#would you stop obviously leaning forward to get a better look king youre making me hate gay people /j

[habeascorpseus]

It Happened. we all knew the day would come and yet none of us were prepared

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Worth | Charity

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none!

Pairings: leon/gwaine

Word Count: 3091

It is not uncommon for the Knights of the Round Table to have their own separate training days, nor is it uncommon for Leon to notice his...distance from the rest of them. It starts to grate on him after a while. Gwaine has something to say about that.

The wine settles lightly in the corners of the room, making the air grow fuzzy and warm. Leon sets the goblet down, the remnants still lingering on his tongue as Gwaine reaches over to pour some for himself. They still haven't moved apart. Their knees still brush with every small movement. Gwaine glances over his shoulder and huffs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Relax," he bids gently, "this isn't going to be like learning from the swordmaster—well, not that sort of swordmaster."

Leon gives him a look and he chuckles.

"See? That's better."

"How is me looking at you like you're a wayward squire better?"

"Because then I know you're actually listening to me and not fretting about how bad you're about to be at this."

He knows his face betrays the truth behind that statement. The newly-filled goblet comes to rest by his with a low clunk as Gwaine's hand finds the curve of his shoulder once more. He closes his eyes and tries not to shudder too obviously. When was the last time he was touched so much?

"It's alright," and now his voice is hushed, "I will enjoy any time we spend together tonight. We needn't do anything more than drink wine and sit in the quiet."

"You'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe." The words come out sharper than he intended and he bites his tongue. "I hope you will also forgive me for that."

"Leon, look at me." The hand moves under his chin. A small wrinkle of concern mars his brow. "Just this, sitting in your chambers, bringing you the food and wine you like, getting to touch you like this, is more than I ever thought possible. Believe me when I say that yes, just this is enough to please me."

Now this, this he cannot believe. Gwaine has become something of a notorious figure around Camelot's center and while he does his best not to listen to the castle gossip, he would be truly oblivious not to know the man's reputation as a lover. To hear that such a man has been longing after him? And for what? The spoilsport of an old knight?

Gwaine's expression darkens when he says as much, the hand moving back to his shoulder. For a moment he braces himself for the sort of fierce talking-to he's come to expect from Merlin or the King, but then Gwaine softens and he leans forward, bringing Leon's head to his shoulder. Leon's hands flex and stutter in his lap, unsure of where to put them now that his nose is buried quite close to Gwaine's neck—gods, he can feel Gwaine's pulse thudding mere inches from him—until he settles on leaving them there, useless and limp.

"I do not know," Gwaine says, voice a rumble in his ear, "who it was that made you believe that you are not extraordinary, but they should pray we never meet."

"You can't threaten those people," he manages, "they're too far above your station."

"I think I've made it pretty clear I don't give a damn about stations when it comes to people I care about." The grip on the back of his neck gentles, fingers carding through the hair at the base of his skull. "Besides, if these people are who I think they are, your station is higher than theirs and they should know not to speak ill of you."

"It is not speaking ill, it is—"

Gwaine's fingers move up, nails lightly scratching his scalp, and the words die in his mouth. His breath shudders out of him with a truly mortifying noise and he feels himself flush. He tries to sit up.

"No, no," Gwaine says quickly, "don't pull away. It's alright, it's okay."

"Forgive me—"

"I'm trying to get you to relax and enjoy yourself, that just means I'm doing my job."

Still, Leon can't stop himself from squeezing his eyes shut and turns his face into Gwaine's shoulder. Gwaine lets him, as does he let him sit back up when his neck grows too stiff, but he does not let him move entirely away. Instead, he pushes the basket of pastries closer and bids him to have another.

"Will you have one as well?"

"Never let it be said I turn down something so sweet," said with a wink as he bites into one. Leon has the pleasure of watching his eyes widen at the burst of sweet spices over his tongue and the pastry vanishes in another instant. "I see why those are your favorite, they're divine."

Just as he thinks he's to mourn the loss of the rest of them, Gwaine reaches instead for his wine and takes a drink, settling easily into watching Leon again. Unused to the scrutiny, he keeps his eyes fixed on his own pastry as Gwaine plays with the curls of hair about his shoulders. When he finishes the pastry, he reaches for his own wine, pausing when he realizes this one is far fuller than his.

"Did you drink from my goblet?"

"Did I?" Gwaine shrugs, an unrepentant grin on his face. "Must've mistaken them."

A likely story, but the idea sends an unexpected thrum through his chest. He lifts the drink and lets the wine spread over his tongue, savoring the taste before swallowing. His armor clanks against the table as he sets it down.

"Would it bother you if I stood to took my armor off?"

"Not in the slightest." Indeed, as he stands, Gwaine sits back with the wine in his hand, relaxing into the chair as Leon begins to take off his gauntlets. He even grins when Leon glances over to see if he's still there—certainly not to see if he's watching. "Don't stop on my account."

"I'm not used to being watched, that's all."

"Would it make you more comfortable if I turned my back, then?"

He rolls his eyes. "It's not as though I'm getting nude, Gwaine."

"What's a knight without his armor?"

"The same as any other man, I would imagine."

"Well, that's where you're wrong." When Leon frowns, his smile widens and his eyes travel up and down. "You're not just any other man."

A flush returns to his cheeks and he turns away, drowning out Gwaine's chuckle with actually taking his armor off. He lays out the pieces to dry and polish later, making sure not to crease the buckles and straps more than they already are—does no good to wear extra, after all. When he gets to the mail shirt, he goes to lift it over his head, only to wince.

The goblet hits the table with a thud. The chair scrapes across the floor. He barely has a moment to turn before warm hands rest on his sides.

"What's wrong?"

"Pulled something. Probably didn't realize it earlier and sat too long afterwards. It'll be alright after a night's rest."

"Let me help," Gwaine says quietly when he goes to try again, "please. No use in making it any worse."

He thinks about refusing out of principle—Gwaine, peeling him out of his armor, it was bound to make any tongue in the castle wag—but then he thinks about how it would be better to have help, and that he no longer thought Gwaine the type to hold it over him as such, and he's nodding before his mind fully wraps itself around the possibility. Of course, he's quite forgotten that Gwaine helping him means that Gwaine's going to touch him, and when the hand settles on his hip below the protection of the mail, he inhales so sharply Gwaine draws back for fear he's hurt him.

"No," he croaks, "no, forgive me. It just startled me."

"No shame in that. Let's try again, shall we?"

This time, he's ready for the dry warmth under his tunic as they lift the mail up and over his head. The tug in his shoulder is no less plaintive, but the strain is much less as Gwaine quickly takes the full weight of the armor and sets it to the side, letting Leon stretch it out. The hand stays on his side, just brushing the top of his waistband and hip. All of his attention hones in on it, on the callus he can feel underneath Gwaine's fingers, on the slight scratch of his nail against the skin, on the way his thumb rubs back and forth ever so slightly as if to soothe him like a frightened animal.

"There," he hears distantly, and only then does he realize Gwaine's turned back to him, "you look a little more at ease now."

He hums in response. If he had the wherewithal, he would be slightly alarmed at how quickly he's been undone just from such a simple touch, but his sense are dulled and softened and perhaps that it even more cause for concern.

But this is Gwaine, a part of him soothes, Gwaine is a knight of Camelot, one of the trusted men of the King's inner circle.

"—on? Leon?"

He blinks. "Forgive me."

"I'm pretty sure you're not capable of doing anything that would warrant you asking for forgiveness so much," Gwaine says, and oh, he's much closer now. "You drifted away for a moment."

"Yes, I was…I am not used to being touched like this."

"That's no way for a man to live, starved for affection." Gwaine steps closer, his arm wrapping gently about his waist—thankfully over the tunic. "Perhaps I should ask you to forgive me for not noticing and rectifying this sooner."

"I doubt very much I would've let you before tonight."

"Then I extend my thanks for allowing me to now." Their chests are mere inches apart. If he lifted his head, their noses might brush. "Come, you should rest, you look tired. More wine, another pastry?"

Leon glances at the table with its tempting offerings, but oh, the distance between the foot of the bed and their chairs seems insurmountable. Even with Gwaine's help, though he has no desire to be helped across the floor of his own chambers like a drunk when he's not had so much as half a glass.

"Perhaps a seat on the bed," he hears himself say, "that would be better."

"That sounds perfect," and the arms around him—when did Gwaine take one of his hands in his?—help him to do just that. He holds on to one of the posts as Gwaine turns them around the corner, before he's eased down with a surprising strength to sit on the edge. He looks up as Gwaine's arms leave him, already mourning the loss, only to see a slightly sheepish look on his face.

"What is it?"

"Can I comb your hair?"

He blinks. "Can you what?"

"Your hair." Gwaine runs his fingers through it. "I've always wondered."

"Uh—yes, yes, if you like. The…the comb is on the side table."

Gwaine picks it up and steadies his head with a hand on his jaw. "Don't worry, I promise I know what I'm doing."

"I would hope so with hair like yours."

"Ah, you've noticed." He begins to work the comb through his hair, starting from the bottom—so he does know what he's doing— "my sister's hair used to grow like a weed and she couldn't always manage it herself. So I'd step in when our mother was busy."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

"I don't talk about her very often, I wouldn't expect you to."

"What's she like?"

A warm chuckle as he moves to the other side. "She's an evil old toad."

"I do hope you're speaking metaphorically."

"With the things we've seen, at this point, I'm not sure myself."

Their conversation trails off as Gwaine continues to work the comb through his curls. He falls into a light daze, soothes by the repetitive motions on his scalp and the gentleness of Gwaine holding his head up. After a while, he realizes that he could relax his head entirely and Gwaine would keep it there, and so he does, letting him take the weight for a little as his shoulders slump. His eyes droop closed. The wine sits pleasantly over the pastries. The smell still wafts through the air. Gwaine's hands are strong and sure. He smells of the musk of the castle's lower quarters and the slight perfume of the winery's stores. He's standing close enough that the front of his trousers brush Leon's knees. His touch is gentle.

From leagues away, he feels the comb pause, then something brushes across his cheek. Thumb, his mind supplies a moment too late, as the movement leaves a slightly damp trail, quickly followed by another pass as another tear slips down his face.

Wait.

"No," Gwaine says softly, stopping his movement as he tries to jerk back. Both hands cup his face and Gwaine leans close, so close, a bubble of intimacy here just for them. "Don't run away from me, Leon, please."

His chest is tight. There is a lump in his throat. More tears spill down his face.

"It's alright," Gwaine pleads with a note of desperation, "it's alright, Leon, it's okay. Don't hide your tears from me, don't run away. Let me help you, stay with me, let me help."

He is powerless in the hands of such a man. He can only nod with his shame still glistening on his cheeks and let Gwaine pull him close, his face buried in the man's chest as arms wrap surely around him. A hand cards through his newly-combed hair and the first true sob bursts from his throat. Gwaine weathers it without complaint, even when Leon's arms come up to clutch at his back, his shoulders, trying desperately to hold onto something.

"It's alright," he keeps murmuring without pause, "I'm here. I'll take care of you. You're safe here. Shed your tears."

So close to the things he has said to them, to his King, to Merlin, to the things he never thought he would hear someone say back to him.

The knight he should be would be ashamed of how long he spends there, crying into Gwaine's chest, but he is only a man after all and no man can begrudge himself the comfort of being held while he cries. And so he does not run, he stays. He allows himself to sink into the warmth of being held for this moment and perhaps this moment alone—though he has a feeling that Gwaine will endeavor to give him these moments as many times as he permits. Gwaine never wavers, not when his shirt is surely soaked clean through, not when Leon accidentally scratches him through his tunic. Nor does he protest when Leon eventually gives a great heave and sits back, hands covering his face. He only leans down and moves them away, smiling when he sees the blotchy features and tear-stained cheeks.

"There," he murmurs as he retrieves a handkerchief and tenderly cleans his face, "there."

He sniffles. "Am I still the man you wished to spend the evening with?"

"More than." It comes out in a near growl as he props a knee on the bed and bends even closer. "You are a wonder, Leon, whether you're crying or not."

"I don't deserve your praise."

"You deserve everything I can give you and more." He tips their heads forward until their foreheads rest against each other. "I mean it."

Warm, wine-soaked breath brushes his nose and cheeks. The night is young. Gwaine is warm. He tilts his head and presses their lips together.

Gwaine lets out a soft noise of surprise before he's kissing back, cradling Leon's head as though he's the most precious thing in the world. It's a heady feeling—one that leaves them both breathless when they finally break apart.

"What was all that nonsense about not being good at this?" Gwaine accuses lightly. "I had a whole plan to seduce you into kissing me and you just go ahead and do it?"

"You can still do your plan, it might work."

"Or I could just kiss you again."

"Or you could do that."

Their lips meet again, slow, unhurried, oddly sweet. He expects to be pushed backward, laid on on the bed, but Gwaine seems content just to kiss him like this, politely turning his mind to mush. They break part again and Gwaine's next breath is shaky.

"Stay," Leon whispers before he can think too much, "stay with me tonight."

"Leon—"

"Nothing need happen," he says quickly, "we can finish the wine, the pastries, just lie together."

"Be careful what you wish for, if you invite me in I may never leave."

He smiles, reaches up to tangle his hand in Gwaine's hair. "There are worse fates, I'm sure."

"You are making it very difficult for me to keep my hands off of you."

"Your hands are on me right now." Gwaine actually growls and he chuckles. "I mean it. I do not think I have the strength to do much more than finish a glass of wine and fall right asleep, but I would welcome the chance to have you by my side."

"Nothing would please me more."

Gwaine stands, going to the table and retrieving a single goblet of wine. He settles himself back into place, one knee on the bed, his hand in Leon's hair. He takes a sip and holds it out. Leon takes it and drinks long and steady until the goblet is empty.

"There. All finished."

"You've been keeping secrets from me," Gwaine accuses weakly as he sets the goblet aside.

"Perhaps we have more to learn from each other."

"I think perhaps we do." He rests a hand lightly on Leon's chest. "But not tonight, eh? A good night's sleep will do us both good."

"You will be here when we wake," he can't help but ask, "won't you?"

The insecurity must slip through into his words for Gwaine softens, leaning down at pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "I told you, you're going to have a very hard time getting rid of me now."

"Worse fates, indeed."

[hummingbird-of-light]

In Our Favor

Part 165

McCoy

“That is interesting,” David said as he looked at the boys. “Though it would require more thought and arrangement.”

The king sat back in his chair and gestured for McCoy and Scotty to sit.

“I don’t think I can get it done before you boys leave tonight.”

McCoy’s anger threatened to bubble up in his chest again.

“However,” David said after another moment of thought. “Andre and his team could still accompany you back. They could stay nearby while the undercover team gets set up.” The king leaned forward again and tapped at something on his desk.

“I still don’t want any of them,” McCoy said. “But if they will let me be then I will put up with it.”

“They may have to talk to you in passing as a cadet to a cadet, and can keep anything else to private channels.”

A knock sounded on the door and Sarek slipped quietly into the room before David could call for him to come in.

“Sarek, Scotty has had the idea to put the team that goes with them undercover. I will have to contact Starfleet again of course, but would you begin to make a list of security members we have who would not look out of place as cadets?”

“Yes sir,” Sarek gave a short nod.

“And inform Andre that I will want to speak with him,” David added.

Sarek inclined his head again and left the office as quietly as he had entered.

“Thank you Scotty.”

McCoy watched his husband look at the king and try not to color.

“It is a good idea and I wish I had thought of it myself,” David continued. He looked at McCoy. “Any idea is a good one if it makes us two stubborn men agree.”

Warmth raced up McCoy’s face. He still didn’t like Georgiaren security following them to the academy, but if David was set on it, then at least undercover guards would be better.

“I got it from you,” McCoy managed a half smile.

“Oh I know you did,” David smiled back. “I suppose you boys have some things planned to do before you leave and I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“I still don’t like it,” McCoy said quietly to Scotty as they walked towards the dining room.

“I know love, but it’s an improvement over being obviously tailed on campus.”

“I wish this hadn’t happened,” McCoy said.

“We all do Len,” Scotty agreed with a squeeze to McCoy’s fingers.

The open door of the dining room revealed an empty room. Scotty chuckled.

“I didn’t suppose he’d wait all morning in here for us.”

“Probably left with Leah and Robbie. Well, if they’ve even come down yet,” McCoy said. “I hope she got enough rest.”

“Robbie will make sure she did,” Scotty said.

“You sure he’s the best one to help her rest?” McCoy asked with a sly grin.

“Ugh! Len!”

“Hey!” McCoy laughed. “I know! Well, actually, I don’t want to know.”

They began to walk again, heading for Granddad’s room. Laughter reached them as they got close. Granddad’s voice called to them as they passed a sitting room. McCoy and Scotty stopped and entered. Granddad was inside with Leah and Robbie.

“Yer brother and sister want to spend time with us as well,” Granddad told McCoy and Scotty.

“The more the merrier,” McCoy agreed. It was great to see Leah looking and acting like herself.

Part 166

Scotty

Francine was quick to join them when Granddad sent her a message and when Leah asked about the queen's whereabouts, Francine only said that she was still with Amanda. They were probably planning the biggest lunch ever Scotty assumed.

They spent a few hours chatting away and playing cards and from time to time Scotty glanced at his brother and sister-in-law. They looked much more relaxed and healthier. That was a good thing.

"Alright, now, I'm giving up. It's impossible to beat this man!" Leonard eventually groaned when they all lost yet another round to Alasdair. The old man chuckled softly.

"Already disappointed, yer highness? Maybe if ye practiced more, then ye'd win for once."

"As if that would change anything about you winning all the time! You know, sometimes I really think that you cheat!"

"Oi, careful now, laddie," Granddad retorted, raising his finger warningly, but Leah just laughed.

"Oh, don't be offended, Granddad. Lenny here has always been a sore loser. When we were younger, we always used to play boardgames on Sundays and when our little prince lost, he was so angry that he wouldn't talk to me for days. And that one time —"

"Okay! That's enough story telling!" Leonard interrupted his sister, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Sometimes he could be so grumpy.

Scotty couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his mouth and he leaned closer to Leonard to press a kiss onto his cheek.

"Oh, don't pout, mo ghràdh. In the end, ye won something way more important than any game in this galaxy."

Leonard looked at him, a frown on his face. He didn't seem to get it so Scotty chose to be more clear about his words.

"Ye won my heart."

A grin crossed Leonard's face as he nodded and pulled his husband in for another kiss.

"Ugh, cheesy!" Leah's voice could be heard from across them, but the couple ignored it. They knew that their siblings were just the same as them.

"I think we should head to the dining room now. Lunch should be ready any moment," Francine finally said, causing the lovebirds to let go of each other.

"Aye, let's go."

Scotty had expected the dining table to be well set, but he was still very surprised at all the various dishes. The last time he had seen a full table like that had been on one of their birthdays.

"Surprise!" Eleanor greeted the group with a wide smile on her lips. She looked so happy and relieved that Scotty almost forgot that his and Leonard's situation was still tense with security having to follow them to Earth.

"Oh, Mother, that looks wonderful!" Leah exclaimed, looking from one dish to the other and the others nodded in agreement.

"Anything for my family. Come, sit down please."

Quickly, everyone followed the queen's request and it didn't take too long until David, Sarek and Dr. Boyce joined them too.

The king too looked very surprised by all the food, but he smiled gratefully at his wife who was sitting between Leah and Leonard. She had wanted both her children at her side and Scotty understood it very well. After everything that had happened, she wanted to know them safe and sound.

The Scotsman himself had Leonard on his one side and Francine on the other. His mother looked proudly at the set table. She had probably helped cooking everything before she had joined Scotty and the others.

They all started to eat, quiet chatting filling the room, and for that moment everything seemed normal again.

After lunch it was time to say goodbye to Francine and Granddad. The two of them had already packed their things in the morning and were ready to be taken to the shuttle.

"Thank you for coming along. Robbie really needed the two of you at his side," Scotty heard Leah whisper when she was hugging Francine tightly. His mother nodded.

"Of course we came, lassie. Granddad and I were worried about ye too, after all. Ye are part of our family."

Leah smiled and wiped at her eyes when she let go of Francine and hugged Alasdair next.

"Take care of yerself, lass. Wouldn't want to hear any news like those again too soon."

At that the princess chuckled.

"I'll try my best, Granddad."

Robbie was next to say goodbye and Scotty could see that his mother was holding her youngest even longer and tighter than usually. She hadn't just been worried about Leah but also about him.

"Don't forget to call," she reminded her son and he nodded.

"I won't, a mhàthair. See ya."

More tearful goodbyes were exchanged and when Scotty was the last to hug his grandfather, the man held him a moment longer to whisper something to his hear.

"Ye are doing a great job, lad. And I know that ye'll take good care of that prince of yers."

Scotty nodded. Aye. He definitely would.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Ten

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Injuries, Fluff, Language, Violence, 

Word Count: 2K

A/n: Okay y’all THANK YOU AGAIN SO MUCH FOR 10K FOLLOWERS IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MCUH OMG Anyway ahem here is part 10 and I hope you enjoy! We’re gonna have a more intense part coming next but until then, enjoy!

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Series Masterlist

“We make for Asgard.”

~*~

“You look lovely. The colours of Asgard suit you well,” Thor says, his eyes raking over your figure from behind.

Adorning your body is a soft linen gown, the colour of cream. It is cut low in the front, a style Thor assured you is common in his kingdom, and has many different folds and layers to it, making it flow with every step you take.

The fabric itself is lightweight, and the straps lie thinly on your shoulders. The waistline is decorated with gleaming golden gems and is cinched rather tightly.

Over your shoulders is a dark red cape, the same colour as Thor’s.

Your hair is tied up away from your face intricately and elegantly, and a dainty diamond necklace rests around your neck.

You turn to face him, a deep feeling of unease settling in your stomach.

“What is to happen now?” You wonder aloud, eyes fluttering past his face and around the chambers that he’s deemed to be yours for the time being.

“Now we wait. The kings should be here soon, and then we will inform them of the letter you received. I promise you’ll be safe here, Petal.” He cups your cheeks and you swallow hard, nervous about the change in his attitude towards you.

“Thor?” You ask softly, taking a half-step backward in an attempt at removing yourself from his grip.

He surges forward, one hand dropping from your face to wrap around your waist as his lips crash against yours in a fierce and dominating kiss.

Your heart races in your chest and you shove against his face, trying to force him away from you.

Helplessness fills you as you realize that you’ll never be able to overpower him, and dread settles in your gut as he pushes you back until you’re pressed against the wall.

Your muffled cries for help, for him to stop, fall on deaf ears as his lips continue their assault against yours, prying yours open to give his tongue access to your mouth.

Thinking quick, you grip his bottom lip and bite down as hard as you can, drawing blood and successfully making him pull away from you.

He jumps back, one hand coming up to his mouth while you scramble back and away from him, chest heaving and eyes full of betrayal.

His jaw clenches and he takes a step towards you, only to stop when the doors to your chambers burst open.

“(Y/n)!” A familiar voice calls, two men rushing into the room and searching for you.

The tension in the room is palpable and the two Kings pick up on it instantly, their guards raising as they see the way you’re cowering from the blond King before you.

“Are we interrupting something?” Steve asks, his voice ringing with authority.

“No,” you say quickly, regaining your composure and squaring your shoulders as the words of the Valkyrie ring in your ears.

“Thor was just taking his leave,” you say pointedly, staring the King down for a long moment until he nods, bows then spins on his heel and leaves without a word.

You take a deep breath, power and fear chasing each other through your veins while your heart races in your chest.

“(Y/n), are you alright?” Steve asks softly, taking a step towards you and reaching for your hand. You yank it back towards your body, levelling him with a glare.

“If my purpose was solely to bear children, then why are you here if I failed?” The blond glances over at his husband, unsure of how he should address this.

“It is obviously not a secret. I have been threatened even since my departure, and the truth has been brought to my attention. So I ask again, why are you here?” James takes a careful step towards you, and then another, and another until he is standing just directly in front of you.

You keep your shoulders squared and your head held high, refusing to back down.

“(Y/n), there are things we must tell you... things we have not been completely honest about... things that involve our union, and our actions towards you. Will you allow us time to be honest with you?” You swallow hard but nod, wanting nothing more than the truth after all this time in the dark.

James takes your hand delicately in both of his and ushers you to the bed, sitting down beside you while Steve sits on your other side.

The brunet speaks first.

“We were told... by our council that we needed to find a wife. When they heard of our plans to join the two kingdoms of the North and wed each other... they tried to find any way to stop it. But upon seeing our power they relented until they realized that our reign would end if we did not have a queen.

“They gave us a timeframe to find a queen. One that could give us heirs and continue the lineage of both of us. We were presented with many women but you... you stood out from the many faces we saw.”

You frown, brows drawn together tightly as you ponder this.

“My purpose... right from the beginning was nothing more than what you had told me. What you said was true. What I was told is nothing but the truth,” you whisper to James, fighting back the tears that prick at your eyes.

Steve shakes his head, leaning closer to engage in the conversation. “No. Your purpose was... is to be our wife. A queen to our people and the mother of our children. You are meant to rule alongside us, not be behind or beneath us. You are our equal, although we have not treated you as such.”

You sniffle, shaking your head as if trying to shake your feelings away.

“Why have you treated me the way that you have? Why? What have I done to deserve such hostility?”

The two exchange long glances before James sighs and takes your hand, leading it to the thin scar at the base of his skull.

“Someone has operated on me. Altered me in a way that makes me hostile towards you and Steven. We do not know who, but we know that they are close enough to be near me without raising suspicion. I will never be able to apologize enough for my actions. I have hurt you far more than I ever could have imagined myself capable of. But with the help of doctor Banner, we were hoping to have more clues as to who is responsible for this. However, he is still in quite an unstable condition.”

You swallow hard, this new information having you beyond overwhelmed.

“Who would conspire against you in such a way? Who would have such hatred in their heart for the two of you that they would take it out on me?” The two kings sigh, their hearts heavy and their eyes filled with sadness.

“We do not know. But one thing is certain: we will not rest until we figure out who it is and until they are brought to justice.”

~*~

The two Kings settle in the guest chambers for the night, having insisted that you get your own space and that you are welcome to join them if you feel so inclined.

Your mind is still in shambles, thoughts scattered and emotions all over the continent as you prepare for bed.

A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts and you softly call for them to enter, your guard raising in an instant.

“How may I help you, Your Majesty?” You ask, jaw clenched tightly.

Thor takes a deep breath then lets it out, pacing slowly around your chambers.

“I stepped very far out of line, (Y/n). I let my emotions get the better of me and I was foolish. I apologize sincerely for my actions.” You watch him with furrowed brows, not sure if you should trust him.

“You have... entranced me. Bewitched me. Your husbands have not treated you fairly and, even in the short time that I've known you, I can tell that you are a woman deserving of the world. And if the world cannot be given to you then you deserve everything in it. And yet here you are, cowering from your own kingdom because they failed to protect you.” You want to interrupt. To tell him that he is not aware of the extent of the trauma that the Kings themselves have faced, but you hold your tongue instead.

“I can only hope that one day you will be able to forgive what has transpired today. For I value your company and your companionship and I would be devastated to lose it in any way. However, I will not blame you if you were to push me away. I was out of line and I allowed myself to be weak in a moment when I should have been strong. You needn’t give me an answer tonight, but I am offering my sincerest apologies. While you are here the Palace is yours. Anything you require will be brought to you promptly.”

He’s quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, his eyes on the ground.

“I bid thee goodnight, and I hope pleasant dreams find you tonight.” He turns to leave and you sigh, shaking your head.

“Thor, wait.” He does, turning back to look at you with those soft blue eyes of his.

“I appreciate and accept your apology. I do not look at you any differently because of what transpired, and I am grateful that you came to explain it. I appreciate your friendship and I am glad to have found solace in you, and it would be a shame to squander it over something so trivial.” He smiles, relief and happiness plain as day on his face.

“Good. Thank you for your understanding, (Y/n). Goodnight.” He leaves without another word and you put your head in your hands, beyond confused and frustrated with the feelings stirring inside of you.

You would be lying if you said that the Asgardian King wasn’t attractive. And he has been a friend in times when you’ve otherwise had none.

Shaking the intrusive thoughts out of your head, you exit your chambers and pad softly down the hall, stopping in front of the chambers that have been set aside for your husbands.

You knock twice, butterflies finding a home in your belly as you wait for one of them to allow you entrance.

The door gets pulled open and James stands in front of you, the formal look on his face dropping to give way to a soft smile.

“May I join the two of you tonight?” You ask quietly, looking between him and Steve. The blond looks on eagerly from his spot on the bed, nodding his head quickly.

“Of course, My love.” You bow your head in thanks and enter the room, oblivious to the eyes following your every move from a dark corner of the hallway.

The door shuts behind you but you continue to the bed, crawling on next to Steve while James extinguishes the lanterns lighting the room.

Steve makes room for you in the centre of the bed, pushing the blankets aside to allow you to get comfortable. James climbs on behind you, waiting until you’re settled to get comfortable himself.

Neither of the Kings touch you. No, they stay a respectable distance away.

“I am not so angry that I will not allow my husbands to embrace me,” you say softly, eyes closed as the events of the day catch up to you.

You’re then being held on either side by strong arms and right then and there, in that very moment, you feel the safest you have ever felt in your life.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝙅𝙀𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙎𝙔 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

∘ request(s):

Ooh maybe edgy!karl teaching skateboarding :o. I’m also in uni and I remember my first frat party was quite interesting 😂 -🦋

ahhhh part four of your edgy karl was soooo good!!! could i get jealous karl? maybe someone else is hitting on the reader at a party

please please please more edgy!karl if u can. like maybe where him and reader get into a fight because he gets like jealous and he just shows the reader who they belong to fjsjjsj thankyouuu !! 🤍🪐 x

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, light bdsm, jealous, somewhat toxic behavior, crude language, frat boys (again), mentions of masterbation, biting, domination, spanking

∘ word count: ~3200

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

a/n: not me having to watch daddy tony hawk tutorials for this bc I'm uncultured and only skateboarded for like three months when I was 14 :)))

thank you for all the requests (especially 🦋 ily). if any of you have ideas for what I should call this series, lemme know! as always, have a great week and happy reading :)

♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

The parking lot behind the campus union was barren. The morning dew in the air left a sweet smell to combine with Karl’s cologne as he walked beside you, his arm bumping yours as he listened to you nervously ramble on about one of your classes. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of falling on your ass in front of Karl terrified you more than anything. This man had degraded you and made you completely submit to him in the past, yet you were worried that not being able to master his ~craft~ would ruin his image of you. 

He dropped his skateboard, his feet settling on it lazily as he rolled beside you. You watched quietly as he stopped, kicking his foot down on the front of his board so it popped into his hand. “You won’t fall. I’ve got you,” he joshed, tugging on your hand so you were in front of him. 

He set the board down, his hands going to your hips as you stepped on it. His fingers dipped under the hem of your sweatshirt, your skin lighting up at his touch as if his hands belonged on you. “You look like an anemic Victorian boy. I don’t trust you as a safety net,” you grumbled, your hands covering his. You knew, roughly, how to skate from a middle school phase you had. Karl only promised to teach you a few tricks, but to say you were rusty would be an understatement. 

He chuckled darkly, nudging you closer to the middle of the board and peering over your shoulder to look at your stance. “I’ve fucked you without your feet touching the floor. I think I can catch you before you hit the ground, baby,” he chided, making you scoff. 

Your cheeks flushed with heat at his words. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you mumbled. He instructed you on how to kick the board up to where you needed it. His words were simple and almost plain like he knew you could figure it out. You attempted to push the board up, but crashed into Karl’s arms, your back thumping against his chest. 

He giggled slightly as he straightened you up, setting you back on the board as his foot kept it from rolling out from under you. His hands hovered over your hips again as he moved his foot, leaving you to balance on your own. “If you fall correctly, people will just think you were giving really good head,” he jested. You shoved his arms away at his words as he laughed at his own joke. 

You attempted a few more times and nearly had it down before Karl’s hands were on your hips again, giving you further instructions. You fought not to smile as his breath ghosted against your neck. You knew he cared about teaching you something that---on paper---was seemingly so easy, but his vulgar teasing was beginning to swarm your head. With his next steps set as your goal as well as the feeling of his hold on you, you kicked the board up and attempted to jump with it. While your brain was up to speed, your feet weren’t, sending the board out from beneath you and you to fall into its place. 

Karl snorted as choked back a laugh at you scrapping your hands on the concrete. “Come on, don’t be a pussy. Try again,” he chided, voice uneven and laced with whatever dark humor he was getting from watching you do this. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, letting him tug you up in front of him. As you wobbled on the board once again, you let his hands dig into your sides. Obviously, it seemed that he actually was worried about dropping you again, despite the fact that he was holding back some kind of sick laugh. “You would be great at teaching a kid how to ride a bike,” you quipped, the fact that he called you a pussy seeping into your mind. 

You gasped slightly as you slipped again, this time Karl’s arms wrapping around you tightly, pressing your body against his. “Awe, you want me to put a baby in you, pet?” He jeered with his lips near your ear. You shrugged out of his grip, breaking up your indecent thoughts at his comment. 

You could feel the heat rising to your ears as you balanced on his skateboard again. “Stop, you perv,” you deflected, hoping he couldn’t tell how hard you were having to bite back a smirk. 

After your skateboarding escapades, you sat typing away at your computer, Karl occasionally looking over his phone to peer at you. His legs were thrown lazily on either side of you as he stretched out on his pillows. 

An alarm went off on Karl’s phone, startling you in the process. He fought against smirking at your surprise as he sat up, crawling over to you. “Okay, I gave you two hours,” he stated, leaning forward to press his lips against yours and gently close your computer. The taste of him on your tongue was like a drug for you, leaving you constantly wanting more. 

You smirked into his kiss as your brain finally caught up with you. “I hope that document saved, asshole,” you groaned, pushing him back into his pillows as he chuckled at you. His fingers dragged up the length of your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his hands as you straddled him. “Fucking weirdo, timing me. Who are you, my dad?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his neck and digging your fingers into his hair. 

He moaned lowly, grinding against you. “Oh fuck yeah. Call me daddy,” he cantered. 

“No,” you answered simply. You sat up, reaching over to his top drawer in search of protection, but running your fingers over a lacy garment instead. Your brows knitted together as your gaze shot to the drawer, your underpants dangling from your finger. Karl tucked his hands behind his head, looking up at you nonchalantly as your mind flashed with memories of your time in the bathroom. 

Before you had the opportunity to ask him what he was still doing with them, his door popped open to reveal one of Karl’s roommates, his name beginning with a D but slipping your mind. “What are you guys doing in here?” He asked with a rather dopey smile, gesturing to Karl still between your legs. “Everyone’s downstairs, come on.” You and Karl shared a look as he left. 

You leaned back down to him, kissing him briefly before pressing your lips to his neck again. “Wanna come over instead?” You suggested softly, your lips ghosting over his ear. 

Karl loped down the stairs in front of you, a heavy layer of smoke hanging in the air above your heads. A mass of people crammed themselves together, finding solace in each other after the long week. If you weren’t so hung up on getting into Karl’s pants, you might have considered joining them. 

Before the two of you could reach the door, someone called out for Karl. Their voice boomed over the loudness of the music, making Karl wince slightly. His face flattened into a frown as “Todd” waved at the two of you. Karl took a few slugging steps to stand close enough to Todd’s group that they wouldn’t have to yell at each other. You settled your hand on Karl’s hip as you wrapped your hand around his waist, leaning against him. Todd’s eyes traced over you. 

He wet his lips. “You guys leaving already?” He asked, leaning back in his chair and accepting the joint offered to him. From an outsider’s perspective, he looked like the king of the castle. Luckily, you knew better. “Come on, play a game with us!” He suggested, patting the empty spot beside him. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell Karl was rolling his eyes. “I got a seat warmed up for you, baby girl,” he nodded towards you. 

You perked an eyebrow in his direction and Karl slipped his hand into yours nonchalantly. “Thanks, but no,” Karl stated. 

“Come on, Karl. Don’t make me pull pin.” At Todd’s words, Karl groaned reluctantly, the sound barely audible. You furrowed your brows at him. “Fifteen minutes. We were gonna play Never Have I Ever.” 

You leaned towards Karl. “What’s pulling pin?” You mumbled. 

“Flexing rank,” he grunted back. He tugged you with him to join the group. Before you could sit down, Todd pulled you into the spot beside him. You laughed nervously, watching as Karl’s features darkened as he sat across from the two of you. Todd handed you a drink, which you took but avoided sipping out of. 

A boy beside Karl piped up. “Okay, so never have I ever graduated high school. My degree is literally fake.” The boy smiled before taking a drink, making you giggle slightly. Todd draped his arm around the back of the couch where you were sitting. He wasn’t touching you exactly but every ounce of his being was getting under Karl’s skin. 

Todd smugly shook his head. “No, Zeke. Those aren’t the rules. You have to say something that’s not true about you. Like…” he trailed off slightly, his gaze settling on you before his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Never have I ever slashed someone’s tires.” 

You humored him with a subtle smile as if to ask if he was serious. He gestured towards Karl, who took a drink. You bit back a grin. “Well, never have I ever masturbated to a girl my roommate’s sleeping with,” Karl retaliated. Your eyes grew wide, suddenly happy to watch the event unfold before you. 

Todd took a drink after glaring at Karl. He leaned closer to you, this time his arm dropped to pull you against his side. “Do you wanna take a turn?” You shook your head, flashing your eyes to Karl before looping your fingers with Todd’s. Karl chewed the inside of his cheek, looking like he was holding back another laugh. “Alright, I’ll go.” Todd brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm. “Ah, I know. Never have I ever betrayed the secret oath of the frat and called the police.” 

Karl took another sip, his eyes on you. “Yeah, because never have I ever set the house on fire trying to light a bong,” he answered, making you snort. 

You let your free hand settle on Todd’s knee. “Awe, I’d light your bong for you,” you chided, making Todd laugh as he took a drink. 

“I bet you could do a lot for me, Princess,” he flirted, his lips nearing your ear. You raised your eyebrows in Karl’s direction, who was sitting with his chin in his hand. His expression was darkly entertained as you flirted with Todd. “Speaking of,” Todd looked to Karl again. “Never have I ever fucked someone on my roommate’s bed,” he teased, tucking his nose in the crook of your neck. 

Karl smirked. “You’re right, you probably haven’t,” he stated simply, downing the rest of his drink. Todd tensed slightly beside you. Karl stood, ruffling the hair of one of the other Brothers that were in the group before holding his hand out for you to take. As the two of you left, you heard one of the guys whistle and say something about never having peed in a pool before. 

As the two of you left the house, you walked in time with Karl’s heavy steps, swinging your entwined hands as if you were completely oblivious. “I can’t believe I made you jealous,” you taunted. You could practically see the steam rolling off his shoulders as he opened the passenger car door for you. Before you could slip into the seat, Karl’s hand gripped the back of your neck, bringing you to press your lips roughly against his. He pinned you between him and the cool metal of the car as the taste of beer spread across your tongue. 

His fingers dug into your hips, his other hand tightening around your throat. The coolness of his tongue ring was a welcomed sensation as you attempted to find friction against his hips. Your fingers moved to close around his wrist as he pulled away, leaving you gasping for air. His face was expressionless as his gaze danced from your lips to your eyes. “I’m going to fuckin’ ruin you for the way you acted,” he ribbed, stepping away from you. 

You nearly slid down the side of the car at his words. “Okay,” you whispered, heat rising to your cheeks and ultimately to your core. 

Karl’s calm exterior followed you until you finally got your apartment door open. Karl pinned you against the wood of your bedroom door, reaching to twist the lock as his lips began to commandeer your own. His hands dragged up your thighs beneath your skirt, squeezing at the flesh roughly. He yanked your shirt off, grinding his hips up and against yours as his teeth moved to nip at the skin of your neck before returning to badger your lips. 

The taste of beer on his lips blended with your flavored chapstick as your tongue slipped into his mouth. In a mess of tugging and biting each other, your body melted into his rough grasp. You wanted whatever repercussions his twisted mind could come up with. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted to you. You fought against diving your hands into his jeans to beg him to continue, but he broke away from you as you fought to catch your breath. 

Your lips were buzzing as the feeling of him still lingered. He brought his hand up to your jaw, tipping your chin up to him. “Fucking slut,” the devil’s grin painted across his face before he continued, pressing his lips against yours once more, his grin dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “You act like I don’t fucking own you,” he nearly growled, his face hovering over yours as his hand squeezed your throat. You moaned quietly as he regulated your breathing with his hand. You wanted to drink in his dark, commanding appearance. 

He pushed you back on the bed, making you instinctively crawl up towards the pillows. He smirked slightly, undoing his belt and slipping it into his hands. He put the garment on your bedside table. After tugging his shirt off, he was on top of you again, pushing you into the pillows and the fluffy comforter. Karl’s lips seared yours, showing you how much command he had over your body. He ground his hips against yours, the fabric of his jeans digging into you to elicit a moan echo from your mouth. You could feel his erection hardening against your leg, the tension deep within you tightening at the prospect of what he was going to do to you. 

His fingers tugged at your skirt, gripping the material in his fist and dragging it down your body as if it was nothing. He flipped you, your elbows crowding the pillows as you felt him sit on your back, snapping the belt in his hands again. You let out a short breath as Karl’s nails raked up your back before his fingers dipped in your hair, tugging your head back to look at him. “I want you to scream my name tonight,” he groaned. You obliged as he dropped his grip on you. 

He pulled your wrists between the bars of your headboard before binding you to the metal with his belt, yanking the leather to sinch against your skin. He dropped his head to press his lips against your shoulder, a tender nod of affection you knew would be the last. You leaned on your side to watch him sit back on his knees to unbutton his jeans. “Be gentle,” you leered, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to fight your grin again as you watched him spit into his hand and stroke himself in preparation.

He chuckled. “I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart,” he murmured darkly through a smirk. He pulled your hips up and against his own, forcing your face into the mattress. Your hands tightened around the metal bars, as he angled himself at your entrance before driving himself into with an act of force you knew you deserved. A moan of his name slipped past your lips as his fingers dug into your hips, thrusting into you to drive himself deeper into you. “That’s right. I want the neighbors to know who’s fucking you,” he groaned, snapping his hips against yours. 

Moans of pure bliss escaped your lips as his head neared yours. Karl used your hips as leverage for his unwavering pace, leaving you a mess of pleasure beneath him. His lips found their way to your neck as he nipped against the sensitive skin. You wanted him to mark you, to claim you, and he deserved to. His hand from your hair became wrapped around your throat as he began to reach his peak. 

His hand slapped your ass with such force you knew there was a handprint, but you were too overwhelmed with the noises escaping his lips and your climax threatened to disobey your control to be concerned with the sting. If anything it threatened to push you over the edge. Your hands pulled against the leather of his belt as he pounded into you. 

Your toes began to curl as he leaned over you, his breath fanning against your shoulder as you bit back heavy moans of pleasure. Karl’s hand was knotted in your hair again, his other fisting the sheets beside you. “Who’s making you feel this good? Huh?” You moaned out his name as he punctuated his sentence with the thrusts of his hips. “That’s right, you fucking slut.” You tightened around him, your orgasm sweeping over you with an element of shock. 

You could practically hear Karl’s smirk as he moaned at the sight of you coming undone beneath him. He continued to ride you, finishing rather abruptly. He pressed his lips between your shoulder blades before loosening the belt around your wrists. Your back popped as you were finally able to move freely. He bit back a chuckle as you gingerly snuggled beneath the covers beside him. You slipped your hand across his torso, hugging his side against your chest as he rested an arm behind your head. 

As you laid your head on his chest, his heartbeat began to steady, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. “I’d rather eat my own feet than sleep with Todd, you know,” you croaked, realizing just how much your voice was weakening, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

Karl chuckled softly. “Me too,” he commented, making you smile slightly. “I’m actually…” he paused slightly before continuing as if searching for what he wanted to say exactly. “I’m actually not sleeping with anyone else.” 

You couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your face. “I’m not either.” You hugged him tighter, letting his fingers twirl into your hair. “I’m good with you.” 

“I’m good with you, too,” he mirrored, a smirk evident in his voice as his other hand traced over the red marks on your wrists from his belt. 

Tags: 

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx

[hangovercurse]

I’d Drop it All for You

Pictures of you and Pete are spread all over the internet, causing a whirlwind of hate to enter your social media.

Request: “Pete content please! anything !!! smut fluff whatever”

Pete x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, depictions of depression and anxiety

A/N: *Insert normal spiel about respecting A.G. and only using her for plot purposes. No harm intended.* Also I wrote most of this after a meeting with my therapist so... enjoy :) (He’s so cute in this gif I wanna kiss his face)

Word Count: 1820

You weren’t one of those people who loved being the center of attention. You knew that being in the spotlight also meant constantly living under a microscope, and you decided a long time ago that that was not for you.

But you were lucky enough to work as an assistant art director at just 24. You were hoping that The King of Staten Island, your newest project, would help get your name out into the professional world. But that wasn’t the only thing to come out of the film.

It happened unexpectedly, you showed up on set the first day, ready to do whatever the art director required of you. You couldn’t help but be slightly distracted by the lead actor and writer, Pete Davidson. He was so kind and funny, and he wasn’t uptight like everyone else.

After a few hours of filming, he came up to you, introducing himself. He said he “wanted to get to know everyone working on the project,” but you didn’t see him introducing himself to anyone else. You two started talking during breaks. Then he started sitting with you at lunch. Then he was asking for your number.

In a matter of weeks he was asking you out to dinner, taking you to a cozy restaurant that you absolutely adored. He walked you home, his hand grazing yours until you intertwined your fingers.

It was all very romantic, so when Pete asked if he could take you on another, you obviously said yes. Flash forward two weeks and he finally got the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, even though you were both exclusively seeing each other already.

After filming ended 2 months later, you were still working on the film in post, which meant you had an excuse to stay  in Staten Island with Pete. After about 2 weeks in post, you spent more nights in his bed than your hotel’s.

Nearly 6 months later and you were happier than ever. You were splitting your time between your small apartment in the Bronx and Pete’s basement apartment. Pete introduced you to most of his friends, and you introduced him to yours.

But other than your small circles of friends, you kept your relationship fairly quiet. Pete doesn’t have social media and yours is strictly professional, so there are no pictures of you two together. You weren’t hiding each other, you loved each other, you just had no reason to tell tabloids. And you were perfectly happy with that.

Which made it so much worse when various news sites had pictures of you two holding hands. Had they been anyone else you would’ve thought they were cute, walking along the South Beach oceanside at night.

Pete had been in the SNL studio all day when the pictures were released, while you were in his apartment, trying your best to focus on the photoset in front of you. The production team wanted the film to scream “teen romance,” which basically entails subtle pink undertones and a higher saturation. But you couldn’t quite get the coloring right, probably because you weren’t actually focusing on the colors.

You sighed, looking at the time and realizing that Pete won’t be back until sometime after 2am, which was a whole 5 hours away. You let out a huff, pushing away from the desk and making your way to Pete’s closet and searching for one of his hoodies. They always smelled like him (and weed), so it was a comfort to you.

You crashed onto the bed, finding the phone that you had tossed there a few hours earlier. Turning it on you were surprised by the number of notifications you were getting. You knew the photos had surfaced but you weren’t expecting this.

Your Instagram was blowing up with new follows, likes, and comments. It was kind of exciting at first until you started reading some of the comments.

I mean, we knew he would downgrade from Ari, but this is like… really far down.

This girl really thinks she’s special just bc Pete’s dating her. Hun he could do so much better

Who is she?!? Literally no one.

Someone needs to show her how to dress

That hairstyle is not it honey

Pete Davidson is dating YOU??? He could do sooo much better

Ari was prettier sorry not sorry

The entire comment section on your last post, a picture of you on the set of your latest film, was pretty much the same. There were some nice comments, but a lot of mean ones.

And you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop looking at them. It felt so cliché, but it was like all of your deepest insecurities about being with Pete were thrown out on the table.

You knew that Pete had a fairly large following, and that a lot of people had really strong feelings about him. You had expected that if and when your relationship went public you would have a lot of people watching you, scrutinizing you. But you didn’t care because Pete was worth it.

Now you weren’t so sure. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle people talking bad about you, because you definitely could, even if it hurt. You just weren’t expecting the amount of people comparing you to Ariana or saying that Pete could do so much better.

And it only bothered you so much because you felt it too. Your inner demons loved to remind you that Pete had dated Ariana fucking Grande and now he’s dating you. Anyone could see an obvious downgrade.

You turned your phone off and threw it on the opposite side of the bed, trying to think positive thoughts. “I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions. I am catching my negative thoughts and fixing them.” You murmured your therapist’s mantra to yourself, but it was too late. The thoughts had already taken hold of your mind.

Your eyes started to water as you could feel the heavy feeling in your chest set in. You pulled the hood over your head, pulling the straps to hide as much of your face as possible, and pulling your knees to your chest. You laid like that for a while, tears falling as doubts ran through your head. Once you had effectively exhausted your thoughts, you went numb. Your tears had stopped, but you couldn’t move. This wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it sure wasn’t pleasurable.

There was a sort of buzzing throughout your body, almost like the feeling when your foot falls asleep, but everywhere. It seemed to block out your sound, as you didn’t hear the basement door open. You only knew that Pete was home when he sat beside you on the bed, pulling the hood off your face.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He smiled at you. You tried your best to fake one back, but you honestly couldn’t find the energy. Pete pulled you so you were sitting up, back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “What’s goin on?” He murmured against your skin.

“Did you see them?” You asked, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Pete let out a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them.” He paused, his hold on you getting tighter, like he was making sure you couldn’t leave. “I’m sorry baby. I know you didn’t want it to be a whole big thing.”

You turned your head to face him, “It’s not that. I really don’t mind that people know. We weren’t trying to hide anything.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I know I just- it was nice having this to ourselves.”

He wanted to hide you. He’s embarrassed of you.

Your inner dialogue never seemed to shut up.

You turned away from Pete, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Yeah.” You whispered.

“What’s wrong, you’re still upset.” He rocked you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. You shrugged in response, not trusting yourself to talk. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

You nodded, leaning further into Pete’s chest. “People found my Instagram.” You murmured, looking down and tracing the arrow tattoo on his hand.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was public?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, it is. But after all the articles people started following me and shit.”

“I would ask how that’s a problem but I deleted my Instagram so I can’t really talk.” You could tell he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t seem to get out of your haze.

You shook your head, deciding to drop the matter. “It’s not, I’m just being overdramatic.” You sighed, putting on a fake smile and facing him fully. “Wanna watch a movie?” You asked, trying to change the topic.

He gave you the I-know-you’re-bullshitting-me look, which made you look down. “Something’s bothering you, Y/N. And you’re trying to pretend it doesn’t because you think your feelings aren’t valid, but they are.” He tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes that were still trained on the bedsheets below you.

“Where’d you learn that one?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“Rehab part 2” he smiled, hand coming to your jaw to tilt your head up. “C’mon, talk to me. I wanna help.”

You huffed, moving towards the opposite side of the bed where your phone laid. You opened it, finding your Instagram, and showing him the comments. His eyebrows furrowed as he scrolled through the comments. When he decided he’d had enough he put your phone down, grabbing your waist and lifting you onto his lap so you were essentially straddling him.

He leaned his forehead against your own, your noses touching. “That’s all bullshit, you know that, right?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “Y/N you’re the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, okay? I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Pete’s eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out what was going on in your head.

“I know.” You sighed, “It’s just hard to be with you and not compare myself to her. And then all these people started to do it too, and they kept saying that you could do so much better and you can. So, I dunno I guess I just kind of spiraled.”

Pete captured your lips in a long, passionate kiss. “Y/N. There is literally no better than you. I can’t do better because you are the best woman I have ever loved. “

You pulled Pete in for another kiss. “Thank you, Pete. I love you.”

“I love you too. If this happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’d drop it all for you.” You smiled, sitting in the arms of the guy you loved. The thoughts didn’t just magically go away, but for a brief moment in time, you were happy.

[thebloggerbloggerfun]

@jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time @katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

LINK

Thanks for letting me write this, guys!!

AO3  (2.1k)

The thing about Heaven was that it was whatever you wanted it to be, and most of its residents wanted it to be familiar.

Technically, Dean didn’t need to fill his car up on gas anymore, but there was still a gas station just down the street from where his new home was placed. He didn’t need to sleep, but he still had a large king-sized bed he made sure to make use of at least once a day. He didn’t need to eat, but there was a thriving supermarket that catered to whatever he was feeling like eating and always boasted the freshest ingredients for when he wanted to get a little fancy with his cooking.

Like today, for example.

Bobby had said he doubted Dean could make a proper souffle, so obviously Dean had to make the old man eat his words - and a souffle.

Dean stared at all of the different options of eggs, trying to decide if “free-range” vs. “organic” actually meant anything in Heaven, or if it was just meant to give him some sort of familiarity.

He grabbed the “free-range” option and moved on to the dairy.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye in the meat section across the way, and the way his heart stopped in his chest when he turned to look would have killed him if he wasn’t already dead.

It was Cas.

Cas, who Dean had spent every day thinking about since he’d left. Cas, who Dean had been trying to find ever since Bobby told him he was still around. Cas, who Dean still had unfinished business with.

He’d spend hours in bed, staring at the ceiling of his room and rehearsing just what he’d say when he saw him again, but in those scenarios Cas had shown up on his doorstep or in the passenger seat of his car where they could have a moment to just be .

He’d never been buying hamburger meat.

Dean rushed forward, cart forgotten, and skidded to a halt in front of Cas, just as he looked up in surprise.

“I love you -” Dean said in a rush, heart pounding, head reeling, “Of course I love you. You’re - fuck - you’re everything I could ever want and I’m - I’m so damn sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t have me, too.”

Cas blinked at him, and it was in that moment Dean realized something was wrong.

His expression, his hair, the way he moved, the way he was dressed - all of it was wrong.

None of it was Cas, he’d just been too overwhelmed to see it.

“Oh, uh... hey Dean,” Not-Cas said, and finished putting his selected meat in his basket, “I didn’t didn’t know that you died. Um, if you’re looking for Castiel -“

Dean turned and ran out of the store.

*

What were the fucking chances that in all of Heaven, he and Cas’s old vessel were neighbors?

Dean gunned the gas pedal on his car as he drove endlessly, trying to walk himself through what exactly had happened the day before.

Jimmy Novak was here.

Jimmy Novak who - last Dean checked - hated him.

Dean had just spewed his feelings all over him without even thinking about the possibility that he wasn’t Cas. He’d been wearing a sweater vest for crying out loud - but he was willing to forgive himself for that one because he didn’t really know how Cas would dress if he had the choice.

His hopes had soared so high when he’d seen the familiar figure, only to be dashed the moment Jimmy had opened his mouth. They sounded absolutely nothing alike - and Dean yearned for the deep gravel of Castiel’s greeting.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened.

Where was Cas?

Didn’t he know that there was nothing keeping them apart now?

In what could only be an act of fate smiling down on him, Dean zoomed around a corner near the Heavenly library, and instantly had to stomp on the brakes of the Impala as a trenchcoat-clad figure stepped into the previously empty crosswalk.

Old habits die hard - Dean was still going to brake for Heavenly pedestrians, especially ones that looked like Cas.

Cas turned to look at him, eyes wide, and Dean shoved the driver’s side door open in a panic. The trench coat was unmistakable this time.

“Cas! Cas - don’t go okay? I gotta -“

Cas shook his head sharply and let out a breath.

“No - Jesus Christ - it’s still me, you idiot.”

Dean gaped at him as his brain tried to catch up with the conflicting bits of information it was processing.

“...what?” He heard himself saying.

Had he just wanted it to be Cas so bad that he’d ignored all the signs?

Jimmy gestured at himself like it was enough of an explanation.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“But - but you’re wearing his trenchcoat! ” Dean said, waved at it like maybe Jimmy hadn’t realized he was walking around as the mockery of the angel who’d once shared a living space with him.

Jimmy placed an affronted hand on his own chest.

“It was my trenchcoat!”

Frustration boiled inside of him and Dean quickly slid back into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

He sped off, once again running from what could have been.

*

Dean was sulking under a pile of blankets in his bed when there was a knock at his door.

He ignored it.

After a few moments of silence, the knocking came again, louder and more insistent this time.

Grumbling to himself, Dean threw the blankets off and trudged down the stairs, flinging open the door with a scowl.

A person with nearly combed hair was standing on the doorstep holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and had a sticker on his shirt that said, ‘Hello, my name is Jimmy’.

“Very funny.” Dean said flatly.

“It’s not funny. It’s just in case you try to kiss me or something.” Jimmy held up the six-pack expectantly. “Can I come in?”

Dean didn’t appreciate the ribbing, but he didn’t mind the beer.

And after accosting him twice he might as well let the guy do what he wanted.

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean grumbled and left the door open as he walked back inside and flopped onto his couch. “Why are you here? Don’t you hate me?”

Jimmy hummed as he set the beer down on the coffee table and took a seat opposite Dean.

“I don’t not hate you.” He said with a shrug. “But last time we talked you were trying to convince me to chain myself to a comet again and I can’t say I appreciated it.”

Dean grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’ve been in heaven for a while now. It’s nice here. I take a yoga class with my wife.” Jimmy smiled at him. “I think I’m in a much better mental space now to consider liking you, especially if we’re going to be neighbors.”

Dean winced.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like Jimmy, it was just… that was Cas’s face. It wasn’t , but it was. Was he really going to have to be constantly taunted with it?

“Look man - I’m sorry about - you know. That.” Dean waved a hand in the air generally. “But you don’t have to do all this. I’ll stop harassing you.”

“That would be nice,” Jimmy said, opening one of the cans and taking a swig, “So, considering the things you’ve said to me, I take it he finally told you he loved you?”

Dean paused, still raw every time he thought about it.

“You knew?”

Jimmy smirked.

“That angel’s love for you permeated both of our beings so potently I’m amazed I don’t love you.” Jimmy said, like it was the kind of fact you could drop casually. “Though even I will admit, as a happily married heterosexual man, that having a man as handsome as you proclaim your love to me in the middle of a grocery store was very exciting.”

Dean dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Jimmy said, “That first one was pretty good. I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

“He’s never gonna hear it.” Dean muttered.

“Sure he will. You’ve already practiced it twice.”

“I can’t find him!” Dean said, and looked back up, “He’s here somewhere, and I can’t find him. It’s killing me.”

Jimmy held out a beer can.

“Good thing you’re already dead.”

Begrudgingly, Dean accepted the beer and opened it.

“I just. . . I just wanna see him again.” Dean took a long drink. “I want to talk to him. Tell him everything. Share everything. If he wants that.”

Dean let out a long breath, expecting Jimmy to interject with a quip.

He looked over at him when nothing happened, and Jimmy was smiling at him in a way that Dean could only describe as ‘fond’.

“What?” Dean said, indignantly.

“Nothing.” Jimmy said innocently. “You’re just not what I expected.”

Dean looked away.

“Anyway, you asked why I’m here,” Jimmy took another drink, “I’ve seen Castiel.”

“What?” Dean jumped to his feet, beer can dropped to the floor and forgotten about. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I’m an enigma,” Jimmy shrugged a shoulder and leaned back against the plush chair, “Anyway, I wanted to let you know as someone who has literally been in Castiel’s head - I'm pretty sure I know the reason he’s not showing himself to you.”

“Well, fucking spill.”

Jimmy paused.

“Why do you love him?”

Of all the things Dean had been expecting Jimmy to say - this wasn’t it.

Dean sat back down.

“Why?” He asked, a little breathless. “Why does it matter?”

Jimmy shrugged again.

“I guess -” Dean said, trying to unspool his emotions from the knot they’d made in his heart, “He’s - he’s Cas. He cares . . . so much about everyone and - and he’s selfless and kind and he fucking saved me in more ways than just one. He’s always been there for me and Sam and he’s just… he’s just. He’s just good . I’ll never deserve him, but I want to try.”

Dean sucked in a deep breath.

“He pulls me away from the edge, man. I just love him.”

Jimmy nodded once, set down his beer can, and in a bizarre turn of events, began yelling at Dean’s ceiling.

“Did you hear that, Castiel? Not one goddamn thing about how you look! Nothing about me or my vessel!”

Dean stared, dumbfounded.

“Wh-”

“He doesn’t care what you look like! Can you please just come talk to him so I can stop playing marriage counselor for you two?”

Care how he - what?  

What was happening?

Before Dean could fully compile all of the new information, there was a hesitant knock at the front door.

Dean whipped his head towards Jimmy, who was smiling in satisfaction.

Nearly tripping over himself, Dean rushed to the door faster than he’d rushed towards anything in his life, and swung it open.

In front of him was the wavelength of celestial intent that Dean had always known existed inside of the vessel of Jimmy Novak - the glint of angelic creation he’d caught glimpses of in the glow of his eyes and in his healing touch. The being was massive and stretched high into the sky with what was (maybe three? four??) pairs of wings scraping the clouds even further above everything. He was flaming rings and rotating divine faces that Dean could barely comprehend - he was raw power and all-knowing eyes.

On the front of his form was a sticker that read, ‘Hello, my name is Castiel’.  

“. . . Hello Dean.” The voice rumbled through the air like thunder.

“Cas?” Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I - yes. I’m sorry. I lost my vessel to the Empty - this was the only way -”

“I love you, too.”

The rotating faces on the form towering above him froze in place.

“I do! I love you, Cas. Okay? You didn’t let me say it back before - and if I’ve ever made you feel like I couldn’t love you back, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”

“. . . you love me?”

Dean nodded, his heart clenching at the disbelief he could hear in Cas’s voice.

“ Even as this?”

“You’ve always been this.” Dean swallowed. “I fell in love with the angel, not the vessel.”

“Dean. . .”

Dean smiled up at him in understanding.

“Just a shame that we’ll have to get a bigger house.”

“Oh I can -”

And as Dean looked on, Castiel began to shrink. The form didn’t change - he was still as striking as he’d been the first time with his wings and halos and faces still firmly in place - but he was now maybe one foot taller than Dean instead of one hundred.

“- make myself more manageable.”

Dean grinned and took a step forward, giddy and thrilled that this was finally, actually happening

He reached up, resting a hand on one of the divine faces.

“Bite-sized.” He murmured fondly.

Jimmy’s voice cut through the moment from somewhere behind them.

“Just so you two know - I. Am. Moving!”

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin becomes a little obsessed with time, and how it’s running out:

Merlin struggles with a massive workload, and doesn’t understand how to ask for help, even with the simplest tasks, because people are relying on him. For small things, and large. He can’t let anyone down. He can’t.

REQUESTED

TW: not eating or sleeping properly, a little blood

Merlin is tired.

No one really notices the exhaustion, not at first anyway, what they do notice, is how much busier he seems to be.

He’s rushing around the castle so quickly, fetching and carrying things for Gaius, completing various chores for King Arthur, and trying to fix any problem he comes across (both the mundane, and the... less so), that no one sees him for long enough to notice the bags under his eyes. No one notices the way he sways on his feet if he stands still long enough. And if they do notice? Well, he’s rushing off to complete the next task on the list before they can say anything.

The few times he’s stopped to chat, he’s been quiet; polite but not really friendly.

His friends brush it off at first, he’s always been the type to rush places, and they figure he’s just got a lot of things to organise with the Yule celebrations coming up.

It had never really occurred to Merlin, but being the King’s Personal Manservant actually made him one of the most highly ranked servants in the castle. And that meant, everyone asking him for help, all the time.

Anything in the castle that could possibly concern The King, even briefly, was run by Merlin first. Everything from flower arrangements, to the week’s dinner menu, to which chambers to house guests in, to when exactly The King would like this paperwork completed.

It wasn’t too bad at first, Merlin had managed to stay on top of things for years, even during busier times such as these.

But this winter was different somehow. 

Merlin was a fully trained physician by this point, and he didn’t like to think about it much, but Gaius was getting older, quicker and quicker it seemed.

This just meant that more and more of the excursions that Gaius used to take outside the Physician’s chambers, were now being passed on to Merlin. 

He valued the trust that Gaius placed in him, but a trip to the lower town to treat this year’s strain of flu took him away for almost a week.

Long nights consoling young children who were in pain, followed by long days making it to as many houses as possible, to treat as many people as possible, meant he lost out on a lot of sleep. Especially since his mind was thinking about a million other things at the same time.

After finally getting the outbreak under control, he made quick work of the journey back to the castle, only to find a list of various speeches that needed writing and chores to catch up on, and a long line of panicking servants who needed whatever duties they had double checked.

Merlin had barely caught up on all of that work, staying up late through the night, when a second outbreak occurred in a different section of the city.

Gaius had made it clear to The King that the people’s health, and therefore Merlin’s position as Secondary Physician, should come first; Arthur whole heartedly agreed, and gave Merlin the time off to deal with it happily enough, but that didn’t erase the huge list of things he still had to get done when he returned.

He was only gone for three days this time, but with Yule getting closer and closer and foreign nobles arriving for the celebrations, Merlin had a ridiculous number of things to do when he got back. 

The headache that had been coming and going over the last month soon became permanent, and the shaking in his hands became something he had to actively account for any time he carried something heavier than a plate.

~

Merlin was rushing from the kitchens to the stables after dropping off Arthur’s empty breakfast tray when he heard it.

He paused in the corridor, leaning his weight against the cold stone of the wall as he strained his ears.

Just as he was about to write it off as him hearing things due to the lack of sleep, he heard it again, clearer this time, like someone was crying just on the other side of the stone.

He backtracked down the corridor a few metres, and slowly pushed open the door to a storage room, only to see Annabeth, the castle’s youngest serving girl, having a cut on her cheek being cleaned by George.

The both of them look up in shock at the intrusion, and Merlin clenches his fists as he sees the tears on Annabeth’s cheeks. He is especially worried when he sees the concern, painted clear as day on George’s face. George who was well know for being the least reactionary, most expressionless servant in the castle.

He shuts the door behind him, and walks forward, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She immediately launches herself forward, and begins crying once again into Merlin’s chest.

He almost falls back, barely able to carry his own weight right now, let alone the weight of a distraught young girl, but thankfully George notices his imbalance and catches him with a firm hand on his back.

Merlin gives him a grateful, but bleary smile, as he strokes a comforting hand up and down Annabeth’s back. 

He nods to the bloody cloth in George’s other hand, and raises a questioning eyebrow.

George catches his meaning quickly, and replies in a quiet, but harsh voice:

“Lord Anselm reported that his manservant had taken ill, and requested that Annabeth take over. He was... displeased, with a dropped pillow.”

Merlin frowns in worry, as the girl, barely even fourteen summers, looks up at him with red eyes:

“I didn’t even drop it, it fell off his bed when I had my back turned. But he started yelling and he... he threw an empty goblet at me and then got even angrier at that mess. He wouldn’t let me leave for ages he was just standing over me and screaming.”

Merlin can see George tense in anger out the corner of his eye, and he calmly shushes the girl, wiping away her tears and giving her a small smile:

“He shouldn’t have done that, it wasn’t your fault. George is going to take you to Gaius, to get that looked at properly, and I’ll deal with Anselm until his manservant gets better, ok?”

George frowns slightly, but Annabeth speaks up before he can say anything:

“You won’t get in trouble, will you Merlin?”

Merlin gives her a cheeky wink and ruffles her hair:

“I’m always in trouble.” She giggles slightly, and Merlin counts that as a win.

She steps back, and George takes her hand, but he looks at Merlin, speaking quietly once again:

“Are you sure? I know you’ve got a lot of work at the moment, you can drop her off at Gaius’ and I can serve Lord Anselm, if you like.”

Merlin shakes his head, but realises quickly that was a bad idea as his vision starts swimming. He closes his eyes tightly for a few seconds and takes a deep breath, before looking back at an obviously concerned George and replying:

“No, it’s fine, I can deal with him. All those bloody quests Arthur drags me on means I’m well equipped to deal with people like Lord Anselm. Though I would appreciate it if you could pass by the stables and let them know to have Arthur’s horse prepared for noon, tomorrow.”

The fact that George’s lip twitches only slightly at Merlin’s address of the King, tells Merlin that the man is truly worried about Annabeth, and now probably Merlin’s safety as well.

He nods his head slightly, with a quiet “Of course.” and with that, the three of them leave the storage room.

They head in opposite directions, but after moving only a few feet, George looks back and calls to Merlin over his shoulder.

Merlin turns, slowly this time now that dizziness has become a problem, as George asks with a frown:

“Are you sure you’re alright, Merlin?”

Merlin gives him a small nod and smile, before waving him off:

“Yeah, I’m fine, just tired. I’ll see you later.”

George’s frown deepens, but he nods slightly, and turns back around again, leading Annabeth in the direction of the Physician’s chambers.

Merlin took a deep breath and rubbed harshly at his eyes as he watched them turn the corner, before turning in the opposite direction, and making his way to the guest chambers.

Lord Anselm was a visitor from a neighbouring kingdom, known for his harsh treatment of anyone he deemed below him (which... to be honest... was everyone, as far as he was concerned). He was here for the Yule celebrations, and to suck up to the King no doubt.

Merlin paused outside the room, taking another deep breath and trying to not look so exhausted, before knocking politely on the door.

A voice grumbles from the other side, calling for him to enter.

Merlin entered slowly, and shut the door behind him, immediately spying the Lord eating his breakfast at the table. He was an intimidating man, tall, even taller than Merlin, with a heavy gait, a thick beard, and a permanent scowl.

He looks harshly at Merlin, and roughly asks:

“Who the hell are you? Where’s my girl?”

Merlin clenches his hands behind his back, but replies neutrally, looking somewhere over the Lord’s shoulder:

“I’m afraid she has succumbed to an injury, and won’t be serving you anymore. I’m The King’s personal manservant, meaning I won’t be able to serve you full time. We’re a little understaffed at the moment, My Lord. Is there anything I can do for you this morning?”

The man growls and stands up, stalking quickly towards the manservant.

Merlin was especially glad that he was made aware of his balance and dizziness issues earlier, because if he hadn’t, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to hold himself upright when Lord Anselm swung a harsh fist to the side of his face.

He smirked horribly as he said:

“Insolent little thing, aren’t you? Are all of King Arthur’s servants so pretty?”

Merlin’s head rocked violently to the side, and he took a step back, before righting himself. He took a subtle deep breath as he winced in pain, but schooled his face back into indifference as he returned his gaze to just over The Lord’s shoulder:

“Would you like me to return your tray to the kitchen, My Lord?”

Anselm growled once more, obviously unhappy with the lack of reaction, and brought down a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder, leaning in close and snarling:

“You do that, pretty boy.”

Merlin waits impassively for him to release the bruising grip he had on his shoulder, before stepping around him and clearing away the tray.

Lord Anselm stared at him distastefully, but Merlin dutifully ignored it, and headed to the chamber door with the tray of leftovers and dirty plates. Anselm turns quickly towards him:

“Hurry back. I have things that need doing.”

For the first time since he entered the room, Merlin looks him straight in the eyes before saying:

“Like I said My Lord, we’re incredibly understaffed at the moment. I’m afraid no one will be able to serve you until your own manservant recovers from his illness.”

The shocked look on the Lord’s face gives Merlin just enough time to leave the room and hurry half way down the corridor, before Anselm followed him out.

Merlin heard the door bang off the wall as Anselm ripped it open, ready to shout, enraged, but the sight of the guards patrolling the corridor stopped him, and he slammed the door shut again with a huff.

Merlin let out a relieved breath. He had hoped that the sight of the guards would stop him from making a scene, and he was glad he was right.

One of the guards, an older man named Gavin who had always been kind to Merlin, stopped him with a hand on his (unbruised) shoulder:

“You alright Merlin? I though Annabeth was serving him?” He nodded at the other guard to continue on, mumbling that he would catch up in a minute, before looking back at Merlin, who blearily nodded:

“He threw a tantrum, hurt her. George took her to Gaius and I said I would deal with him.”

The guard frowned and muttered “bastard” under his breath, but widened his eyes as he saw the bruise blooming on Merlin’s cheek:

“Bloody hell, Merlin, do you always take over for the violent ones? You should get that checked out.”

Merlin sighs and shakes his head, only slightly:

“It’s fine, I’ve got too much else to deal with at the moment. The manservant he brought with him is sick, and Annabeth is certainly not serving him again, so I told him he would have to deal with minimal serving, until his servant gets better.”

Gavin let out a breath, and chuckled slightly:

“Pfft. Balls of steel, Merlin. Go on, you look in a hurry, I won’t keep you.”

With that, Merlin gives him a brief smile, before rushing towards the kitchens once again, trying not to feint the whole way.

~

The whole ordeal only pushed him twenty minutes behind, but twenty minutes was a problem when he was already three days behind on Arthur’s laundry, two days behind on stocking up on ingredients for Gaius, and two weeks overdue for a lunch with Gwen. 

Plus he still had one speech left to proof read, and considering Arthur wrote it himself, it’s more likely to end up being a full re-write, rather than a proof read.

OH, and that leak that he’d promised the stablehands he would help fix.

Ah shit. He also had to collect Gwaine’s spare sword from the blacksmith at some point, before he forgot again.

AND there was a huge delivery of flowers today, no doubt there would be some sort of problem with that.

All of that, on top of the fact that no one has tried to kill Arthur in recent weeks, and it was starting to unnerve him.

His journey to the kitchens went much like that. Task upon chore upon promise upon paranoid intrusive thought piling up in his head with every step.

He finally got to the kitchen doors, and paused outside. He took a deep, shaky breath, and shut his eyes tight, before forcing his mind to calm, and pushing through the door. 

The noise and smells immediately had him turn his head sideways, as if trying to escape the sudden onslaught, but the movement did nothing but force him to realise how much the side of his face had begun to throb.

He took another deep breath as the persistent noise, now in his mind, and out of it, made him want to scream. He resisted the urge, and dumped the tray next to the sink, before rushing out once again, ignoring the glares that the cook sent his way.

As he hurried down the corridor, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides in an effort to stop the shaking, he decided that laundry was the priority right now. If he could just get at least one basket done, that would be enough for today at least; and he could read over the speech whilst he did it.

Ok. ok. This is fine.

He finally made it to Arthur’s chambers, bursting in without knocking, and walking straight to the pile of dirty clothes. 

He doesn’t even have the energy to be annoyed at the fact that they were on the floor, instead of in the basket, and he certainly isn’t with it enough to notice the conversation between Arthur and George... wait... George??

Merlin is only lets his surprise distract him for a moment before he looks back to the laundry, bending over far too quickly, and having to hold himself up against the wall as his vision swims.

He vaguely hears George calling his name, but he waves his hand behind him absentmindedly and ignores him. He forces his eyes to focus again, as he picks up an armful of clothes.

He stumbles over to the desk, still not paying attention to the other two occupants of the room. He looks around blearily, once again beginning to clench and unclench his hands under the dirty clothes in his arms, just to stop himself from falling over.

He takes a deep breath, and interrupts whatever it is Arthur is saying:

“Speech.”

Arthur is clearly taken aback, having realised that Merlin hasn’t listened to anything either of them has said. George gives him a knowing look behind Merlin’s back, and Arthur frowns.

Merlin turns around, quick enough to make his vision blue once again, but not quick enough to make him fall over, and looks in Arthur’s vague direction:

“Speech. Where is it?”

Arthur gasps as he notices the now deep purple mark up the side of Merlin’s face and steps forward, George follows him, and takes the laundry from Merlin’s hands, and setting it on a chair before turning back to him.

He turns just in time to see Merlin almost tip backwards, and rushes forward, placing firm hand on his back once again.

Arthur slowly brings his hand up, concern written all over his face as his fingers hover just over the bruise:

“Merlin... what happened?”

Merlin rolls his eyes slightly as he turns back around to the desk, gently pushing George’s hand away and looking through the paperwork:

“Fell. Speech? I really do need it Arthur, I don’t have time.”

Arthur looks at George out the corner of his eyes, and George shakes his head, mouthing “Lord Anselm” .

Arthur frowns again, and picks up a piece of paper from his bedside table, going to hand it to Merlin, before snatching it back when he reaches for it:

“Not, until you tell me the truth, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs, and rolls his eyes again, before snapping:

“Fine, Lord Anselm punched me in the face because he’s a Lord and I’m a servant, and he can do whatever he wants to me and that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Speech. Please?”

In Arthur’s shock at Merlin’s bluntness, Merlin leans forward and grabs the piece of paper, before quickly turning away, ignoring the loss of vision at the sharp movement. He knew his way around Arthur’s chambers when he was asleep, he could manage a short black out.

He gathers up the laundry once again, and stumbles towards the door, interrupting Arthur’s:

“Merlin! Will you just-”

With:

“Don’t have time.”

And leaving the room before either of them can say anything more.

Arthur shakes himself free of the shock, and looks to George, bewildered:

“You really weren’t kidding were you? He’s completely out of it. Do you know what’s wrong?”

George frowns only slightly as he replies:

“It’s a busy time of the year My Lord, and we’re rather under staffed at the moment. Merlin has a habit of being unable to say no when people ask for help. That, on top of his normal duties to yourself and Gaius, and having to deal with the flu outbreak, I think- If I may speak freely, Sire?”

Arthur nods immediately:

“Of course, George, always.”

George nods gratefully before continuing:

“I think he’s just a little over-worked at the moment, My Lord. He’s never been good at asking for help.”

Arthur nods and hums thoughtfully. He thinks for a minute before looking back at the servant:

“Hmm. Keep an eye on him, won’t you George? I can’t have him keeling over, and make sure he gets some food in him.-”

George gives a firm nod:

“-Thank you, you’re dismissed, go back to your duties.”

With that, George turns and leaves the room, wiping the worried frown from his face and resetting it into his normal neutrality.

~

Merlin was unendingly grateful to find that the speech wasn’t actually that bad. By the time he finished hanging Arthur’s clothes to dry, he had a solid idea in his head of all the little bits he needed to tweak. He just needed to get a quill to it, and it’d be done and dusted.

He rushed as quickly as he was able without falling over, back to Arthur’s chambers, opening the door slowly this time; he really didn’t have the time to stop and chat, and if anyone was in there, he would just come back later.

Thankfully, the rooms were empty, and Merlin only had to spend around five minutes sat at the desk (where there was a small plate of food, labelled “For Merlin”, which of course went untouched. Deliberately ignored or just unnoticed, who knows), writing out his adjustments.

Five minutes however, was long enough for him to forget to not move too quickly, and the moment he tried to stand up, he immediately passed out. He fell back into the chair, and slumped forward onto the desk, his bruised cheek landing with a smack on the wood.

He woke again with a start, and jumped up quickly as he ran his hands through his hair roughly. He began to breath deeply, and tears came to his eyes as he brought his hands down roughly, gripping the edge of the table so hard he could feel his hands bruising.

Merlin, after managing to keep what he thought was a tight lid on it all day, was officially panicking.

His cheek was throbbing again, but he could barely feel it, only able to think about how much time he was wasting.

He can’t be taking naps now. He can’t. He doesn’t have the time. He’s still two days behind on laundry, two days behind shopping, two weeks since he’d last properly spoken to Gwen, he can feel a storm in the air so the leak HAS to be fixed now and Gwaine NEEDS his sword and where are those fucking flowers??

The more Merlin’s thoughts rush around his head, the more tasks he remembers that he needs to do, the more he panics. And the more he panics, the less he can breath, and the less he can breath, the more time, he is wasting.

When Merlin finally manages to open his eyes, which he hadn’t realised had been shut painfully tightly, he notices that the shadows on the walls have barely moved since he last checked.

Huh.

Ok.

He breaths slightly easier as he just about manages to drag himself over to a window, peering down into the courtyard below, to see that the castle was still busy.

He must’ve only been passed out for a few minutes at most.

It’s ok. There’s still time.

Merlin takes one last deep breath, pours himself a glass of water from Arthur’s jug and downs it all in one.

Ok. Too much to do, no more wasting time.

Merlin quickly straightens out the desk, leaving the speech in the middle for Arthur to see, and ignores the remaining fuzziness in his head as he stumbles out the door and down to the Physician’s chambers.

~

Merlin spends the next few hours down at the market.

He could feel his heart pounding louder in his ears with each second that he had to stand and wait in line, but it was no ones fault but his own that he had left the shopping too late.

He just had to be patient. Ignore the headache, ignore the pain in his cheek and shoulder, ignore the bruises on the palms of his hands from where he gripped the table, ignore the paranoid thoughts about assassins and poisoners and bandits.

By the time he made it back to Gaius’ chambers, it was dark. His hands shook violently, and he could barely see what he was unloading from his bags, but he kept pushing forward.

Without sparing a glance towards Gaius, he rushed out of the room again, now unhealthily used to the constant swimming in his vision, he dragged his hand along the stone walls of the castle corridor, and used that to navigate to the kitchen to pick up Arthur’s dinner.

The cook of course yelled at him about being late, but instead of brushing it off like he normally did, he internalised it.

He spent the whole journey up to Arthur’s chambers working himself up.

He was late. He was running out of time. He was so fucking tired. But that’s fine. That’s ok. One more job tonight, and he can rest. Just one.

He delivers Arthur’s food without a word, and if Arthur wasn’t worried before, he definitely was now.

Merlin lays out the meal, and quickly goes about lighting the fire for the night, and turning down The King’s bed. He turns to Arthur, not really bothering to focus his eyes and actually look at him, before saying:

“Anything else tonight, My Lord?”

The lack of sarcasm would be worrying enough to Arthur, but the way Merlin’s eyes stayed unfocussed, even as Arthur walked towards him, and the way his words slurred, almost sent him into a panic.

Merlin finally makes eye contact with him as Arthur grips his shoulders, but he quickly lets go when Merlin flinches in pain.

Fuck that hurt.

He’d forgotten about the bruised shoulder.

Arthur’s frown deepens:

“Merlin, are you alright? You look exhausted, you look sick. And you didn’t eat the food George left out.”

Merlin nods his head slowly, and moves towards the door, rolling his shoulder slightly to try and sooth the ache:

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine, and I’m not a dog Arthur. Just lots to do. Am I dismissed?”

Arthur nods slowly, but suddenly adds, as Merlin gets to the door:

“Yes, but only if you get something to eat and then go straight to bed. Get some sleep Merlin, whatever it is, can wait until morning.”

Merlin doesn’t look back at him, just waves his hand over his shoulder as he shuts the door behind him.

Ok. One more job. Just one more and then sleep. Maybe. He did have some useful new spells he needed to memorise... having as little time as he does means he should probably get at least a few done tonight.

Ok. One more job, then he can sit in bed and memorise some of those spells, then maybe he can get an hour or two of sleep before sunrise bought tomorrow’s jobs.

He headed over to the stables, at this time of night no one should be around, he can wave his hand, make some sparks, and the leak would be gone.

He halts in his tracks and his eyes widen as he subconsciously begins clenching and unclenching his hands once again.

No.

The stablehands know he promised to fix it. If they see it’s been fixed with some sort of miracle, instead of patched up properly, they’ll know.

Maybe he’s just being paranoid, but he’s also running on no food, no sleep, and a potential concussion. Trying to use magic right now was probably not his best idea.

He forces his hands to still, and continues his trek across the courtyard, towards the stables. 

The next time he stops, it’s because he hears the distinct sound of an armoured guard falling to the floor (the fact that he recognises the sound immediately, should tell you all you need to know about how insane Merlin’s life is).

Merlin rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose briefly as he mumbles:

“For fucks sake, I knew it had been too long.”

Without wasting another second, Merlin turns back around, and sneaks carefully to where he’d heard the noise come from.

He finally spies the slumped guard by the main entrance to the castle, and after establishing that the attacker was long gone, he rushes over.

The growing puddle of blood, and lack of pulse, worries Merlin endlessly. Whoever did this was good, the guard never saw it coming, and now he was dead.

Merlin doesn’t want to leave him like this, but in all likelihood, the assassin was going to head straight to Arthur’s chambers, and Merlin had to catch up before he could do any damage.

The exhausted manservant rushes through the large doors, trying ever so hard to focus eyes, and not quite managing it, but powering through anyway. Thankfully he new the route to Arthur’s chambers by heart, he didn’t have to be able to see to know where he was going. 

He’s already out of breath before he even reaches the staircase that leads up to the royal chambers, but he doesn’t have the time to stop and catch his breath. Arthur was in danger, and as per fucking normal, Merlin was the only one that seemed to know anything about it.

He forced himself up the steps, being mindful of his weak legs and using the wall to pull himself up as quick as he could.

He swore to himself as he turned the corner to see the vague outline of a man with a dagger slip unnoticed through the doors to Arthur’s chambers.

Where the fuck were the rest of the guards?? Merlin had expected to see a few more bodies on his way up but there had been none. Shift change over maybe? In which case, how did the assassin know?

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind; something to worry about later, as he sprints down the corridor.

He almost falls several times, tripping over nothing but his own exhaustion, but he uses his own momentum to stop himself tipping over, forcing his feet to just keep moving forward.

He bursts into the room loudly, and the assassin, who had almost reached Arthur slumped over asleep on his desk, whips his head around to stare at him in shock.

The King mumbles from his spot on the desk:

“Merlin... I told you to get some sleep.”

That seems to snap the assassin out of his surprise, and he lurches towards Arthur, bringing the dagger up so he could swing it down viciously into his back, but Merlin rushes forward to meet him.

He shoves Arthur’s chair with as much force as he can muster, and steps into the space it had resided in as Arthur sprawls on the floor, cursing loudly.

It takes only a second for Arthur to be on his feet, a sword that was hidden under the desk gripped in his hand and any remaining sleepiness scrubbed from his face, but that second is all it takes for the dagger to sink with sickening force into Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin gasps and staggers back as Arthur steps forward, swinging the hilt of his sword down onto the attacker’s head, and with a loud thunk, the would-be assassin drops to the floor, unconscious.

Arthur turns quickly towards Merlin, who was leaning against the wall, dagger still planted deeply in his shoulder, and once again curses loudly. He rushes forward to catch his manservant just as he falls, widening his eyes as he notices the rapidly growing crimson stain on his tunic:

“GUARDS!!” he yells it towards the still open door, but looks to Merlin as he mumbles:

“Shift... change. No one there yet.” with a groan.

Arthur curses for a third time, as he pulls Merlin’s uninjured arm around his neck, and starts to stagger towards the door, dragging Merlin, who is basically a dead weight at this point.

The manservant groans, not sure if it’s the constant, background panic that’s seemed to plague him the last few weeks, or the pain of the newest stab wound that’s making him dizzy, but either way... ow.

Merlin finally manages to raise his gaze to realise that Arthur is currently dragging him past the closest exit to the stables (god knows how they’d gotten that far without Merlin noticing), and he half-heartedly pulls away.

Arthur almost stumbles with Merlin’s sudden movement, but says strongly:

“No not that way Merlin, gotta get to Gaius, you’re going to ok, alright?”

Merlin’s breath deepens in panic, and Arthur, mistaking it’s meaning, says:

“Almost there, Merls, don’t worry, Gaius will fix you right up, just hang on a little more for me.”

Merlin tries to pull away again, going so far as to softly thump Arthur on the chest to make him let go (it doesn’t work, he’s far too weak):

“No... no, you don’t.... understand. I can‘t, I don’t.... I don’t have time.”

Arthur frowns at him, but continues moving in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. He turns his concerned face away from Merlin, to see two guards turning into the corridor ahead of them:

“HEY!! One of you go to my chambers to collect the would-be assassin, and one of you run ahead to Gaius to warn him we’re coming; deep stab wound to the shoulder. Tell anyone you might see to be on high alert, an attempt on my life has been made.”

Arthur growls as they just stand in shock, obviously taken aback at the sight of the King near dragging an almost dead-looking servant down the corridor towards:

“NOW!”

With that they jump into action, one of them sprinting back the way Arthur and Merlin had come, the other sprinting ahead, to warn Gaius.

Arthur looks back down to Merlin, trying to pick up his pace as he notices him grow weaker and weaker:

“Come on, only a few more corridors Merlin, then Gaius will take care of you and you can sleep it off. I’ll even give you tomorrow off, how does that-”

Before Arthur can finish his question, Merlin moans, and tries to pull away again:

“No... time. Too many things to do... not... no time. Leak...”

Arthur stares at him in confusion as Merlin trails off, but blinks in surprise, as he gains a sudden burst of lucidity again:

“NO! Leak needs... sorting. Flowers and... Gwaine’s sword. Check on... Annabeth-”

He pulls away from Arthur far more violently this time, and the King drops him as he staggers from the force.

Arthur curses and kneels down, panicked as he tries to get his arms under Merlin’s weight again. Which Merlin is making very difficult.

The manservant can’t really feel the pain at this point. All he knows is that time is passing. Time that should be spent fixing things. Whatever stupid thing Arthur wants right now needs to wait.

Leak. Then spells. Then catch up on laundry through the night. Then check on the flowers in the morning. Hopefully lunch with Gwen. Sword next. Then. Then he can maybe think about whatever is happening right now.

Arthur finally gets his hands under Merlin’s arms and pulls him up, growing more and more worried as Merlin tries to wiggle away, like he doesn’t want to get treated.

Only one more corridor.

Arthur continues his journey through the halls, breathing deeply with the exertion. 

Merlin had lost the last of his strength trying to escape, and the fall to the floor had knocked his other injuries slightly, so Arthur was forced to pick him up, carrying the limp man bridal style.

He finally made it to Gaius’ chambers, to see the guard holding open the door, and Gaius rushing around, gathering various ingredients and tools.

Arthur bolts through the door, not even looking at the guard as he spots the empty cot in the middle of the room, and carefully lays a clearly delirious Merlin down.

The dark haired boy continues to mumble, a frown etched deeply onto his features:

“No... time... too much else... to worry about...”

Arthur calms his own breathing before looking back to the guard:

“Make sure the alarm is sounded. Find out if the assassin was caught and report back to me as soon as you know anything. I’ll be here.”

The guard nods firmly before running out of the room, and Arthur turns his attention back to Merlin. He gasps as he notices blood dripping from the palms of his hands, and lurches forward, forcing Merlin’s fingers to uncurl.

Arthur realises with a numb horror, that something much more than the stab wound is wrong with his... friend. This isn’t even close to the worst injury he’s ever seen Merlin get, but still he lies here, panicking about something to such an extent that he drew blood with his own nails.

Gaius finally bustles over, and without even looking at him, forcefully tells Arthur:

“Hold him down, he’s in no sort of mental state for me to treat him awake, so I need to get this down him and he won’t... appreciate it.”

The King notices the vial of foul-smelling liquid in Gaius’ hands, and quickly moves around to stand behind Merlin’s shivering form.

He presses one hand down onto his uninjured shoulder, and bends over, leaning his other forearm across his chest, trying desperately to avoid aggravating the dagger still imbedded in his shoulder.

Once he’s secure, Gaius pinches Merlin’s nose, and pours the liquid into his mouth, quickly dropping the vial onto the table beside him, and massaging his throat to help it go down.

Merlin spasms for a few seconds and kicks out, but Arthur just about manages to hold him steady before he finally goes limp, his eyes rolling back, and his hands hanging off the side of the cot.

Arthur steps back, and collapses in a chair at Merlin’s side, before looking up at Gaius. The King watches the Physician bring over a pair of scissors and cut Merlin’s blood soaked tunic away, before examining the wound, and carefully removing the dagger.

Arthur tries to calm his heart rate, and takes deep breaths as he watches Gaius work, knowing that the injury, though bloody, was not life threatening.

At some point during the process of the wound being cleaned, stitched, and dressed, the guard from earlier had re-entered the chambers to say:

“The assassin was found and taken to the dungeons, sire. The castle is on high alert, and patrols are looking for any accomplices, though currently it appears the man was working alone. Two guards have been found dead, one at the castle gate, and one at the main entrance to the building.”

Arthur vaguely remembers nodding, and dismissing the guard; telling him to keep him updated, before focusing back on Merlin.

When Gaius finally slumps into the chair opposite Arthur, on Merlin’s other side, The King takes a deep breath, before asking quietly:

“What’s wrong with him, Gaius? I mean besides the obvious? George said-”

Before Arthur can finish, three thunderous pairs of feet burst through the door.

The King looks up to see Gwen, Gwaine, and Leon enter the room in a hurry. Gwen answers his questioning gaze with:

“The three of us were together when a guard told us what happened. Will he be alright?”

Gaius gives them a comforting, but strained smile, as they move towards the cot:

“He’ll be fine my dear, with time.”

Gwen moves quickly to stand by Arthur’s side, and takes one of Merlin’s limp hands in her own as she blinks away tears, her other hand covering her mouth. Gwaine rushes to the end of the cot, looking down at his best friend with a pained expression, and resting a hand on his leg. Leon steps into place above Merlin’s head, stroking a gentle hand through his hair, before focusing his concerned expression on Arthur in question.

Arthur huffs, but pays them no mind as he looks back at Gaius:

“Like I was saying, what’s wrong with him? George said he was acting oddly, and he seemed... almost sickly the last time I saw him. Then all the way here he was trying to get away from me, he just kept muttering about time, and saying he had things to do.”

Gwaine growls, and before Gaius can reply, he snarls out:

“You’ve been bloody overworking him, that’s what’s wrong. Look at him, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.”

Arthur looks up, annoyed:

“That’s exactly why I’ve been giving him fewer chores, Sir Gwaine. I didn’t give him anything specific to do today, and when I told him he would have some time off on the way here, he freaked. Pulled away, I dropped him, and he just began muttering about not having time, having too much to do.”

Gwen clears her throat before timidly saying:

“He has been acting a bit strange. He seemed a little stressed after the first outbreak, but I figured that was normal for this time of year and let him be. Then he got back so late last night, and every time I saw him today he just seemed... more and more panicked. I tried to stop him a few times but he ignored me, like his mind was completely elsewhere.”

Arthur frowns at that, and Leon speaks next, his hand still absentmindedly carding through Merlin’s hair:

“Hmm. He’s been looking unwell; swaying on his feet, leaning on walls. I saw him in the market earlier today and he looked about ready to feint, but I was pulled away by a few guards. When I looked back again, he was stumbling away in the opposite direction. He looked in a rush, so like Gwen, I let him be. Perhaps he hasn’t been sleeping well?”

Gaius looks grim, and nods:

“I heard him moving about all through last night. I got up to offer him a sleeping draught but he refused, saying he had things to do. I got the impression this morning that he didn’t sleep a wink. And I remember what the yearly flu excursions were like, I doubt he slept any better whilst he was treating people in the lower-town.”

The three of them look troubled. How had they let it get this far? Merlin was clearly some sort of sick, and no one had noticed until he was ignoring stab wounds and clawing at his own skin.

Leon tilted Merlin’s head, frown deepening as he spots the purple bruise over his cheek, now also stretching up into his temple and into his hairline. His voice came out a mumble, as if he were speaking to himself:

“What happened here?”

Arthur’s face darkened, and he replied lowly:

“Lord Anselm. I informed him to leave my kingdom and told him not to come back until he could refrain from beating my staff.”

Leon nodded, face angry, and Gwaine replied:

“Bet he didn’t like that, the bastard.”

Arthur looked up at Gaius, and cleared his throat before asking:

“What do you suggest, Gaius? He’s clearly not... ok.”

Gaius sighed once more, looking down at the man who had become his son, before saying quietly:

“I imagine all three of us are right, in a way. He’s overworked, stressed, and lacking sleep. That mixed with a punch hard enough to give him a mild concussion, and the fact he likely hasn’t eaten very well over the last few weeks, led to a... miniature break down, of sorts.-”

He looks up at Arthur, who is struggling to hide how distraught he is, with grim determination:

“-He will need time off to recover. More than a few days, likely. And support. He has learnt to rely on no one but himself in recent years. Dealing with a workload that multiple people would struggle with all on his own, was almost certainly what led to his obsession with time, time running out. You will need to reassure him that any tasks he is worried about are being completed just fine without him, otherwise he’ll panic.”

Arthur nods before replying, his voice thick:

“Of course. Whatever he needs. He mentioned... a leak? And flowers, Gwaine’s sword. He mumbled a few other things as well, but I couldn’t hear him. He said something about Annabeth?”

Gaius rubs his eyes as he nods slowly:

“Yes, George bought Annabeth by earlier. Lord Anselm had hurt her and Merlin sent the two of them here before he went to deal with the Lord.-”

He looked up to see Arthur sporting a vicious frown, and continues:

“-She’s fine now, just a little shaken, her injuries will heal in a week or so. The other things he mentioned to you though...”

Arthur sighs, but Gwen speaks up, still clutching Merlin’s hand, before he can say anything:

“I overheard some of the stable-hands worrying about a leak in the stable, knowing Merlin, he probably offered to help them. And the flowers... well there was supposed to be a delivery today, for the feast decorations, but it hasn’t arrived yet.”

Arthur nods, and Gwaine swallows, looking a little guilty, before saying:

“He ran my spare sword to the blacksmith about a week ago, for repairs. I told him there was no rush, but he must’ve got in a panic about it.”

Arthur nods, but raises his eyes to Gwen in confusion:

“Ok, the sword and the leak I understand, but the flowers? Why would a castle delivery be any concern of his??”

Gwen widens her eyes in surprise, and Leon makes a disbelieving noise, before saying:

“Sire, with all due respect, Merlin is the King’s Personal Manservant. Of course it concerns him.”

At the growing confusion on Arthur’s face, Leon sighs. He drags a chair forward, and sits in his place behind Merlin’s head as he continues to absent-mindedly run his fingers through the man’s hair:

“My Lord, everything that has anything to do with you, gets run by Merlin first. Pretty much every non-political decision not directly made by you, is made by Merlin. I always thought it was rather hilarious that he didn’t seem to realise how much power he has within the castle.”

Arthur widens his eyes in realisation, and slumps back in his seat:

“I had no idea... no wonder he’s so exhausted all the time. He’s practically running the castle behind my back.”

Gwen nods sympathetically, but Gwaine still looks a little annoyed as he grinds out:

“Honestly princess. How did you think it was that the visitors you liked least were always housed in the chambers furthest away from yours? Or how the castle kitchen is always stocked up on your personal favourites? Or perhaps how council meetings always seem to be at a time most convenient for you, despite you never rearranging your own schedule? When we all joke about how you wouldn’t last a day without Merlin... we mean it. He doesn’t just dress you and feed you and sing you to sleep, he runs your whole life, mate.”

Leon and Gwen nod, and Arthur sighs, and the room goes silent for a few minutes, the only noise being Merlin’s ragged breathing.

Arthur finally straightens up, and nods to himself slightly:

“Right. Merlin gets every Monday off, no matter what, including his physician duties where possible. George is going to be reassigned as an... assistant of sorts; Merlin will hate it but I don’t care, he needs the help. He’s also going to get a bloody great big pay rise, and new chambers with a big desk. And that’s just to start with.”

Gaius raises his infamous eyebrow, but Arthur ignores it, he can see the hint of pride in his eyes. Gwen and Leon smile and nod, and Gwaine huffs before muttering:

“Yeah, that better be just to start with. Kid deserves the world.” 

Arthur stands from his chair and begins pacing, before looking back to the others in a hurry:

“Ok, Gwen, can you go find the Housekeeper, inform her that I want a few more servants to be hired, on a permanent basis. The castle is obviously understaffed if Merlin is the only one fixing everyone else’s problems. Take Gwaine with you, a guard informed me the assassin had been caught and was likely working alone, but just in case.-”

With that, Gwen nods and leaves, closely followed by Gwaine, who stops only to give Arthur a short, assessing gaze, before giving him a nod and leaving.

“-Leon, find the Steward, and George if you can. Find a set of chambers that can be reassigned to Merlin, and tell them to begin the process immediately. Not too big, he’d complain and refuse to use them but... oh you know what he’s like, I trust you’ll pick something to his... tastes.”

Leon gives Arthur another smile, before heading towards the door. Just before he can leave, Arthur calls out for him again:

“And if you could have a plate of food sent here as soon as possible. I don’t think he’s eaten all day and we’ll need to get something down him when he wakes up.”

Leon nods, and leaves without another word. Arthur collapses back into his chair before looking at Gaius, and blushing at the fond smile on the older man’s face:

“What?”

Gaius just shakes his head as his smile grows:

“Nothing, my boy. I’m just glad you’re finally realising at least a little of what Merlin sacrifices for you.”

Arthur frowns and tilts his head:

“You mean there’s more he’s giving up than sleep, food, and any and all free time he has?”

Gaius drops his smile fractionally, but covers it quickly (not quick enough that Arthur didn’t notice however) :

“Hmm. Nothing that you need to worry yourself over, My Lord.”

Arthur’s frown deepens:

“Well now I’m just going to worry about it even more. What is it Gaius? If you won’t tell me what the problem is, at least tell me the solution.”

Gaius settles a heavy, pensive gaze on Arthur, and stays silent for a few moments before answering slowly and quietly:

“A long time a go, I gave Merlin some... difficult, advice, pertaining to which secrets he should keep to himself. Perhaps when he wakes I shall rescind said advice. But ultimately, whether he tells you the true extent of his... well, truth, or not, is up to him. I advise you not to push him.”

Arthur huffs:

“So he’s hiding something from me?”

Gaius gives The King a sympathetic smile:

“He’s hiding a multitude of things from a multitude of people. There are very few people who know Merlin fully. His life has been... difficult, from birth, to such an extent that not even I’m aware of what’s going through his mind, the pain he suffers, and I live with him.-”

Gaius stops hesitantly, but Arthur nods for him to continue. He looks deeply troubled, before saying:

“All I can request Sire, is that, if he does decide that he trusts you enough to reveal himself fully, let him finish the story in it’s entirety before you start forming conclusions, and remember, that everything he does, he does for Camelot, for you.”

Arthur’s face shows slight confusion, but he nods firmly. He may not fully understand what on earth Gaius is talking about, but he has a feeling he’ll know it when he sees it. Plus, Merlin means a great deal to him, and the man obviously does a lot for him, the least Arthur can do in return is sit patiently and wait for Merlin to come to him with whatever truth Gaius thinks is so worrying.

~

It was late in the night when Merlin started to stir, only a few hours until sunrise.

Arthur and Gaius had both fallen asleep after checking over Merlin’s bandages. Gaius had settled in a cot in the corner of the room, and Arthur was curled up in his seat, Merlin’s hand clutched in his.

Arthur woke slowly at first, and then all at once, when he realised that Merlin’s hand was twitching in his own. He leaned forward on his seat, frowning, as he stroked Merlin’s forehead gently with his other hand.

Merlin’s eyes blinked open, as he muttered Arthur’s name. The King smiled gently, placing a comforting hand in the centre of Merlin’s chest, and squeezing his hand slightly:

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Merlin frowns slightly, before he gasps with wide eyes and tries to sit up. Arthur pushes back gently against his chest, and Merlin is far too weak to do anything about it as Arthur speaks quietly:

“No no no, you stay right there. You need to get better before you start rushing around again.”

Merlin frowns and begins to breath deeply:

“No, I don’t have the time Arthur, there’s too much I gotta do.”

He tries to sit up again, but Arthur holds him down, struggling to think of what to say to calm his manservant down before he did more damage to himself:

“No there isn’t. You can’t do anything when you’re sick and injured, alright?-”

At Merlin’s panicked expression, Arthur hurries to continue:

“Don’t worry, Merlin. Gwen spoke to the housekeeper about hiring some new servants to help. I’m going to get Percival to fix the leak in the stable later, Gwaine doesn’t need his sword for at least a few days, and to be perfectly honest, he can get it himself. The housekeeper will deal with the flowers, and Annabeth is fine, Gaius saw her earlier and sent her home for the day. There’s nothing for you to worry about, ok?”

Merlin frowns, and blinks blearily, clearly beginning to lose his lucidity:

“Are you ok? The... assassin... looked pretty... pretty... serious...”

He trails off, but refuses to close his eyes, and lifts a shivering hand to loosely clasp Arthur’s wrist as Arthur replies:

“You haven’t slept or eaten properly in days, you’ve been smacked around and stabbed, and you’re asking me if I’m ok?”

At Merlin’s once again panicked expression, Arthur sighs:

“Yes Merlin, I am one hundred percent ok, and so is everyone else. The assassin was caught, everyone is safe, and there’s nothing that you need to think about right now. Let go, get some sleep.”

Merlin frowns indignantly, and murmurs:

“I’ve already... slept too... long... gotta-”

Arthur huffs before interrupting him:

“Being unconscious is not the same as being asleep. Go to sleep Merlin. I promise, I will wake you up if you are needed in any way... do... do you trust me?”

Merlin looks at him oddly, before his eyelids flutter shut and he goes limp. Arthur just about hears the muttered-

“More that anyone.”

-before Merlin passes out once again, and after waiting a few minutes to make sure he wasn’t faking it (definitely something Merlin would do), he collapses back in his chair.

Merlin really was sick.

Arthur huffs with annoyance at himself, how had he not noticed this sooner? Why hadn’t he pushed it when he came to collect the laundry? Why hadn’t he given Merlin a day off when he got back from the lower-town? Though, knowing Merlin, he probably would’ve spent all day working anyway, even if it wasn’t directly for Arthur.

Arthur’s thoughts are racing so much that he knows he isn’t going to get back to sleep, but it was far too early in the day for anything official to get done; the city was asleep. And besides, even if there was something to be done, Arthur found himself exceedingly unwilling to let go of Merlin’s hand.

So sitting here and thinking was his only option it seemed.

Gwen, Gwaine, and Leon had come back around an hour after he had sent them away, and he was more than pleased with what they had to report.

The housekeeper had drafted up notices asking for permanent, paid, help in the castle, to be distributed in the lower-town tomorrow (or... later today).

Leon and the Steward had found a suitable set of chambers for Merlin, about halfway between Arthur’s and Gaius’, small compared to Arthur’s rooms, but still bigger than the footprint of Merlin’s house back in Ealdor.

Arthur hadn’t managed to get any food in Merlin when he briefly woke up, but the plate that Leon had sent up still sat their waiting, and it would be ready when Merlin was lucid enough to eat.

Arthur was still very worried about the man he had grown to trust more than even himself, but he also trusted Gaius, and if Gaius wasn’t freaking out, then neither would Arthur.

~

The next few days were... difficult, to say the least.

It took a lot of persuading to convince Merlin to stay in bed, and even a few sleeping draughts slipped into his tea, courtesy of Gaius.

Merlin was also getting increasingly annoyed at all of his friends visiting him, and treating him like he was made of glass. 

He was getting desperate to leave the Physician’s chambers and get some work done, and Gaius was not best pleased when he caught the man trying to sneak out.

Gaius sternly told him to sit down and shut up for a minute whilst he explained why exactly he can’t get out of bed yet, and Merlin reluctantly sat back down, nodding at Gaius to start talking:

“Merlin, you hadn’t slept at all in at least seventy-two hours. You hadn’t slept well for the several weeks before that. You hadn’t eaten all day, and I imagine that you hadn’t eaten properly, again, for the several weeks before. You had a mild concussion and fractured collarbone, courtesy of Lord Anselm. Bruises on your hands from gods know what. Balance and dizziness issues caused by being medically exhausted. You are stressed far beyond levels that are even vaguely healthy. All of this, before you sustained a serious stab wound. Merlin, you had a panic attack, yesterday, over not being able to fix a leak. You can not keep working like this, or you will burn yourself out again, and then where will we be? You are of no use to anyone if you drop dead. So will you please, just trust that Arthur has things handled just fine without you.”

Merlin had the decency to look a little ashamed at first, but rolls his eyes when Gaius mentions Arthur:

“That man never has anything handled. Gods know how he’s even managed to get dressed the last few days.”

Gaius raises an eyebrow, an obvious “I dare you to argue with me right now” look if Merlin has ever seen one.

Merlin huffs before climbing fully back into his bed (still in the Physician’s chambers. Gaius advised against telling Merlin of all the changes that were happening until after he was better, otherwise he would... simply put, he would freak) and looking to his lap, frowning.

Gaius sighs, and puts a gentle hand on Merlin’s least-injured shoulder:

“Be patient, Merlin. You fail to realise how many people care about you, and how much. We would be devastated to lose you, it’s hard enough to see you suffer like this. So let yourself heal fully, if not for yourself, then for us.”

Merlin looks up at him tiredly (everything seems to tire him out at the moment) with tears in his eyes and Gaius leans forward to gather the boy in a hug.

Merlin falls into it easily, and buries his head in the crook of Gaius’ neck as the older man runs a hand through his hair. He sniffles slightly, before mumbling:

“I’m sorry.”

Gaius smiles sadly, not that Merlin can see it, before replying quietly:

“No need to apologise my boy, just get some sleep. I believe that Guinevere will be joining us for dinner later.”

Merlin nods before removing himself from Gaius’ arms, and settling back under the covers. He shifts until he’s comfortable, and whispers a soft goodnight (I mean... it’s the middle of the afternoon but he’s sleeping the nights and days away at the moment), before drifting off.

Gaius sighs once more, before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him quietly.

They had a long way to go. Physically, Merlin was well on his way to healing, but emotionally... well. He had a father-figure physician, a fellow servant, five boisterous but loving knights, and a King who may or may not be in love with him.

He’d get there. He just needed a little more time.

~

THE END

Thank you so much for requesting this anon, I had fun writing it! It kept getting longer and longer and I almost split it into two, but I just decided to go for it in the end.

I hope y’all enjoy! Same as always, you wanna write it up with proper paragraphs and extend it and everything, go for it, credit and tag me :)

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular!

[innaminitus]

Gingerbreads

Pairing: George x reader x Fred

Request: WEASLEY TWINS CHRISTMAS SMUT YES PLEAASE where they both like the reader but like make a deal that it’s either both of them for her or none of them? THANK YOU

Warnings: smut, no twincest

Word count: 2671

A/N: BIG NOTE: if you are not okay with this kind of fic, you are free to not read it. there is plenty of similar fics all over tumblr, you can avoid them, too.

first fic from my Christmas at Hogwarts series! Feel free to send requests!

The hallways were filled with candles and glittery chains, on every corner there was a Christmas tree, decorated with all kinds of ornaments, gingerbreads and dried oranges, filling the air with the specific scent of holidays.

Disgusting.

You hated the so called ‘holiday spirit’ and basically everything that involved anything associated with Christmas. It wasn’t your fault, really. You remembered times when you actually quite liked Christmas. Not much of it you remembered, though, since you were just a small child when it all fell apart. It was Christmas, after all, when your father murdered your mother right in front of you. Cinnamon and oranges only made you anxious now.

Suddenly someone bumped into you from behind.

“Hey, Portkey!” The Weasley twins blocked your view and both walked backwards in order to see you.

“Stop calling me that…” You furrowed at the nickname, but couldn’t help but to smile.

You got the nickname after the circumstances in which you met the twins.

You were scrubbing the cauldrons in Snape’s office as your detention when the door opened and Filch jumped on his chair in which he has been snoring for at least half an hour now. Snape stormed through the door, dragging two boys by their collars. You saw them before, the famous Weasley twins, the jokers of Hogwarts.

“Messrs. Weasley will help Miss Y/L/N clean the cauldrons. I expect them to be clean enough to see my own reflection.”

“Of course, professor!” Filch nodded his head. “I’ll make sure they will!”

But despite what he said, right after Snape left Filch sat back on his chair and started snoring once again. Fred or George laughed at him and grabbed one of the sponges you were using to clean one of the cauldrons from something thick and sticky.

“I’m Fred” one of them said “and this is George.” He pointed at his twin who cringed at the sight of dirty cauldrons.

“I’m Y/N,” you murmured without taking your eyes off a particularly dirty place.

“And how did you end up here?”

You smirked and looked up.

“I turned Filch’s mop into a portkey. He ended up on the roof every time he touched it.”

They both laughed at your words.

“Brillaint!” said George. At least you thought it was George. “We gave the whole first year Fainting Fancies.”

“Only to test them, of course.”

“But Granger ruined the fun.”

You stopped scrubbing for a second and looked at them with dismay.

“What on earth are Fainting Fancies?” you asked, not sure if you actually want to know the answer.

“Ah!” Fred straightened, obviously very proud of himself. “Our invention! We are working on sweets that make you ill.”

“Sweets that make me ill?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Exactly. You take one and have, in example, instant fever. Perfect before an exam you forgot about.”

“You guys are really something else.”

It was in the middle of September. You have become quite inseparable ever since, the jokes and hours of detention really brought you together.

“Ready to leave for Christmas?” asked Fred, almost tripping over an old rug.

You dragged his arm and forced him to walk next to you, afraid he might actually fall next time. George also joined your side.

“I’m not leaving. I always spend Christmas here.”

“Well, actually that makes sense. I wouldn’t like to spend Christmas with a Slytherin either,” Fred laughed, but George stormed him with sight. “What?”

You only talked to George about what happened to your family. One night you were changing the lenses in telescopes in Astronomy Tower, so instead of stars they would show a giant eye of a person who would use them and ended up looking at the night sky filled with dark clouds. You were talking about everything and nothing, and from word to word you ended up confessing it to him. How your father killed your mother, because she wouldn’t join him as a Death Eater. How you run away through the back door of your house and, swallowing tears, stormed to your neighbors. How the Aurors would take your father to the Azkaban and leave you at an orphanage. How no one would adopt you.

“It’s just… Celebrating Christmas in an orphanage is never fun. I much prefer it here than there.”

Fred’s smile fainted. “I’m- I’m sorry, Y/N, I had no idea.”

“That’s fine.” You waved your hand at him. “You couldn’t know.”

He looked at his twin, they exchanged looks that seemed to say more than any word could.

“Alright, that’s it,” George said. “You have to come with us for Christmas.”

You shook your head with a faint smile. “It’s alright, boys. I’m fine on my own, really.”

“Well, we’re not.” Fred stopped, blocking your way up the corridor. “That’s it, you’re coming with us. I already told mom you would.”

You furrowed. “No, you didn’t.”

“But I will, so you better go pack yourself.”

You sighed. Would it really be so bad? Would you go down memory lane and get fifteen panic attacks by the time you step through the door of their home or would you finally soothe the horror you’ve been living in for past twelve years? There was only one way to find out.

“Alright. I’ll go.”

***

You were nervous during the whole train ride, and now you felt as if you were about to jump from your own skin because of anxiety. With the rest of the Weasley siblings and, of course, the one and only Harry Potter you were waiting outside the King’s Cross station for Mr. Weasley, who was going to pick you up. In a car, they said. You couldn’t possibly imagine how exactly you would fit in a car with all the baggage, but magic surprised you way too many times for you to still question everything. This time it was no different – although Mr. Weasley parked a simple black car, he supposedly got from the Ministry (it had something to do with Potter, but you didn’t ask too many questions) inside it was as big as a van. Every single one of you could fit inside, and you still had plenty of room left. They all chattered and laughed during the way, but you were too stressed to even listen to them. You regretted your decision already. You should be at Hogwarts, in your dorm room, alone, reading a book and drinking unholy amount of hot chocolate with marshmallows. The elves would always bring you some food and this perfect beverage since you never joined the rest of the students which stayed as well. But it was too late now.

The car stopped before an old, weirdly crooked house which looked like a patchwork blanket you had when you were little. Somehow it made you feel warm inside.

You got out right after Ginny, with your bag in hand, unsure what to do. You locked your eyes on flying lights around the roof of the house. Could it be fairies? Or just enchanted string of plain lights?

All of the sudden you felt heavy arm around your shoulders. “Hey, Portkey, you alright?” Fred asked, his sight following yours. “Yeah, I know it’s not much, but–“

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, smiling.

His face brightened and you noticed sparkles in his eyes. Pretty.

“Go on, lovebirds!” Ginny waved at you and you noticed that it was now only you and Fred standing outside. You blushed suddenly and hurried inside.

“Oh, hello, dear!” Mrs. Weasley smiled at you and grabbed your arms, squeezing them lightly. A big warm smile bloomed on her face. “You must be Y/N! How lovely to finally meet you, I’m so glad you’ll spend holidays with us!”

“Thank you for having me.” You smiled back. This woman just greeted you like an old family friend, not an orphan she sees for the first time in her life. It was… oddly nice.

***

You were sitting on a sofa, your knees under your chin, staring blindly at the yule tree, your sight blurred to the point where you only saw points of colorful light. The dinner was wonderful. Mrs. Weasley asked George in a letter what your favorite food was, and of course made it just for you. She also made sure there was no scent of gingerbread spice. It was just a little too much for you.

“You’re not asleep?” Someone’s voice interrupted your mindless procrastinating.

You blinked and turned your head to look at George walking down the stairs.

“Not yet… I’m a little overwhelmed. Don’t mind me.”

He sat next to you. The sofa was quite small, that’s why you put your legs down, and now his thigh was touching yours.

“I know my mum can be… intense. To say the least, but she means well.”

“I know that, and she’s lovely, really, it’s just… I don’t know. A lot to process for me. I haven’t had real Christmas since I was a kid. And you are all trying to make me feel welcome…” You turned your head from him, suddenly ashamed. “I feel like I don’t deserve any of it.”

A second passed, then another, and you felt his warm fingers under your chin. He gently turned your face back to him.

“You deserve everything, Y/N.” He moved so close to you that for a second you were sure he was going to kiss you, but he hesitated mere millimeters from your lips. Hotness flushed your cheeks. He smelled like pine tree and suddenly you decided it was now your favorite scent. You waited for a second that felt like an hour, and slightly moved away in the same moment he moved forward. A small gasp escaped your lips, he leaned even more, undaunted, and kissed you gently. No tongue, not even opened mouth, just lips touching lips. It was a long kiss, though, and when he moved away you felt uncomfortable chill on your mouth.

“George–“

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t–“

“No,” you interrupted. “Do it again. Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. His hand landed on the back of your neck, he pulled you to him, and butterflies erupted in your stomach. Enough with the gentleness, he was needy, as if he’s been waiting for your lips his whole life. His other hand was on your thigh, he was turning you more towards him as his tongue slid into your mouth.

“Well, well, well.”

You parted immediately, somehow ashamed. Fred slowly walked down the stairs, a hint of smile on his face. “What do we have here?” He stood before you, hands crossed. “I thought we had a deal, Georgie.” Wait, what? “It’s either both of us or none of us.”

You blinked once, then twice, but couldn’t understand the situation. You looked at George, hoping that maybe he would make it clearer.

“I know, I know,” he sighed “but I couldn’t help myself.”

Your heart missed a beat, but not in a pleasant way. Were they… making a bet?

“Can any of you tell me what the hell are you talking about?” you asked, lovely moment from just a mere minute ago long gone.

George rubbed the back of his head and exchanged looks with Fred. They were doing it again, communicating without words.

He sighed. “We– we both like you, okay? And we agreed that none of us will be with you… unless the other one would also be involved.”

You swallowed hard. Did he mean… to be with them both? At the same time? It seemed crazy but… you liked them, too. They were both handsome, obviously. Would it be so bad?

“Okay,” you said, the steadiness of your voice surprising you. “We can– we can try.”

They seemed as surprised as you were, looking at each other once more.

Fred was the first to speak, after he cleared his throat. “Then maybe… let’s go to our room?”

You nodded and followed him up the stairs, feeling the warmth of George’s body behind you.

It was oddly arousing. You had to be quiet, to not wake anyone. You knew you’d have to be quiet later when… When what exactly? Were you going to have sex? Or was it just your hope?

You entered the twins’ room, bathed in moonlight. It smelled like pine here as well…

Suddenly a hand was on the back of your neck, Fred’s tongue first, a split second before his needy lips landed on yours. You didn’t think, you didn’t wait, you gave back every kiss, your tongue next to his. While his fingers were tangled in your hair another set of hands played with skin under the hem of your shirt, bolder with each passing moment. He traced the curves of your body, shamelessly traveled up, and up, his soft fingers caressed the side of your breasts only to finally land on your hardened nipples. You moaned in Fred’s mouth at which he bit your lower lip.

“You like how he touches you, huh?” His voice no more than a whisper, sent shivers down your body. “Wait till I touch you.”

George rolled your nipples in between his fingers, but soon his hands were gone, because Fred lifted you up. They seemed to have one mind, what one thought the other acted. George sat on one of the beds, Fred seated you between his brother’s legs. His fingers hooked on your pajama pants and your panties, but before he took them off he took a look at you, one eyebrow raised in silent question. You could go back now, they wouldn’t blame you. Only… you didn’t exactly want to go back. You lifted your hips, your answer just as silent as his. He grinned and slid your clothes down your legs. George gripped your shirt and soon it was also gone, but you weren’t cold. You had two bodies to warm yourself and you were gladly going to use them.

George’s soft lips traced the curve of your neck while Fred was watching your arousal grow under his brother’s touch. His hands slowly parted your thighs, showing your already pulsating pussy. His twin’s fingers were kneading your breasts and mercilessly pinching your nipples while his mouth landed on yours, kissing you passionately.

He caught you by surprise, really. Almost making you jump when you felt warm tongue spreading your folds, surprise quickly turning to pleasure when Fred’s tongue started to, gently at first, play with your dripping pussy. Oh, but he was impatient. Soon you were a moaning as he was sucking on your clit and slowly pushing one finger inside of you. George wasn’t planning on being any worse than his brother – his skillful fingers could probably make you come just by playing with your nipples and soon you were biting your lips almost till they bled, only to not moan their names.

The pleasure was unbelievable. Feeling of two bodies against you, flicks of Fred’s tongue and moves of George’s fingers and his lips on yours – it was all too much to bear, too much for one person to experience. And you found yourself lost in this pleasure when Fred joined another finger deep in your pussy. Your muscles clenched on him, he started sucking on your clit, George’s fingers pinched hard and all of the sudden you were almost knocked out by the most intensive orgasm you’re ever had.

They gave you a moment to come down from the high and slowly started to undress when you suddenly heard a knock on the door.

“Can you wrap it up?” You heard Ginny’s whisper. “Mom asked me twice already where you are, Y/N, I’m running out of excuses.”

You got all red and slapped your hand over your mouth, looking at the twins who tried very hard not to laugh. Fred handed you your clothes and George leaned to your ear “We’ll finish it tomorrow.” A shiver went down your spine. Well, now you’ve had new Christmas memory to hold onto.

[beigehearts]

Yandere adult trio when you actually manage to land a hit on them Random drabble I came up with- needed to spoil yall since ive been gone- so ive got three drabbles Lemme know if you want Uvogin and/or Phinks- or if you want a nsfw version of this CW: blood, knives, stabbing

Illumi

Weeks have passed since you were taken from your comparably mundane life. You assume it's been weeks- it could have been longer. For the first time, you have woken up while man who has taken you is not home. He manages to stay at home until you're exhausted- since you won't sleep around him. That way once you collapse from exhaustion- he can escape to do whatever a man like him does.

It's been two hours since you have been stuffed into a kitchen cabinet. Your legs are cramping- and there's a sharp pain in your lower back. There's no way your body can handle being in this cramped position for another hour- hopefully he gets home soon. Or hopefully he never comes back.

You hear the unfamiliar sound of the front door opening, only after the multiple locks have been unlocked.

Click. Click. Click. His shoes tap on the cold floor with a methodical slowness. You hear him walk towards the room you are usually sleeping in when he gets home.

There are no more clicking of his shoes, just an eery silence hanging in the air. Your chance, this is it. You've learned how to silence your own actions- you had to in order to live with this emotionless monster.

Once you're standing upright, you sprint at him- knife in hand. He's quick but he also doesn't expect you to be just as fast. He moves so quickly that you can barely see him, but you drop to the ground, sliding against the wood floor. Your knife slices through his ankle, knowing that it could render his leg useless. There's no sound as you lay on the cold floor, a stand still between you and your captor.

"Interesting." His word is deafening. "I did not expect that of you." Illumi's voice remains calm. It remains calm as well when he grabs you by your arm, grip almost bone shattering. "It seems I have not trained you well." He says as if you're a dog.

You continue swinging, but it seems that Illumi doesn't even care about the damage you're inflicting on him. Cuts that are an inch deep- at least three of them. You glance down at his foot, seeing his pant leg soaked in blood, leaving a trail of it behind him as he drags you into the unknown. There's no humanly way possible he could be walking on a severed Achilles tendon. He should have bled out by now, or at least enough to go weak in the knees. The only answer is... that he's not human.

Your body goes limp- all fight draining out of you once you realize that there's no use. Illumi notices this, and pauses. "I'm glad you've come to your sense y/n." He bends down to your face, letting go of you arm and you fall against the floor. "It doesn't change what you've done." He points to his ankle, "It will take at least a week for my ankle to heal- my Achilles is completely severed."

Your eyes travel to the floor as he continues speaking, his words beginning to sound like fuzz. You snap back when a strong hand grabs your chin and tilts your face towards his. It almost feels as if his fingers are going to go through your jaw bones. "I expect you to look at me when I'm speaking."

Hisoka

He expects you to perform wifely duties. Well, mainly duties that take care of him. The eggs in the pan sizzle next to some greasy bacon. You're making breakfast like Hisoka told you to. He probably won't eat the food you make him, he just enjoys watching you make it.

The buzzing of the oven fan and churning of the coffee machine almost make it seem as if this were a normal situation. It's not though- the both of you know that.

It has taken you weeks to master the art of being unassuming. You've practiced doing something but showing no signs of that actions beforehand. Such as if you're going to pick something up that you don't look around for it first.

The tip tap of the magician's heels alert you to just how close he is to yo. He stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, "You look so good today y/n." He nuzzles his nose into your neck, inhaling your aroma, as if he can't get enough of it.

You pull a coffee mug from the cabinet above the oven, ignoring the man wrapped around you. The cup clinks against the counter and your heart jumps when you hear the coffee pot finish brewing.

The man releases you, perfectly on cue. You grab the coffee pot, spinning around and throwing the boiling liquid on Hisoka. You then leap forward while he's momentarily stunned, and bring the glass pot down on his head. It shatters and you take the chance to lunge for the door. You're stopped short when the man grabs your ankle and you face plant into the tile floor.

Your entire face will definitely be bruised in a few hours. Your head spins but the dizziness quickly turns into an excruciating pain all over your head. You crane your head backwards and look at him- somehow he just seems stronger. His skin is burned badly and is extremely red. He must have third degree burns. But he's smiling at you with crazed eyes. No, lustful eyes.

You yell when he pulls you to him by your leg. He straddles you and punches you in the neck. You yell turns into a heavy cough which turns into gasping noises. There will be no talking for the next few weeks.

"You're so cute when you defend yourself." You stare up at his untouched face and fear shoots down your spine. He leans down and licks a strip up the side of your face and brings his lips to your ear. "It only turns me on even more."

Chrollo

It’s as if the place you’re being held has no electricity. You’ve flicked on and off the light switches around the house but nothing ever happens. The windows are boarded up and no matter what you do- you can’t rip the boards away that are nailed into the window. Despite this extremely dark, and cold home, all of the furniture is quite nice. The bed fit for a king, soft and you just sink into it- which is where you spend most of your time since it’s the only place you can catch a fleeting sense of warmth. 

The warm bed doesn’t compensate for the fact that you’ve been kidnapped by a man that insists on your affection and your quality time. He leaves every night- and it’s simply too dark to try and find keys for the door. There was only one way you will be able to escape- surprise attack him the moment he gets home and run out the door. You’ve tried to attack him before but your punches are futile against the tall man. He can just grab your wrists and throw you in the bedroom- locking it until you stop ‘throwing a tantrum’. As he puts.

There’s no better place to attack him then at the front door- before he gets the chance to defend himself. Though your fists obviously hold no power against this man- you’ll have to find something to hit him with. For hours before he comes home (according to your biological clock), you scamper around the house, checking every corner of it for something sturdy that you can pick up. Eventually you find a set of handcuffs. While they’re not ideal- they have heft and a whack to the face would leave any normal person reeling. 

If your natural sense of time is correct, you only have a few minutes before he comes home. You stand next to the door and brace yourself- hoping that your reaction time is as good as you think it is. 

You hear the footsteps down what you assume is a hall to this apartment. They stop in front of the door and your heart begins to pound. Each lock clicking is deafening in the quiet apartment. The door opens with confidence and you take your chance. With a wide swing of your arm you nail him in the face. The sound of the metal against skin makes you cringe but there’s no time to waste. You leap out beside him, sprinting down the pitch black hall as fast as you can. When hands grab your waist gently you screech, fighting his grip. As gentle as he’s being you still can’t escape him. 

He brings your back against his chest, and he wraps one arm around your arms and torso, preventing you from hitting him. His other arm lays loosely around your waist. “You’re very resourceful y/n.” He purrs in your ear. “Thank you for trying your best and not holding back.” You continue squirming in his grasp but know what your fate is when he says, “Though it’s quite unattractive for a girl to be so feisty.” 

[airplanned]

All the Trashy Novels Part 24

Part 1...Part 23

***

Zelda sought out Purah that night to apologize for shouting, but also to understand why the Sheikah were so adamant.

"I appreciate your defensiveness over me, even if it is misplaced.  And you know I appreciate seeing someone else see through Sir Link's perfect hero disguise.  But I don't understand why you think I have any claim on him."

Purah gave her a look.  "We're Sheikah.  We notice things that aren't even a tenth as blatant as you two.  The last time you were at the tech lab, you two were giving each other longing bedroom eyes the whole time."

"We were certainly not!  Well...Link might have been.  But I did nothing of the sort!"

"Not even when you were kissing behind Lab 2?"

"We--That was angry kissing!  It doesn't count!  How did you know about that!?"

Purah made an elaborate gesture with her hands, covering her face and pulling her hands apart like an opening eye.  "We see all."

Zelda didn't care for that.  Obviously, the Sheikah didn't know everything if they thought she and Link were lovey-dovey.  But they did know far more than she would like.

"And then who's that picture for if not Link?"

"What picture?"

Before she knew it, Purah had slipped the Sheikah slate from Zelda's hip ad was flipping through the photo album.  "This one."  She held it up, and Zelda's face went red.  Okay, yes, maybe those did count as bedroom eyes.

She snatched the slate back and pressed it to her chest.  "That is for me," she said primly.  "I look good."

"You look all breathy and whimpering.  As vanilla as anything.  At least show some cleavage next time."

Zelda huffed.  Despite her constant, simmering irritation with Link, Zelda did not consider herself an angry person.  And yet she was about to lose her temper on Purah twice in one day.

Purah reached out and squeezed her arm.  "Zelda, I'm going to tell you this, because I doubt you have anyone in your life who will: You cannot go after Link if he has a townie girlfriend.  That's tacky.  You have to wait until they've broken up.  Let him get whatever this is out of his system, and he'll come crawling back to you."

Zelda rubbed her forehead, suddenly very tired.  "I know, Purah.  I know."

It gnawed at her.  Not the part where she'd been warned against making Link a cheater, because that was not applicable in this situation.  But the part where Link had to get it out of his system.  Because maybe that was what they were both doing.  They both had a lot of pent up energy and a lot of frustration and didn't know very many people, and, and, and, why did that bother her?  It was what she'd been saying the whole time.

She woke to the sound of rain, feeling miserable.  In a grumpy fog, she got dressed and headed down to get a new book, because a new book might make her feel better?  Would it?  It might make everything worse.

She opened the door to an empty room, and only then realized that she'd been expecting to see Link.  It was raining.  Why wasn't he here?  Where was he?  She tried to frown in annoyance, but her shoulders just slumped. 

She grabbed a new book out of his chest, and then plopped onto the edge of the bed.  A moment later, she flopped to the side, slipped out of her shoes, and pulled her feet onto the bed.

What was she doing here?  What was she doing in general?  

The next thing she knew, there was a soft thump at the foot of the bed, and she opened her eyes to the realization that she'd fallen asleep.  The Master Sword was propped against the wall by her head.  She cut her eyes to the foot of the bed to see Link tug off his boots and peel out of a soaked shirt.  He unbuttoned his damp pants, and Zelda snapped her eyes shut.  A minute later, she opened them again just in time to see his head pop out of the top of a clean, dry shirt.

At which point he caught her staring and stepped around to take a seat beside her.  "You can sleep more," he whispered.  "I can cover for you."

"You're dripping everywhere."   His hair was still wet and soaking the back collar of his fresh shirt.  She pushed herself up.  "Do you have a towel."

He fetched one and she took it from his hands, tipping his head towards her and slipping out his hair tie before scrubbing the towel against his scalp.  She was thorough, firm but not rough.  When she was done, she slowed, hesitating before lifting the towel from where it covered his face.  He was giving her a look, half confused, half devoted, and she only deserved the first half.

He took the towel from her hands and tossed it to the floor, and she scoffed.

For a moment, they stared at each other.

"I thought you didn't train in the rain," she said.

"I wasn't training."

"Where were you?"

"Did you miss me?"

"No."

"What are you reading?"

She sighed.  "I have no idea."

He cracked a smile.  Then he scooted lower on the bed and plopped down beside her, which made her stiffen.  "Read it to me?"

She readjusted herself, sitting back against the headboard.  He propped his chin in his hand and watched her.  Quietly, she opened the book to the beginning.  "The winds were blustery on the sea that night, sending a whistling through the drafty windows in the lighthouse, where Leon sat alone as he always--"  She dropped the book and pulled the slate from her hip.  "Do I look breathy and whimpering in this picture?"

She pushed the slate into his face, and he took it, holding it slightly away so he could look at it.  Then he froze.

She clutched her hands together, then realized she was doing that, and stopped.  She realized she was leaning forward.  "Well?"

"I...Goddess..."

"Goddess good or goddess bad?"

"You're...it's a bit like being punched in the gut.  You know?"

"No."

He took a moment, his eyes scanning, scanning, scanning over the picture.  He rolled from lying on his side to lying on his stomach.  

Her eyes darted from the picture to his face.  "Purah said I look breathy.  I don't know what she means, but I don't like it."

He shook his head.  "No, this is more of a low hum."

The thought made her face heat.  She wasn't entirely sure why.  What were they even talking about?  What noise it looked like she was making in a picture?

"She also said it was boring, and I could take a sexier picture."

He shrugged one shoulder.  His eyes were still locked on the screen.

"Goddess, that's enough," she said, pulling the slate from his hands.  Suddenly she couldn't even look at him.

"So...are you wanting to take a sexier picture, or do you want assurances that this has the intended effect?"

"Intended effect?"

"That I am bothered."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

He shifted, and suddenly he was above her, braced on his hands, leaning in so his face was near hers, his eyes burning.

She swallowed and squeezed the slate tighter in her hands.  "Purah says I'm not supposed to kiss you while you have a townie girlfriend."

"That's wise."

She nodded.

They stared at each other.

"It would be very bad if I liked you," she said.

His face softened.  "I know."  Then he added, "So it's a good thing you don't."

"Yes."

"The king wouldn't like it, and everyone would gossip about how I'm distracting you from your duties, and I'd be transferred off your detail, at which point you would miss me and also be murdered by Yiga assassins."

"Or stray guardian lasers."

"And you would have to admit that you've been a little jealous and petty."

"Which I'm not."

"Exactly."

Something loosened in her shoulders, relieved that he understood.

"It's a good thing you have a fake townie girlfriend then," she said.

Her gave her that doofy smile.  "Yeah," he said.  "I think she likes me."

***

Part 25

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays

Summary: In which Spencer does not want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

WC: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), Morgan trying to be a good big bro (and wingman)

Spencer Reid does not hate Christmas.

“Reid, come on⎼”

“No.”

“Just listen to me.”

“I did, and it’s a stupid idea.”

No, really. Because hating Christmas would imply he didn’t care. Which he does.

Like when Garcia never fails to drag him into decorating the bullpen every year. Obnoxious Christmas music plays in the background as they bomb Hotch’s office, and it’s worth the smile on his face when he walks in the next morning.

It would mean hating Rossi and his extravagant dinner parties. And yeah, he always hosts but these are just as special if not more so. His mansion is decked in fairy lights and streamers, the food are traditional holiday recipes, and the whole place seems a little less massive.

And he doesn’t hate his breaks. He nearly spits out his coffee when Morgan grumbles about how he almost tripped and fell over from the ice. He has to scramble away as the older man bats at him.

Or when Prentiss drops off holiday-themed pastries? Mhm, just thinking of the ribbon-tied box makes him salivate.

Hating the Christmas card is completely out of the question. Henry and Michael make them every year for the entire team, and JJ makes an effort to shake them out carefully for. It has a boyish charm Spencer never had at their age, a mess of glitter and construction paper. He displays it on his desk anyway.

And you. It would mean hating all the various hot chocolate beverages you’ve made since December started.

Apparently, it’s serious business⎼the art of hot chocolate making. You’ve leaned against his desk, hands waving about as you try to articulate to him the relevance, going over anything and everything you can remember of its history and significance. Of course, he knows all of this already, but he likes you too much to stop you. He almost releases a loving sigh. Instead, he settles for nodding and grinning at you, and he doesn’t really get it but he loves it: the hot chocolate, your pensive expression as you await his critique, even though by now he’s sure you know he has no other comments except ‘delicious’.

He loves it all. He loves you⎼all of you guys. Obviously.

So, no. He does not hate Christmas.

But that doesn’t mean he loves it either.

Which is why, when Morgan leans against his desk, he greets him as normal, a smile forming on his lips as he sets his book down. There is no danger here, except Morgan’s guns. And the heinous green and red envelope between his fingers⎼

Where the hell did he get that.

Spencer’s blood froze. His collection of trauma was nothing compared to this.

Now here he is, packing away his things so he can go home to his warm, cozy apartment and order takeout like he does every year. He's not one for change. No need to break tradition.

But Morgan is acting like a child. Wait, no, even children are better behaved than this. Children at least give up faster.

“I’m telling you, it’s a good idea.”

“As a certified genius, I can say with all honesty, it is not.”

“I promise you it’ll be fine,” Morgan reassures him, voice soothing. The letter, colorful and bright and an eye sore, mocks Spencer. He wishes his reflexes were faster, so he can snatch the abhorrent cluster of sparkles and poorly printed holiday cartoons. And shred it.

Maybe if he glares hard enough, it’ll burst into flames.

“Morgan, my class hated me. The whole school hated me,” Spencer shoves another book into his satchel. It's harder than he means to, and he sends a silent apology to Stephen King; he usually handles his books with care. But not right now. Now, he's tired and exasperated and he just wants to curl up on his couch with The Doctor. "I'm sure I won't be missed."

"But you’re the life of the party!"

Spencer looks up.

Morgan winces, "Yeah, even I wouldn't believe me.” Spencer snorts, continuing to stuff his belongings into his satchel. Morgan’s relentless however. “But you deserve to show them up. You’ve got degrees⎼plural⎼and you're a hotshot FBI agent.”

“Are you not aware of the tragedy that is my high school social experience?”

“Oh, I'm very aware, and thank you for being vulnerable with me. But it's because I care that I’m telling you.”

Morgan’s hand falls heavy on his shoulder, making Spencer pause. He meets his gaze, the man’s expression solemn.

“You deserve to rub it in their faces until the only thing they can smell is your success.”

Morgan grins when that draws out a laugh from him.

Spencer huffs, “Shouldn't we be the bigger person here by not going?”

The older man grimaces, retracting his hand as if the idea offends him. “Fuck that. Be a show off! They deserve to be knocked down a peg after what they did to you in high school.”

Spencer bites his lip. Yes, he’s accomplished, and yeah, as Morgan said, he’s a ‘hot shot FBI agent’. But the memories surge in like a broken dam, cruel laughter and harsh words crashing into him as if he’s twelve years old again. He’s an adult now, so he doesn’t topple over from the impact like before, but the pain is a phantom limb, old and familiar, and leaves a pit in his stomach.

He was a child prodigy then. How would going back as he is now be any different?

Morgan's heart clenches when an unspoken pain flits across Spencer’s face, glossing over his eyes. He can't imagine how deep the emotional scars go, but he knows Spencer needs some form of closure from his past. So when he found the invite, he knew they had to seize the chance. If he wants to continue to move forward, Spencer has to learn to let go. And right now, this is his first class ticket. It’s why he’s pushing this so hard.

This is for Spencer.

But the doctor shakes his head, a strained smile tugging his lips. “Morgan, I had no friends. Even if I go, what am I supposed to do once I arrive? It'd be awkward enough as is.”

“True,” The older man contemplates, a light bulb going off as he snaps his fingers. “You know what you should do? Ask (Your Name) to go with you.”

“(Your Name)?” Spencer jolts, fumbling to catch his phone. Despite being a man of science, his eyes dart around, like you’re a demon summoned at the mention of your name. “Wha-what? Why?”

“They could act as your buffer. And you did say you wanted to be closer with them. This is the perfect opportunity,” Morgan shrugs. Like his suggestion is common sense, logical. Maybe it is.

But this is you they’re talking about. You would never. You’re too cool for a silly high school reunion.

At least, that’s what he’s convinced himself as Spencer’s face pinches. He catches his lip with his teeth. “Morgan, I appreciate the… thought, but I could never ask (Your Name).”

“Ask me what?”

… Oh no. You are a demon.

Spencer whirls around in time to see the glass door shut behind you. You stand there in all your poise and beauty, the fluorescent lights softening your expression. You're bundled up in a matching coat and scarf, the knitted beanie snug on your crown and clashing with your outfit (Garcia told you it’s not your Christmas present, but you’ve worn it everyday since). There’s sprinkles of snow all over you.

You’re not a demon, Spencer decides, even as you brush a clump off your shoulder, nose scrunched in annoyance. More like a snow angel.

You tilt your head curiously when Spencer doesn’t answer immediately. There’s a knowing look on his face as Morgan, realizing the poor guy probably won’t respond any time soon, steps up.

“(Your Name), I thought you went home already.”

You cross the bullpen. “I was. Garcia walked me down and I got to the courtyard. Then I realized she had me so distracted that I left my phone charger,” You rummage around your desk and without looking up, you reiterate, “So ask me what?”

Spencer blinks. “What?”

“You had something to ask me, right?”

Right. That. He runs his fingers through his hair awkwardly. “Actually, I don’t⎼oof.”

Morgan jabs his side, “Yes, there is something Reid needs to ask you.” He sends him a meaningful look.

“Shoot.” You nod to them before rifling through your desk drawers. Nope, not there. You card through files and office supplies, oblivious to the conversation Spencer and Morgan have with their eyes, shooting looks and mouthing at each other.

You bend over your desk as Morgan gestures, Ask them!

Spencer shakes his head vigorously, No!

Do it, or I'll do it for you, he mouths.

Spencer squints at him. You wouldn't.

Morgan smirks and Spencer's heart drops to his stomach. Before he can run, shout for help, literally anything, the man slings a buff arm around his shoulders, forcing Spencer to slightly bend down to his level, hugging him to his side.

He's trapped. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Fuck.

“Reid is going to his high school reunion,” Morgan starts, biting back a grin when the nerd squirms against him. Both men boys watch, one excited and the other petrified as you disappear behind your desk.

“That’s nice.”

"Yeah. But all his classmates are older than him and married…“

“Uh-huh…” You scan the dark floors, half-listening as Spencer frowns at the unnecessary detail. He never told Morgan such a thing. He didn’t even know, so how would Morgan-?

“So, can you guys pretend to be a couple or something?”

Thud.

“What!?”

Luckily, neither of you notice the other’s surprise as Spencer chokes on air at the same time you let out a pained hiss.

Morgan lets him pull away, withholding a snicker. “You good, (Your Name)?”

“I’m okay!” Your head pops up from under your desk as you rub the top of your head. You blink owlishly. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me to pretend to be your partner?”

“Yes! But Reid’s partner,” Morgan emphasizes, slapping the doctor’s back hard enough he nudges forward.

You stand and Spencer straightens up, trying not to fidget as your gaze burns into his. You’ve known each other for quite some time now, and while Spencer likes to think he knows you pretty well, it bothers him when your expression becomes unreadable. He knows it shouldn't but it does. He’s a profiler, yet your thoughts are completely obscured by a mask. It only makes him more nervous than he already is.

His skin feels hot when your eyes trail over him, and he prays his scarf is enough to cover the flush spreading from his neck.

He's about to disintegrate when you finally answer.

"Okay."

His brow shoots up and his heart flips. You move away from your desk as he sputters, "Really? Are⎼are you sure? I don’t want to put you out of your way.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. Why?” You step closer, and he can’t breathe, not without it hitting your face. You stare him down the bridge of your nose, eyes narrowed. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

“What? No, of course not!”

You raise an eyebrow expectantly. “Then it’s settled? We’ll pretend to be a couple for your reunion thing?"

A beat of silence. Spencer realizes you're waiting for his confirmation. But panic rises like bile in his throat and he hesitates.

Maybe he should back out now, retract the entire conversation and take the embarrassment like a man. Tell you he was never planning to attend the stupid reunion because his classmates were (and probably still are) assholes. Honesty is key to any relationship after all.

Especially between coworkers. Ahem.

A flicker of movement and Spencer glances over your shoulder. Morgan nods frantically at him, teeth flashing as he grins wider than before. He gives him two thumbs up.

Maybe, for once, he should pull a Morgan and just vibe it.

Yeah. Yeah!

Swallowing, he nods to you, giving you his signature white-person smile because he's sure if he speaks he might blurt out something completely inappropriate. Like statistics on workplace relationships (they’re great reading material, okay).

Your lips quirk up. "Cool. Text me the details when you get the chance.”

You brush past him before he manages a reply, your footsteps fading. Morgan waggles his eyebrows at Spencer. Spencer blankly stares after you.

“What just happened?”

“You just got a date to your reunion. A fake date, mind you, but you’re welcome nonetheless,” Morgan smirks at him. “So, you got a plan, Pretty Boy?”

His face falls, and the hearts in his eyes⎼shit, had they always been there?⎼chip slightly.

He does not have a plan.

Deleted scene:

“Did you do it?”

“It went all according to plan, Mama.”

AN: I fucked myself over and wrote 7k+ and still counting. Now it’s an unplanned holiday mini series. This kind of stems from Bonding as this uses Mysterious!Reader. Also, I seem to be into pining (fuck established relationships, suffer in silenceee). Whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope you still enjoy this one shot!! 

One of the biggest disappointments of CM: Spencer doesn’t confront his high school bullies. I read several fics of him doing so, but a lot of them have the bullies be just as much of an asshole as they were to him in the past, but he deserves more closure. 

This will be my take on it. It’ll be a lot of pining but I hope to focus on the his hardships in a less angsty, dramatic way.

Hope you enjoy it!! There will be at least 3 parts?

Also, spread the usage of the term ‘partner’, which can be used for same-sex and opposite-sex relationships.

[high-functioning-lokipath]

RPF - Tom x Reader - He's attempting to be in disguise and you run into him at a library and recognize him. - Words: 1,152

A/N: Alright, so for clarification sake, there is a text message conversation in this imagine. You, as the reader, your texts are in blue text. The other person's texts are in green. I simply do not have the skill to make bubbles lol

Also Y/F/D means Your Favorite Drink

Now, without further ado....

"Ma'am? Ma'am?" You whisper to the lady behind the desk. She seems to be ignoring you though so you whisper louder. "Hello!"

"What do you want?" She snarks, finally paying attention to you.

"Where do you have your classic literature?"

"Ya mean like Shakespeare an’ that?" She asked, obviously disinterested. You nod and she points to the back corner of the building. Thanking her, somewhat half-heartedly, you walk off in search of a copy of your new favorite Shakespeare play. You'd never read it in full but, after seeing a spectacular performance of it, you wanted to read it yourself. Finding the correct aisle, you saw another person was looking at the same area. You tried to get a look at him but he had a knit cap on, pulled down, covering his hair and part of his face. He also had his jacket collar turned up shielding the rest of his face from view. You just shrugged it off and started scanning down the shelf looking for the right book.

"All's Well That Ends Well, Antony and Cleopatra," You read quietly, running your hand down the spines. "As You Like It, Comedy of Errors."

"King Lear, King John, Julius Caesar," The Man muttered to himself, working towards you on the same shelf. He hadn't seemed to have noticed you yet. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him though. "Henry 6, 5, 4, Hamlet."

"Ah ha!" You exclaimed. As you reached for the book you were searching for, his hand bumped yours reaching for it too.

"Sorry," He immediately said, pulling his hand back from yours.

"It's alright," You replied, trying to get a look at his face. Much to your disappointment, however, he was wearing dark glasses.

"Coriolanus is a fine play. Have you ever read it?" He asked.

"Not yet," You admitted. "I saw a spectacular production of it from National Theater though and-" you cut yourself off, finally recognizing the badly disguised voice and the not horribly disguised face.

"Uh, I," He stuttered. "Perhaps I should go."

"No!" You immediately said. "I mean, don't worry about it. I won't tell on you." You smiled abit shyly, surprised you've been able to keep yourself together long enough to form a sentence. "You've obviously gone through a lot of trouble to get here quietly, so," You shrugged. "I shouldn't ruin that for you."

"Well, thanks," He smiled. "Sorry about trying to take your book," He apologized.

"Oh no worries," You replied. "Here," You held it out to him. "I'll just re-read Hamlet for now." He took the book and looked at it for a moment. Then he looked back at you and smiled again.

"Aren't you going to ask for a picture or something?"

"No," You shook your head. "I'm not going to impose on you. Now if you offered," You teased. "Not going to lie, I really really want to but-"

"Give me your phone," He interrupted, holding out his hand. You handed him your phone, unlocked and on camera, and he took off his hat and sunglasses and ruffled his hair a bit to get rid of matting from his hat. Turning to stand next to you, he leaned over a little and held up the phone for a selfie. "Smile!" Once he took it, he brought it up on the gallery to make sure it looked alright. He tapped a couple of things and then showed you the picture. "What do you think?"

"Oh!" You said, finally finding your voice again. "Perfect! Thanks so much, Tom."

"You're welcome. Look, I have to go take care of something real quick. Are you going to be here for a while?"

"Probably."

"Ok, I'll see you again in a few minutes, alright?" You nodded happily, a silly grin working its way on your face. He turned to walk away but stopped and faced you again. "Oh, I forgot to ask, what's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Would it be too cliché of me to say that's a lovely name for a lovely lady? Because it's true." You giggled, blushing furiously and shook your head. He took your hand and kissed it, grinning mischievously. "Y/N, adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave." And with that he left. In a bit of a daze you grabbed the Hamlet book off the shelf and sat on one of the comfy sofas in the corner. After quickly making your new selfie your background on your phone, you settled in to read. About 5 minutes later, though, your phone buzzed.

"This better be important," You grumbled.

Hey, what would you

like to drink? Coffee?

Tea? Frappuccino? Let

me know.

Tom?

Yes? 🙂

"Holy crap," You gulped. Scrolling up slightly, you saw he had texted himself your selfie together.

Sorry if that was a bit too forward. I can just delete your number. I'd just ask that you don't publish my information anywhere.

NO!

It's fine. Actually, kinda funny. Usually I'm the one who has to tell people to ask me first before giving out my number 🤣 I'm not on social media, by the way.

Good for you. It can get messy. Now you haven't answered my question.

Oh! Yeah! Lol Uh, well, I usually get Y/F/D if that's not too much trouble. 🙃

No trouble at all. ☕🍵

[Image attached] (pic of drinks)

Heading back! I have a surprise for you! 😉

Lol 😂 Ok! Can't wait!

"Hi there," He said, peeking around the corner of a bookshelf a few minutes later.

"Hi," You squeaked. He handed you one of the cups in his hand and then sat down next to you.

“Oh, this is for you.” He handed you a smaller package in a brown paper wrapper. You opened it quickly and saw the copy of Coriolanus that had been on the shelf.

“I don’t understand,” you said, a bit confused.

“Well, I may have taken it to the desk and bought it,” He admitted. You stared at him wide eyed. “Open the front cover. I hope you don’t mind.”

For Y/N

Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.

Love, Tom Hiddleston

“You didn’t have to do that, Tom!” You exclaimed. “I-wow! Thank you! That’s a great line too! I haven’t read it before but like I said, I saw a wonderful production of it,” you teased. He laughed and took a sip of his tea.

“Maybe we should read it together,” He suggested slyly, another mischievous glint in his eyes. “And then, perhaps, if you’re agreeable to it, we could go to one of my favorite restaurants a few blocks away and have dinner?”

“I would most certainly be agreeable to that!”

“Wonderful!” He smiled. “Now shall we begin? I have a few favorite scenes that I’m sure we would quite enjoy acting out as well.”

“Indeed. Let’s get started!”

[just-someone-who-likes-to-write]

May I request Nuada with a human reader that is a new witch. Something fluffy maybe?

Again, no access to my laptop yet, but I will try my best to do the request through my phone, and again I am so sorry for the errors!

I was planning for this to be simple and fluffy story but my imagination went a but wild but it still has many fluffs!! Please enjoy!!

You closed as you held your hand forward to the fire bowl in front of you, clearing your senses you tried to connect with it but was unable to.

"Concentrate, (Y/n)." Said your teacher, and you tried but still felt no connection to the element. "Most witches can manipulate fire, you are just not trying enough."

Her words made you angry, which made your determination to proof her wrong rise. You took a few steps forward, believing that maybe the problem is with the distance, but you quickly stopped and pulled away when you got too close and almost burned your hands. Your teacher let out a disappointed sigh as you checked your hand for any injury.

"What am I going to do with you?" She said getting your attention. "You can't manipulate objects, or teleport, or control a simple human mind, and now not even control fire!"

You said nothing only held your hand in front of you and kept your head down in shame.

"You are a good Brewer, I admit that." She said. "But any other witch can be a Brewer, even humans even they had the ingredients!"

"I'm sorry... " was all you could say.

"Saying sorry without accomplishing anything doesn't make you any useful to the King!"

"What is the meaning of this?"

A familiar boming voice called making both you and your teacher tense as you turned to the double doors. Right there stood Prince nuada, his signature frown showed on his face and he made his way towards the two of you.

"Your royal highness!" Exclaimed your teacher who quickly bowed and you followed her action. You kept your head down until you saw his shoes standing in front of you.

"Raise your head." He ordered and you did. His golden eyes met yours fir a brief moment before looking to your teacher.

"What honor do we have that his highness decided to visit us?" Your teacher said with a smile, you'd have believed she was in a good mood if she didn't just yell at you a few moments ago.

"I came to see the progress of your students, but only could hear yelling from the end of the hall." He said in a very displeased manner making your teacher tense.

A few months ago the Elf King had extended a hand to the witches, asking for thier aid against the human and offering protection and ressources as an exchange. Your Cover was one of the few who agreed to stand by the King. However, unlike your sisters you weren't as talented as them, they could conjure spells to fight and defend against humans but you could do none of that. So your teacher had decided to use the King's ressources as a chance to give you better education, hoping your power would awake, but it didn't.

"My deepest apology your highness." She said bowing again. "It's just one of my student is being... Difficult."

"Difficult?" He repeated in question. "Elaborate."

She then went onto this rant of how you can't do anything, how you can't manifest one spell that could benefit the King or your self at that matter. The more she talked the more you wanted to dig a hole into the ground and hide yourself in it, you clenched your dress, fighting back tears of frustration. You were doing your best, and she doesn't even giving credit for that as she continued saying your were lazy. It only took for the Prince to lift his hand up for the elder witch to be silenced.

"I will be dealing with the young lady personally." He said but you kept your head down, missing how troubled your teacher looked.

"that's... That's very generous of you your highness, but I can't imagine letting you-"

"You said that this young witch is wasting resources, time, and refusing to learn. " he cut her off. "So I need to personal make her understand the wrongs of her actions."

It was a short while until your teacher finally walked away to leave the room. The Prince stood right in front of you but said and did nothing until both of you heard the double doors shut. It was silence between you two, only the cracking of wood in the fire behind you could be heard. Nuada reached forward, placed his hand under you chin and gently lifted your head so your sad eyes could meet his affectionate ones.

"My little witch, why do you look so sad?" He asked concerned. You pulled away from his hand.

"My teacher is right I can't do even one simple spell." You said. "But I swear it's not because I'm lazy!"

"I know my dear." He assured, and even though you are grateful to know that he was at your side, it still didn't make you feel any better.

You and Nuada had started this secret friendship of yours when he found you wondering around the royal library, which later you found out it was forbidden for anyone else but the royal family to enter, that day to apologized none stop, which amused the Prince. After that he kept finding you, always saying that he wants to make sure you won't be going to any forbidden areas, and from that some kind of a friendship blossomed between you two. But you wanted to keep it a secret, because if anyone found out of the kind of treatment he is giving you they'd think he is picking favorites.

"Let's go to the garden." He said pulling you out of your thoughts.

"But we can't be seen in public together. " you said. "Everyone would get ideas."

"What ideas?" He asked raising a brow.

"That there is something between us." You answered with a shrug.

"And what is wrong with that?"

his question made look up to him with confusion, but you couldn't see the look he had for he was already making his way to the double doors, obviously not taking a "No" for an answer and with a tired sigh you followed. As expected your teacher was right outside waiting, when she asked nuada simply answered that he needs to show you just how much they are giving hoping it would motivate you to work hard, which was an obvious lie but your teacher seems to believe him as she continued to thank him for his "merciful" choice of a lesson for you. You just repressed rolling your eyes as you followed nuada to the royal Garden.

When you first arrived to the Bethmoora clan palace, King Balor has welcomed you, as well as other covens with open arms and provided a tour in the palace so you may know where to go and where was what, and so far, Your favorite area was the garden. You walked side by side with Nuada in silence, he had his hands behind his back, his posture straight and head held high like a true Prince, while you wondered around at almost every touching it and smiling them, except for those, which were poisonous but admured from afar.

"You truly love nature don't you, little witch." Said Nuada breaking the silence.

"I do very much so." You confirmed. "I used to go on walks in the woods when I was younger, just find a beautiful tree with plenty of shade to set beneath and read... "

You paused as your smile slowly turned into a frown.

"It all changed when humans started hunting us down." You sighed. "We had to hide away, which means no going outside, I was very depressed being stuck in for walls with nothing else to do but practice, practice practice!"

Your last outburst made nuada chuckle.

"Glad to know my pain amuses you." You said with a pout.

"Never, my dear." He said with a smile. "You can simply be too adorable I can't help it."

His statement made you blush and your turned your head away pretending to inspect the flowers below. After knowing the Prince for a few weeks he started saying these complements that left you beaming red, you just assumed it was his nature to do so, but whenever he was with other people he'd be the scary intimidating Prince who's no-one dared to address him in less than his given title, but when the both of you alone, he insist on you calling him by his name.

"(Y/n), I have a question for you." He said having your full attention.

"Yes?" Whenever he called you by your name it's serious.

"Witches can have different powers an abilities, correct?"

"Yes, every Witches Coven is different than the other, for example I heard of those who can use dolls, which is strange yet intriguing."

"And you cannot do the same things your coven does, am I Correct?" He asked again.

"Yes... " Your shoulders slumped and as your brows furrowed in a sad manner.

"Then have you ever considered that maybe you do not share the same abilities as your sisters?" He finally asked and you gave him a look of bewilderment.

"What are you trying to say?"

"What I am trying to same my dear little witch, is that you cannot do the things your sister can do easily... " He said and you almost gonna retort angrily but he continued. "Because you do not carry the same ability as them."

"Are you saying that I carry different abilities?" You asked looking down at your hands.

Nuada started to lead you to another part of the garden a more private part near the palace walls where vines stretched high against the wall. And you would have questioned the location if you weren't already questioning yourself.

"Set down." Said nuada breaking out of your train of thoughts.

"Where are we?" You asked looking around confused as nuada lead you to set in a clear spot with no plants just grass.

"This is my secret place." He answered. " no-one knows of it except Nuala."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"To do this."

He said before pinning you against the wall. Your eyes were widened in shock, your (E/c) eyes met his golden once, he started to slowly lean down, and move brought his mouth closer to your ear.

"May I steal a kiss?" He asked almost timidly,and a blush crossed your face at the request.

You would be lying if you said you didn't dream about your relationship with Nuada to grow more of that of a friendship,but to happen so suddenly and finding out he to desired it, in such private place like this made your heart beat fast. You lowered your head and gave a timid nod giving your consent. The Prince delighted,he lifted your head up and chuckled probably by how tight you kept your eyes closed, but that didn't stop him as he leaned down and pressed his lips against your own. The kiss wasn't agressive or passionate, it was a simple chaste kiss that still made you feel as if your spirit has flown to the heavens and came back as he slowly pulled away. that was your first kis but it left you in such daze that you didn't hear what Nuada said.

"huh?.. What?" You asked quickly looking uo to him. He smirked at your reaction.

"I'm happy to see what kind of effect does my touch have on you.. "He said making you want to look away but he quickly stopped you and made you look above you. "However, you too seem to have a special touch of your own."

He was correct, because the simple green vine that was behind you has many white flowers blooming on it and you were speechless because they weren't there before. You pulled away to have a better look and the flowers seems to go as much as the vines, even the vines seem to have taken even larger parts of the palace.

"I... I did that?" You asked in wonder.

"You did, my little witch." He said with pride as he wrapoed his arms around you and hugged your from behind. "Yes you did my darling (Y/n)."

---

Nuada was waiting at the end of the hall where your teacher's chamber were, he could have waited right outside but he didn't want to draw attention. He heard the doors open and you bowing one last time to your teacher before closing the door and leaving. You had entered empty handed but got out with many different books in your arma that you struggled to lift. Nuada hurried by your side to carry them from you.

"What did she say?" He asked, and you gave him a big excited smile that brought his own.

"You are looking at the very first green witch in our coven!" You almost screamed.

"A green witch?" Nuada asked confused.

"Yes, I can't manipulate or create fire like my sisters." You started to explain. "But I can and will be able to manipulate plants, rocks, animals, the earth and weather!"

"And these books will help you?" He asked looking down at the books that talked about different plants, herba and history of green witches.

"Yes, and I can't wait to read them all." You gave a shy smile to nuada. "Thank you for helping me realize my true powers."

"Why are you thanking me?" He asked genuinely confused.

"You knew in was a green witch." You said. "You told me how I can be different kind of witch than my sisters and took me to... That place."

You blushed at the memory of that kiss.

"You are mistaken my dear, for I didn't know you were a witch of nature." He confessed.

"But... The kiss... " you trailed off.

"I kissed you because I wanted to do so for a long time now." He said with a mischievous grin. "And judging by the way you reacted you wanted the same thing."

Your face was pure red as you snatched the rest of the books from his hands and ran away to your room, being embarrassed made you forget how heavy the books were and hearing Nuada's amused laugh from behind didn't make it better, but for some reason you couldn't help the smile on your face for you just found out that Nuada returned your feelings.

---

Again sorry for any errors, or if it's too long and I hope you enjoyed it!

[imagineyourworld]

Peer Pressure

Kix x Fem!Princess!Reader 

Summary: Kix finds himself giving the princess medical assistance, and even though the two of them hit it off, no one else seems to like the two of them together

Warnings: Mention of blood, mention of a bombing (happened prior to the story), people being a-holes towards the clones 

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The first time Kix sa you he could have sworn time stopped for a moment. All his bleeding brothers, the destroyed droids and remains of the palace faded into the background the second he laid eyes on you. And when you ended up walking straight towards him his heart skipped a beat. Though he soon scolded himself for this when he saw that you weren’t exactly walking, but rather jumping on one leg, trying your best not to put any pressure on the other. Kix hurried over to you and without either of you having to say a single word he put his arm around your waist and guided you over to one of the makeshift beds along the tent walls.  “Thank you”, you said.  Those two words made Kix turn his attention away from your leg and to your eyes. Even though they haven’t been on this planet for very long, everyone in the 501st could tell that the inhabitants were not big fans of clones, most of them ignored them altogether while others were nothing but mean and cold. Your words might have been the first friendly ones he had heard since their arrival that didn’t come from one of his brothers.  “You’re welcome”, he replied, trying his best to focus on your leg again and not your gorgeous eyes. “What seems to be the problem?”  You shrugged. “I’m not quite sure. I was with my family, trying to escape the palace as soon as the alarms went off, but then there was this loud noise and next thing I knew I was all alone and the walls around me were nothing more than dust and pebbles.  Kix nodded along while you talked.  “Do you mind lifting your dress so I can have a closer look at your leg?” You did as you were told, lifting the hem of your dress inch by inch until Kix told you to stop. He could now see that your knee was at a weird angle and there was a long cut along your calf, which was still bleeding. He studied the dark fabric of your dress for a moment to see if there was any indication as to how much blood you’ve lost, but all he noticed that the dress, though now dirty and torn in some places, seemed incredibly expensive. You must be a very high up servant, or maybe even some kind of noble woman.  “Your knee is dislocated and you have a cut on your calf. It’s bleeding a lot, but not deep, so you should be on your feet in no time”, he explained as he began to disinfect your wound before wrapping it up. “Try not to put too much weight on this leg the next couple of days, a day or two of bedrest would help as well, if that’s possible. And the bandages should be changed once a day until the wound is closed. As for your knee, this will hurt for just a second, you can squeeze my arm, it might help with the pain.”  Once again you were a model patient and did as told while Kix tried not to let your warm hand on his arm affect him. He had put off parts of his armour a while earlier due to the hot climate and now there was only a thin layer of fabric between your skin and his.  “What’s your name?”, you asked as Kix put his hands on your knee, whether because you were really interested or to distract you Kix didn’t know, but he found that it didn’t really matter to him. You had asked for his name, not his number as the few other people he had spoken to on this planet, one of whom had only asked so he could report him for daring to touch him while placing a bacta patch on him.  “Kix. My name’s Kix”, he said and quickly followed up by asking for your name.  “I’m (Y/N)”, you said, though you rather screamed the last syllable in the short moment it took Kix to relocate your knee. “It’s very nice to meet you, Kix. And thank you so much for your help. What can I do to repay you?”  Kix, now finished with his work, looked at you in shock. Surely you had to be joking.  “I... “, he began, not sure what to say. In all his time as a medic, this was a question he had never heard.  “Maybe we could meet again for dinner and you could tell me what you’ve thought of”, you suggested with a bright smile on your lips that made Kix’s mouth dry. Did you just ask him on a date? Were you flirting with him?  “I’d like that. Especially after the day I’ve had”, he finally admitted.  Still smiling you leaned forward, placing your elbows on your legs and your head in your hands until your face was only inches way from Kix, who was still kneeling in front of you.  “Go on, tell me about your day.”  Kix scanned your face, looking for any trace of irony or cruelty, but when he didn’t find anything that might lead him to believe that you weren’t sincere he began.  “Well, it was a long day and a short night. Jesse, that’s one of the brothers I’m closest with, woke me at the crack of dawn because Hardcase had dropped his caf and cut himself on the broken cup trying to pick up the pieces. Once his hand was bandaged Echo and Fives came running through the medbay, trying to hide from Dogma, who they had pulled some sort of prank on. And before that could be settled Rex commed us to get us over here because the palace was under attack.”  Kix surprised himself with how much he had told you, how easy it was for him to talk to you and that you were smiling and laughing as he told his story.  “That sounds like an eventful day, much better than mine. Maybe I’ll get to meet your brothers one day”, you said wistfully.  Before Kix could reply to that he heard voices from the other side of the tent. As he looked over he saw you rolling your eyes out of the corner of his eyes.  “Where is she? Where is our daughter? I demand you bring us to her?”  He saw Rex trying to calm the screaming man down, but the woman next to him then began to yell at the Captain. Luckily just a moment later General Skywalker intervened and much to Kix’s dismay lead the couple over to him.  “Kix, the King and Queen say that their daughter was admitted to the medical tent. Have you by any chance seen the princess?”  Kix shook his head. He was pretty sure he would have noticed if anyone like the two monarchs in front of him would have been anywhere near the tent.  “There you are! (Y/N), we were so worried. What are you doing here? You should be with our own doctors, not this... clone”, the Queen exclaimed while, to Kix’s surprise, put both her hands on your cheeks. Though he didn’t hear your reply, since his attention was now captured by the King who had picked up his wife’s yelling.  “What do you think you were doing with my daughter? Were you trying to kidnap her? You better hope for your own good that you didn’t touch her, or else-”, he began before being interrupted by both you and Anakin.  “Dad!”, you yelled while Anakin told him not to speak to his men like that.  Though neither the King nor the Queen paid any attention to either of you. Instead they both took one of your arms and basically lifted you off the bed. All you could to before they all but carried out the tent was to turn around to look at Kix and mouth a single word.  “Sorry.”  All Kix could do was stare after you, standing completely still and not registering anything around him until he suddenly felt Jesse’s hand on his shoulder.  “Well done, vod. That’s the princess you were just flirting with.” 

-------

A short while later you were sitting in an armchair in the one part of the palace that, by some miracle, was still mostly intact.  The room was smaller than what you were used to, and the clothes you were wearing were a lot less elaborate than your usual dresses, and yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead it felt rather like you weren’t yourself at all, like you could do things you usually couldn’t. The thought brought an idea to your mind. You looked very different in this simple black dress, with no makeup and unstyled hair, if you were to leave the palace no one would stop you, they wouldn’t even recognize you.  Without thinking further about your idea you jerked into action, packing the small dinner on the table next to you in a basket you had found earlier and making your way out of the room and through the halls.  No one stopped you, no one even bothered to look at you until you arrived at your destination.  “Who are you? What do you want?”, a clone with the number five tattooed on his forehead asked. Though his voice was similar to Kix’s, he sounded a lot less friendly.  “I’m looking for a medic. His name is Kix. We met earlier today and I-”  “What? You’re gonna yell at him some more?”, another clone, this one without visible tattoos asked.  You shook your head and lifted the basket in your hands.  “I’m bringing him dinner as a thank you for helping me. And an apology for my parent’s behaviour.”  It seemed to dawn on the clones who you were once you mentioned your parents.  “You’re the princess!”, the tattooed clone exclaimed, though the other elbowed him in the side a moment later.  “Kix should be in the mess. That’s the third door to the right”, the other clone said, his voice a lot friendlier now, before the two of them let you pass onto the ship.  You soon found your way to the mess, though only once you stepped inside did it occur to you that finding Kix amongst all the other clones might be a bit more difficult than anticipated. As you began to look around the room you realized that one after the other all the clones had stopped eating and were now looking at you. You felt heat rising to your cheeks. Maybe you should have thought this through instead of assuming Kix would be around, waiting for you.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of you looking around the room and every single men inside staring at you, one of the clones walked up to you. He obviously wasn’t Kix, but introduced himself as Jesse, a name you were at least familiar with.  “You must be the princess. If you’re looking for Kix, he just left for the barracks. Down the corridor, then left. If you might still catch him before he hits the ‘fresher.”  Relief flooded through your body.  “Thank you”, you called over your shoulder as you headed out the door to finally find Kix.  You saw him just as he was rounding the corner and called his name. Though you hadn’t expected him to stop dead in his track because as soon as you ran around the corner you ran right into him. Luckily Kix had quick reflexes and caught you before you could fall down.  “You weren’t just running, were you? What part of ‘don’t put weight on your leg’ didn’t you understand?”, he sighed, though there was a grin on his lips.  You shook your head as you tried your best to catch your breath. How dare he talk about your leg now instead of appreciating your grand gesture?  “I know, I’m sorry”, you said, even though you weren’t really, not if running was your way of catching Kix. “And I’m sorry for earlier. My parents... they’re... they can be... I’m sorry. I’m nothing like them, I promise. And look, I even brought the dinner I promised you as proof.”  Without hesitation you thrust the basket in Kix’s hands. He looked inside before turning back to you.  “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to have dinner. Clearly there are a million reasons you should stay away from me.”  You shook your head. How could he say that? Didn’t he notice how much you’ve grown to like him after spending just a few minutes with him and how that could easily turn into something more if he’d just agree to have dinner with you? Hadn’t he felt the sparks earlier?  “Maybe I don’t want to stay away. Maybe I want to have dinner with you, no matter what anyone may say or think.”  Kix simply handed you the basket, but before he could say anything else you tossed it to the side and stepped closer.  “Tell me you don’t want to spend time with me and I’ll leave, but don’t blame it on other people. This isn’t about what my parents think, what your brothers may think, this is about you and me and the fact that I’ve never felt about anyone like I feel about you.”  A loud sigh left Kix’s lips. He reached to take your hands in his and gently stroked along your knuckles.  “You don’t even know me, mesh’la.”  You spoke enough Mando’a for that little word to give you a bit of hope.  “We can change that. We can take it slow, no pressure, no expectations. Just one question: Will you have dinner with me?”  Kix looked deep into your eyes as his answer, one single word, left his lips. 

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I might write two seperate part twos to this story, one in which Kix agrees to dinner and one in which he doesn’t, if that’s something you’d like to read. 

As always, I’d love to hear some thoughts and feedback <3

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 18

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Book: TRR AU

Warnings: Language, crude talk, and the usual bad writing.

I had planned from the beginning to end this series after the next chapter and an epilogue, but call me crazy, I love it too much. So while this part of the story will end, I still plan to update with one-shots or stories from time to time. If you’re just done with it, let me know.

Also, this chapter felt a little off to me, so I apologize if it's terrible, but I think I ended on a good note.

Thanks @burnsoslow for prereading.and usage of your girl, who finally got to make her debut.

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

"Damn it, Riley! Pick up!" Liam grumbled as he lowered the cell phone from his ear and tossed it in the seat beside him. The royal jet had been in the air for a little over four hours already, and he'd grown frustrated at getting her voice mail each time. Surely, she was home by now. 

Even though it was the middle of the night in Las Vegas, it was worth interrupting her. He had tried unsuccessfully to contact Riley since he packed his bags earlier and hastily headed for the airstrip. By this point, there must have been a dozen or so messages left on her phone without so much as a hint she'd gotten them. 

While time wasn't an issue -- he'd get to Las Vegas one way or the other -- it was the desperation to hear from his new wife and tell her he knew precisely why she left. 

And that he loved her.

Tilting his head back against the headrest, he swiveled side-to-side in his luxury chair while tightly clutching his freshly poured scotch. The security footage he watched earlier that morning replayed in his mind again. There were no doubts about what it showed: Madeleine confronted Riley outside their quarters just minutes after leaving the ball. Without sound, however, no one could ascertain specifically what was said among the two women. It was clear though,  Riley was not a willing participant in that conversation. When they saw the disk held up in the Countess' hands, and the look of sheer horror on his pussycat's face, that told Liam all he needed to know. This was a blackmail situation, plain and simple, that included assault; those flowers he found scattered on the ground when he returned to his quarters last night all made sense now. This act was deliberate and treasonous, and Liam would ensure his ex-fiancee paid handsomely for it. 

After they viewed the footage several more times, the Royal Guard was immediately summoned to Krona to find Madeleine and take her into custody. Liam knew it was a long shot whether his guards could pull that sting off, but he was working with what he had at the moment.

Despite whatever happened next, there was one thing the King was confident of: He was prepared to give up his entire Kingdom to get his girl back. Returning to Cordonia without her was not an option.

Shaking his tumbler of partially melted ice cubes, Liam leaned forward and steadily poured another bottle of scotch into his glass. As soon as he sat back and raised the fresh beverage to his lips, he was startled by the ringing of his cell phone. In a rush to answer, he hastily set the drink aside and snatched his phone up from where he tossed it earlier. 

"Hello! Love?" He answered, hopeful it was her.

"Hey, little brother. Love you too ... Say, do you know if the palace has a Spanish tickler or a breast ripper? Asking for a friend."

Liam furrowed his brows in confusion before rising from his seat, plopping a knee down on its cushioned bottom, and glancing to the back of the plane. "Leo? Why are you calling me? We're on the same damn plane. I'm looking right at you."

"Nevermind that. Listen, I figured out a way to take care of Madeleine once and for all. Behold ..." Leo held up a leather-bound book and waved it over his head while Liam squinted from the front of the plane to get a better look. "... The King Constantine Guide To Fucking Torture In The 21st Century; Father gave it to me after my investiture ceremony. The way I see it, there really is no other option here than to tie her to a tree in front of the palace, invite the public to watch for a modest fee, and do some cool shit with iron rods and spikes. I got dibs on the knee-splitter, though."

"Leo ..." Liam began to warn his brother how ridiculous that plan was before stopping himself and staring off into the distance for a moment in thought. "Wait ... is there anything about flaying in that book?"

"Hell yeah there is! And if you're interested in thumbscrews, my buddy, Pete, has a trunk full of them. He uses them for ass play, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind letting us borrow them to split Maddie's thumbs in half." Leo let out a maniacal laugh.

Liam chuckled, despite the peculiarity of the conversation. "I'm not going to lie and tell you I'm not interested -- to the contrary, actually. And while I appreciate your help in seeing that Madeleine is brought to justice, I think we better stick to more lawful means."

"Boo, you whore!" The line went dead with a click. 

Liam held the phone away from his ear, watching Leo sink down into his chair in a huff. "Really?" He called back in agitation. Met with the silent treatment and a middle finger from his disgruntled brother, Liam rolled his eyes, then slumped back down into his seat. Maybe he'd try to call Riley again.

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

The phone on Riley's nightstand buzzed again. She knew it was another call from Liam, and while she felt remorseful for ignoring all of his calls and texts, she couldn't bring herself to look at or answer them quite yet. The sooner all ties between them were broken, she believed, the quicker he could forget all about her and the mess she made of everything. 

But even her willpower was slipping. Riley slid her hand out from under the pillow and reached over to pick up her phone. Holding it to her chest, she contemplated for a second just reading his texts and returning his calls, but Madeleine had warned to end all contact with him. Obviously, she was curious about what he had to say, but it was too risky. I'm so sorry, Liam. 

Hitting the power button on her cell, the light on the device faded to black before she tossed it in the nightstand drawer.

Early the next morning, Riley's eyes flickered open to the sound of a banging on her front door, followed by the incessant ringing of her doorbell. Feeling exhausted from a lack of sleep, mainly because of crying and unable to think about anything other than how she hurt Liam, Riley decided to ignore it. She just wanted to be left alone, and eventually, they'd give up and leave, right?

Except they didn't.

Annoyed, she let out a sigh and then eased herself up out of bed; the pain in her back was still a problem. Tossing a robe over her body, she slowly made her way down the stairs of her townhome -- each step excruciating -- until she finally made it to the door.

Twisting the lock, she opened the entry door, before letting out a sudden gasp at the tearful person standing on the other side. 

"Oh my God, Riley! Y-You're alive! You're really alive!"

"Alyssa?" Riley's best friend from New York pulled her into a relieved hug, nearly sobbing at that point. "What're you doing here?"

"I thought something terrible happened to you, but now that I can see you're still among the living ..." she sniffled before pulling back and narrowing her blazing blue eyes at her friend. "Where have you been? I've been trying to get ahold of you ever since you texted me that you were boarding a plane in Cordonia, and that something serious happened involving Tyler. You promised me you'd call as soon as you landed--"

"I know. I'm so sorry. It was late ..."

 " -- and you didn't. Then I worried, even more, when you didn't answer any of my calls back. I had to book the first red-eye flight here to make sure you were all right." Finished with her rant, a huffing Alyssa's jaw immediately clenched. "Now, what did that shithead ex of yours do? I'll kill him if he hurt you, Ri. I might be small, but I'm scrappy like an alleycat. You know I'll claw his eyes out."

Riley let out a light chuckle; Alyssa was always overprotective of her and had a clever way with words, but quickly, that chuckle faded into a teary frown. "Oh, Lyss," she whimpered as her face fell into her hands.

Alyssa quickly wrapped her arms around Riley and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Aww, Riley. Sweetie, it's going to be okay," she soothed. 

Stepping inside, Alyssa kicked the door shut and led them both over to the sofa. Sensing Riley was in pain -- and not just emotional -- she helped lower her troubled best friend onto the couch. "I want you to start from the beginning and tell me everything that happened."

The best friends had remained in contact over the last several weeks. It was Alyssa's frantic morning phone call over a month ago that alerted Riley to the news coverage of her impromptu marriage to Liam, having saw it on the news. 

And while Alyssa was aware of everything about Cordonia and Liam, and how Riley fit into all that from their prior conversations, she listened intently while it was revealed to her the details of the incident with Madeleine and the video her ex-husband gave to the Countess.  

Grabbing a tissue from the end table, Alyssa handed it to Riley. "So this cow confronted you with that disgusting video and basically blackmailed you into leaving, or she would release it to the press?" Riley nodded somberly.."Ugh, I want this treasonous bitch thrown in the dungeon, subjected to live-streamed daily anal fistings with giant Hulk gloves ... And Tyler, I want to break every bone in his rotten body, one at a time. And I want to leave him there afterwards, dripping just enough water on his lips, so he doesn't die of dehydration, screaming in agony for the weeks it will take to die of starvation."

 Riley's face scrunched up. "God, Alyssa."

Alyssa shrugged. "What? I don't care; it's what they deserve for hurting you. Did you at least tell Liam what happened?"

This time, Riley shook her head. "No. Madeleine warned me if I told him, she would release the video, and then the council would likely force him to step down. I won't allow him to lose everything for someone like me." 

Irritated, Alyssa pressed a palm to her forehead. "Why are you like this?"

"Like, what?" Riley asked in exasperation.

"That whole, 'someone like me,' part. He wanted to stay married to you. He made you the queen of his country. You've said he couldn't keep his goddamn hands off you for two seconds. And more importantly, you told me you have never felt more loved in your life, than you do when you're with him. The fact that you still question your worthiness to him blows my mind." 

Alyssa reached for Riley's shaky hand, able to tell by the tears sliding down her cheeks and the soft whimpers that she'd touched on something. "You're his pussycat, Riley. Liam already lost everything when you left him. Tell me you know that."

Riley wiped at her face., her voice stifled, "I just wanted to protect him."

"I know." Alyssa smiled softly. "But you needed to give him the chance to decide what he wanted. You made it for him because you know he'd choose you, regardless if he lost everything else; that's how much he loves you, Ri. You can't protect someone who loves you by hurting them. Besides, he's the King; he can simply execute the council if he wants to -- Liam’s not going anywhere."

"You just HAD to add that last part in, didn't you?" Riley laughed, feeling a sense of ease as her mood lightened. It felt good to talk to someone who could help her make sense of everything and realize she hadn’t exactly made the best call by leaving and not telling Liam what happened. "But what do I do about this video? What if Madeleine releases it to the public?"

"Yeah, a video of a married woman having sex with her husband -- Oh, the shame!" she retorted. "Look, you'll be famous on Pornhub for a few weeks, and it'll fizzle out. I know that doesn't make it all better, but you have a lot of people who love you ... we'll be there for you if that happens. Besides, it's Gonzo Dick; I doubt anyone will wanna watch anyway."

Riley snorted out at the nickname she gave her ex-husband. "Stop making me laugh." 

Alyssa cracked a grin. "Nah. If I can make you laugh at that asshole's expense and his crooked dick, then it's worth it."

"Well,” she breathed, “ I suppose I should get dressed and call Liam. Tell him what happened, and hopefully, he'll … forgive .." her voice trailed off at tasting an increasing collection of bile in her throat and a familiar rumble in her stomach. 

“What’s wrong?”

Riley frowned. "Damn it, why do I keep getting sick?"  

After rushing to the bathroom with Alyssa's help, Riley came out moments later, flushed and perspiring. Alyssa, who waited outside the door to make sure she was all right, eyed her friend with grave concern. "Ri, are you sure you don't have a concussion? You said that Madeleine caused you to fall, and you complained you’ve been getting sick a lot. Is there any chance you hit your head too?"

Riley considered for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't think so. I mean, it all happened so fast I don't really remember, but my head doesn't hurt."

"OH NO! You have memory loss too, on top of the vomiting and a hurt back? Riley, you need to go to the hospital now. This is serious."

"Alyssa, I'm fine. I don't need to go to the hospital," Riley dismissed and hobbled past her friend toward the kitchen. "You always worry too much."

Alyssa followed behind her, brows bumped together in a scowl. "Because you're a stubborn ass who never listens, that's why. You need to get checked out," she insisted. Riley paid no attention as made her way to the fridge; that reaction only served to piss Alyssa off. "You can ignore me all you want, but you know as well as I do, I'll just keep annoying the hell out of you until you do it … I'll sing every Dave Matthews song ever written -- On repeat." 

Riley shut the fridge door and turned at the threat, giving her a dismayed glare. "You wouldn't." 

Alyssa tilted her chin. "You know damn well I would. I have... so much to say, so much to say, so much --"

"Please stop! I'm going."

---------

At Valley Hospital and Medical Center, Drake sat slumped down in the waiting room of the E.R;  a thawed ice pack covered his crotch. His increasingly irritated self caught sight of a nurse escorting yet another patient back for examination. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Tired of waiting, he cast the ice pack aside and marched straddle-legged to the triage desk where a beefy nurse with a scowl sat filing her nails. "How much longer is this gonna take?" He demanded bitterly.

The nurse remained focused on her nails and answered in a careless fashion. "You'll get called back when it's your turn, Mr. Walker."

"My turn? MY TURN? I've been here for 15 fucking hours waiting for my turn. I've watched one person after the next walk right in, get treated, and leave. Whose ass do I actually have to lick to get treatment around here?"

Unimpressed with his theatrics, she folded her arms on the desk and looked up at Drake with a glower. "Look. You got kicked in the wang by a hooker. Shit happens. It's not the end of the world. Go home, have a beer, and a good laugh. You'll live." She resumed her filing.

Drake ran both hands through his rumpled hair, letting out a sardonic laugh. "I cannot fucking believe you just said that to me. I suffer trauma on my transplanted dick, and the greatest healthcare minds in the world tell me to have a beer and laugh about it?" his voice shrieked.

The nurse blew on her nails. "That's what I said."

That snarky remark sent him even further over the edge. A red-faced Drake pounded two white-knuckled fists on the desk and leaned down into her space. "Now you listen here, lady. I demand to be seen right now, or so help me, I'll tear this whole goddamn place apart brick-by-fucking-brick! Do you understand me?"

Having none of that, the nurse, who was several inches taller than a startled Drake expected, sprung for her chair and loomed over him menacingly. Drake flinched when she rammed the nail file at him and threatened, "Now, you listen.You can either sit your ass down, or I will sit you down. Do you understand me?"

He didn't understand. He would never understand.

A security guard who heard the commotion casually approached the agitated pair and placed a firm hold on Drake's elbow. "Do we have a problem here, Betty Lou?"

She shook her head, sizing Drake up. "No, just some whiny-ass Karen griping about his dick."

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

Several moments later, Alyssa and Riley exited an Uber and wandered into the waiting area, making their way up to the triage line -- or what they thought was a line. It was actually Drake still standing there, continuing to protest his case to anyone who would listen and demanding to speak to someone in charge.

While Riley dug through her purse to retrieve her health insurance card, Alyssa couldn't help but be taken in by the fiery debacle taking place in front of them. She inched a little closer, unable to help herself; it was good drama and sucked her right in. 

Catching a glimpse of Drake’s sour face, she cocked her head introspectively; there was something oddly familiar about the man in the denim shirt going off. Alyssa tapped her chin. Where have I seen him before?  

Before long, the realization set in, and her eyes snapped wide open. She nudged Riley with an elbow and leaned over, whispering, "Hey, isn't that the guy from the news who had the penis transplant? It looks just like him."

Knowing precisely who that was by the description, Riley popped her head up to look. She hadn't known Drake well, only that he was Liam's best friend, and after having spent time together on the plane ride to Cordonia with him, that her maid-of-honor had given him several venereal diseases. "Drake?" she called out.

While Alyssa zoned in on his groin, curious as to what was in there, Drake broke away from the dispute and turned his focus toward the familiar-sounding voice. She was a connection to home and a long-sought-after friendly face. "Riley? Liam's insta-bride, Riley?" 

She let out a light chuckle and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose that's how you would know me ... What are you doing at the hospital? Is your body rejecting the ..." Her embarrassed gaze dropped lower with a gulp. " ... thing?"

"No!" he barked. "I just got attacked by that ... uh, someone."

"You got attacked?" Shocked, Riley placed a hand over her chest. "Why would someone attack you? Are you okay?"

Feeling incensed by the memory, Drake shook his head and muttered. "It's a long story ... What about you? What are you doing here? Thought you were in Cordonia with Liam?"

She inhaled a deep breath through her nostrils and forced a smile. "It's a long story too."

Drake peeked over his shoulder at Nurse Ratchet, giving him a gimlet-eyed stare from behind her computer screen. He groused and turned to face Riley again. "I've got time."

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

Nearly 12 hours after takeoff, the royal jet touched down in sunny Las Vegas, an hour ahead of schedule. Liam and Leo stepped off the plane and strolled across the tarmac to the awaiting vehicle, where a smiling man held the rear passenger door open.

"Bastien," Liam greeted as he approached. "Good to see you again."

"Your Majesty." He bowed. "Likewise ... I have the rental car you requested, and the Queen's address is already programmed into the GPS. Should take no more than 30 minutes to get there."

"Perfect,” he replied, clapping Bastien’s shoulder.“Thanks for having everything ready to go."

Liam had contacted the head guard -- who was still jailed for non-support -- and gained him a day-long pass to provide security detail. Bastien was also to stay in contact with his guards to oversee the capture and detainment of Madeleine.

Bastien took their bags, and the brothers hopped into the back of the Escalade. Once they pulled away from the airport, the directions led the group west. The head guard glanced briefly in the rearview mirror as he drove on. “I want to thank you for giving me a second chance. It’s nice to be out of that place, even if just for the day.”

Liam smiled back. “Not a problem, good man. I can’t think of anyone else I trust more for the job than you … though I’m not sure why. Anyway, do you have any updates on the Madeleine situation?”

“Yes, sir. I contacted my colleagues again just before you arrived. Countess Madeleine was taken by surprise when our guards arrived at her family estate in Krona. Once in custody, she was immediately transported to Valtoria for detention, exactly as you requested.”

"That's terrific news ... Wait ...Did you say, Valtoria?" Liam asked with puzzlement in his tone. 

"Yes, sir. As you requested." 

"Man, please tell me Mads tried to fight them off, and they had to use the taser on her," Leo insisted as he held his crossed fingers in the air. "A billy club ... a rubber hose ... something."

"There may have been a brief verbal exchange and some threats, but the Countess promised if they permitted access to her computer to send a quick email, she would go with them peacefully and without further protest. There didn't seem to be any harm in doing so, and she followed through with her word. Sorry to break it to you, Prince Leo, but no tasers were harmed in her capture."

"Well, fiddle shit." Leo glanced over at his brother --who was still scratching his head -- in disappointment. "If only I'd been able to get that shock collar on her while I was engaged to her, you wouldn't be in this mess right now. She just squirmed too much. I’m sorry I let you down, little brother."

"It's fine, Leo; it's not the first time,”  Liam said dryly before turning his head away from Leo to face the front again. "Can we get back to Madeleine being taken to Valtoria? I never requested that. An accused of the Crown is always placed in the palace dungeon. There aren't even cells in Valtoria to hold her in. What am I missing here?"

Approaching a stoplight, Bastien lightly pressed the brakes, then met Liam’s gaze in the mirror. “The orders I was given to pass along to the guards from you earlier were clear in your text: Once she’s taken into custody, she is to be sent to Valtoria and placed in the cage with the monkey until further notice. That’s what they --”

“Mongo! They put her in the cage with Mongo?” Liam exploded before pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing there was no point in asking how that message got mixed up. “Goddamn it, Leo! Why are you, you, sometimes?” He ran a swift hand down his face and turned to glare at his brother. “Do you realize they consider that cruel and unusual punishment? Did you ever stop to consider how much shit I'm going to hear over this if this gets out?" He let out a sharp breath and threw his hands in the air."How? How did you do it?"

"It's simple pimple, Liam. When you went to the bathroom, I grabbed your phone," he replied bluntly with a shrug. "And according to page 24 of Father's torture book: It's not considered cruel and unusual punishment, as long as she has food, water, and clean shelter -- which she does. Or ... if she's housed with a member of the royal family -- which she is. Mongo is the heir to the throne, so we've got that covered too. So just relax, little bro; Leo’s got it all taken care of for you."

Liam dropped his chin to his chest, then let out a weary breath. “Bastien, call the guards and have them move her to the palace at once.” 

As Bastien placed the call, Liam shifted in his seat so that he was staring out the window. He put a palm over his mouth to conceal the curved lips that formed a devilish grin, trying to contain the unbearable urge to bust out laughing. Oh, Maddie ... I hope you and Mongo had one hell of a time together.

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

Back at the hospital, Riley situated herself on the gurney while a nurse prepared to check her vitals and ask general health questions. 

In the next bay over, separated by a thin sliding curtain, Drake was finally attended to after Riley reluctantly, but willfully, played up her celebrity status. Once she threatened to have the hospital shut down -- which she doubted was even possible on her end -- the proverbial red carpet was rolled out for both of them; she was still a queen, afterall. 

Steps were then taken to ensure they both received the royal treatment, so to speak. That wasn’t typically how Riley preferred to handle situations; she hated big fusses over her. But in the end, she did help one of Liam’s oldest friends finally get the medical attention he needed, so it was worth trying. 

The blood pressure cuff on Riley’s arm squeezed tighter just as one of the doctors stepped inside and slid the curtain all the way closed. His cheerful greeting drew Riley's fixed gaze away from the changing numbers on the monitor beside her bed, and she smiled up at him.

The doctor was tall and thin, with thick spectacles perched near the tip of his nose. He gave a brief nod to Alyssa, who was sitting in a chair at Riley’s bedside, rubbing her shoulder. Scanning the patient chart, he spoke without looking up, "Queen Riley, it says here you suffered a fall?"

"I'm just Riley,  please," she requested.

The doctor looked up from the paperwork and nodded with an understanding smile. "Of course." 

After the initial exam concluded, Alyssa remained behind after the doctor ordered x-rays and transport had wheeled Riley down to radiology. 

Bouncing her crossed leg as she scrolled through her phone, Alyssa tried to bide her time until Riley returned. An air conditioning vent overhead that she didn’t realize drowned out so much noise around her, suddenly flipped off. Able to catch the conversation on the other side of the curtain better, she listened with a broken heart as Drake reluctantly described to an attending, the worst days of his life. Alyssa shuddered as he recalled the moment his penis fell off, rolled across the bed, and dropped onto Ethan Ramsey’s leather shoe during an exam. “That poor man. I just want to hug him,” she muttered.

Her little ears perked when the doctor mentioned he was “going to have a look at it.” In her curious mind, there were no doubts that she was too. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take a peek at the first transplant of its kind; no way was she going to miss out on that. 

Alyssa slid to the edge of her seat and raised her hand to up to the curtain, easing a tiny portion of it aside. Her blue eyes crinkled with frustration at a nurse who was blocking her view. “Move your ass,” she whispered to herself.

Unable to get a good view, she gave up that spot and eyed the other opening in the curtain at the far end of the room. Sliding off her chair to a crouching position on the floor, Alyssa crab-walked as fast as she could without falling off balance until she made it to the other side. Crooking a stealthy finger along the seam of the curtain, she hoped and prayed Drake’s genital exam wasn’t through yet. What her eyes saw on that gurney when she pulled the fabric aside caused her heart to jolt out of her chest. 

Alyssa cupped a hand over her gaping mouth before stepping back and letting the curtain fall loosely shut again.  Dropping her hand limply at her side, staring blankly at nothing, she mouthed, “Oh. My. God.”

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

Down in the radiology department, Riley sat patiently in her wheelchair, waiting for the tech to return to take the x-rays. Enjoying the lighter feeling of having an empty bladder again, she let out a contented sigh; she was about to bust earlier. That mandatory urine sample couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. 

Left alone to ruminate in her thoughts, Riley wondered about those phone calls she ignored last night from Liam. The regret she felt over her actions the last 26 hours continued to mount up. And it took a heart-to-heart with her best friend to really put things into perspective. Her decisions weren’t the best course to take, even if they were done with the most loving of intentions. 

There was a lot to make up to Liam, and she only hoped that it wasn’t too late. Could he even forgive her for all of it?

She wished he was there with her right now. If she knew him the way she thought she did, he’d be standing around telling inappropriate jokes to make her laugh or embarrass her with his silly antics. It was like Liam could be two different people sometimes: Kingly and stoic around everyone else, but the second it was just him alone with her, he was such a big kid. Somehow, she could bring out his true self; the one where he felt comfortable enough to be silly and playful. And as much as she tried to play them off, those little pet names he gave her -- she chuckled to herself as they popped into her head -- were funny. What the hell even was a knucklehead mcspazzatron? 

“Miss Brooks” Riley shook herself of her thoughts as the x-ray tech returned and made her way over. “I apologize that took so long.”

Riley smiled up at her. “No need to apologize… Are you ready for me now?”

“Not exactly,” she teased in such a cheery tone, Riley slightly lowered her eyelids, holding her gaze. “You most likely won’t be getting x-rays today, sweetie.” She held a fisted hand out to Riley and opened her palm to reveal the small object inside. “You’re pregnant.”

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

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