy will order you a happy meal.”

Jo looked at you with the same amount of concern in her eyes before deciding it was best to just follow what Spencer said. She ran off and Spencer took the seat across from you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he spoke softly.

“Not particularly,” you took a long sip of your milkshake.

“Jo said she saw you at the school today,” Spencer stated.

It didn’t take a profiler to see the way your face sank even more and you stopped sipping your shake.

“What upset you so much, love? I need to know if I’m going to fix it,” he grabbed your hand and kissed it.

“Nothing fits,” you stated.

“We’ll buy you more maternity clothes,” he replied quickly.

“I look ugly,” you protested.

“Completely and unequivocally false,” he answered sincerely.

“Those moms are going to steal you away from me,” another tear slid down your face.

Spencer’s face softened, he moved from the seat across from you to right next to you.

“You are probably feeling some residual feelings of abandonment because you had to do this alone last time,” Spencer stated softly.

You buried your face into his shoulder as confirmation.

“Love, I am never leaving you or Jo or little one ever again. There’s nowhere else I want to be. This is what makes me happy,” Spencer looked around, “I’d gladly stay in this crusty McDonald’s forever if you and Jo are here.”

Your giggle was muffled by his cardigan.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Spencer smiled, wrapping his arms around you.

A/N: i named Jo’s teacher ‘Ms. Moore’ as a little shoutout to @homoose !!! moore...moose, close enough. she was one of the writers who inspired me to start writing my own fics

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

[wormstacheangel]

some latinenatural for my benefit mostly. read the first two chapter on ao3 aqui

Dean was still wearing a big smile when he finally kicked his boots off at home. It took everything he had to finally let Cas leave his Baby, wanting to keep pulling him in for one final kiss after another. Cas now knows what “Otro Besito.” means. Enough so that every time he heard it, he rolled his eyes, but he always leaned in. Until finally, he closed the car door and promised to text Dean tomorrow.

Cas’s number is now saved under an angel emoji porque Dean es un romantico first and foremost.

“Apenas estas llegando?” Dean looked up to see his Tio sitting on the couch with a novela playing on the tv. “Como te fue?”

“Awesome.” Dean picked up his boots and walked over to kiss the top of his Tio’s head before heading to bed. Ignoring his fake protesting of the affection. “Me voy char un baño.”

They asked about Cassie in the morning, and Dean made up some casual date, a believable one, but told them they were probably better off friends anyways. It made it harder to think of excuses to sneak out at night but working for Victor at night made it easier for Bobby not to question him.

He wished he could tell them about his actual dates. Talk about Cas’s stupid two left feet and his beautiful smile. He wished he could talk about the way Cas looked, eyes squinting and head tilting como un pajarito when Dean spoke more than three words in Spanish. But he loved it so much, and just getting those good morning texts from him made his days so much better.

[Read more under tag <3]

It was Monday again when Dean walked by Cas’s house with the raspados.

“Mi Angelito,” Dean wanted to reach and kiss him, but eyes were still watching him. So instead, he reached down and handed Cas a grocery bag filled with Tupperware. “I brought you a real lunch so you can eat it instead of just some ice.”

Cas had admitted that he came home for his lunch break to see Dean. Giving him no time to have an actual proper lunch, and Dean won’t have any of that. Su hombre va a estar lleno y feliz con su comida.

Cas took the bag in shock before handing it back to Dean. “No, Dean, I can’t take this.”

“I woke up extra early to make it for you y no lo quieres?”

“¡Si te quiero!” Cas reached to touch Dean’s cheek, blue eyes watching Dean’s reaction as he quietly added, “Mucho.”

Dean swallowed hard before taking Cas’s hand and giving it a quick little kiss before letting it fall. “Cas, cariño, I was talking about the food. I said ‘no lo quieres’ not ‘no me quieres’. Do you hear the difference?”

“Oh.” Cas stepped back and looked at the plastic bag in his hand. “Then I um-thank you.”

Dean chuckled, stepping forward to wrap Cas in his arms for a quick squeeze. “Ay, pendejo.”

“Dean!” Dean could picture the roll of the eyes without even looking at Cas. He tried to hold in his laughter as he pulled away just a little, just enough, so their faces stayed inches away.

He raised an eyebrow at Cas as he asked, “What? Ya no me quieres?”

Dean could see Cas’s wheels turning in his mind as he mouths the words Dean just said to him. The blush on his cheeks growing as the realization hits him. “Me. You said-yes! I mean, si! I mean, yes or whatever!”

Dean was sure Cas had no idea what he was saying. It’s not like he said amo. No, Cas said quiero. It was the less intense version of ammo, but still,l it relatively meant the same thing, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready to repeat it.

“Quiero un beso.” Dean says instead, wanting to rest his forehead down on Cas’s but restrains himself. The hug was already pushing it out in public.

“Dean, my brother is home.” Cas looked at the house behind him before looking back at Dean, eyes sad, but Dean only smiled back at him. His hand reaches to pinch Cas’s cheek gently while he winks at him.

Te quiero. Es lo que quiere decir pero ahorita no es el momento. It’s too early for that. Ahorita, Dean está feliz nomás en tenerlo. No tiene que decir nada. No tiene que decirle a nadie que se está enamorando muy rápido de un güero con ojos más azules que el cielo. Más brillosos que una estrella. Más hondos que el mar.

No. Dean didn’t have to tell anyone que se está enamorado de los pies a la cabeza. It’s fine.

Dean lifts his hat enough to scratch his sweaty hair before he jumps back on his bike. “Pick you up later then?”

Cas nods as he holds the grocery bag tight in his right hand before lamely waving at Dean with his left.

Dean leaves with a loud ring of his bells.

A month of sneaking around goes by with Dean asking Victor to tell Bobby he was working for him during his date nights. It was obvious Victor knew, but Dean was way too scared to confirm it. Either way, Victor agreed to help him sneak around and didn’t push for details.

Though he always eyed Cas like a challenge whenever he came around, Cas never seemed to notice as he was caught up rereading the same menu he has been looking at for weeks.

It was a Thursday night that Cas called to ask, “So what are we?”

Dean was in the middle of mopping the bathroom stalls in the office building, with Bobby doing a different one on the same floor. Sam was somewhere throwing away the trash from the offices while a few other folks that worked for his Tio cleaned up whatever they had to do. The only sounds in the offices were vacuums and music coming from someone’s speaker.

“Cas, I’m kinda busy working right now.”

“You said I could call Thursday nights cause you get bored.” Fuck. He did say that. “Unless you don’t wanna answer.”

“It’s just…no es algo-”

“English, Dean. I can’t read your expressions over the phone.” Oh, so that’s how he catches on.

“Exactly! It’s not something to discuss over the phone. We can go out tomorrow and talk about it.”

Cas didn’t say anything but Dean could hear him moving some stuff around.

“Cas?” Dean pushed the mop bucket out of the bathroom as he finished. Trying not to think about how here Dean was, working late as a janitor while Cas was staying late at his fancy corporate job. Fuck, si piensa mucho en eso se va a volver loco. “Cariño? Andale Angelito, don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Then talk to me.” Dean hears Cas make a loud and tired sigh. “Mira, que suspiro!” He teased.

“Dean, I don’t know-Ah! Fuck!” Dean hears Cas’s phone fall against something hard. Dean’s heart raced, not knowing what to do.

“Cas? Castiel!” Dean calls to his phone, already abandoning his bucket to start jogging to the door to drive wherever Cas was, even though he didn’t know where that was. “Contestame, cabron!”

Dean stops when he hears Cas awkwardly laugh through the phone. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I usually never stay this late. I’ve just been behind the last few weeks.”

Dean couldn’t hear what the other person said, but Cas sounded fine, so Dean took a breath of relief.

“Dean?”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry. The janitor walked into my office, and it scared me. I didn’t realize how late it was.” Dean can already picture Cas running his hand through his hair. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you call me…cabron.”

Mierda. “Well, you scared me! I thought something-Don’t do that!”

“Dean,” Oh, good. Cas was smiling. “I didn’t think you cared so much.”

“Shut up.” Dean heard the echo of his own voice. “Oye, cariño, take me off speaker! I don’t wanna hear myself.”

“Sorry, but I need my hands to pack up my things. But please, continue talking about how much you care about me while I do so.”

Dean grumbled, “I’m hanging up.”

“But te quiero!”

“You can’t keep using that against me, Angelito. Es tu culpa.”

Cas was silent for a second before Dean heard, “Excuse me. If you’re done, you can just-Sir? Hey!”

“Cas?” And before Dean can panic again, he hears a familiar voice call his name from the other end.

“Dean?”

Dean’s heart sinks as the voice echoes in his mind. Dean’s head falls into his hand as he starts to shake just a little before answering. “Sam. Tell me where you are.”