#Paw Patrol Fireplace

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

PAW Patrol Holiday Fireplace 🎄🎁

Mayor Humdinger's and Ryder's moments

[yiiyiiwrites]

🗡️ | Relics and Ruins | 7 |

Part 7 [series masterlist]

Summary: you’re a mender from the dawn court specialised in cursed or broken relics. When Azriel enters the dawn court the truth-teller is silent, it’s not till he asks for your help that realises who you are. 3317words

The autumn court was not what you’d expected, the soggy leaves squelching beneath your boots. You weren't on your feet for long though, before strong arms lifted you, the side of your head lulling into his warmth.

Eris Vanserra carried you through the brown stone courtyard, ancient tree’s twisted branches spiralling out of the centre. Gold and browns fluttered from above, leaves as dark as blazing flames raining down.

A fox weaved its way through his legs and disappeared underneath a dying hedge, bushy tail swiping the dry leaves to the ground.

“You should not have come,” Eris mumbled, his grip on you tightening as he slipped past a group of patrolling guards. The hounds behind him silent, not even the sound of their paws hitting the tiled floor.

“You make me feel safe though, I just wanted somewhere to heal.” You grasped the lapels of his overcoat, clinging to that small source of comfort and warmth radiating off of him.

“The bargain makes you feel safe, you should not feel that way here.”

He didn't say how you should not feel safe with him, the autumn court another prison like under the mountain for him. You heard the tales of his father and lived to be at his brothers mercy.

Calling in the bargain felt as natural as breathing, like he needed you in this moment as much you needed him. You wondered sometimes if he was your mate, if the bargain had twisted the thread of fate between you making it harder for you to feel it.

You’d been there before, the day after you were freed from under the mountain. Unable to leave, lost in the familiarity of the autumn general and your need for security, which you found in him. Eris let you stay, returning you to the dawn court before nightfall. He’d warned you not to step foot in his home again.

The sun glaring through the stained glass windows, scorching hot against your face. Eris carried you through the intricate maze of narrow halls, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was doing it, so that you could not map out the palace. He nudged a set of double doors open with his shoulder, your leg falling from his grasp.

Eris shifted you in his arms, taking you through a circular entryway and ducking under thick velvety draped curtains to a large bedroom. A green marbled fireplace roared to life, ornate oak mantel framing the red flames, twirling leaves carved into the dark stained wood.

He was alway so put together, not a strand of hair out of place or crease marring his clothings, something you envied him for.

"You know, I didn't think I'd be mending you," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. He laid you onto the bed, elbows either side of you as he caged you in. You sunk into the plush blanket, sinking your fingers into the tufts of fur. Your eyes trailed his hands that traced your thigh, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

His fingers hooked onto the double knot of your bandage, untying and lifting your leg, palm cupping the back of your thigh so he could unravel the ribbon of material. Eris hesitated, "this will hurt."

You clutched his wrist, his amber eyes snapping to your hand. He pried your fingers from him, "you know how it goes," he mumbled, placing his palm on top of your thigh.

"Just be quick." You yelped as he pressed his weight into the wound, flesh burning beneath his touch. The fire licking around his fingers and curling from under his palm sealing whatever injury it touched. You'd been here before, manipulating his fire to mend or heal, you could feel your skin weaving itself back together.

Eris's touch lingered, the pad of his thumb soothing the tingles away from your thigh. The wound closed and skin meshed back together, a lighter patch of scarring in its place. "Do I want to know?" He asked, laying down beside you on the bed. The mattress dipped and your body rolled with his, closer to him.

You turned, swinging your leg and hovering above him, hands resting on his chest. "How can I even repay such kindness?" You smiled down at him. His fiery red hair splayed out like a halo against the fur blanket, but he was not as angelic as the image laying beneath you.

You'd always wondered what type of person he'd be when he'd become high lord. His hot and cold demeanour throwing you off each time you saw him. Today however, he seemed happy to be with you. Even if it was unplanned.

He tugged the chain dangling from your neck. "You know," he said, pulling you down by your necklace. His gaze on the pendant and the small blob of fae light spiralling inside. "We're not under the mountain anymore." He tugged you, lips crashing into yours, touch burning.

"I like it," you said, stuffing the pendant under your fitted tunic. "Besides, it's actually really useful." He hummed, stroking your cheek, but his gentleness did not last long as he gripped your chin.

"Scared a certain shadowsinger, will torture you in the darkness if you kiss the enemy?" he said, kissing you once again. Staking his claim, knowing that you would go back to the night court and smell of him.

You tensed at the mention of Azriel, you'd easily forgot his position in the night court. Maybe his charm was part of the game, you knew he was dangerous and risky, but you couldn't help but think of him.

"I don't mind playing the villain, if I get some intel in return."

You didn't bite the bait.

A pawn in every other high fae's game, seemed to be something you couldn't escape even above the mountain. Eris Vanserra a lesser evil though, you knew where you stood with him. The inner circle and the night court, you wasn't so sure. Too early to tell.

You'd play your part, trust Thesan and then spend the rest of your days in the Dawn court.

"I'm just telling you to tread carefully, whether it be the shadowsinger, brute or Rhys," Eris said, names dripping from his tongue like they were coated with poison. He tapped you leg, pushing it back so he could stand from the bed.

"I know my place don't worry, Vanserra." You were frequently reminded, if it wasn't him it was the tattoo staring back at you on your forearm. Those damned scars that littered your body, sometimes felt like they were on fire some nights.

A persistent knock rapped on the door, Eris ushering you into a secret panel in the wall. The light left with him and your scrambled for the locket under your tunic, sighing as the light calmed your racing heart.

Eris opened the door, grabbing your arm and hauling you out. His amber eyes were darker, whatever fuel added to his anger wasn't something you wanted to find out. "Bloody shadowsingers raising hell in search for you." His fingers dug into your arm, your boots leaving the ground in a blink. The forest spinning around your vision as you stumbled to the ground.

"No he wouldn't come for me, there must be something else," you said dusting the mud from your trousers, you side stepped a foxes den nearly falling in, in the process. Eris sighed, dragging you through the forest by your arm, you struggled to keep up with his long strides.

"Don't be stupid, he's come unannounced. I'm going to have to get to the guards before my father's men and try to save all our asses," he seethed, mumbling a string of curse of words as he dragged you deeper into the autumn borders.

You pulled yourself out of his grasp, "I have no idea why he's here."

Eris spun around, towering over you. "What did you make a bargain with him too?" He spat, smoothing his hair neatly behind his pointed ears. His hounds snapped at your ankles playfully, one in particular sitting on you muddy boots.

"Oh because that's the only reason people will ever help me, you don't have to be so cruel."

You didn't get a chance to debate, yells sounded on the path leading to the both of you. The glimmer of fire flitting through the breaks between the trees.

Eris shoved you in the opposite direction. "Go, I'm sure he'll find you first."

You didn't question it, you ran through the forest. Leaping over the mounds of roots, the sole of your boot lodged into the uneven ground. You tripped, knees slamming down but you stood back up and pushed your legs harder.

A darkness beckoned you, one you didn't second guess as you ran through it. It wasn't till you gave into the shadows, did you realise their owner was not there.

Azriel hated the shift in the air, the rustle of leaves twirling in circles around his shadows. The ground squelching beneath his boots, he shook the mud caking the stiff leather and scanned his surroundings.

Trees, each one looking the exact same. A stray dark wisp tore towards him and curled around his ear, her blossom scent merging with it.

The shade under the canopy of leaves shifted under the wave of grey clouds above. Azriel flitted through the dark planes like the wind carrying the leaves on the forest floor. Her scent becoming stronger as he tracked the stray wisp’s movements.

Muffled voices filtered through the cloak of darkness he wrapped around himself. Concealing his figure on the edge of the forest. An open scrap of land of rolling hills, golden brown and rusty reds merging into the horizon. In the centre, atop the towering cliff stood the Autumn courts palace.

Azriel had only ever stepped foot in the surroundings of autumn, never strayed too far from the dark oak trees. The daylight wouldn’t offer him much room to travel through the shadows, he’d have to go the long way and stick to the edge of the forest.

He’d lose her scent, but he needed to know that she was safe and protected. His forehead prickled with heat, a bead of sweat rolling down his hairline. It washed away as quick as it came, he wondered if it was another snap of the bond twisting his stomach and yanking him forwards. Without thinking he stepped out into the Autumn fields.

Fuck. A guard yelled at him, a ball of fire charging for him. A charred spec of ash burnt through his fighting leathers on his arm and he snuffed the spark out with his gloved hand.

Azriel fell back into the forest floor, letting the overgrown darkness carry him away. He had no choice, but to hunt.

Shrinking into the base of a tree trunk, Azriel waited for the voice to travel closer. He circled the tree, avoiding the flicker of flames. One wrong step and the light would announce his arrival.

Azriel commanded the shadows, roots ripping from the ground curling them around the guards ankles.

Three heavily armed guards slammed to the forest floor, metal armour clanging against their swords. The fire dropped to the mossy ground, flames chasing their horses away.

He felt the heat behind him before he saw the leaves alight. Fuck, the fire spread wildly, eating away at anything its path. His shadows retreated back over his shoulders hissing and pushing him back out into the rolling hills.

Rhys was going to be pissed, Azriel might have upped Cassian’s tearing down a building. All by setting the whole of the autumn forest alight.

He tore away from his shadows and ran away from the edge, he’d already been walking the tightrope with his mate. One more step would mean war in this court, in order to see her he’d have to take his time and not be found. Oh how he wanted to take the quick and dangerous route, but he was no use to her if he got caught.

Azriel swore he could hear the crackling of flames catching the roots behind him. He didn’t dare glance back, the thought of her and finding her scent the only thing keeping his legs going. He tried to stay ahead, jumping between the shadows, but he’d never been this far before and didn’t want to go too far that he’d not be able to find his way back. He could only travel to places he’d been before, so learning a new path threw him through the wringer. His head pounding, throat burning and eyes stinging.

Trees drew closer together, branches snatching him back as he ventured deeper into the darkness. The sun was beginning to set, an advantage for him not her. He did not want her lost to the darkness.

His shadows leapt forwards, not a flicker of a black wisp surrounding him. He frowned, summoning them back but they never returned.

And then she stepped out of the dark hurricane containing her, hand reaching for his and he took it without hesitation.

The wisps circled them like bats, the world around them disappearing and she closed her eyes as one pesky wisp curled down her arm, resting on their clasped hands. The ball of fae light escaped her locket and floated between them, it bobbed in the air and danced behind them as Azriel pulled her through the dark abyss.

The cold wind nipped his cheeks as he opened his eyes, boots crunching on the hard snow. Her body shivering against his, clinging to his warmth.

"Where are we?" She asked, tucking her hands under her arms. Her gaze swept the mountain, a blanket of fresh white snow tainted by their footsteps. No one else had stepped foot up here and the cluster of clouds in the sky were screaming the warnings of a blizzard.

"The Illyrian mountains," Azriel said, he slung his arm around her shoulder and tucked her into his side trying to shield her from the chilling breeze. He couldn't travel close, the small trek something he didn't think about in his state of panic. It was the first place he thought of.

Azriel stilled, pulling her away to check her thigh. A gaping rip hung from her trousers and the wound nothing, but a light scar against her smooth skin. He didn't ask her how, he scooped her up in his arms trying to fight the smile as she squeaked in surprise.

"What are you doing?" Her fingers clutched the hair at the nape of his neck like they were meant to mould together. His shadows hovered over her bare skin as if they were trying to generate some extra warmth for her.

"There's a cabin," he said nudging his head to the small wooden house tucked between the two upper fangs of the mountains. "Sorry, this is the first place I thought of. It won't take long to get up there."

Azriel could still hear the crackles of the forest setting alight, he wondered if she too had seen the blaze she was running towards, that she was running to him. Did she only see him in the moment, like he did her?

"Looks like we might have to stay the night, blizzards drawing in."

The trek did not take him long, he flew up the steep incline and walked the pebbled path shielding them from the roaring wind. Her eyes darted along the trail, Azriel reassuring her that she was safe. He opened the cabin, placing her down as soon as he closed the door.

She slipped off her boots, fuzzy socks padding along the wooden floor. "This is your home?" She asked, her gaze flitting from the kitchen to the living area. She collapsed into the leather sofa, hand stroking the fur blanket hung over the back.

"Rhys's, but I grew up here with him and Cassian." Azriel leant on the edge of the dining table and crossed his arms over his chest. She flinched as the glow of the fire flashed to life, her gaze lost in the dancing flames. Her head bobbed in response, but she was still somewhere else, deep in thought toying with the locket around her neck.

Two steaming hot cups of cocoa clinked to the table, he offered her one and she held it between her palms, face hovering over the rim to bring some heat to her face. She sipped the hot drink, her back relaxing back into the sofa as if the cocoa had thawed her out. He couldn't help the tug of his lips, but he hid it behind his cup.

She stood from the sofa and placed the cup on the table. "Your face," she gasped pointing to his cheek. Her touch feathery light as she turned his face in her hold. "You have ointments for them? Ohh thank you," she chuckled as they appeared beside her, the house dropping a sweet on the table.

Azriel blinked, lips parted as she dipped her finger into a tub of healing balm and smoothed it over the cuts on his jaw, cheek and brow. He hated the overpowering menthol scent, but he stared at her positioned between his legs. Something so innocent and caring felt oddly intimate in the moment. He cleared his throat and she hesitated placing the strips on his brow.

"I'm sorry," he said, head lowering and heart thumping in his chest. He'd wanted to say it ever since they'd opened that bloody sword, the guilt eating away him much like the worm that feasted on her flesh.

"Whatever for?" She said, nervous laugh trembling through her hands as she tipped his chin up with her finger. Her amber eyes roaming his face. So gentle and calming in her presence, something he wanted to lean into more.

God's he wanted to kiss her. He clenched his fists, but could not look away from her.

"For not protecting you when the time come." He'd replayed the moment over and over, his only source of help was the ball of light leading him to her in the mist of the library. It seemed to be only constant in her life, the white light. He wondered if he would ever be that for her one day.

"It's not your fault Azriel," she said placing a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in her hold. "That thing had centuries on us. No way of knowing what it was. Don't be so hard on yourself, not everything has to fall on your shoulders." She shook his shoulders as if trying to shake some sense into him.

She combed back a strand of his hair away from his forehead, withdrawing as she realised what she'd done. "I mean I'm not sure if its got centuries or decades on you, I'm still quite spry. Five hundred and twelve."

Azriel leant back trying to capture the smile spreading across her face. "Oh is that so?" He inched closer, nose a hair-width away from hers. His shadows trying to tug them both closer.

"I didn't know you were a relic too." She glanced down to hips lips, hand lacing at the back of his neck.

"Does that mean you want to study me too?" Azriel asked, palm pressing into her spine as he tugged her closer. Her warm breath fanned against his face, but he tensed. All he could smell on her lips was Eris Vanserra's scent, but he kissed her anyways trying to rid her of the autumn generals mark.

Their bodies were like two hurricanes merging together, he lifted her and sat her on the table. She dragged him closer trying to chase his movements so that she could keep his lips upon hers.

She pulled away trying to catch her breath, "that was unexpected," she whispered touching her swollen lips.

taglist: @rcarbo1 , @st4r-girl-official ,@azrielswhore , @cynthiesjmxazrielslover , @shizukestar , @wolfbc97 @thecraziestcrayon , @i-am-infinite , @krowiathemythologynerd @nebarious @sidthedollface2 @sttvrdustt @negomi123 @clementine11102

Ahhhh, lots is happening but she's also very confused 🤪 Hope you enjoyed this Chapter. And thank you for interacting/reading, love reading all your comments.

[helluvaoutlaw]

Striker's vision swam as he crouched in the shadows of the palace wall, one hand pressed tightly against his side. The wound throbbed with every heartbeat, and hot blood oozed between his fingers.

Damn sonuvabitch of a cop had gotten a lucky shot in—right when he wasn’t looking. But Striker had shaken him off, disappearing into the night before reinforcements could arrive. He had no time to dwell on it now.

With a grimace, he adjusted his coat to hide the blood, steadying himself before moving forward. The gates to the estate were just ahead, guarded by hellhounds that prowled the perimeter. Their red eyes glowed menacingly, but Striker had spent enough time in the shadows to know how to slip past them unnoticed. He inhaled sharply, every breath stinging as his muscles strained against the injury, but he pressed on, weaving between the low garden walls and using the cover of thick hedges until he reached the base of the mansion.

The palace loomed above him, a grand, overdone display of wealth that sickened him. Everything about it screamed excess, from the massive golden columns to the perfectly trimmed topiaries, but none of that mattered. He wasn’t here for the palace.

He was here for Coronis.

He could feel the blood seeping into his shirt as he scaled the side of the building, wincing as his wound pulled with every movement. By the time he reached the second floor, sweat coated his skin, but he ignored it. Gritting his teeth, he slipped through an open window and into one of the dimly lit hallways. His breath came in shallow, painful gasps, and he forced himself to focus.

Hellhounds patrolled nearby, their massive paws thudding quietly against the marble floors, but Striker moved like a shadow, ducking behind columns and weaving through the palace halls with practiced ease. He knew this layout well—he had to. One misstep, and they’d be on him in seconds.

His hand pressed harder against the wound as he reached the long corridor leading to Coronis’s bedroom, the pain growing worse with each passing minute. The hallway stretched ahead, cold and silent, but Coronis’s door stood out among the others, marked by the faint scratch along its bottom edge—a memory from years ago.

He took a steadying breath, staggering forward. His vision blurred, but he reached the door and turned the knob with trembling fingers. The click of the latch felt like thunder in the quiet room, but he forced it open and slipped inside, closing the door behind him as quietly as his shaking hands would allow.

Inside, the room was warm, the glow of embers flickering in the fireplace. Striker leaned against the door for a moment, catching his breath. His head spun from blood loss, but he had made it. He wasn't going to collapse here—not yet.

Coronis lay in bed, peaceful in the dim light, her dark hair spread across the pillow like a halo. Striker moved toward her, each step dragging more than the last as he held his side to slow the bleeding. A trail of crimson followed him, drops of blood staining the plush carpet.

He knelt by the bed, wincing as pain shot through his body. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers against her arm, his voice a rasp as he whispered:

“C...Cori…”

@second-wife-playbook

[imogenkol]

Winter Wonderland at The Lodge

words: 2.1k warnings: none tags: holiday fluff, werewolf girlfriend acts like a puppy

okay so I may have cheated and combined a few prompts, but I really liked the idea of having a small little holiday fic for them because I used to do it every year. The prompts are: snowball fight, kiss under the mistletoe, and cuddle in front of the fireplace requested by @adelaidedrubman @inafieldofdaisies @aceghosts @cassietrn thank you all so much, hope you don’t mind!

Nadya reveled in the wonderful sensation of snow beneath her boots. The sound was immensely satisfying, like all of the times she went out of her way to step on a fallen autumn leaf just to hear that one of a kind, delicate crunch, only now it was every step on the mountain trail. Not enough wolves or game had cleared the path of white powder, so the human trudged on through it with a beaming smile that not many understood in this particular weather. 

The last time Nadya had been in the snow she was nearly too young to fully understand it. Blurred memories surfaced as a light flurry came down around her, the tiny snowflakes melting almost instantly once they landed on her shoulders. She recalled a lumpy clump of ice in her palm that she had attempted to mold into a snowball, but lacked any coordinated technique given that her hands were so tiny. She kept trying, but it annoyed her how fast her fingers went painfully numb until, eventually, she just gave up. A shiver accompanied the memory and Nadya adjusted her beanie and pulled her coat tighter over the layers she wore to keep the winter’s sharp bite at bay. 

A soft rustle in the trees drew her attention. Nadya scanned the woods, but couldn’t see much in the dense white landscape. The trail didn’t go near any patrol routes, so she doubted it was a werewolf. Even if it was, they would give her a wide berth out of courtesy. Jayde made sure of that. Must be a deer or some other critter scavenging for scraps. She pulled her camera out of her bag and continued on. 

Nadya didn’t keep track of all the photos she took, but she started to wonder if she would run out of all the film she received as an early Christmas gift. The magical winter forest was just too beautiful not to appreciate both in person and behind the lens of her camera. From the sugar dusted landscape to large paw prints along the trail, Nadya captured it all. She was so engrossed, in fact, that she almost hadn’t noticed the snap of a twig close by, soon followed by another several paces from the first.

Whatever it may be, it was moving fast.

This time she felt certain that something out there watched her. The feeling crept up her spine and caused a deeper shiver than the cold did. Nadya lowered her camera and searched the woods around her once again. Her instinct felt too strong to ignore and she did not appreciate being stalked. 

“I can hear you,” she called out. “Do you need something?”

Silence overtook the forest. 

Nadya backed away as she tried not to let unease settle too heavily in her gut. Perhaps it was only a deer. She couldn’t imagine any werewolf would dare toy with her like this. 

The human was about to turn around and walk back up the trail towards the Lodge when her legs connected with something large and soft behind her. Nadya jumped back with a startled yelp. She flipped around to see a massive white wolf stood in her path, tail wagging and tongue lolling out in a wolfish grin. It had been her all along.

“Are you serious?” Nadya yelled, though laughter broke through her irritation. 

Jayde sat on her haunches and looked far too pleased with herself. The stark white color of her fur blended seamlessly with their surroundings. She probably didn’t even need to try that hard to slink around unnoticed in this weather. Nadya never would have spotted her at a distance.

“You scared me, you know,” she complained and put her camera away.

Jayde let out a short bark and bowed playfully as if she were an energetic puppy and not a werewolf who could rip a grown man to shreds in seconds flat.

“That’s how you wanna do this, huh?” Nadya bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. Unlike her past self, her hands were bigger and much more deft now. She easily shaped a perfect sphere of snow. The wolf barked again and dodged in the blink of an eye, but Nadya had already launched the snowball in her direction and it impacted with a dull thud. With a triumphant laugh, she said “I might not be a softball lesbian, but I still have damn good aim!”

Jayde frolicked around her and Nadya scrambled to make another snowball. She feinted left, but Nadya anticipated the move. All of their training sessions taught her what to expect from Jayde, even in a play fight. This time, the clump of snow connected with her face and she shook it off with an indignant snort.

“I know all your tricks by now,” Nadya boasted and quickly sent another volley at her.

They went back and forth – the werewolf running in sporadic circles to avoid incoming attacks as the human used tree trunks as cover while she built her arsenal. Snow now caked the thick white fur of Jayde’s coat, making her look even fluffier than usual. She could pass as a polar bear, Nadya thought. She landed another hit and realized Jayde had enough of losing. 

Nadya saw it coming. “Don’t do it!” she shouted, but had no power to stop her girlfriend’s retaliation. 

Jayde leapt and her massive wolf body tackled the human into a pile of soft powder. Nadya’s startled cry became a giggle, which quickly turned into uncontrollable laughter as Jayde’s snout poked at all of her ticklish spots. She tried to wrestle her head away, but Jayde was relentless. Then Nadya wrapped her hands around her muzzle and firmly clamped it shut, causing an indignant growl to rumble in the wolf’s chest. 

“What are you gonna do now?” she challenged.

Jayde tried to shake her grip loose, but Nadya held on tighter, forcing her to use one of her giant paws to pry the girl’s hands off. Nadya knew full well that Jayde needed to be gentle with her and she took full advantage of that, shrugging her claws away. Jayde knew it, too. After a frustrated huff out of her nose, another more intimidating growl vibrated throughout her whole body like a clap of thunder, but it had no effect on the human at all. Nadya simply cocked a brow and placed a quick kiss on the werewolf’s nose. That shut her up fast. 

However, just when Nadya was about to claim victory, Jayde’s eyes twinkled mischievously and she plopped herself down right on top of her like a Great Dane who thinks it’s a lap dog. Nadya became completely pinned to the ground, sinking further into the pile of freezing snow that melted rapidly under their combined heat. She lay there groaning for a few moments before the weight became too much. 

“Alright, alright. Truce?” she suggested in a strained voice. 

Jayde nodded and stood up at the same time Nadya released her muzzle. The girl sat up and shook her head with an exasperated sigh, staring into the glowing amber eyes before her. There was an anticipated pause. 

“Well, hello,” Nadya finally greeted with a giggle and held her arms out.

The white wolf immediately fell into her embrace, nuzzling against the human and knocking her beanie askew. Nadya ran her hands through her fur, enjoying the soft, insulated warmth of her wolf form. Jayde was definitely built for this kind of weather. It made Nadya want to curl up with her somewhere quiet in the pines with the smell of campfire smoke in the breeze, but the melted snow had started to soak into the layers of her clothes. She shivered again. This time her teeth chattered as she held the wolf closer for comfort. Jayde whined in concern. 

“Yeah,” Nadya agreed and reluctantly pulled away to stand up. “Maybe we should head back. I think I need to rest by the fire.” 

That idea brightened the wolf’s demeanor. Her jaws carefully snatched onto Nadya’s sleeve, pulling her in the direction of The Lodge. Nadya chuckled again and eagerly followed. Just in time, too, because the snow storm returned with a vengeance by the time they got back indoors.

They went to their room first so that Nadya could shed her wet clothes and Jayde to change back into her human form. For Jayde, the process barely took a minute, two if she hadn’t shifted in a while. To this day, it fascinated Nadya to see. The ease with which she flowed from one form to the other and back again. Her breaking bones seemed to bother her as little as cracking joints. 

Nadya always loved to touch her after a shift – to lace their fingers together, hold her close, and feel the residual wild heat of the animal that still lingered just beneath the surface of her skin. If she looked closely, she could see shimmers of gold in the fibers of her midnight blue eyes. That’s what she loved the most. And Nadya knew how to draw the wolf back out whenever she wanted, too.  

“Did you look up?” she asked, lingering halfway out of their room as they started towards The Den. 

Jayde flashed a crooked grin. “Didn’t need to. I could smell mistletoe from down the hall.”

Almost as soon as Jayde left for patrol that morning, Nadya opened the package she had hidden in the closet and hung it right above the doorway. She knew if she didn’t act fast, Jayde in all her romantic tendencies would beat her to it. For once, Nadya wanted to jump the gun for their first real Christmas season together. 

Without further hesitation, Nadya leaned in. Even the way Jayde kissed her felt more intense after a turn. Jayde’s lips were warm enough to chase away any chill. She grabbed onto the girl’s hips with retrained strength, but her fingers still dug desperately into her skin. Her passionate cadence had that underlying primal hunger, which compelled a human like Nadya to surrender to it, but she was well accustomed to the desire of a wolf and knew how to calm its restless spirit when needed. A gentle caress down the sides of Jayde’s neck drew out a low, inhuman sound similar to a growl, but not quite as harsh. A submissive sound, Nadya thought. It slowed the ardent push and pull into something more tender, dulling both of their minds in an utterly blissful stupor. 

As they pulled away, Nadya smiled at the bright golden irises that stared back at her. In a blink, they faded. 

“You did that on purpose,” Jayde said.

Nadya gazed at her not so innocently. “Will you make me cocoa?”

The blonde laughed and pulled her girlfriend along. “Anything for you.”

With a winter storm raging outside, The Den started to gain more wolves in search of leisure time. Some were at the bar, others at the pool tables, but Jayde and Nadya claimed their usual spot right in front of the fireplace. Flames crackled and popped as they danced against the blackened brick. 

Nadya sat in between Jayde’s legs on an old leather couch, leaning back against her chest and happily sipping on a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Jayde always went above and beyond to make it gourmet style for her. Fancy chocolate, vanilla, cinnamon, homemade whipped cream, festive sprinkles. Most importantly, she made it with love. It put those cheap packets to shame and Nadya practically lived off of those every winter at her old apartment.

“How was patrol?” Nadya asked, placing her hand on Jayde’s knee and giving it a warm squeeze.

“Boring as hell,” she answered and nuzzled against the side of Nadya’s head in much the same way she had as a wolf earlier. “Until I found a no good human on the wrong side of the property line.”

“I hope you took care of that,” Nadya replied with mock-concern. 

Jayde hummed into the curve of her human’s neck. “I’m afraid she’ll keep causing me trouble.”

The brunette scoffed. “Not nearly as much trouble as you give her.”

“Well, there’s a new year coming. Who knows what might happen?”

A warm, content grin came across Nadya’s face at the hope she heard in her girlfriend’s voice. Almost as if Jayde actually looked forward to another year. Perhaps she did. It certainly felt that way when her arms tightened around Nadya’s waist as they watched the fire together. 

“As long as you stay with me, I think it’ll all work out, Jay.” 

“I think so too, love,” she agreed softly.

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @v0idbuggy @eloquentmoon @statichvm @socially-awkward-skeleton @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @jackiesarch @gwynbleidd

[ryfionline]

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Delicate toys can be some different option from toys in a youngster's room

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[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

Here comes Santa clause

Summary:This is blind!harry and his babies decorating! HAPPY BLURBMAS-Day 1

Warning’s: Finnley being precious

The Styles family likes to decorate their home for Christmas early. Christmas always got them in a great cheery mood. The lights, the trees, the smells, that always put a bright smile on their faces. They had made a playlist of all their Favorite Christmas songs, lit up some candles that were peppermint and sugar cookies scented- just for the holidays, turned up their Christmas music so loud that the neighbors could hear it and got to work.

“Pass me the garland, my love.” Harry hums, Finnley strapped on his chest in a baby bjorn to help them bond some more. Y/n passes Harry the chunky green garland, decorated perfectly with white ornaments and fake snow. He stands at the staircase, zip tying the garland all down the rail. “It looks good.” Y/n smiles, snapping a little Polaroid of her husband to keep for Christmas down the road. “Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right now Santa Claus lane.” Harry sings to Finnley, the boy growing a sleepy smile on his face when he hears his daddy.

“It’s all good?” Harry asks, his hand coming to cup at the back of Finnley's head. “It looks amazing!” He smiles, clapping her hands together.

“Good.” He smiles back at her.

“We need to put the nutcrackers up!” She cheers, pulling the big tub out of all some more of their Christmas decorations, nutcrackers at the top. Harry nods, grabbing one of the classic green, red, and white nutcrackers they had so long ago, putting them on the mantle above their fireplace.

“Perfect!” Y/n smiles, rubbing her bump white she looks over the decorations placed carefully on the mantle. She hears a ding, her eyes lighting up at the smell of the cookies.

“Oh, the cookies are done!” She says, waddling to the kitchen and completely forgetting about their decorations, now focused on the cookies. “Come help H!” She yells, unwrapping the Hershey kisses to quickly stick them in the middle of the hot cookies. Harry walks into the kitchen quickly, helping her stick the chocolate into the middle of the peanut butter cookies. “That one is lopsided.” She giggles, trying to fix the chocolate.

“Oh, we’ll, that one can be mine.”

“There are like twenty, H.” She laughs, kissing his cheek before throwing away the trash. Harry shrugs, “oh well.”

Finnley wakes up at the smell of cookies, a goofy smile on his face while he looks up at his parents. “Santa?” He asks, looking at the towel with Santa’s face printed on it that was hanging in his mummy’s hand. “Yes, Santa’s coming soon, bubba.” Harry says, letting his out of the baby bjorn before taking it off and pulling the toddler up onto his hip. “You want to decorate your tree? We’re almost done!” The two head up the stairs leaving Y/n follow. She walks down the long hallway to get Finnley‘s mini white Christmas tree out of the closet.

She walks back and into Finnleys and sets the tree up, fluffing out all of the fake branches. “My tree?” Finnley asks after toddling over and to hang the white snowy branches. “Yes, it’s your tree, bub. Do you want to add the ornaments?” Finnley grabs one from her hand before shaking his head yes, setting it on one of the little branches, he steps back and looks at what he did, a little smile on his chunky face.

“Good job! You did it baby!” Y/n smiles, clapping.”

“Daddy try!” Finnley squeals, grabbing Harry’s hands while he boos up and down on his little toes.

“Okay, I’ll try, lovie.” He pulls the boy down on his lap while he sits in front of the tree, letting Y/n hand him an ornament while he finds a branch to loop it on. Finnley squeals and claps with his chubby hands, throwing his arms around his fathers neck. He always was a daddy’s boy.

Y/n adds on a few ornaments while Finnley is busy babbling to Harry, slurring nonsense about paw patrol. “You gotta out the star baby!” Y/n rests her hand on her bump while leaning over to hand the boy the sparkly red star.

Finnley smiles and grips the star, playing with it for a second before stepping back over to his tree and placing the star on top of it. “Yay!” His parents cheer, clapping while he smiles over his little star.

And their Christmas was complete.

[melanielocke]

Thomas Lightwood and the six familiar cats - Part 2

Part 1

Where three more cats are introduced to the group, and not all of them get along.

Thomas woke early that morning, Alastair the cat still curled up against him, purring softly. He wondered what it meant that Alastair liked physical contact with him so much now that he was a cat. He wondered how much of Alastair’s human brain had remained behind. At times, he seemed to understand what Thomas was saying but much of his behavior was very catlike. He couldn’t imagine human Alastair wanting to knock over glasses of water.

‘Let’s go meet the other cats Genie brought home,’ he told Alastair. ‘We don’t yet know who they are, but be nice please.’

Alastair made an indignant sound. Thomas hoped this would go well. Alastair wasn’t as mean and snarky as he used to be, he had grown up after all. He also disliked most people and with his cat instincts, he might get territorial.

Kamala was the only one of last night’s patrol who was awake. Thomas had expected as much, Eugenia liked to sleep in after her patrols and no one knew what Grace did in her free time.

‘Good morning,’ Kamala said.

She looked exhausted. There were dark circles underneath her eyes, and she looked like she could use a bath and some sleep.

‘Did you sleep at all last night?’

‘One of the cats started stirring so I took them downstairs. Now that you’re here, I’m going to take a bath,’ she said. ‘We found two cats, both males. One is a shorthair tabby cat and the other is blonde and has sort of curly fur.’

The two cats were in the living room. The tabby cat was sitting in front of the fireplace, staring at the fire with wide eyes. The other was curly and blonde as Kamala had said and was lying in the sun, grooming himself carefully.

The blonde cat stirred when he noticed someone else had entered the room. He eyes Thomas curiously, and then his gaze fell to Alastair. He jumped up from where he was lying and started hissing at Alastair, trying to make his back as high as possible. Alastair responded in the same fashion, hissing back at the blonde cat and Thomas sighed.

‘Alastair, please leave the other cat alone.’

Alastair did not respond. He looked up at Thomas for a moment with a look that said, “he started it” and then returned his attention the blonde cat.

‘Well, I think I figured out who this one is,’ Thomas said with a sigh. ‘Matthew, come on. Behave.’

Matthew circled around Alastair until he was in between Thomas and Alastair, as if to protect Thomas from him.

‘Matthew, stop it. You don’t need to protect me. You don’t need to fight Alastair. What we need is to figure out how to turn you back into a human. Don’t you agree?’

Matthew didn’t respond, but Alastair changed posture, sat down, and start licking his paw. Matthew followed suit and soon both cats were fully occupied with taking care of their fur. Thomas knew this was common among tomcats, but he couldn’t help but think it suited their vain personalities. Alastair and Matthew might have vastly different tastes, both were very vain and spent lots of time on their hair and appearance.

Thomas suspected it was insecurity. Matthew knew he looked good, but thought that was his only good quality. With Alastair, Cordelia had mentioned once that he was insecure about his dark features and tended to overcompensate with how he dressed and did his hair.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the tabby cat move, and Thomas jumped into action and picked the cat up before he count knock some of the cat toys he’d bought yesterday into the fireplace.

‘You’d think cats would stay away from fire,’ he muttered to himself and he realized who the tabby cat was.

He wondered how long this would last before Christopher burnt down the house or Alastair and Matthew killed each other. They needed a bigger place for the cats to stay until Thomas figured out how to change them back.

‘I think it’s time to go to the Institute,’ he told the cats.

Will Herondale had always disliked cats. He was more of a horse person, really, and he had a fondness of dogs. And no, he didn’t hate cats the way he hated ducks, but he still was not eager to adopt any more cats into his home than the one already living here.

Church was a reminder of sorts, a vile creature that Jem had brought home a long time ago and that only Jem could love. Will hadn’t understood it then, and still didn’t. Instead, he was stuck with the little beast as he made as big of a nuisance out of himself as he could. Because what was he supposed to do, turn Jem’s beloved pet out onto the streets? Worst of all, the cat didn’t seem to age. It had been twenty five years and Church was still around doing the same things he always did.

Will didn’t know why he opened the door when another cat was in front of the door. It was a big long haired cat with dark red fur. He thought it might be a Persian, he didn’t know much about cats but Cordelia had shown him some photographs of Persian cats once as she wanted to adopt one someday. Loving horrid cats was one of the less fortunate Carstairs family traits, it seemed. Still, he let the creature inside.

‘Oh, did Church find a friend?’ Tessa asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe,’ Will said. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Paying a visit to Curzon street. I haven’t heard a thing from James, Cordelia or Lucie and Lucie really ought to come home.’

The redhead cat put their paw against Tessa’s leg as if trying to communicate something, but Will wasn’t good at understanding cat body language. With Church, whatever he did usually meant “I’m a pain in the ass” or “I want Jem”. On one of these, Will guessed the two of them could agree.

‘I’m sure they’ll be fine, Tess,’ Will said.

Tessa hesitated. ‘I don’t know. Even if everything’s fine, I’d still like to see them. Do you want to come?’

‘I’d love to but I have a meeting with Bridgestock later today.’

‘Oh, right. I’m sorry.’

‘He’s been in a dreadful mood ever since their daughter moved in with Gideon and Sophie,’ Will said. ‘Perhaps I’ll let Church loose on him.’

Will had a busy day ahead of him, and for some reason the redhead cat followed him wherever he went. She slept on the windowsill in the sun while he met with Bridgestock, and when he was finished, the cat woke up and started following him again.

Will might not like cats, but he guessed he could make an exception for this one. He couldn’t help but wonder where it had come from though. The cat seemed far from feral, did it belong to someone else? Why did it suddenly insist on following him along? Most importantly, was this a sufficient excuse to call on Jem?

When Tessa returned to the Institute, Will immediately knew something was wrong. ‘They’re not home, are they?’

‘They haven’t been home in days,’ Tessa said.

‘I’m calling on Jem. We’ll find them.’

The carriage ride to the Institute felt like the longest Thomas had ever been on, and he had traveled to Spain and back. However, on his journey to Spain he didn’t have several cats with him that were intent on killing each other.

‘Guys, please,’ Thomas begged as Matthew was trying to push Alastair out of Thomas’ lap. ‘Can’t you get along for a few more minutes? You’ll have all the personal space you need in the Institute, I promise.’

Thomas intended to stay at the Institute until they figured out how to turn the cats back into people, and he didn’t think he’d know peace until then. No matter how cute Alastair was as a cat.

He sighed in relief as the carriage pulled in in front of the Institute and got out, Alastair in his arms and the other two cats close behind him. Alastair had hated being carried at first, but now that he was more used to being a cat he seemed to like it as long as it was Thomas holding him and for short periods of times only. He wondered what it meant for their future. If Alastair sought out his affection so much as a cat, then surely he had to love him as a human too?

He found Will Herondale in the library, reading with another cat sleeping at his feet. Thomas had to do a double take, uncle Will with a cat? As far as he knew, Will hated cats. Alastair started squirming in his arms and Thomas put him on the ground and watched as Alastair ran over to the redheaded cat at Will’s feet.

Will looked up.

‘Ah, Thomas,’ he said. He sounded worried. ‘I’d hoped you’d step by. I’ve started doing research on strange cats appearing when people disappear, but so far no luck. All I’ve found out so far is that this little creature is the only cat that’s not evil.’

‘We figured that out, actually,’ Thomas said. ‘The missing shadowhunters turned into cats, and I think you discovered another one.’

Alastair was playing with the redhead Persian cat, and this might be the first other cat Alastair actually liked. He had a pretty good idea of who that one was too.  

Will eyed his redhead cat, and then his gaze met Thomas’ again. ‘So this is…?’

‘Cordelia, I suspect. The hair matches.’

‘Ah, that explains why she’s not like other cats,’ Will said.

‘The one she’s playing with is Alastair. He’s the first one I found. Then Eugenia, Kamala and Grace found two more. The blonde one is Matthew and the tabby cat is Christopher. Watch him carefully, he likes to set things on fire. And Matthew hates Alastair, so I think they need to be kept in separate rooms.’

‘And James and Lucie? Where are they?’

‘I don’t know,’ Thomas admitted. ‘But they have to be in the city somewhere. Alastair showed up at my house, Cordelia here, and Matthew and Christopher followed Eugenia home.’

Will sighed. ‘I’ll go look for them. Hopefully, I’ll recognize them. I’ll ask Tessa to write to some of our warlock connections for help. I already called for the silent brothers. Can you watch these four while I’m gone? Please keep them out of the curtains. Except the ones in the ballroom, they are hideous but Tessa won’t let me throw them out.’

Thomas had thought watching the four cats in the Institute would be easier. He’d just have to divide them among different rooms so they wouldn’t be in each other’s way too much. The problem was, Alastair wanted to stay near him, and Matthew wanted to keep Alastair away from him at all costs and Thomas spent most of the afternoon trying to get Matthew to stop bothering Alastair.

Cordelia came in between them a couple of times, and after a few moments he realized Christopher was missing and had found his way to the cellar, which also happened to be Henry’s old science lab. Thomas did not think letting him in there was a good idea right now. When he’d carried Christopher back, he was relieved to find out Alastair had found a nice spot on the window sill to sleep, the sun shining onto his belly.

Cordelia and Matthew were entertaining themselves with some old boxes and Thomas sat down in a chair. When he got cats of his own, he would make sure he got cats that could get along. If it was just Alastair and Cordelia together, things would probably be fine. Alastair and Matthew didn’t get along, and Thomas feared that problem would persist even when they were human again.

Perhaps telling Matthew he liked Alastair would be easier now that he was a cat. Or perhaps he should wait until they were all human again. Who knew what Alastair wanted when he became human. Would he still want Thomas’ affection and attention?

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @thefoxandthefound @life-through-the-eyes-of @styxdrawings @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @writeordie-4 @imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

PAW Patrol Holiday Fireplace 🎄🎁

All pups' moments

[hualianff]

Found

Thinking about pack alpha HC whose territory is so far north, hardly any other packs visit or travel to it because the weather is unnaturally unbearable. Then, during one of the coldest nights of winter, a wolf and a pup wind up at the border, passed out from exhaustion. Neither of them bears a pack scent.

They are rogues.

It’s incredibly uncommon for rogues to venture into Crimson Moon territory, partially because it’s not easy to find within a massive forest and partially because HC’s reputation isn’t very forthcoming. The wolves who are granted permission to stay in the pack usually have important skills to contribute to help make it through the winter. Yet, despite his strict and distant demeanor, HC is fully dedicated to leading and taking care of his pack. 

Upon seeing the way the pup is nestled protectively under the adult wolf’s body, HX–the leader of the patrol squad–decides to shelter them for the night. He also provides warm soup and washing supplies for the weak rogues. The adult beta bows nonstop in gratitude before tending to his pup with unbridled affection. HX’s heart is somewhat more at peace, though he dreads having to ask HC what to do with them the next day.

***

XL has only heard of the Crimson Moon pack among hushed whispers in random caverns. Traveling for the past few years has not been easy, especially with a young wolf like Banyue. But when he had found her on the brink of starvation in a ditch on the side of the road, XL had promised to keep her safe above all things.

Now, XL carries the burden of his past along with the responsibility of raising BY. But he wouldn’t want it any other way. Thus, when XL finds him and his pup welcomed into the Crimson Moon pack by the courteous head alpha, XL gratefully prays to the heavens for letting him see another day.

Months pass. XL and BY live a much more comfortable life with guaranteed food, a heated home, and plenty of healthy social interaction. Additionally, they are never deprived of HC’s attention, the head alpha always making time to see them. 

XL doesn’t dare let himself hope for permanence. He’s faced so much rejection, disappointment, and betrayal in the past. With the “we will stay until winter passes” mentality, XL is prepared to leave, not wanting to overstep boundaries with HC.

The bond between a child and a single parent is extremely special. It can be complicated to make room for a third relationship with another parental figure. With HC, however, it’s almost too simple.

HC naturally treats both XL and BY as respected and autonomous individuals. He knows they don’t require his presence to function, but that doesn’t stop the alpha from offering his assistance whenever needed. Or wanted. With no further expectations besides...companionship. 

Before, XL never could have predicted how attached BY would be to HC, and vice versa. But given what he knows now, he shouldn’t be surprised. HC is undoubtedly a wonderful alpha. Oh, how XL wants, and wants, and wants...

***

HC doesn’t know what it is about this particular beta and his pup. For the first time since adhering to his father’s harsh mental and physical conditioning, HC can’t seem to control his wolf’s instincts.

Every time he sees XL and BY rolling around in the snow or sharing a meal happily, the head alpha’s heart positively melts. During his pack leader duties, HC will find himself thinking about how XL and BY are–if they’re safe, if they’re enjoying themselves, if they have everything they need.

It’s as if they add a completely new purpose to HC’s life. He must protecc.

It happens when they’re all in their wolf forms playing a light-hearted game of tag. It’s getting late, just about BY’s bedtime. XL delicately picks her up by her nape and carries her over to HC. XL plops his tiny pup in front of HC expectantly, eyes gleaming with an ample amount of trust. 

HC, realizing how significant this action is, doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle BY’s head, softly scenting her. Then, he picks her up himself and heads towards the cabin where XL and BY stay. 

XL had given HC the first of many opportunities to take care of BY as his own, starting by coddling her and putting her to bed. HC feels like the luckiest person in the world. 

Once spring arrives, HC finds himself visiting XL and BY’s cabin for dinner for what seems like the hundredth time. All three of them sit in front of the fireplace. XL and BY are both snuggled up against both sides of HC. BY eventually crawls into HC’s lap, falling into a peaceful sleep.

XL himself is drifting off against HC’s shoulder. Sluggishly, XL mumbles something along the lines about how he’ll never be able to repay HC for everything he’s done for them. HC strokes XL’s hair while murmuring delicately: “You can stay with me. That is enough.”

XL gently squeezes HC’s hand. 

***

Because XL spent so many years in survival mode, his omega went into hibernation. Nearly a year into his and BY’s stay in Crimson Moon pack, XL gains his scent back. His senses also sharpen once his wolf realizes he is safe from the dangerous encounters with other wolves and mother nature’s unforgiving conditions.

XL suddenly craves physical affection from HC. Though he’s a bit unsure of how to ask for it since it’s been so long since he’s been truly hugged (before HC), much less being scented. But HC completely understands, sometimes without XL even having to tell him. The alpha makes sure XL sees the best healer in the pack to track his progress and stays by XL’s side in support of his recovery process.

XL also gains his heat back–an overwhelming development. Thankfully, HC resolutely supports him from the side, committed to prioritizing XL’s needs and comfort. HC is more than happy to provide the best cuddles and kisses for his mate.

It gives baby BY a scare when her baba, along with HC, is absent for a few days. While she is too young to fully understand heat cycles and such, XL makes sure to emphasize that he was having adult troubles and HC helped him through everything. 

Later, BY rewards HC with ferocious leg hugs and smol wolf tackles. HC makes sure to fall down onto his back to let BY climb on top and wiggle in triumph. 

***

One time, when XL fell asleep against HC, he was having a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. HC didn’t know what to do! XL was violently shaking in his arms, whimpering and crying with no way of calming himself down. Thus, HC, on a whim, decided to gather XL up and press him into an embrace, humming a low tune while a deep rumbling instinctively sounds in his chest. 

HC has never purred before. This was his first time.

(XL, feeling anxious all day. When HC returns home, he’ll latch onto HC while nosing his neck.

XL: “Do the thing.”

HC: *purrs happily*

XL: 😇)

***

BY, an ever-so-observant pup, practices what she’s learned from the bestest, smartest, and funniest father. She yips for HC to come over when they are in their wolf forms. She curiously noses at the snow, then glances up at the alpha with puppy eyes. HC indulges her, of course, leaning down to inspect the empty spot-?

Splat!

BY wickedly flicks snow up with her paw onto HC’s snout before bounding away. HC shakes his head in surprise, freezing snow currently lodged up his nose.

HC whirls around to capture his tiny culprit. He’s met with the sight of BY crouching behind XL, gnawing harmlessly at his tail. HC huffs, approaching defeatedly while BY, the little brat, merely sticks out her tongue. HC lays down beside XL, bumping cheeks with the omega and wrapping his tail protectively around their pup.

[chaseatinydream]

snakes, cats and dogs || c.s (atz)

➵ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➵ word count: 2831

➵ genre: hogwarts au; rivals to lovers

➵ synopsis: at the rate things are going, hogwarts is going to become a zoo

>>>

You don’t think it’s a secret to anyone that you hate Choi San.

Alright, perhaps hate would be too strong of a word. Choi San is annoying. He pisses you off. He’s like a pesky little fly that buzzes in your ear and lands in your soup but you can never catch, he’s just that.

Annoying.

Really, really annoying.

You sigh, shaking back the sleeves of your robes to look at the time. A glance at the watch sitting on your left wrist tell you that it’s time for prefect patrol, getting up from the plush leather seats of the common room, you bid the Giant Squid goodbye with a weary wave as it slinks past the windows, basked in the ghostly green glow.

Stepping out of the doorway, you tuck your hands into your pockets, the dungeons can get a little chilly, especially at night, and you’re not in the mood to catch a cold at this time of the year. There are exams to be taken and you can’t afford to fall sick now. With a soft hum, you head to the Great Hall to meet up with the other prefect on duty tonight.

Tonight, Kim Hongjoong is waiting for you with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, feet swinging back and forth gently, perched on very end of the Ravenclaw table, bundled up in a warm knitted blue scarf. The sixth year is one of your good friends, having started off as a good mentor for your studies, as uncommon as inter-house friendships sounded.

He waves warmly the second he sees you step into the Great Hall with a soft, secretive smile, the massive school is entirely quiet and empty, completely yours. There’s magical feeling in the air when your footsteps echo in the silence of the hall, the air so often filled with chatter and laughter now hushed and drowsy with slumber.

“Good night to you.” Hongjoong raises his mug in some sort of greeting and you laugh quietly, taking a seat on the bench next to him. He slides a cup over to you as well and you sip it, letting the sweet warmth spread from the tip of your tongue down to your toes. “It’s cold. Didn’t you bring a scarf?”

“I didn’t think I would have Apparated to the North Pole the second I left the Common Room, but by then I was too lazy to go back and get it.” You shrug and Hongjoong chuckles, he’s used to your careless attitude. “I’m alright. I’ll just finish up patrol, head back to the dorms and defrost in front of the fireplace before I go to bed. Anyways, I’m sure running after him will get my body temperature up.”

At the sheer thought of him, your face pulls into a scowl.

Hongjoong winces in sympathetically. “That kid still giving you the run for your money, huh?”

“He’s so... ugh!” You complain, slamming your mug down on the table for added impact. Luckily for you, it’s already completely empty, its contents having all gone down your throat. “I just spot him sneaking out in the corridors all the time and I’m not fast enough to catch him! He’s as slippery as a snake, honestly!”

An amused smile curves Hongjoong’s lips. “Aren’t you a Slytherin too? Moreover, didn’t you use to slip out at night after curfew too last year?”

You pause, scowling, it’s too late for your mind to be working at this hour. “I... yeah, but I’m supposed to be a prefect now. It’s... it’s a pride thing. If he keeps escaping me it’s like a taunt in my face. I’ve never even seen him do anything, but he’s just there.”

Hongjoong does laugh this time, his melodious voice ringing throughout the Great Hall.

“Alright. How about we get to patrol fast so you don’t become a walking icicle by the time you return to bed?” He raises a chocolate warmed hand to pinch your cheek playfully and you laugh, batting his hand away, your bad mood instantly gone. “I take the eastern side and you take the other?”

“Howdy, Future Head Boy.” You salute and he pushes you in the arm with a laugh, you set down the mug; the house elves will clear it later for you. The two of you get up and start walking out of the Hall, Hongjoong making small talk with you about Transfiguration and the latest Quidditch match. After he makes you promise to attempt to stop San from sabotaging the semifinals (Ravenclaw against Hufflepuff), you wave and part ways.

The hallways are ghostly silent as usual, and by that you mean deathly silent aside from the mad cackling of Peeves in one of the upper classrooms. With a sigh, you slide a hand into your pocket to rest on your wand, ready to cast an Obscurio charm on the poltergeist in case he’s round the next bend. Slytherins aren’t known for being resourceful for nothing, and you guess that you’re one of the only people to know that the blinding spell works on ghosts as well.

Making your usual rounds, you scale the stairs, careful to make sure that the whimsical staircases aren’t about to move before hopping up the steps as fast as you can. And just as your foot touches the floor, you hear the groan of the staircase moving behind you; there goes your fastest way back to the dorms. With a sigh, wishing that you’d thought to bring a scarf, you step forward... and hear a strange, muffled noise.

You frown.

Pulling out your wand with cold numbed fingers, you move towards the noise, you’ve heard the basilisk stories and whatnot about werewolf professors. While you’re pretty confident in your dueling capabilities, having been invited to join the Dueling Club in your third year, you don’t want to risk anything. So, warily, you inch closer and closer to the end of the corridor, the shadows being cast by the windows in the light of the full moon really aren’t helping your paranoia, and you keep Protego on the tip of your tongue, ready to blast a Shield Charm at the first sight of danger as you round the corner-

“Woof!”

Huh?

You poke your head around the pillar and make a face, to your surprise, it’s a Shiba Inu sitting there, tail wagging excitedly. Your stare continues even as it barks a joyous little sound and runs circles around you, tongue lolling out - you’re pretty sure dogs are not on the list of approved pets in Hogwarts, and that you should report it to the teachers immediately, but...

But you’ve always had a massive weakness for dogs, and from the way this one keep pawing your legs excitedly, it likes you too! You can’t help but feel your heart fill with warmth.

“Hey there, little guy.” You murmur, getting on one knee to crouch in front of the dog, immediately it licks your hand vigorously, barking the entire time. It rubs its head against your palm and nuzzles its snout into the folds of your robes, as if searching for treats. “How did you get here?”

“Woof!” The dog barks brightly in reply, and unluckily for you, you don’t speak a word of dog. However, lady fortune shines upon to you tonight, there’s a noise down the hallway you’d just come down and you rise to your feet instantly, wand already out even before you realise.

“Shiber?” You hear a voice calling, and to your glee (and perhaps annoyance) you realise that it’s Choi San’s voice. Then you frown and glance down at the Shiba Inu at your feet, who’s still panting happily and looking up at you. Why on earth is San looking for his cat at this hour of the night?

You ignore it, however, and merely wait for your prey to round the corner. Finally you will catch him, finally you can stop running after him, and finally-

The dog runs out and you barely manage to fight down your gasp, berating the dog mentally for startling you, but before you can get upset, you hear San cry out in happiness.

“Shiber! Thank goodness I found you!” He says, sounding relieved and there’s a series of short barks in reply, and to say you’re confused is an understatement. You wrack your mind, desperately, trying to pull the frazzled pieces of your mind together, it’s eleven at night and it’s too cold for this. Isn’t Shiber a cat?

“Why did you run away, huh?” San’s voice turns scolding now and you keep silent, still utterly confused about this. You’re pretty sure San either had some wrong mushrooms at dinner or he’s just plain sleepwalking right now, until you hear the next words that leave his lips. “What would have happened if any of the professors were walking around at night and found out that you’re actually a dog, Shiber?”

For a second, you simply make a face, mind trying to fire its remaining cylinders in the cold. And then your mouth falls open, and it clicks.

Shiba Inu. Shiber. Shiba Inu. Shiber. It makes so much sense now.

“Choi San, you have a dog?” You say, incredulously as you round the corner. San almost leaps five feet into the air in shock, as if you’re Sirius Black out for his blood, with an incriminating Shiber clutched tightly to his chest. Now that you look at the Shiba Inu a little more clearly, you can see where the coloring of its fur matches that of its feline form, the coat is of the same shade, the ears twitch in exactly the same way. ”Oh my god, that’s some high level Transfiguration skills right there-”

Before you can say another word, San pins you to the wall, one hand pressed urgently against your mouth and you make a noise of protest, smacking his arm hard indignantly. “Yah!”

“Shh!” He hushes you immediately, glancing around warily as if looking out for something. Of course you don’t listen to him - what does he think he’s doing - opting instead for flailing about in a bid to get free but he’s too strong, deceptively lean arms hiding well toned biceps and forearms.

“You can’t just do this to your house prefect!” You protest against his palm, the sentence coming out more like a garbled string of incomprehensible noises rather than anything resembling real words. He ignores you, you feel your fury spike up and you’re ready to stab him in the eye with your wand when he turns to look at you, he’s very close, way too close.

“Shh! What if a teacher walks past?” He whispers fiercely into your ear, a scowl replacing his usual, devil-may-care grin. You give him and death glare and kick him in the kneecap, but he doesn’t budge in the least. Rolling your eyes, you lean away as far as you can from him, there’s nowhere to go but the warmth of his forearm cushioning your back from the stone wall, it burns through your thin robes and an unwilling flush rises to your cheeks.

“Then you’ll get detention like you should!” You hiss in reply, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “And then get into trouble for bringing a dog into school, like you’re supposed to!”

San’s face go white the second those words leave your mouth, than to your absolute shock he grabs your hands pleadingly, wringing them back and forth with a frantic look on his face.

“You can’t tell.”

“What can’t I tell?” You grumble, suddenly immensely awkward, you weren’t expecting him to do this in the least, and immediately contrive to extricate yourself from the social train wreck as fast as possible. “Choi San. Choi San, let go of me!”

“You can’t tell the professors.” San says almost desperately, subconsciously pressing forward in his distress, and you make a face as you try to back away, whoa, whoa, whoa, personal bubble, boy! “Please!”

“I’m a prefect, I can’t just let you get away with stuff like that.” You snap, still trying to pull away from him. “What, the worst thing they can do is send Shiber back to your parents, it’s not like the school will turn him into hot dog or something-”

“They won’t.” San tells you, and for the first time you hear the edge of desperation and sheer, undiluted fear in his voice, his hand gripping your impossibly tight. “But my parents will.”

It’s no secret to the whole school that Choi San is practically nobility, even among the Slytherins. He’s the only son borne of a marriage between two aristocratic families. Power, prestige, wealth, he has it all, and even his money has its own prestige, it’s old money, businesses and trades that have been passed down the generations. And his parents wouldn’t take care of one dog?

“Wait.” You pause, giving him a confused look. “You mean... your parents didn’t give you the dog? How did you get it?”

“I rescued him from Hogsmeade.” He says, finally removing his hands from you, belatedly, you realise that you miss the warmth of his hands, goosebumps immediately racing across your skin where his skin once touched yours. “It was winter of our third year, and I found him in an alleyway behind Knockturn Alley, freezing and starving to death. I figured his previous owner must have abandoned him, so I brought him back with me to the castle... they aren’t allowed in the school, so I transfigured him to look like a cat... but he still barks sometimes and-”

“Explains your weird ass cat.” You realise, unable to believe how long you’ve been fooled for two whole years. “You mean this kind of Transfiguration in Year Three? All on your own?”

San at least has the conscience to look a little guiltily, scratching at his head awkwardly. “Well I... I did ask Mcgonagall to give me advanced lessons meant for the Year Sixes, that’s how I-”

You hold up a hand, sighing. “Okay, okay, I get it, you’re genius.” San opens his mouth to protest but then you crouch in front of Shiber, who’s still barking cheerfully, one hand coming up to scratch the fur around the ruff of his neck. “You say your parents won’t take him in? Then what do you do during winter break when you go back to your home?”

“Not home, house.” San corrects you immediately, a dark shadow crossing his face the second the words pass his lips and you feel a twinge of sympathy. Even for a Half Blood (one of the only to ever get in Slytherin, you might add) yourself, you've heard of the notoriety of the nobles and are lucky not to be one of them yourself. “Wooyoung takes him back with him to his family in the Muggle world but...” He pauses, looking slightly upset. “I don’t want to cause more trouble to his family than I already have...”

Slytherins are well known for being skilled in getting others to do what they want through any means possible. Whether it be emotional manipulation, underhanded, subtle pressurizing or completely shameless, full blown threatening, the means don’t matter, only the end. The lot of you are Slytherins, after all, and to each his own. San might be just trying to play you along like a puppet on a string, but still, you have nothing to lose by allowing him to keep his pet (you do have a weak spot for the small cat... uhh, dog).

However, you can’t just let this opportunity slide past you, it’s simply not in your nature to do so. “Well...” You drag out the word, pretending to consider this carefully and rubbing your chin. “I can’t just let you get away with doing something like this...” Your sentence trails off meaningfully and San’s eyes widen minutely, before he pauses to look at you more carefully with a guarded expression.

“What do you want from me?” He asks cautiously. Will it be money, an invitation to one of those prestigious galas that his parents host but he never wants to go to, or something even more exorbitant? Instead, you shrug carelessly. He’s a Slytherin, you’re a Slytherin. The two of you are birds of the same feather, or well, in this case, snakes of the same scale, and he knows that no Slytherin will ever in their right mind do a favour for a stranger without a reward.

“Nothing at the moment. How about you owe me a favor?” You say, with a cheeky grin, fingers reaching down to stroke your fingers through the dog’s fur. San takes a moment to think, looking down at Shiber, the dog barks happily and wags its tail at its master.

The he sighs, nods and turns to you. “Fine.” You smile triumphantly, hold out your hand, a grin playing on your lips.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

And that’s the beginning of it all.

[unlikely-cypher]

~Snowy Days~

Henrik Von Schneeplestien x female!Reader

Tags: So fluffy 😭

Henrik’s fingers turned the pages of the medical book softly. The fireplace crackled next to him, filling the room with its warmth. The girl sleeping in his embrace curled up closer into him, her hands gently gripping the soft fabric of his sweater. He paused his reading to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. She sighed happily in return. His reading was starting to bore him but he didn’t dare move, this moment was too perfect. 

The cabin they were staying in reminded him of a place that was definitely home although he didn’t remember ever being there. The snow fell silently outside and he almost prayed they would get snowed in here so he wouldn’t have to leave. This weekend had been his getaway with her, away from the prying eyes of the other egos.

“I don’t tell you very often but I love you so much.” Henrik said in such a soft whisper he almost hoped she didn’t hear him as he brushed a stray hair out of her face. He hated being open with his feelings, it would ethier get him mocked by Marvin or remind him of the pain he had suffered at the hands of his ex wife.

“I love you too Henrik.” Her hands moved to play with the short hairs on the back of his neck causing his cheeks to flush. She kept her eyes closed and snuggled deeper into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent to commit it to her memory forever. His usual scent of the hospital had been replaced with the musk of his cologne although the undertone of coffee was still there.

“Let’s stay here forever.” Henrik sighed, tossing his book gently to the coffee table but missing by mere inches. It hit the floor with a soft thud.

“They will die without us.” She chuckled softly. She thought of the last time she had left the Septic egos to fend for themselves, having returned to hear that Chase had only cooked dinosaur chicken nuggets and Paw Patrol™️ mac and cheese the entire week.

“They’ll manage. We can run away, stay in cabins all across Ireland and maybe we can go to Germany. We could chase after winter all across the world, maybe get married..." He trailed off, looking down at her.

“Henrik, there is no way in the unholy christ my ass is becoming Mrs. Schneeplestein. I love you but if I'm honest I don't even think I could begin to spell it!" Her eyes gently opened and met his ocean blue ones. His cheeks were dusted pink, and she questioned if it was from how warm it had gotten in the room or the thought of her with his last name. The soft glow of the fireplace and the dim lighting made the greys in his hair stand out a bit more. He adjusted his glasses with the tips of his fingers and smiled. 

“Well if that's the only thing stopping you…” He trailed off with a wink as a blush over took her face. She buried her face in his neck, trying to hide her blush and gather her thoughts. 

“I’m sure the six other people that live with us would also stop us.” She sighed. 

“Fuck them, I don’t want to talk about them right now.” Henrik huffled, gently pulling her from his neck.

“What do you want to talk about then?” She raised an eyebrow, the doctor closed the short gap between them, capturing her lips in the gentlest of kisses. 

“Ich spreche kein englisch.” He smirked, leaning down for another soft peck. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Thanks for reading!!! This is my first real like fic thing ive posted on here and im so nervous! 😭

This story follows a whole bunch of headcannons that I have of the Septic egos living together. One day I'll go off about it more 👀

Plz let me know what you guys think and what egos you wanna see next! 💚

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Constants

Summary: Song fic based off the fansong Constants by @spectralheartt. I hope I did it justice. The idea came to me at midnight so I have no idea how good this is but I tried to match the vocabulary/language of the song.

Word Count:  1,542

Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01​​​ @spoopy-turtle​​​ @lizluvscupcakes​​ @more-fandon-than-friends​

Virgil roamed the mindscape. 

Checking in at the palace, Roman was practicing in the courtyard. He was always so sure of himself, never faltering in his moves. 

Logan was up in his tower, pouring over scrolls. He was clearly preparing for the next video. His movements were precise as always, never a moment where he doubted his worth or himself.

Patton was by the fireplace inside. He was reclining in the big armchair that was kept there just for him. The dual swords Roman had made for him sat against the nearby wall, no need for them as he preferred to use love and words first before moving to violence. He smiled as Roman walked in, both comfortable in their home.

Virgil’s hand pressed against the glass, always watching from the outside, forever patrolling the perimeter and keeping them safe in their little world. It was a constant. They stayed in there, he stayed out there. The hand slid down and away, tucking itself into his hoodie pocket as he went back to his patrol, wondering when the next attack was going to come.

It didn’t for a while, not a few days, nor weeks. It came eventually. Remus sent a nightmare so large Virgil wasn’t sure he would be able to stop it. He did, but at the cost of all his energy and severe wounds. As he was limping away, Roman appeared with the other two in tow behind him.

“What are you doing here, vile cur?” Roman called, dramatic as ever.

Virgil sighed, knowing he had to keep up the pretenses of having their worst intentions in mind. After all, this was their story. He was just living in the world, trying to get by in the background. Assuming the most intimidating stance he could, he drew himself up into his full height. “What do you think I’m doing, Prince?” He spit the title like it was the worst of poisons. 

Roman snarled, charging forward, his katana at the ready.

Virgil put up a good fight but didn’t stand a chance in the state he was in. So, he did the only logical thing: he fled. Turning around, he ran as fast as he could. As he was fight or flight, he was quite fast. He heard them cheer as he ran, their joyful cry being taken by the wind and batted about as if a ball of yarn between the paws of a kitten. If he’d been paying more attention, he would have noticed one voice wasn’t joined with the others, a thread missing from the ball.

When he got back to his lair, he dressed his wounds. Propping himself up gently against the stone wall of the cave he called home, he finally allowed himself to relax. His job for the day was done, the nightmares were defeated for the day, and the illusion of safety was left intact for the Core Three. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered. The constant stayed as it was, a steady and reliable pattern.

At least, until he woke up. He woke to warmth, something he wasn’t used to in a drafty cave. Opening his eyes, he saw a bright orange glow. Squinting, he tried to roll over. A clattering sounded before a pair of hands was pressing onto his chest that he just now noticed was bandaged. “Woah, there. Those wounds are just starting to close there, kiddo.”

Virgil would have jolted up if he weren’t being pressed back down onto his back. He was tired, his wounds still ached but not as much as they did before. He woke up the rest of the way in an instant when he realized that Patton was in his cave. His breathing quickened as he slid out from underneath Patton and stood to face the fighter, his fists coming up. Virgil desperately wished for his scythe that was across the room where he’d dropped it when he stumbled in.

Speaking of stumbled, he wasn’t exactly steady on his legs. This was probably due to the massive bruise he could feel forming on his lower calf. He could feel himself leaning but just as he was falling to one knee, Patton’s hands reached out. This time, they were not in violence, but in peace. They caught Virgil as he fell, gently depositing him back down on the bedroll Virgil hadn’t possessed.

“What is this?” Virgil asked, his voice sharp and defensive.

Patton’s face was soft, an almost loving look directed at him. “I just want to help, kiddo.”

Virgil shook his head, arms coming back to prop him up. “No. You don’t help me. That’s not how the story goes. You guys are the heroes, I’m just the villainous punching bag. I’m used to those roles, I’m fine with those rolls. You can’t come in here and change it up now!” Virgil wasn’t sure what he was so scared of. Was it Roman’s continued threat to run him through, was it Logan’s intimidatingly sharp wit, was it Patton’s kindness being temporary? He never knew when the rug was going to be pulled out from under him, so he just never stood on the rug to begin with.

Patton sighed in a way that told Virgil he was reaching the limit of his patience. Good, maybe he would leave then and Virgil could get back to the normal, to the routine, to the constant. “As I said before, I’m just here to help. No tricks, no blades, no companions. I’m here alone to help. Now, will you allow me to dress the wound?” He nodded his head to the leg to indicate the wound mentioned.

Virgil didn’t respond but Patton still beamed as he sank to his knees, rolling Virgil’s pant leg up in order to get a good look at the bruise. He poked and prodded, Virgil ignored that too. He scanned the cave, taking in the fire roaring in the center, the furs and blankets that now littered the floor around them. He normally slept so lightly, his wounds must have been worse than he thought if Patton were able to do all this without waking him.

Having enough of the feeling of hands on him, he took a step. His hand was rested firmly on the wall as he used the solid stone for a crutch. Ignoring Patton’s protests, he made his way over to his stash of food, pulling out a strip of jerky and biting off the end. He grabbed a stick that was propped up nearby for this express purpose and started walking, only for his exit to be blocked by Patton. Virgil sighed. “Move. I’ve got  a job to do.”

Patton frowned, looking sad. “You think I don’t know you.”

Virgil startled. “What?”

“You think we’ve forgotten all about you, Anxiety.”

A warmth bloomed in his chest that he quickly squashed, fearing the result of getting too attached again. “So what?”

“What happened? Where is the side we knew in our youth? Where is the kid?” Patton’s expression was genuinely painful to look at, so Virgil turned away.

“Youth may seem sweeter,” memories like honey he refused to eat but stared at with longing, “But if I could return to it, I’d be forced to forfeit everything I’ve learned.” His expression grew fierce, determined. “I won’t go back. I have a job to do, and you’re stopping me from doing it.”

He grabbed his scythe, eyes blazing with confidence and something more. “Move, Patton.”

Patton sighed but moved aside. “Just know that we are there for you. You don’t have to fight this alone.”

Hope grew, the warmth in his chest overbearing. Finally, he paused with one foot out the cave, standing right next to Patton. “Come on.” He nodded his head at the forest stretched before them that was easy to get lost in. “I’ll walk you home.”

Patton looked at him, almost the physical representation of the hope he could feel. He didn’t want it to die. “Really?”

“It’s on my way.”

Virgil walked in silence while Patton wouldn’t stop talking. There were times when Virgil had to shush him as a panther walked across the path, lean muscles and jaws that could crush Patton. As he observed the other side, the hope grew, as did the realization of a crazy notion. When his thoughts grew too loud, he spoke. “Patton, do you think every story needs a bad guy?”

Patton looked at him, seriousness in every muscle. “No, Anxiety. Bad guys are not needed to make the story go on. Some stories lose the bad guy along the way, but some of them don’t need a bad guy.”

Virgil nodded, taking a deep breath as they exited the forest, the palace rising in the distance. “Okay.”

Virgil patrolled the halls. Roman was in the courtyard and Virgil smiled as he waved to him, pausing in the training to wave back.

Logan was in the tower and thanked Virgil when he gave him a scroll he’d dropped.

Patton was sitting by the fire, enjoying a cookie as his swords hung on the wall. He smiled, offering a cookie to Virgil, who accepted it. 

Maybe this could be their new constant. 

[huarens]

everything | njm

pairing : jaemin x reader

genre : soulmates? idk hard to explain

word count : 3k

summary : you were jaemin’s everything, at least, everything but his.

notes : i’m tired of struggling to write this so i’m releasing it as is pls take this away from me it’s been taunting me in my drafts for almost a year

if someone were to ask jaemin what his favorite color was, he would, without doubt, reply with yellow.

 'why?' they'd ask him, well why not?

all colors were stunning to jaemin, and to have a world filled with so many was astounding, he found yellow to be the prettiest of them all. it just felt, warm. like sitting by the fireplace on a cold rainy day, or sitting under the sun with a book in hand, just, home. and when he went to the park with his parents or bike-riding with friends, even when he was playing with his toys next to the window, he was always on the lookout for something yellow. he's also tried staring into the sun a couple of times to try and make out the yellow glare it radiated. but then his parents would scold him and tell him he would never see anything again if he kept looking. 

and the stars.

his parents would take him out to the backyard, along with his dad's telescope, and point out all the constellations to him. he could care less about the shapes, meanings, and history. it was the faint yellow shine and twinkle they gave off that he was infatuated with.

so to say he was disappointed when his parents told him he'd be losing color in both eyes by the time he reached seven was an understatement.

he had a fit, a tantrum so loud that the whole neighborhood could hear. his screams, his desperate sobs for his parents to tell him that they were lying, that they were joking, all were heard. he only stopped once his parents told him that he would see color again when he met his soulmate.

jaemin asked them through small hiccups what they meant. someone you're destined to be with, they had said. someone who'll make you feel like you're flying, someone who'll love you in a way no one, not even his parents, could. and then they told him their love story, it was riveting. the obstacles and trouble they went through to be together, from being game buddies, both on different sides of the country, to present (jaemin blocked out the part where they decided to explain in explicit detail to how jaemin came to be). and it was then at the age of six, jaemin was set on the idea of finding his soulmate. they're out there somewhere, he thought, he just has to find them.

jaemin met you in second grade. you kept hugging him throughout the day, the teacher scolding you multiple times for touching him without permission. he didn't mind it though. from there, a friendship blossomed. play dates were scheduled every other day, either your house or his. his parents practically called you their own, they never saw a day where they came home and you weren't there to greet them. your parents also loved jaemin, saying they'd wish you'd end up with him so they'd keep him forever. a happy childhood you and jaemin had, although it was just a countdown to the inevitable.

before jaemin knew it, his seventh birthday came. he watched as the clock slowly struck down to 12. he spent the first hour of his birthday crying, tears flowing like waterfalls as he blew out the candles, his parents comforting him as he waited for the clock to strike one.

usually, a child would lose all color by the end of the first hour of their birthday, yet jaemin's fate never came. three hours had passed, cake all eaten, cartoons playing on the tv as his parents passed out on the couch next to each other.

jaemin sat in the kitchen, poking at the untouched fruit tray his parents bought earlier. the strawberries looked as red as ever, he still could see color.

how?

jaemin didn't know when he moved to his room, but jaemin woke up buried in his bed, covers pulled all the way up to his chin. he rubbed his eyes, barely functioning on the three hours of sleep he got.

once he got downstairs, his parents were waiting at the kitchen table, both in deep conversation as he walked by to get a glass of water.

he was watching TV when his dad came and sat next to him, handing jaemin his little paw patrol sippy cup then putting an arm around his shoulder.

"what color is that guys pants?" his dad had asked, pointing on the screen as a character popped up out of a hole.

"green. it looks stupid." jaemin replies, leaning into his dad as the cartoon continued on.

"jaemin.. how are you feeling?"

"i feel good, why?" jaemin looks up, his mother slowly making her way towards the couch to sit.

"it seems you must've already met your soulmate jaems, either that or we got your birthday mixed up. we're hoping it's the former though." his mother laughed airily, her smile not quite making it to her eyes.

jaemin is confused, who could it be? no one comes to mind as jaemin thinks about who he could possibly be destined with. as far as he knew, all of his current friends could no longer see color. 

except for you.

you were the only one out of all the kids he knew that could still see color and your seventh birthday had passed nearly three months ago. in fact, just two days ago you had told him the brown in his right eye was shinier than the brown in his other eye (he still thinks it was because his eye was watering after you punched him straight in the gut during your game of tag.) 

there's no doubt about it, it had to be you.

the next day at school, all of his friends crowd him, too many questions as to why he still knew what color shirt he had on, or if he could tell them what color everyone’s behavior card was. jaemin pushes them aside, spotting you on the other side of the room playing near the toybox. 

"y/n, y/n, y/n! we're soulmates y/n!" jaemin gets ahold of your shoulders and plops himself right in front of you, knocking over your tower of markers. 

you stare at him for a second, your small hands balling into fists before you scream,

"stop jaemin! don't say that, you'll curse me!" you clapped both hands over your ears, scrambling to get up and run as far as you could from jaemin.

he begins to chase you around the classroom, making kissy faces and extending his arms out as far as he could to get ahold of you.

"no! i don't want it to be you! you have cooties, and i hate cooties!"

jaemin slows to a stop.

"you have a big head too! if i have to be your soulmate, i'd... i'd run away to jeju island so you never marry me! i don't ever want to be your friend ever again! never!"

"you'll love me, you'll understand it in your big pretty head when we're bigger! i'll be your boyfriend" jaemin yells after you.

and that's the last time you ever spoke to jaemin for a while.

as time grew, so did the both of you.

jaemin is now 17 and entering his senior year. he has made it through middle school and lost a few friends. some of them finding their soulmate and leaving him for them. but he's also made some new friends, people who have yet to meet their lover.

he still sees you around the school, and if he’s lucky, in his classes some days.

today was one of those days.

you were handing out flyers advertising the after-school photography club, sliding one on jaemin’s desk while he was turned away talking to one of his friends.

you were gone before jaemin had a chance to ask you about it though, but it was alright. 

he’d see you after school for the club.

photography club was lamer than he expected it to be. 

the first day in and the teacher had already assigned projects, he didn’t even know projects existed in clubs. 

“let’s start this year off with a picture portfolio yeah?” the teacher had said, “something meaningful, significant. something we can cherish for a while.”

partner projects, jaemin recalls, take photos of something that means a lot. 

and he had been partnered with you.

jaemin doesn’t really know how to feel standing next to you.

everyone was outside taking pictures with their partners, taking pictures of random objects around them. 

“jaemin! What do you think about this picture?” you appear by his side, handing him a camera.

“isn’t it a nice grey?”

jaemin is puzzled, “it looks red to me?”

“it’s red..? I couldn’t really tell…” you laugh, and jaemin realizes how awkward he made the situation.

“you… you can’t see color?”

“yeah, i faded back in seventh grade. you know, when we weren’t talking.” you smiled, although it didn’t seem sincere.

“oh.”

silence takes over for a while, and jaemin’s about to try and make an excuse to leave before he hears someone call out his name. 

“jaemin! we finally found you.”

his group of friends come over, not yet realizing you were standing there. The five of them instead trying to find their remaining friend.”

“wheres renjun?” asked jeno, he pulled out his phone to call. 

“oh he’s coming, he lost his phone” jisung answers, “well he thinks he lost his phone, i have it in my pocket.” smiling, he waves around the said phone in his hand. 

“jisung, you’re the biggest asshole alive!”

renjun catches up with the rest of them, looking around until he had finally locked eyes with y/n.

there was a moment of silence, most of them asking renjun why he had gotten so quiet all of the sudden.

renjun runs up to you, taking your hand in his, pulling you in for a hug. 

“it’s you.”

it took a while for jaemin to realize that it wasn’t him.

he wasn’t the one. 

no, it was renjun.

renjun was your soulmate.

you weren't his.

everyday was a chore, you had now joined his group of friends, and there was never a moment where and renjun weren’t all on each other.

it was the same routine, wake up, go to school, watch you and renjun make out for 8 hours, then back home.

no day where it didn’t hurt less than the last. 

but jaemin’s used to it at this point. 

the day jaemin had found out you and renjun were soulmates, he ran home, making the excuse that he had chores he forgot he had to get done.

as soon as he got through his front door, he kicked off his shoes, making a beeline to his room.

he tore his folder of photos he had developed in the school's darkroom that day out of his backpack, along with the essay he had started on.

and he began to rip them, the heartache in his chest mixed with his rage threatening to tear himself apart. 

after he had finished with his tantrum, he cursed fate once more, he cursed the broken system, his parents for birthing him in the first place, renjun, everything he could place the blame on.

everything but you.

because it wasn’t your fault,

it’ll never be your fault.

just jaemin’s for ever loving you in such a way.

it was new years, the clock only five minutes until midnight, 

everyone was busy finding someone to kiss, everyone but jaemin.

he had gotten tired of the god-awful house music blaring through the speakers and just wanted to find a bathroom.

jaemin walked up the stairs, trying to remember where jeno had told him the bathroom was before he saw a glimpse of you pulling renjun into the same bathroom he was headed for. 

as the door closes, jaemin can’t help but tear up again.

and spends the start of his year crying on a stairwell. 

jaemin stumbles into his apartment,struggling to find the light switch next to the door as he takes off his shoes.

another tiring day at his job. he had messed up so many times, his manager took it out on his paycheck. 

a pile of mail was waiting for him on the kitchen counter, his roommate had probably brought it in without feeling the need to sort it.

as he sifts through the stack, a golden envelope embellished with a red wax seal caught his eye. his name and address in silver sharpie on the front. 

he wishes he hadn’t opened it, however, for as soon as he cuts it open, a picture of you and renjun falls out.

an invitation to your wedding. 

he can’t help but stare at you on the front of the card, smiling at renjun. 

jaemin leaves it on the counter, ignoring the rest of the mail and going straight to his room.

and he cries himself to sleep for the first time in a while

 jaemin could barely hold it together as he waits, sweat forming at the back of his neck as he stands nervously. he was on the verge of losing it right then and there, his hands were shaking as if he had just come in from the cold. as if it couldn't get any worse, the crowd silences, the lights dim slightly as soon as the organ starts playing.

the doors opened, revealing you.

from your hair, your wedding dress to even the heels you wore on your feet, jaemin couldn't help but fall in love with you all over again.

you were beautiful. you were ethereal. you were everything.

he watched as you walked down the aisle, you were decked in yellow, the color radiating and bouncing off every surface in the room with each step you took. It was almost as if you were the sun, the center of the universe, everyone else just meaningless little stars and futile planets underneath you. 

you stepped up onto the altar, hand in hand with renjun, a broad smile fitted on your face. he's sure it was brighter than the yellow marigolds you held in your hand. 

the priest began his long monologue, but jaemin tunes it out. all he saw was you. the sweat was gone, his hands no longer shaking in his pockets. 

“does anyone object to this marriage?”

’i do.’ jaemin says, wanting to run out and stand in front of you, to take your hand in his.

but, of course, jaemin doesn’t have enough courage to say it out loud.

he watches as renjun dips you down, pressing his lips against yours, sealing the deal as newlywed soulmates. the room erupted into a cheer, clapping and whistling, yet he couldn't seem to bring his hands up to clap, for he already knew what came next.

a tear found it's way down his face as the colors around him began to slowly fade. it started with his surroundings. the wedding venue, once decorated in mass amounts of gold and silver now just shimmering shades of greys and whites. He could no longer tell what color his suit was, or what shade his skin could be. your dress was no longer the mesmerizing yellow you once walked in with, the marigolds in your hands now a dull tone. 

jaemin smiles. he knows you would most definitely be blushing now, the pink tint that usually adorns your face a dove grey. he continues to smile as he watches you and renjun run down the aisle.

what he didn’t know was just how much it was going to hurt. jaemin was sure fate was taunting him at this point, laughing at him as he stood there, barely able to contain himself.

it's okay, he says. jaemin tilts his head back, clenching his eyes closed as they started to water, his chin trembling.

 you're happy. and that's all that matters to him.

he let the torrent of tears dampen the collar of his shirt, suffocating on each unsteady breath he took. jaemin rubbed at his eyes consistently, staining them red, and making his eyebags ever the more evident. 

he knows his makeup is smudged by now, pale concealer a dark contrast to his suit and red lip balm all over his sleeve.

at least, that’s what he thinks the color of his lip balm was, he can’t remember.

everyone files out of the ballroom, making their way to the front of the building to congratulate the newlyweds, leaving jaemin by himself in the now empty room.

he feels someone pat his back, it’s jisung.

“i know it hurts.”

jisung sends him a sad reassuring smile and then follows the crowd out.

the silence is even more deafening now, his own sobs making his head feel like it’ll burst at any given second. All his defenses washed away along with his salty tears.   

jaemin could barely hear the car drive off, applause and cans hitting against asphalt as party-goers get into their cars to drive to the restaurant.

he bitterly laughs to himself, it all finally setting into his skin.

he’s alone.

he’s truly alone now.

no one for him to love, and no one to love him.

jaemin finally calms down enough to step down from where he stood on the altar, only a few feet away from where you were no more than thirty minutes ago.

he could've been the one next to you

he could've been the one to slip that ring on your finger,

then take your hand, and laugh with you as you both ran out.

but it's okay he says,

it's okay.

jaemin walks out of the hall, and takes a breath of fresh air. 

it was all going to be okay.

you were his everything.

at least,

everything but his.

[vikingpoteto]

the curse of cousin Chad

Read on AO3

______________________

Relationships:  GEN. Tim Drake & Jason Todd & Stephanie Brown

Summary: Tim Drake's only wish is for people to stop talking about Red Robin on the news (and a monkey's paw finger curls somewhere as Chad Wayne shows up in their lives.)

________________________

Red Robin had been better, but he had been worse too.

After Batgirl helps him sit down, he stops for a second and decides that he probably doesn’t have any broken bones, just more than a few bruises forming. Batgirl all but falls by his side, exhausted, and judging by the groan she lets out she must be just as sore. Still, she extends her fist for a bump and he grins as he obliges.

“Well, no one got shot or stabbed, so that’s a win on my book,” Red Robin says.

“That and we put away a dangerous gang that had been terrorizing the locals for months,” she reminds him.

“Yeah, that too.”

He glances around and decides the building they chose is tall enough that they can relax for a bit. He pulls down his cowl. Tim lets out a long relieved sigh when the cold night air touches his face. Batgirl follows his cue, even if she struggles with her hair for a bit to do so. The two of them let their legs dangle from the edge of the rooftop, unbothered by the height, their gazes on the sky.

Heavy footsteps approach the young vigilantes from behind, but neither Tim nor Steph worries, because they’re familiar with the sound. As expected, a third vigilante soon enough takes the spot by Steph’s other side, his helmet already under his arm and his face mask free.

“You two look really beaten considering you weren’t fighting alone tonight,” Jason says.

Steph flips him off.

Tim rolls his eyes. “There were a lot of weaklings, okay? Sometimes that’s more annoying than one strong guy.”

“If you say so.”

“How about your night?” Steph asks casually.

“Kicked some ass, shot the kneecaps of the most stubborn ones. All in a night’s work.”

They nod and resume watching the sky for a brief peaceful moment. So high above they can barely hear the sounds of sirens and late night traffic on the streets.

Then Steph sits up so fast she almost slips down the edge. Tim and Jason grab her shoulders by reflex and pull her back at the same time.

Ignoring the fact that she almost died, Steph shouts: “What time is it?”

“Hm... about 2am?” Tim checks his wrist pad. “Yeah, 2:35.”

“Oh my God!” She groans, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “We missed the countdown by, like, a lot! How did we not hear the fireworks?”

“Gunshots?” Jason suggests.

“Fireworks and gunshots don’t sound the same, we all know the difference.”

Tim rolls his eyes, because this is so them. Of course they’d miss the start of the new year because they were busy fighting crime. Steph and Tim were even planning on going to WE’s New Year’s party together after what was supposed to be a super quick patrol, just to stop a few muggers, really . Tim is glad they did, even if Lucius is going to scold him on Monday. He hates those parties.

“Well, I have a little something here to celebrate,” Jason says with a crooked grin.

He turns his helmet upside down, revealing a bottle of booze. Of course the dramatic bitch had it hidden, just waiting for the right moment to reveal it. Steph whoops excitedly.

“Jason, you’re my hero! I mean… B is gonna kill us if he finds we were drinking in uniform, but it’s not like he’ll find out, right?”

Jason hands the bottle to Tim first, his smile positively wicked. Having been given this sort of gift from Jason before, Tim rolls his eyes and takes a generous chug without hesitation. His eyes tear up a bit at the taste when he passes the bottle to Steph.

She happily drinks straight from the bottle like Tim had… Then she freezes.

"Jason?"

“Yeah, Steph?”

“What the heck is this?”

“Spinach and lettuce juice. Timmy needs those antibodies."

"Jason, why are you like this?

"You didn’t think I was giving you guys alcohol, did you? You two are minors.”

Tim grins. He can tell Steph is trying to decide whether to throw the bottle overboard or at Jason’s head.

Before she decides, he turns his gaze back to the sky and asks: “You guys made any New Year’s wishes?”

“Resolutions,” Steph corrects. “Wishes are for birthdays.”

Jason makes a high-pitched voice, “wow, look at me, I’m Stephanie Brown, my mom loves me so much she celebrated my birthday!”

Tim laughs. “Geez, I’ll drink to that.”

There are no words to describe the horror in Steph’s face when he takes back the bottle and drinks a little more of the green juice.

He simply shrugs. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Deciding it’s not worth the trouble, Steph shakes her head and says, “I’m keeping it simple this year. My only resolution is to pass all my classes for once in my life. What about you, Jay?”

“I don’t do that corny shit.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I know you guys like corny shit.”

“We’ve seen you cry over Jane Austen, your edgelord bullcrap doesn’t work on us,” Steph says. When Jason tries to protest that his eyes were just tearing up from yawning, she turns to Tim: “What about you? Any New Year wishes?”

“Just one, too,” Tim says. “I wanna make sure every non-criminal forgets Red Robin ever existed.”

Jason and Steph snort.

“I’m serious. No more shipping me with my family, no more stalkers. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure no reporter writes the words ‘Red Robin’ ever again.”

“Good luck with that, Timbers.”

Tim drinks his lettuce juice in silence. He hands the bottle back to Jason. Steph pretends to gag when he also takes a long sip. Despite their incredulity, Tim is feeling positive about his goal. He feels like after the Red Twins craze died down, people lost interest in him. He thinks he can pull it off.

If only he knew.

Tim almost never visits the manor anymore. He’s been to the Batcave once or twice on the past few months, but the house itself… he doesn’t even remember the last time. He decides to stop by on a rare free afternoon, hoping Duke and Cass will be around. If not, seeing Alfred outside the cave and having a cup of tea with him was more than enough.

He lets himself in, because he knows it makes Alfred begrudgingly happy when any of the kids acts as though they still live there rather than politely ringing the bell. It also makes Damian mad, which is always a plus.

Hearing voices from the living room, Tim heads straight there, excited that there’s someone home. His smile freezes on his face. Whatever he was expecting to see, it wasn’t… that.

Bruce is sitting near the fireplace pinching the bridge of his nose as he does when his children are fighting among themselves. On the opposite couch is none other than Jason being embraced by a complete stranger that is currently sobbing into his shoulder.

Jason’s gaze meet Tim’s in what is clearly a plea for help. All Tim can do is mouth who the hell is that? to which Jason mouths back I have no fucking idea.

“Would you look at that, Tim’s here,” Bruce says. Tim has the feeling he’s trying to save Jason.

The sniffling stranger pulls back and turns around. “Oh god. You’re a man now, Timmy! Last time I saw you, you were just a tiny kid!”

To Tim’s complete horror, the man stands and comes hug him tightly.

“Uh… ”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” the man gives a watery chuckle “of course you don’t remember me. You were a basically a toddler and I was also a kid when I last saw you. I’m Chad, your father’s cousin.”

“Oh. You’re…”

“I mean, Bruce's cousin. I knew Jack, though. He was good people.”

“Bruce’s cousin. Hm. So your name is Chad Wayne, huh?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing,” Tim pretends not to see Jason hide a snicker into his hand. “Sounds… cool.”

“Chad is visiting Gotham for a couple of weeks,” Bruce tells him. “He just graduated from college in Central City and decided it was a good idea to visit old relatives. It was such a great surprise when he arrived.”

“Right,” Chad wipes the tears from his face, “and I happened to run right into Jason here and oof. Saying I was surprised doesn’t cover it.”

His jovial laughter is so genuine that it’s almost unsettling.

“Oh. You… You know Jason."

“Yeah, man. My family was in a year long trip to Africa, so we didn’t hear about his death until a long time had passed. My parents were crushed that they couldn’t be there for Brucie then. Bruce was telling me about how you guys got him back. Nothing short of a miracle, huh?”

“A miracle,” Jason echoes.

Chad scratches his own nape, finally looking appropriately embarrassed. “Sorry I got so emotional, Jason. I almost didn’t recognize you, you got so jacked , man. I guess I have a good memory for faces.”

He speaks so fast. Steph always complains that Tim speaks too fast whenever he is in the zone and caffeinated, but that was nothing compared to Chad’s rambling.

“Oh well. C'mere, Tim, sit with us, let me get to know you guys. Even if I’m your father’s cousin, I guess I’m closer in age to you two ahaha...”

Tim is known for being a quick thinker, but something about Chad’s khaki shorts and how out of place they look in Gotham stuns him into inaction. He lets Chad drag him to the couch and doesn’t say anything else on pure fear that the guy is about to do it to ‘em.

“Actually,” Jason stands, “Tim is here to pick me up. We have this, hm, doctor’s appointment. To check my… eyes. Yeah, my eyes. Tim’s gonna drive me.”

“Oh, that’s alright, we can talk more when you two come back.”

“Back?” Tim parrots.

“Actually, Chad, Jason and Tim don’t live in the manor,” Bruce says. “They share an apartment around downtown.”

For the first time, Chad drops his too-blessed-to-be-stressed smile and frowns. “What? Why? I thought you guys just got Jason back. Shouldn’t he stay with you, Bruce?”

“Actually, that’s a funny story,” Jason says, taking Tim by the arm. “I’m sure Bruce will love to tell you all about it. I can’t be late for my appointment, isn’t that right, lil' bro?”

“Uh… Yeah. Being dead made his insurance skyrocket and the cancelation fees are a nightmare.”

“Hm-hum, all that. See you around and stuff.” Jason is holding Tim’s arm with such force that it’ll bruise for sure. They’re still on the way to the door when he hisses: “ Get me out of here right now.”

“But I didn’t even see Alfred,” he whispers back.

“ Now, Timothy ! ”

They don’t stop powerwalking until they’re in the car. Jason doesn’t bother going back for his bike and Tim makes a mental note to ask Cass to bring it back to their place later.

For a second, they just breathe Gotham’s polluted air to remind themselves they’re still home and not in a Disney sitcom.

That’s when Jason starts ranting. Apparently he was on the way to the kitchen to get just a bowl of cereal when he walked into Alfred getting the door open for cousin Chad. Alfred had said "Master Jason, I didn’t know you were here" and cousin Chad recognized him and started losing it. Bruce didn’t let Jason kill him, unfortunately, but managed to pull a story out of his ass about Jason coming back from the dead after someone from the Justice League messed up the timeline or something like that. The official story is that they found Jason just a couple of weeks ago and are still working out the kinks of having a family member return from the grave. Except Jason’s speech was a lot more convoluted and involved a lot of curse words and shakespearean insults.

“...and I didn’t even get my freaking cereal!” he finishes, just as Tim parks in front of their home.

“Well. That was an afternoon you just had,” Tim says. Jason huffs and gruffs on the way to the elevator. Tim waits until the doors close to say: “Bruce didn’t pull that story out of his ass, by the way.”

Jason frowns. “What?”

“Your cover story,” Tim clarifies. “He had it for years. I know everything about it if you want the details. He asked me for feedback when he was figuring how to make it believable and whatnot.”

“What? When? Why?”

“As soon as we found out you were alive. He wanted to be ready in case you decided to officially join the family again. It took a few days of work, but the plan exists and is ready to go whenever.”

Jason doesn’t say anything. Tim had expected that, so he allows him to mull over the newfound knowledge. He also expects Jason to head straight for the kitchen, which he does, and Tim follows his brother closely, not commenting on the tension of his shoulders or the way his jaw is set tight enough to crack a few teeth.

When his brother just stands near the sink apparently unsure of what to do with himself, Tim gets milk from the fridge and starts preparing a bowl of cereal.

“What were you doing there, anyway?”

“I went to see Alfred,” Jason mumbles. “But he was busy, so I was… I was talking to Bruce for a bit.”

“Oh?”

Jason grabs the bowl Tim is offering him. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up.” And Jason stomps his way to his room, slamming the door after him.

When Steph shows up after class, Tim tells her not to bother him.

WAYNE FAMILY

Tim: @Bruce so wats his deal

Bruce: Dear Tim, what do you mean by that? sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Tim: chad

Tim: whats his night persona

Tim: his masked name

Bruce: Tim, Chad is not a vigilante. sincerely, Bruce Wayne

Dick: shoot

Dick: he’s a villain???

Bruce: Dear Dick, Chad is not a villain either. He’s just a civillian. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Duke: dont he want to avenge his parents?

Bruce: Dear Duke, His parents are alive and well. They’re international activists currently on a mission to feed the poor somewhere in South America. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Damian: That means he’s must be a sleeper agent of sorts. I’ll collect some of his DNA for examination. Drake, I trust you’ll do a thorough check on his background, official and otherwise.

Tim: on it

Bruce: Damian, if you get your second-cousin’s DNA to run tests, your weekend at the Kent farm is permanently cancelled.

Jason: so b you admit you text like it’s a business email just to fuck with us, huh?

Bruce: Dear Jason, Mind your language in front of your little brothers. Sometimes I’ll sacrifice the format for the sake of speed. Regardless, this is the ideal way of writing a text message. sincerely, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce: @everyone Chad will be staying with us for a few weeks. He’s just a regular civilian with no tragic backstory, no metapowers and no secret identity. I expect all of you to behave like Alfred taught you and hide your secret identities like I trained you to. No one will investigate him or do anything to compromise our identities. Is that clear? Awaiting confirmation, Bruce Wayne

Cass: weird

Bruce: Dearest Cass, It’s not weird. Civilians exist. Sincerely, Bruce Wayne

Tim: not in our family they dnt!!!

Tim: cmon b you cant tell me s not suspicious!!!!!

Bruce: It is not.

Alfred: Master Bruce already checked his DNA for metagenes and ran a thorough background check with the help of miss Barbara. Unfortunately, Master Chad is clear.

Cass: weeeeeiiiiird

Tim decides to avoid Wayne manor for the foreseeable future. Instead, he buys Alfred’s favorite brand of tea and wonders if he can convince the butler to come over to stay with them for an afternoon or perhaps the whole weekend. Tim is more than willing to share the couch with Steph and let Alfred have his bed. He puts the tea away with a passive aggressive note letting Jason and Steph know that tea is to be saved for Alfred.

Jason is in the living room cleaning one of his guns while Steph does her homework on the carpet by his feet, meaning is just an afternoon like any other for them.

Tim has to remind himself of her resolution before he gives in the temptation of asking her to go patrolling with him. The thing is that his resolution is a lot easier to pursue when Batgirl is around, because she can deal with the civilians after the fact while Red Robin vanishes as soon as the criminals are in cuffs.

Alas. Working alone can be fun, too, he tells himself.

Before he heads out to get his suit, however, the buzzer sounds. He hears Steph cheering and saying something about pizza.

Then a voice that makes Tim freeze in horror.

“Oh, hey. I must have the wrong apartment. Is this Tim and Jason Wayne’s place?”

“Uhhhh…”

He runs so fast Bart would be proud, hoping he can sign at Steph to send him away before he sees them, but it’s too late. Tim rushes only to find out that, in all the glory of his khaki shorts and boat shoes, Chad Wayne is already inside his apartment.

Tim is very aware that Jason is frozen on the couch right behind him, still holding a gun.

“Chad! What a surprise!”

“Hey, Timbo!” Chad grins, looking genuinely happy to see him. “Damian told me you wouldn’t be working tonight and then he gave me your address!”

Why, god? Why hadn’t Tim killed Damian when he had the chance?

“And who is this lovely young woman?” He asks. “If she isn’t spoken for, I might want to steal her for me.”

“I’m his ex, actually, and I sort of live here.” Steph offers her hand. “I speak for myself.”

Instead of shaking her hand, Chad brings her fingers to his lips and gives them an excuse of a kiss. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma damme .”

Steph’s smile is too wide to be natural and her eyes look like they’re about to jump out of the sockets. Like the rest of the family, she seems to struggle to believe this guy is real. Tim can’t save her, he just wishes Jason would put away his things while cousin Chad is busy with Steph.

“So, Chad, it’s so nice to see you, but uhhh... What are you doing here?”

“Well, since you guys never go over I had to come see you! And trust me, I get it , when I let my folks’ place to go to college, I wanted to spend even the breaks at my frat house. Anyway, I thought I’d come here, we can order some take out and…”

His eyes finally find Jason and he freezes. “...is that a gun?”

Crap, poop, turd, crap,  crapcrapcrapcrap-

“Uhhh… yeah?”

In the same way when he heard that Jason doesn’t live with Bruce, Chad’s positive vibes vanish and he looks distraught.

“Guys… does Bruce know about that?”

Before anyone can stop him, Chad walks in like he owns the place and takes the seat by Jason’s side. Tim and Steph exchange a panicked look, both praying that the gun isn’t easy to assemble or at least that Jason doesn’t have any ammo within arms reach. The two hurry to join them, Steph dropping on the couch and casually leaning against Jason in a position that allows her to hold his arm should he decide to throw Chad out. Tim takes the arm of the couch closer to Chad, ready to pick him up and throw him away himself if he says something stupid.

“We keep it here for safety,” Jason says simply.

“Okay. Oof.” Chad reaches for Jason’s shoulder. “Look, I get it. Gotham is dangerous. But having a gun at home is more of a hazard than anything else, Jace. Can I call you Jace?”

“No.”

“Look, I’m an only son, but if I had a little brother like Tim, I’d want to show him a good example, you know? And guns are not the solution. Do you genuinely think you could shoot someone? I don’t think so. I served the army and there we learn that shooting a person is harder than you can imagine."

Tim can see Steph discreetly pinching Jason’s thigh to keep him in check. Jason looks like he’s asking himself if he’s in the Twilight zone.

There is a beat of silence and Jason opens his mouth. Tim braces himself. Before disaster hits, Steph blurts:

“Actually, that’s why Jason’s here.”

Fortunately, Chad doesn’t notice Jason’s and Tim’s perplexed faces because he’s focused on Steph again.

“Of course Bruce hates guns with his parents and all that,” she frowns sympathetically. “But… Chad, Jason died. Of course he’s getting therapy, but he still needs something to feel safe at least at home. Isn’t that right, Jay?”

She gently rubs his arm. Jason knows Steph enough to recognize the play along or you’re dead in her falsely upset expression.

“Uh… Right. That. I moved in with Tim because, uh, I know Bruce is weird with guns." Another pinch to his thigh. Clearly in a begrudging voice, he adds: "And I super agree with him. I mean, what if Damian found it?”

“God, no,” Tim deadpans. “I don’t want to even imagine Damian with a gun.”

“But Tim and he knows he's not to mess with it,” Jason adds.

“Bruce told me you’re here you and him are a bit at odds, but he didn’t tell me you fought over you having a gun.”

“Bruce doesn’t know and you can’t tell him,” Tim cuts in. Batman is definitely going to forget his no-killing rule if he finds out they let cousin Chad see Red Hood’s gun. “Please, Chad. I promise you we’re careful. We’re just trying to make the best out of a difficult situation.”

Tim hopes the mention that this is a touchy subject will deter Chad. He forgets to take in consideration that Chad thinks they’re his family despite him knowing literally nothing about them. He is under the very wrong impression that he's allowed to talk to them about personal shit. Which is great. This is just great.

“If it makes you feel better, this is temporary,” Jason says. “I talked to my, uh, my therapist about it and he cleared me to have the gun. When I start, you know, getting over the death trauma, I’ll get rid of it.”

“Right,” Steph nods eagerly. “We’re planning on throwing a party when we reach that point and everything.”

The three of them wait with baited breath as Chad considers their excuses, his expression somber. Then Chad opens his arms and pulls Tim and Jason into a triple hug.

“I get it,” he says in a hoarse voice he probably finds cool. “You do what you have to do to cope, man. Bruce told me you’re brave and I can see that’s true. And you, ” he squeezes Tim, “I heard from Dickie that you’re a little prodigy, but I’m so proud of you for being there for your brother!”

God, he has so many feelings. Tim promises himself he’ll never complain about Dick being clingy again. Dick has a Batman level of emotional constipation if compared to this guy.

“Right,” Jason pulls himself free from the hug. “I’m gonna put this away, alright?”

He gathers his cleaning supplies and the spare parts spread across the coffee table and takes it to his room. His expression says he's still trying to figure out what that was.

“But, Timbo…”

“Just Tim is fine.”

“I thought you didn’t know Jason before his death? Bruce adopted you kind of recently, didn’t he?”

“Uhhh… I don’t know what to tell you. Jason and I hit it off and became friends fast,” Tim says. “I mean, at first he hated me enough to want to slit my throat…”

“Wow, alright,” Jason interrupts as he returns, a pout on his lips. “I see we’re very comfortable joking about my early… grumpiness. It’s not something I feel guilt or still have nightmares about at all”

Tim almost snorts at that. “Like I was saying, we got better.”

Chad nods thoughtfully and leans back to be more comfortable, nothing about his body language suggesting he might be getting ready to leave.

“So!” Steph claps her hands together. “Thank you for understanding, Chad. Now maybe let's talk about something lighter, shall we?”

And that’s what they do, with some sttrugle. At first, Chad seems too upset to talk about anything and Steph has to use all of her charm to get him to forget about the fantastic start of his visit. Jason helps by making sarcastic remarks that almost sound genuine and Tim… Tim can’t do much.

He texts Cass and she agrees to take his patrol duty for the night. Tim considered making up an emergency at WE and going out anyway, but in the end he decided that was unfair to the others.

He also sends a message chewing on Damian for sending Chad his way without a warning. No one ever visits Tim’s apartment other than his family and his hero friends, so they could have been in full uniform in the middle of the living room. Damian responds with a dismissive text filled with words that Tim doesn’t know. Tim threatens to break all of his crayons and puts his phone away

By this point, Chad is a bit more like himself again and Tim almost wishes he stayed distressed, because the rest of the night is painfully weird. To avoid more awkward conversation, Jason puts on a random horror movie for them. Chad comments on how impressive it is that none of them seems to mind the gore. He squeals and groans and gives Steph a horrified look when she simply keeps eating her pepperoni pizza as though nothing of note is happening on the screen.

The thing is that the movie’s gore is decidedly inaccurate to the point that they barely recognize it for what it's supposed to be. Besides it’s nothing worse than some wounds they’d either suffered or seen as vigilantes.

Maybe it’s because Tim didn’t get the adrenaline he expected from patrol, but he ends up falling asleep on Jason’s shoulder during the climax of the second movie.

He wakes up alone on the couch with a blanket half-thrown over his legs. It's still the middle of the night and he has half a mind to go to his room before he hears muffled voices from the kitchen. Rubbing his eyes, he follows the sound without thinking much.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Steph greets him.

She and Jason apparently are building a castle of Uno cards in the middle of the kitchen table.

Tim joins them. “It’s 3am.”

“Witching hour,” Jason mumbles.

Steph gestures at the castle and offers Tim a card. He takes it.

“It was a dirty trick to fall asleep like that,” she tells him. “You missed the selfie party to celebrate the first time he visited Jace and Timbo.”

Tim groans. “He stayed long?”

“Too long.” Jason adds another pair of cards to the castle. “I think I have a headache and the Lazarus pit is supposed to make you immune to headaches.”

“That's what I was telling Jason before you got here, Tim. We’re socially capable, right?”

“Hmmm… Right, I guess.”

“How come we couldn’t get rid of him? Why were we so lost while we were, like, just hanging out with him? Is everyone outside of Gotham like that?”

Part of Tim is relieved that Steph hates Chad too. He thought he and Jason had finally caught Batman’s moodiness, but Steph is one of the most cheerful people he knows and her dry sense of humor and quick quips are a lot more bearable than cousin Chad’s peppy attitude.

The other part of him…

“I think it’s less about him not being from Gotham and more about him being a civilian,” Jason says.

The castle falls. None of them reacts.

“That can’t be right,” Steph says. “We have civilian friends and they’re not like that.”

“Do we?”

“Yeah! Jason-- Hm. Tim has Tam… Oh, forget it, she’s not talking to him again. I have Francisco and- I just remembered he’s the son of a gangster.” Steph pauses. “Huh. Do we seriously not know any civilians?”

They don’t. Not on a friendly level, at least.

Tim had considered that before, but he didn't want to think about it. It was weird he was so distant from a normal life that he felt unsettled by it. Not bad. Just weird. If he hadn’t found out Batman’s and Robin’s identities, would he grow up to be a Chad? Finishing high school, living in a frat house in college, and all that? Would he still be a Drake, neighbor to the Waynes?

He loves all of his siblings and Bruce and Alfred and he doesn’t want to consider a life without them.

However.

In a world without Batman. Bruce would still be a good man. He still wouldn’t hesitate in adopting an orphaned circus boy. He would probably also adopt the little shit that tried to steal his not-batmobile tires. If by a miracle he also adopted the boy next door that tragically lost his parents and a girl from a very broken family and a young boy whose parents couldn’t be there for him anymore. His gremlin of a biological son would have grown up beloved and incapable of harming anyone, let alone assassinating a person.

He remembers the plan to bring Jason back to the world of the living and how easy it had been for him and Bruce to put it together and make it seem believable, because in their world it was believable and it could have been the truth.

If Jason Wayne, a regular boy, son of a regular man, had been killed in a freak criminal act and brought back to life thanks to superhero shenanigans, all of them would have been there for him. Jason wouldn’t resent his father for not killing his murderers, because that wasn’t a possibility, and they’d find a way to get him to overcome the effects of the trauma. Bruce certainly wouldn’t spare effort or money to get his son back to full health.

If Stephanie’s father hadn’t been a super criminal, Tim’s first girlfriend wouldn’t hit him in the face with a brick on their first meeting. She would have been a normal girl with a normal life and she could even run into him at school. There is no doubt in his mind that he would have found and made Steph his friend no matter the universe, except… would he?

In that reality, he didn’t know what gore looked like. He would get too upset to function for half an hour at the mere sight of a gun. He’d visit relatives unannounced and the worst thing that could happen was to find them heading out as he arrives. He draws the line at the khakis and boat shoes, because he doesn’t think he’d wear those in any universe, but still.

That would not be Timothy Drake-Wayne. Tim had seen his own internal organs before. Tim’s not only unfazed by fire guns but also built some for his older brother. Tim is fully aware that visiting any of his siblings might mean walking into a ninja fight at worst and finding them pretending to drive the batmobile at best.

Steph and Jason don’t say anything for a while and Tim could easily blame it on the fact that it’s almost 4am and they have yet to sleep, but he knows it’s because they’re reaching the same conclusion he did: they’re not normal people. They always knew that, but knowing something and seeing evidence are two different things.

And again… it’s not bad. It’s not that Tim wouldn’t change anything about the past, it’s just that he doesn’t regret the life he lead up until this point.

It’s still weird. Too weird.

BABS

Babs: The red dynamic duo ship is back with a vengeance, huh?

Babs sent you a link.

Tim had never had a panic attack. Considering the life he leads, that’s a pretty surprising thing. However, that text from a woman he considers part of his family kicks his fight-or-flight instinct like nothing in the world could. He clicks on it. He reads the article.

He screams into a pillow for about ten minutes.

Jason and Steph find him lying face down on the floor trying to get his phone’s AI to buy him a ticket to Smallville. He's sure Conner will take him in. He’ll work at the farm. He’ll stop being Red Robin. He doesn’t care.

It’s an article from a teen magazine.

TIM WAYNE AND MYSTERY MAN?

Ah, the Wayne Family. Our favorite and most iconic family of Gotham. Timothy Drake-Wayne (18), or Tim, how he prefers to be called, has been under our radar for quite a while and not just because of his cute face. The young CEO of Wayne Enterprises and heir to Drake Industries is smart, rich and incredibly charming if the rumors are true. That being said, the question we’re all asking is: how is this boy still single?

Little to nothing is known about Tim Wayne’s love life and we were all crazy to know if he is in the market for a girlfriend.

Well, ladies, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Tim Wayne might have a special someone. Nothing is confirmed yet, but Chad Wayne (26), Tim’s adoptive father’s cousin, shared a rather interesting picture on his snapchat.

[IMAGE]

Once we got over how freaking hot Chad is looking, we noticed something in the background. Right behind Chad, we can barely see someone that looks exactly like Tim Wayne fast asleep on the shoulder of a real heartthrob. Our suspicions were confirmed by Chad’s caption that said “visiting the little cousins”!

It’s a well-known fact that Tim Wayne is openly bisexual, so could this be his boyfriend? Or are they just dudes being bros, unbothered by toxic masculinity? Only time will tell.

THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert sent a screenshot.

spoiler alert: lmao

WonderWing: … ok first I thought it was funny but now I’m concerned

WonderWing: do I need to talk to them?

WonderWing: do I need to talk our dad???

In the hood: WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO US?

In the hood: WHY IS ANYONE SEEN NEAR THIS DAMN KID AUTOMATICALLY HIS SIGNIFICANT OTHER??

send me a Signal: scratch that what is this openly bisexual business?

send me a Signal: I mean we know hes bi but hes not that vocal bout it?

spoiler alert: lmao tell em dick

WonderWing: lololol when he was like 12 there were rumors that Jack Drake’s son was gay right?

WonderWing: high society trashy gossip

WonderWing: around the same time his mom thought it was a good idea to let him be interviewed for this random magazine

WonderWing: they mentioned the rumors prolly because they wanted him to like say something motivational about bullying or wtv

send me a Signal: i think i know where this is going

send me a Signal: what did he say?

spoiler alert: i like my men how i like my women

send me a Signal: of course he did

spoiler alert: yeah and he wasnt out to his parnts yet so that part is less fun

send me a Signal: oof

In the hood: are you kidding me? Tim came out to the whole world because he couldn’t stop himself from making a dumb bi joke? Why can’t he stay in the closet like the rest of us?

Boss A$$ Bat: Bi rights

WonderWing: steph did you change cass nickname again

spoiler alert: ye

Boss A$$ Bat: I like it (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

send me a Signal: wait tims too quiet where is he

in the Hood: Steph took away his phone because he kept trying to book a flight to Smallville to become a farmer.

send me a Signal: of course. why wouldnt he.

Chad apologizes profusely for not noticing Tim and Jason were on that shot, but thankfully he does it over the phone so Tim can hang up halfway through his heartfelt apology.

The kids that still live in the manor aren't so lucky.

Tim gets a stream of facetimes from Duke, Cass and even Damian. Apparently Chad won't stop asking Cass to speak up, because she can, why bother with this weird sign stuff? (Cass stops Duke from hitting him.) He insists on asking Damian to play football with him until Damian knocked him out with a ball to the face. Bruce forced Damian to pretend he dislocated his shoulder on the stunt to prevent further invitations. Even though Duke is, by all means, perfect, Chad keeps stalking him and asking about his opinions on his siblings and if he thinks Bruce is doing the best job on raising them. The answers never satisfy him and he keeps asking as though he thinks the boy will change his mind if caught by surprise. Duke starts using his powers to jump out of the window whenever Chad is about to walk into the room until he lands on Alfred's roses. The fact that the butler isn't mad, just disappointed causes Duke to stop his daring escapes.

Bruce, despite his cool facade, isn't much better. He now has to keep his public persona at home too and, when it isn't driving him insane, he is being annoyed by his children exchanging weird looks and holding back giggles while he plays the himbo part.

Long story short, Chad is making a few days feel like torturing years.

The breaking point is the day Tim walks into his living room only to find Steph and Damian sitting on the couch facing each other while she dutifully paints his nails black.

“What is happening?” Tim asks. “Did I fall into a parallel Earth?”

“Tt, do not concern yourself with us, Drake. I’m here for Brown, not for you.”

Steph smirks at him.

“What the- Okay, first of all this apartment is mine and Jason’s. Steph doesn’t live here. Sometimes. Second… Since when do you get along with Steph?”

“I tolerate her.”

“What the hell? That’s like I love you in Gremlin language! Since when did you get Damian?”

Her smirk widens and Tim more or less expects her to do a little victory dance. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. I’m just irresistible.”

“Hm.” Tim turns to Damian. “Chad drove you out of the house and Bruce didn’t let you go to Dick's place in Bludhaven, right?”

“Father says I cannot miss school.”

“Great. If you’re going to become our second unofficial roommate, please stay away from Jason’s pots. He says he has a system and he's a nightmare when we mess with them.”

“I would never spend more time than necessary in your disgusting nest.”

“You’re literally on my couch! Letting my best friend paint your nails! You freaking pest!”

And Damian isn’t the only one.

Cass used to come over regularly, but the frequency of her visits increases dramatically now that Chad is staying at the manor. She isn’t bad to be around, though, as she mostly keeps training in the basement or napping on the couch that Steph is more than happy to share with her. When Tim asks why she doesn’t simply stay in the Batcave, Cass tells him Bruce is keeping their time at the cave to a minimum because Chad noticed sometimes they vanish even if all cars were in the garage.

Chad is also painfully public. He’s constantly tweeting and updating his Instagram and making sure everyone and their mother knows what he’s doing, who’s with him and where they are. That makes it difficult to kick him out without drawing attention. Gotham's elite is a nest of gossip and intrigue and people ought to ask uncomfortable questions if a rich guy sends a rich relative away for seemingly no reason. Bruce might be the most private person in the world, but Brucie Wayne is supposed to be a fun-loving man.

Cass convinces Tim not to make much fun of Bruce, because apparently, after Chad posted a picture of him and Bruce trying to bake and Brucie is wearing an apron that says “Kiss the Bat!”, Superman himself called him only to laugh for ten minutes. Tim Supposes that’s punishment enough.

When Duke is the one seeking shelter, it isn’t as fun. As much as Tim likes the guy, he’s a chronic worrier in a completely different way of Tim. He wants to make sure they're all living healthy lives and eating properly and, for some reason, whether Steph and Jason are bullying Tim. He question things such as the fact that Steph is ruining her back on the couch, Tim’s habit of leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight and the lack of the right brands of food, whatever that means. Tim gets tired of it pretty fast, but he also finds that being unnecessarilly dark is a efficient way to get Duke to shut up.

“So Steph basically moved in, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you guys share the rent or…?”

“I own the building, Duke.”

“Right. So she doesn’t pay any bills.”

“She kills bugs for us sometimes. She buys candy, too.”

"Does Jason pay bills?"

"He does. We split it evenly between the two of us."

"Huh. Where does he get any money?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

"Is Bruce okay with that?"

"If Bruce wanted to have a say in my life he shouldn't have died and forced me to get emancipated."

"... Tim, I love you so much, man, but sometimes it's hard to be your brother."

"I know, Duke. I love you too, Duke."

One night, he comes back from patrol and he finds all of his siblings literally camping in the living room. Someone even built a pillow fort by tying a preposterous amount of blankets to the porch door and the TV stand. Too tired to care, Tim turns to his room.

“Good night, Jay. Good night, Steph. Good night, parasites that do not live here.”

“You take back those words on this instant, Drake,” Damian hisses, but fortunately someone (Steph) tucked him too tightly into his sleeping bag, so there’s nothing he can do but wiggle around like an angry worm.

“Why are we parasites?” Duke asks from his air mattress. “I’ve done the dishes. That’s more than what Steph does.”

“Good night, Tim,” Cass says from… somewhere. They know she found a place to sleep. They don’t know where it is.

DAD

Tim: brus pls get rid of him

Dad: I can’t, Tim, it’d be suspicious to kick out a relative for no reason.

Tim: every1 is living at my place bc of him

Tim: even damian

Tim: do u kno how insuferable a man has to be that damian would rather spend time with jason and i

Dad: If everyone being at your place is bothering you so much, why don’t you invite Chad?

Tim: … no. ur not pushing him to me.

Dad: Chad and you are close in age, aren’t you? You could get along if you tried.

Tim: i 19! he 26!

Dad: Jason is 22 and he’s your best friend.

Tim: conner is my best friend

Tim: jason is a partner in crime at best

Dad: If you’re able to think of something to shorten Chad’s visit, I’m all ears. I admit it’s inconvenient to have him here. Otherwise, I think spending time with your siblings will do you some good.

Tim: i hate you

Dad: Alright, Tim.

Tim: … ok that was a lie and im sorry i love u bruss

Dad: I love you too, Tim.

One day, Tim goes to the kitchen for a mug of coffee and finds Barbara comfortably working on her laptop.

“...you don’t even live at the manor.”

“Hm? Oh, I’m not avoiding cousin Chad, Steph just invited me over for waffles.”

Tim just takes his coffee and leaves without saying anything else.

And then shit finally hits the fan.

Because Tim isn’t an idiot like Bruce, he didn’t make his public persona something that would be painful for him to play. As far as Gotham’s society knows, Tim Drake-Wayne is a calm and collected young man, work-driven and not too ill-mannered for a rich boy, which isn’t as different from the real Tim. Real Tim is an overworked ball of anxiety that appears to be a calm and collected young man, so no one is surprised when he doesn’t acknowledge the rumors about him and the mysterious man.

At least not until a son of a bitch with too much free time decides to ruin his brother’s life on twitter.

@earthnotflatffs101 yo don’t this dude with tim drake low key look like jason todd?

And the motherfucker even dared to repost Chad’s selfie and an old picture of a 13 year-old Jason walking alongside Bruce.

Of course the tweet goes viral.

Everyone starts talking about the eerie resemblance between Tim’s buddy and his deceased brother that he supposedly never met. Some find it tasteless that everyone is making a conspiracy theory out of an allegedly dead child, but they are quickly overpowered by the wave of old gossip being revisited. It takes one Sunday afternoon for everyone to start pointing out how weird it is that Tim Drake left the Wayne manor seemingly out of the blue and started living by himself at such a young age and how my sense it’d make for him to share a place with a brother. They notice Chad captioned the picture as "visiting the cousins" plural even if it's public knowledge that Tim Drake- Wayne lives alone. People start demanding to know who is the mystery man lending his shoulder to Tim, tagging the few Waynes with known social media in their posts and even WE corporate account.

It’s the very definition of a shit show, in Tim’s humble opinion.

Red Robin and Batgirl skip their Sunday patrol to brainstorm ideas of damage control. Damian is pacing around the kitchen as the two of them desperately try to apply an algorithm Oracle made to make sure less people will see posts about Jason Todd. There’s not a lot they can do about the fact that #IsJasonToddAlive? is trending. They’re so distressed that Damian forgets to be unpleasant.

“I see no other option,” Damian says at some point. “We should kill that man before he ruins our family any further.”

“How would killing him solve anything?” Tim groans.

“It would make me feel better.”

“No.”

“His death would cause people to forget about Todd.”

“... Go on.”

“Tim, you’re not going to let Dami kill Chad.”

“Why not!”

“Because with our track record he’s going to come back with radioactive powers or some shit.”

“That would be good! He’d finally fit in with the family! As it is now, we’re becoming the freaking Kardashians with a hint conspiracy theory, Steph!”

That’s not the biggest problem, though.

The problem is that Jason doesn’t come home on that night.

Tim and Steph wait for hours after Damian finally calms down in his sleeping bag, but the sun rises and Jason’s room remains empty.

He isn’t freaking out, by any means. Jason is an adult man and he can handle himself. He used to go missing by months at a time before moving in with Tim. He must be busy doing Red Hood stuff. He could let them know he’s okay, just for shits and giggles, but it’s alright. He doesn’t owe them anything.

On the third day after #isJasonToddAlive went viral, Tim and Steph go on patrol even if it’s not their turn. It’s a spur of the moment thing, because they’re home and bored. They agree to split up and just ride around town aimlessly, see what happens and meet at the end of the night to grab waffles at that 24 hour diner Steph likes so much.  One that Jason first took her to after one particular bad night in which she failed to stop a mugger from shooting their victim.

He is just riding his bike, not paying attention to where the wheels take him. It’s just a coincidence that he ends up in Red Hood’s old territory. He hears from some loiterers that Batgirl had been seen roaming around just south from where he is. He keeps his patrol focused on the north side.

A beeping sound informs him that someone is trying to contact him. He accepts it almost right away.

“ Jason ?”

“Nope, it’s me, Timmy,” Dick’s voice answers.

He sighs. And cringes when he realizes he broke the no-real-names-when-in-uniform rule. He’s lucky it isn’t Batman calling him. “Sorry, Nightwing, I thought… Never mind. You need something?”

“No, it’s just that I just got here at the manor. I thought I’d let you know.”

“Oh. Is everything okay? I didn’t even know you were coming back.”

“Well, with this whole Jason is alive thing blowing up I thought I’d come home, help in any way I can. Reporters are driving B insane.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. Also… Do you know Jason’s here?”

There is a beat. Tim presses the breaks with too much force and it’s a miracle that his bike doesn’t simply throw him away with how fast he stops.

“ What? ”

Dick chuckles over the comm. “I figured he didn’t tell you. Do what you want with this information. I’m gonna help Alfred now.”

Tim doesn’t bother saying goodbye, but he’s sure Dick will forgive him. He’s already pressing the buttons on his wrist pad to contact someone else. “Batgirl? Meet me at the cave. Now.”

It takes a lot of effort to stop Steph from storming into the manor through the main entrance in full Batgirl gear. And it’s a good thing Tim managed it, because there is a literal swarm of reporters in front of the gates and Tim wonders if anything happened in the short two hours he was out patrolling.

Once they’re in the cave, they’re careful enough to change into civies. Unlike Tim, Steph doesn’t have clothes stashed there so she simply steals a sweater from Damian’s locker while Tim checks the news.

“Someone saw the mystery man that looks like Jason Todd getting into Bruce Wayne’s car two days ago, ” he tells her when she comes out of the changing room. “How did we miss that?”

“I don’t know, you’re the tech dude,” she groans. “Maybe we hid so much crap the computer started hiding it from us too.”

It’s an explanation as good as any other and the truth is unimportant now. They climb out of the cave with unusual care, checking twice to make sure no one is around to see them emerge from the secret passage. As soon as the cave entrance is hidden, they hear altered voices.

Steph reaches for Tim’s hand when they walk towards the commotion and intertwines their fingers. One could think the gesture was a request for comfort. Tim had been friends with her long enough that it was a silent plea to hold her back if she needs to fight the urge to dropkick someone.

“... can’t simply hide him forever, Brucie!” They hear Chad saying.

Then, in a deep voice that isn’t quite Bruce or quite Batman, but that is still firm and definitive:

“If you can’t agree with me, feel free to leave. But stay aware that if you do anything to expose my son to unnecessary attention, I will not take it lightly.”

They walk into the room to find a Chad that looks somewhere between mildly horrified and extremely angry. Bruce is standing against the fireplace and he is definitely using the shadow he’s casting to appear bigger and more threatening, a trick he usually only uses when he’s wearing a cowl.

“What’s going on?” Tim asks.

“Tim!” Chad turns to him. “Get your father to see reason. I’ve been telling him that this is the perfect time to tell everyone Jason is alive. He wants to… to hide him like he’s a dirty secret.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “What does Jason think?”

“Jason doesn’t know what’s best, Tim, he’s not okay! He has a gun in your house, for crying out loud!”

For the sake of the intensity of the argument, Tim pretends not to notice the batglare he’s getting from his father and focuses on giving Chad a batglare of his own:

“So? You have a problem with my brother?”

Steph is squeezing his hand enough to hurt. He isn’t sure who’s holding who back now.

Chad takes a step back. “You people are insane. Mom was right. Trying to help you guys is useless.”

“ That’s what you’ve been trying to do?” Steph blurts.

Chad shakes his head and storms out of the room… And just like that, Chad’s gone. Gone from their lives, hopefully forever, and if not... Tim knows last year Duke learned a lot about restraining orders.

“I was wondering when you two would come pick him up,” Bruce says. “I hoped it’d take a little longer, it’s nice having him home.”

“Where is he?”

“First… what is this about a gun?”

“First of all, it was Damian’s fault for giving him our address.” Steph shrugs. “Second of all, the gun is the least dangerous thing in Jason’s room and right now I’m more dangerous than any weapon you have, so where is he ?”

“Library.”

They bolt out of the room and straight upstairs. Tim is so caught in the relief of the biggest source of problem being gone that he gets careless. Jason always said Tim is too quick to forgive, even if he doesn’t forget, and he guesses that is true. When he enters the library and he finds himself facing a startled Jason, he’s not angry. Mildly annoyed, for sure. Relieved that his worst paranoiac fears rooted in PTSD are proven to be untrue. Concerned by the fact that Jason looks almost small, younger, maybe because he’s wearing one of Bruce’s shirts or because his expression is so off guard.

But, most importantly, Tim isn’t holding Steph’s hand anymore.

“Jason Todd, you mOTHERFUCKER!”

“No, don’t- ”

But it’s too late. She leaps and dropkicks him and Jason screams in pain and soon the two of them are literally rolling on the floor yelling insults at each other and knocking an entire table sideways. Tim sighs.

“Say uncle! Say uncle right now, you musky bitch!”

“ It’s musty, dumbass!!”

“You’re that, too!”

He sits down in one of the comfy reading chairs and waits for them to get it all out of their system. At some point, Steph is straddling Jason’s back pulling him backwards by the nostrils and he somehow is reaching back to tickle her sides and both of their gazes meet Tim’s unimpressed glower. They stop.

“You two done?”

“She started it!”

“ Bitch- ”

“Enough already,” Tim groans. He waits until both look appropriately ashamed and get off of each other. “Steph is right, though, what the fuck, Jason?”

Jason cringes, but still tries to play it cool, as though nothing unusual happened. “The news had my face, I decided to lay low.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Steph snaps. “It took us three whole days to find you without actively looking. Bruce found you even before.”

“Also lay low hiding from what? Us?”

Grumbling something impossible to understand, he stands and crosses his arms in a clear attempt to look tough. In the absence of his leather jacket and the presence of all of Tim’s annoyance he only looks stupid.

“Look, I freaked out, alright? Me being found out was my fault.”

“How the heck is Chad’s stupid selfie your fault?”

“Because I knew it was a bad idea, okay?” Jason snaps. “I shouldn’t have sat there and made dumb excuses, I should have told him to fuck off the moment he saw my gun. I noticed him taking the stupid pictures, but I didn’t even care that I could be in one of them, I thought it wasn’t worth waking Tim up. All these months playing house and messing around with you guys made me reckless and soft. ”

Steph retreats a step as if he had slapped her.

“Okay, Jason, I’m willing to put up with a lot of angsty bullshit from you, but… Is that really what you think of us? That we’re, we’re what, bringing you down?”

“That’s not what I said!” He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“No,” Tim interrupts. “He's right.” When Steph makes to argue, he raises a hand asking her to listen. “You did grow reckless. That’s what you’re supposed to do, Jason. You’re supposed to relax and have down time and mess around with us. And if shit happens… We have each others' backs. You’d known that if you had come home, because you’d know Steph and I spent the past three days trying to cover for your stupid butt, since we knew you’d want that.”

Jason doesn’t say anything for a minute. When Steph doesn’t either, Tim continues:

“You don’t have to just survive anymore, you know? I thought you knew that when you agreed to live with us. You’re family.”

“You sound like Dick.”

“I mean, Dick was the first person that treated me like family. Maybe that’s why I was so... Hm. Never mind.”

“You’re still upset he fired you, huh?”

“No. I mean, I have been. But I know now it wasn’t personal. He was doing the best he could, even if he didn’t really understand what I needed back then. I know Dick always loved me.”

“Hm. Did you talk to him so he could apologize or did you work all that on your own and forgave him by yourself?”

“Nice try, but right now we’re talking about your issues, not mine.”

Because Steph had been awful quiet for a while - which is something highly unusual - they turn to her in question. They find her wearing her furious expression, the one that puts fear for their lives in criminals hearts, but the effect is ruined by the fact that her big eyes are pooled with tears.

“Oh shit. That’s new. I didn’t know she did that. I thought she destroyed her tear ducts when she was a kid or something. What do I do?”

She simply shakes her head. “I get you, Jay,” she says, her voice a bit wobbly. “Admitting you have something means knowing you can lose it. But is the fear of losing it worth throwing it away altogether?”

Jason pulls her into a hug. She sniffles and rubs her face on his chest, purposefully wiping her runny nose there before she hugs him back.

“I hate you so much, Jason.”

“I hate you too, Steph,” he says softly. “And, from the bottom of my heart, my bad.”

She sniffles again. “Tim, get your gay ass over here. This is a triple hug situation.”

Tim snorts and mumbles something about the fact that Dick can never find out about this or he’ll never forgive them for not including him.

He joins the triple hug nonetheless.

The trio ends up sitting on the floor, their backs resting against the table Steph and Jason knocked over. They learn that Jason had escaped to one of his old hideouts when he heard the news. He was both annoyed and creeped out to find Bruce already there waiting for him and the fucker had the gall to bring Alfred along to make sure Jason wouldn’t say no.

In exchange, they tell him Damian was offering to kill Chad on Jason’s behalf, which makes him bit moved.

“Bruce had already said everything you said, by the way,” he tells Tim. “It’s scary how you’re more like him than his own biological son.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “We said the same thing because we’re right.”

“It almost sounds like you do want me to go out and tell everyone I’m alive.”

“I mean, yeah, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Wait, what?” Steph frowns. “You want people to know Jason’s alive? Then why did you make me spend hours sitting in front of a computer hunting tweets about this glorified zombie?”

“Because if Jason’s secret goes out, it’s for us, not for him,” Tim says. “It’s a pain to be part of a public family. We’d get to go out in public without worrying about being seen and to, I don’t know, post stupid pictures online, mock old people together in Bruce’s galas, but it also means that he would have to avoid reporters and have a double life like the rest of us do.”

After Tim finishes speaking, Steph nods as if that makes sense. Jason finds himself frowning at his feet.

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m gonna come out as a living person. I’ll maybe even pepper in the fact I’m also queer, just to spice things up.”

“Jay, you don’t have to…”

“No, I don’t. When it was Chad’s bullshit about me having to live my best life, I wasn’t going to, but if it’s for you guys, I can do it. Steph’s right. I can’t live a half live." His smile twists into something wicked. "And I know exactly how to do it.”

Congratulations, @JasonToddWayne! Your twitter account has been successfully created.

The first and only post is a picture of a man in a leather jacket and sunglasses in the middle of a fancy lobby. Hanging upside down from the chandelier above him is no one other than Dick Grayson-Wayne holding a flashlight right behind the man’s head to simulate a bright aura. Around him, some kneeling, some standing, but all holding out their arms towards him are all of the Wayne kids, Tim, Cassandra, Duke and even Damian. If you look closely, you can see a smiling butler on the background and, further, a shadow that looks very much like Bruce Wayne facepalming.

The caption of the picture simply says: I lived, bitch.

@dgraysonman retweeted that.

@stephssss retweeted that.

@thomascommaduke retweeted that

@babsgeez retweeted that

@BruceWayne retweeted that

The thing about being part of a scandal you purposefully caused is that you get to kick back and watch the world burn around you while you wear an evil little grin on your face whenever people ask what the hell you were thinking. Tim used to get annoyed by interview requests that had nothing to do with WE and everything to do with his personal life, but for once he enjoys watching the messages piling up and eventually saying no to all of them.

Bruce makes a brief and vague declaration about his son being back from the dead, no big deal, and he expects everyone can respect his family's privacy in this delicate moment. He gives the press just enough and refuses to elaborate. Only liars give too many details and they’re not lying. Not entirely, at least.

Of course, Jason doesn’t help by posting the weirdest freaking memes to his twitter account and, whenever someone tries to get answers from his, his retorts vary widely from “I returned from the grave to wash Damian’s mouth with soap” to “I was captured by a group of murderous ninja that dipped my corpse in a cursed pool that brought me back to life”. Unfortunately, he gets verified and no man should hold so much power.

They return to their lives, Tim in his room, Jason in his and Steph on her couch. Sometimes they even meet in the kitchen to play Uno and prank call Dick - it never works, because Dick always says he’s flattered that they wanted to hear his voice, but it’s the thought behind it that counts.

They go on patrol sometimes. By this time, the public seems to have caught on that Batgirl and Red Robin are basically a duo. Sometimes the Red Hood is included in the mix. For once, Tim doesn’t mind that they know as much.

He thinks they’re heading towards more peaceful days.

DUCK DUCK BRUISE

Duck Robin: hey stephanie what the hell

Duck Hood: Do I even want to know

Bruise: we need our own groupchat

Duck Hood: Why is it named that?

Bruise: bc we red red and purple

Bruise: u never played duck duck bruise?

Duck Robin: its duck duck goose steph

Bruise: u and i led v different childhoods

Duck Hood left the chat

Bruise added Jason Todd to the chat

Bruise changed Jason Todd’s name to Duck Hood

Bruise: u cant escape us jay

Drake Robin: one of us! one of us! one of us!

Duck Hood: Next time either of you complain about not getting laid I’ll show you a screenshot of this conversation.

Jason, Tim and Steph are walking home. It’s still day and, even if the sun isn’t quite shining because this is still Gotham, it’s nice and warm outside. The reason they went to get groceries together is because Jason had been horrified to find out that neither Tim nor Steph knew how to pick fruit and they spent a good part of their afternoon arguing over which apple was the ripest. Tim refused to get out of the shopping cart until their groceries were paid.

It had been fun.

Steph forced them to carry all the bags, arguing that she is but a frail young woman even if Tim is pretty sure she can bench press him. The real reason is because she wants to play Pokemon Go on the walk home and that’s valid, so they carry the bags. She is one of the few people of Gotham that isn’t afraid of getting mugged, so she might as well use that privilege.

A text stops her from catching a bulbasaur right before it stops her entirely.

“Steph?” Tim calls, his brow furrowing in worry.

“It’s happening again,” she whispers.

The brothers approach her to look at her phone. They’re already familiar with this at this point, so none of them is surprised to see a headline and a picture.

MYSTERIOUS BOMBSHELL SEEN LEAVING JASON WAYNE’S APARTMENT

Tim recognizes the outfits they wore two days ago on the day he snapped and forced them to take out the trash together, which ended a week long battle of wills. It’s also the day the biggest bag ripped open and an obscene amount of RedBull cans rolled down the curb. The picture is them watching the disaster. Steph is a pretty girl, but that picture is not doing her any favors. Her face is all scrunched up, as Gothamites tend to be on the rare occasions they see the sun, part of the ripped trash bag still in her hand. Jason has his hands on his hips looking like every bit of the mother hen he is and he is wearing crocs over socks (Tim has sworn to kill Roy Harper for corrupting his brother like that, making him think that’s an okay thing to do and say disgusting things like just try it, you annoying hipster, it’s comfy. )

“You know what? They called me a bombshell, I’m not even mad.”

“How come it’s Jason’s apartment? I’m literally the only person in this household with a dayjob!”

“First of all I'm an university student. Second, you only do actual work because you’re a sucker, you’re all trust fund babies. And that includes you, mr. Crime Lord.”

“Thank you, miss Eats All my Fucking Food.”

They resume their walk without reading the rest of the article. Tim thinks to himself that this is not too bad. Then it gets worse.

“Hey. Are those reporters?” Steph asks. “In front of our house?”

It only takes a glance to find out that she’s right. There is a small group of people hanging out near their apartment complex even though there’s no apparent reason to be there. Any decent Gothamite knows you don’t loiter for no reason, because you never know when the freaking Killer Croc is going to randomly pop out of the sewer or some crap. Those people are there with a purpose and that purpose involves a lot of them holding cameras.

“Yeah, I’m out,” Tim says.

“What?”

“This is the first time I’m not involved in the news. I’m going to enjoy my immunity. You two are on your own for this one.”

He turns his back to them. Enough is enough. Sometimes you just have to draw a line in the sand, let the universe know what you’re willing to put up with on that day. Tim is not willing to deal with this. He gestures at Steph and Jason not to follow him as he stalks into the adjacent empty alley. He takes a long, deep breath and shouts at the top of his lungs:

“COOONNEEEEEEEEEEER!”

Tim had never been better, or at least that’s what he tells himself 50 times in a row. He chose to be in denial and deny he will. He sits on the floor of his best friend’s room and takes a deep calming breath of the fresh air coming through the window. It doesn’t smell like gritty cities or nosey reporters at all.

Conner finally comes back and hands him a bowl of popcorn before taking a seat by his side. He turns on the old television in his room. Tim smiles.

“Hey, your siblings are on the news,” Conner says.

Tim glances at the phone Conner is holding. It’s a picture of Steph walking into their building carrying Jason in her arms as one would carry a toddler, one arm supporting his bottom and the other pointing threateningly at the camera. There is no doubt in Tim's mind that they’re mimicking the meme on purpose. He doesn’t bother reading the headline. He doesn’t want to know. He simply puts the phone aside and hugs Conner.

“I don’t want to go back to Gotham ever again. Let me live here, please.”

Conner laughs. “Sure, Ma’s been trying to get me to kidnap you for a while now.”

“Good. I’m going to learn farm work. I’ll bring honor to us all.”

“Sure," Conner pets his hair. "It’s been a whole day now. You already miss Jason and Stephanie, don’t you?”

“...yeah.”

“I’ll fly you back home tonight.”

“Thanks, Conner, you’re the best.”

Despite everything, there’s no place like home.

[delimeful]

how easy you are to need (1)

warnings: cold, death mention, violence, fighting, blood

Chapter 1

When the humans showed up, it was winter. 

It took Virgil a shamefully long amount of time to realize, wondering about the odd scent on the breeze until he passed the abandoned house on the edge of his territory. It was a small but well-built cabin, one that he’d attempted to shelter in during past winters, before realizing that it was laced with supernatural deterrents. He’d dismissed it as an old hunter hideout, seeing as it hadn’t been touched in years.

Naturally, it was now lit from within, a wisp of grey smoke curling from the chimney. Virgil moaned lowly, already tired of the situation. Winters were always hard, and this one especially so. He could already envision any number of possible catastrophes that could result from confronting the trespassers in his weakened and vaguely malnourished state. 

He turned away, stalking back into the woods. It wasn’t worth the trouble. 

A week later, he found himself stumbling into the clearing, half-dead with cold. 

It hadn’t been planned. He’d been struggling to keep moving, keep the blood pumping through him, knowing that stopping in such a heavy storm meant he would never get back up. He’d underestimated the season, and now he was paying the price. 

The lights of the cabin caught his eye, a distant warmth, and he wandered towards it with a limping gait. Getting seen by humans might just mean a more merciful death, at this point. He looked like a normal wolf, if a bit oversized, so they probably wouldn’t be able to tell he was a shifter, right?

He paused at the edge of the halo of light cast out by the window, nervous, but he could already feel the warmth emanating from the house. He slunk closer, circling the house until he found the vent opening to the crawl space. Hunters were paranoid; always keeping unexpected escape routes built into their hideouts. 

He braced himself, and then shifted with low cracks of bone and flesh. This close to the full moon, it ached like sore muscles, but not as bad as the cold stung at his now human body. Gritting his teeth, he quickly dug his nails into the wood surrounding the metal grate and tore it out, ignoring the splinters he now surely had. Task done, he shifted back as quick as he could and waited for an agonizing moment, listening for any signs that he’d been heard. 

Nothing. 

Satisfied, Virgil belly-crawled into the space under the house, just barely managing to fit at his height. From there, it was just a matter of finding the warmest spot and recovering for a few hours. Thankfully, the floorspace extended to where the fireplace crackled merrily. 

Unfortunately, the occupants of the house were seated in the same room, and his acute hearing in this form meant that he could hear their conversations loud and clear. He sighed lowly, and settled in, struggling to ignore their chatter.

And chatter they did.  

Over the course of the next few hours, he managed to discern each human’s name and identify which one was talking based on dialogue alone. 

There were three of them, unless they had a fourth, mute roommate who they never acknowledged. 

The first, and loudest, was Roman. He spoke arrogantly, full of bravado and thrilling tales of derring-do, like a pampered prince on a white horse. Virgil couldn’t help but huff occasionally, certain that certain aspects were exaggerated, but his nicknames for the others were a riot. Since the others seemed less keen on returning fire, Virgil vowed to mentally dub him Princey. 

The second was Patton. He was the friendly type, fondness for the other two clear in his voice every time he made a bad joke at them. The gaps in the stories were always filled by his various noises of reaction, gasping and humming at all the right parts. He even occasionally commented on the cruelty or kindness of a certain act, regardless if the hero or villain was the one committing it.     

The third, and by comparison the quietest, was Logan. He kept his voice so measured that sometimes Virgil had to strain to hear it. And he did, because Logan’s commentary was always either rather informative or brutally popping Princey’s bubble. His words were often blunt, but the way he delivered them made Virgil think that he didn’t really intend to be rude. He was just honest. 

They must have known each other for a long time, because there was little abrasion in the way they poked fun or chimed in to stories they had been present for. It was a sort of easy camaraderie, the kind that Virgil’d never had as a literal lone wolf. He wondered absently if humans had packs. Maybe he would have had one if he hadn’t been turned. 

Somewhat melancholy, he curled up and tucked his head against his paws, dozing to the sound of the idle conversation above him. 

When he woke, the storm had finally settled into a light drift of snow, and the house above him was quiet and still, the heat faded. 

He lay there for a long moment with chill in his bones, considering breaking into the house and getting rid of the intruders while they lay vulnerable. There were only three, and even in his current state, the odds were in his favor. He should just be done with it. Humans ended up a threat, always. 

Instead, he crawled out and made his way silently back into the woods to hunt. It was too troublesome to kill them. That was all.   

Being a lone wolf suited him, he reflected as he returned to the cabin the next night, because if he had packmates they would surely tease him relentlessly for being so soft. 

Still, the sounds of the humans above and the warmth of their hearth made sleeping easier than it’d been in ages, and with a clear head, hunting became easier. He figured that alone was enough reason to allow them to remain here, even if only for the season. It didn’t have anything to do with the fondness they spoke to each other with or the lack of harshness he’d come to expect from humans. Nothing at all. 

After all, he knew that even if they were kind to each other, such a courtesy wouldn’t be extended to him. He was familiar with the routine. The moment one of them spotted him, the tenuous peace would shatter and they’d be after him, vicious and cunning as humans always were. It’d been that way back when he was a pup, too small to be a threat, and he wasn’t fool enough to think things would change when he was a full-grown wolf. 

That didn’t mean he couldn’t take advantage of their presence until then, though, and he found that with each day, he learned more about the trio. 

Patton loved to bake but would often get distracted if drawn into conversation by one of the others, going by the burnt smell he woke up to on more than one occasion. Roman sometimes stayed up later than the others, unusually quiet apart from the constant, frantic scratching of pen on paper. Logan… 

Well, Logan seemed to love the stars, Virgil thought as he returned one evening to find the cabin’s lights off and the three of them laying down on a blanket under the sky. They were silhouettes in the dark, and he didn’t dare get close enough to see them properly, but he could hear Logan’s voice, reciting tales of his own for once as he pointed out ‘constellations’. 

He was sorely tempted to lay down at the edge of the woods, fall asleep to the sounds he had been listening to for weeks now, but… these humans were so exposed, out of their protected house, flat on their backs. Virgil couldn’t even tell if they had weapons with them. In the middle of monster territory, it was a dangerous move. 

It was just for the warmth, he told himself as he began patrolling the area around the house, scaring off anything that came in range and leaving furrows in the trees to warn that this space was his. The humans didn’t have anything to do with it. He held on to this assertion even when the snow began to melt, when he followed Roman from a distance when he went out to hunt. When he stood guard over Patton as he began to till the earth for a garden. When he sat under the stars with Logan and made sure nothing disturbed him. 

The humans didn’t affect him at all, until he found himself the only thing between them and the overgrown, magic-sick grizzly outside their home. 

“Is that a wolf?” Roman cried out behind him, as he snapped and snarled at the bear, hackles raised. It was stupid to try and take it down without a pack, especially with the crystals growing from its back and the wild, rabid look in its eyes. Normally, he’d be running to find the highest ground until it got tired and left, especially so close to the new moon, but- 

Behind him, Patton whimpered, and he felt another surge of anger at the sound. His scream had been the only thing that called him here in the first place, and he’d still been too late to keep the grizzly from taking a swipe at the human’s leg before he rammed right into it. 

He chanced a look over his shoulder, seeing Logan pressing cloth to the injury with one hand and winding Patton’s arm around his shoulders with the other. Roman had an enchanted blade out, alarm writ all over his face, and he wavered as though he wasn’t sure who was the bigger danger. At least he hadn’t figured out Virgil was a shifter yet.

The momentary lapse cost him, and he took a swing from one of those huge paws head on. Spots dotted his vision as he was knocked to the side, and he forced himself back to his feet, ignoring the way something seemed to have snapped on his right side. The bear was ignoring him now, small beady eyes back on the three humans, and Virgil felt an unprecedented protectiveness flare up in him. 

A growl building in his chest, he dove for the bear’s neck, latching on and tearing at its chest with his hind legs. It rose up onto two legs, baying and clawing, but Virgil continued to tear at its throat until a particularly harsh shake threw him off. He could taste blood in his mouth but rolled right back up, adrenaline muting all his pain, and let out an unearthly howl as he moved between the bear and the humans once more. 

The grizzly hadn’t come away without damage either, though, and its breaths came out rasping and wet. It seemed to suddenly decide the reward wasn’t worth the risk, as it gave one last growl before turning and going in search of easier things to kill. In Virgil’s forest.

Shit, Virgil thought, his form trembling with exhaustion, I should go deal with that. 

He managed a few shaking steps forward before collapsing, and as if to make everything perfectly worse, his wolf form slipped away like water through his fingers. He struggled to push himself back up, his mind screaming that he was going to be killed, but everything was so heavy and unresponsive. 

A glint of light caught his eye, and he turned his head slightly to see Roman a few paces away, sword still in hand. A throaty moan left him, more animal than human, and he let his head drop, craning his neck to look out at the forest. If he was going to be killed, he didn’t want to be looking at the damn human who did it. 

A footstep crunched behind him, and then the last of his adrenaline drained away and the pain hit, dragging him into blissful unconsciousness.

[afterthelastreset]

Rules Of One’s Soul Ch 4 An Old Friend

(Note from author: The song lyrics is from Deltarune the not Musical by Man On The Internet called Lantern Light, and I in no way own the song or it's lyrics/music.Mak belongs to @coffincrawler)

Chapter Text

The forest was lit up by the glowing reddish leaves of the dark candy trees as a soft wind blew through the air. The old trails were pretty silent other than the occasional guard patrolling the night shift, but that was very rarely a real encounter to someone his age. Almost nothing mattered now a days anymore, but it seemed things were getting better somewhat. The old leaves crunched softly under his bare feet making a soft noise among the wind. The light from the lantern softly glowing providing enough light he needed to get back home. It bounced off nicely against the shadows peeking around him.

"When your whole world is going maaaad, just sit back and watch and it won't be so baaaad. Remember the love that ounce you'd known, it helps pass the days and you won't beee alone.~ A shine on the horizon betrays the darkened sky, but I don't dream of power.~ Spending hours beneath lantern liiiight.~"

The echoes of the simple voice echoed throughout the darkness, singing to the trees as his only audience. They answered with the gentle swaying of their limbs through the whispering wind and clattering of leaves. Their way of applauding I guess. He simply hummed along to their wordless encore as he continued walking alongside the rocky cliff next to him. Keeping his one eye open for the entrance to his home. You could miss it easily in the dark if you weren't careful. He carefully scaled the side of said cliff as he continued his ongoing tune

"And why do they fight? Do they even knooooow? Since reason fell from out of season long agooo. Here passes one more abandoned child. And here stay's a crooked man smiling a crooked smiiiile.~ A shine on the horizooon, betrays the darkened skyyy, but I don't dream of power.~ Spending hours beneath lantern liiiiight.~"

The last syllabol echoed softly through the air, mixing in within the howling wind and clattering wings. He hummed and held the lantern up to the sky as he sniffed the air, smelt like water spray. That meant a storm was coming in soon. The cloak around his shoulder flowed along behind, around, and whichever way the howling wind decided to push it and his fur. Perhaps it wasn't a good time to run out and get supplies....He chuckled. If he could even call them that now. Granted, he didn't really believe that there was an abandoned store still full of stock and other things, but after a while of no one coming to his shop and seeing a few guards walking around with things like cans of food and books he sold in his own shop, he had to go back and recount his own stock in case someone had snuck in and took something without him noticing. When he found no one had, he guessed it must've been from that other shop.....Still full of stocked up foods and items. Well, just because it was abandoned that doesn't mean anything was wasted right? He remembered his first few trips to the other store. The place certainly empty, and slightly dusty, like an old closet no one cleaned for a long time. The thought made him cough. Most of what was still on the shelves was gone, most likely taken by the guards and random citizens, but he began making a few trips over himself to take a few things. A couple book copies, maybe a blanket or two, a few foods, not a lot and not too little. What he didn't expect was another person walking in on him, much less the owner. Even if he wasn't the owner, he'd rather not deal with any drama.

The man's sputtering made him chuckle though, he looked almost as tired as himself. But granted, Rouxls was nice enough to not charge him for anything. Guess he wasn't making anymore free trips though. His ear twitched when he heard a strange sound among the wind. Leaning the lantern forward, he spotted something rapidly moving in the darkness up ahead. Slowly coming closer, he recognized it as the cloth door to his 'Seap'. It flapped in the wind wildly as he slowly approached. Hmm. strange. Could've swore he tightened it down before he left, but he guessed the wind must've blown it open.

He hummed to himself as he approached the flap, the light from the lantern lit up the hole behind the flap leading into the side of his cliff and into his sheap. He ducked in without another thought however, finally escaping the wild wind and other outside noises. He hummed to himself as he walked over to the counter near the left wall and set down the lantern and small box onto it. Turning back around to the flap, he stared at it flapping around for a second before walking over and grabbing it. Making sure to tie it down nice and tight this time. No wind was coming in tonight. Satisfied he turned back around to the counter and box. The light illuminated the shop entrance and the shelves containing the goods he'd sell to the random customers that came in, and another curtain behind behind the counter that separated the bedroom and bath area from the actual shop. It wasn't a palace, but it was good enough for him. Humming to himself, he grabbed the small box containing a few things, mostly dark candies and shuffled to the back of the counter to begin putting them away on the shelves. The only sound for a few seconds was the muffled wind outside and the shuffling of him by the shelves. He hummed to himself a little...before he froze. His ear twitched slightly and he took a moment to turn his head slightly....After a few seconds, he turned back to the shelf- He quickly whipped back round fully to the curtains next to him as they slightly moved and then stopped.

He stood there staring at the now unmoving curtains silently as his ears twitched and his button eye spun a few times. Slowly moving his arms, he placed what he was holding back onto the counter before moving his hands to his sides under his cloak.

"Is someone there?" He silently summoned a couple sewing needles within his hands as to have something to defend himself. "I mean no harm, but an uninvited visitor is very rude. Why not show yourself and explain what brings you to my humble home?"

Silence....And then a series of high pitched giggles that made his cotton freeze.

"Ahehehehehe. A stranger, stranger I am in a way, but a friend, friend non the less.~ Why not come, come into the room?"

Completely caught off guard, the cat just stared at the curtain for what seemed like forever before narrowing his eyes in a rare emotion of irritation, his body taking a few giant steps back from the entrance.

"If this is who I think it is, then you come out here where I can see you."

There was another silence before his ears twitched to the sound of jingling bells and shuffling feet, the curtain was pulled back. Revealing the smaller figure on the other side. The small imp looked up at him with a wide smile...but it vanished when he saw the scowl on the cat's face. The imp seemed frozen at the scene but he gave an unsure smile to try and ease the tention.

"Um...Seam, Seam my old friend. You look well, well after all these years-"

"What are you doing here, Jevil?"

Seam's tone made Jevil flinch, but he still kept the smile. ''You will pardon, pardon me for the sudden arrival. But Lancer bless his heart, heart pardoned me from my freedom to come outside if I wished and invited others to also come in to my, my little freedom. But you didn't come-"

"You almost killed someone last time I saw you."

Jevil winced and this time hunkered down, bringing his limbs closer and his smile vanished. "I...I've become better, better-"

"Have you now? Or are the knights lasting effects still upon you?"

Another silence passed at the two stared at each other.

"I-I-I....I will leave if you, you so wish? I wouldn't want t-to be any inconvenience, I-Inconvenience..."

"Now hold on a moment." Seam held up a paw disapating the needles away. Jevil blinked up at the old cat still frozen in anticipation. The cat sighed before reaching up to rub his head. "How did you even find my sheap?"

"Simple, simple. I followed the directions the scared guard gave, gave me. Hehe. They ran, ran away after I asked so nicely..."

The cat gave a dry chuckle before shaking his head. "Still scaring the nightlights out of everyone I see."

Jevil gave an uncertain laugh of his own. "Hehehe. I suppose. Suppose?"

The cat gave a sigh before gesturing back to the room. "Well, invited or not. What host would I be if I didn't offer a cup of tea for your long journey? Go have a seat while I make a fresh pot."

Jevil had gave his old smile back when his old friend didn't immediately boot his out like he was afraid he would, but that didn't mean he still wouldn't if he acted up. He didn't want a repeat of the mistake with Rouxls. Luckily it seemed Rouxls couldn't resist the calling of their souls and had forgiven him, bringing him food no less and even coming inside his lonely freedom. He didn't want to risk messing anything else up. The old cat had summoned a flame and thrown it into the fire place a few moments after he walked in behind Jevil. The newly lit fire illuminated the whole bedroom. Which was made of a bed, small coffee table and couch by the fire place, and an old dresser by the bed. A curtain to the far wall separated the wash room from the rest. The imp had opted on hovering by the couch instead of actually sitting on the old couch and watched silently as Seam boiled the old kettle a top of the fireplace.

The silence seemed to stretch on until the whistle of the kettle sounded out and the cat immediately fished it out from within the fire. With a snap of his paw, two teacups materialized onto the table as he turned back to Jevil.

"So. Tell me. What has driven you to come out after all these years being down there?," the cat asked raising a brow as he poured the sweet smelling liquid into the cups, "Was it your curiousity or just to see an old friend?"

He giggled. "A mixture of both. And something, something else to add to my chaotic delight. Delight! Oh! Many thanks, thanks!"

"Careful. It's hot." Seam handed him the cup of tea before setting the kettle upon the small coffee table. He turned his body and slowly sunk down onto the couch with a sigh. Letting the soft cushions envelope his aching cotton while the warm cup helped with his warmth. "Well, I'm mighty flattered you decided to make such a giant step to see me. Ahahaha. But I'm now more curious, what is this other 'delight' you speak of? The world did not change much if at all in these last hundred years."

The cat was caught a little off guard at the sudden high pitched giggles the imp produced. Instead of the regular high pitched giggles, these sounded more like a love stricken hathy on Soul Matching Day. His entire body shook his delight before he looked back at the cat with what seem could only describe as a lovey dovy expression and light purple blush. He's never seen him like this. Unless-

"Seam, Seam! I must admit my world is, is revolving faster and faster every moment I think of my new, new luck!"

"Oh, really now?"

More giggles. "Yes, yes! For you see! I have met someone, someone that can keep up with my simple numbers games, games!"

Seam gave off a more interested look. Last time he checked, he was the closest one to ever match against the energetic Imp. And even then it wasn't easy. "Really? How interesting."

"Ehehehehe. I thought the same, same. I didn't see the real them, them except a few times. Bwahahahaha." He almost spilt his cup from laughing so hard. "They were fun, fun to tease but then they kept coming back, back to play again and again.~ I had so much fun, fun!~ It was absolute chaos, chaos!" He suddenly made a ballorina like pose in the air before twirling. "Balancing, and performing, and never losing! Such a challenge, challenge! I had fun, fun! Happy, Happy! MY WORLD SPINS OUNCE AGAIN BUT WITH PURPOSE, PURPOSE!!"

Seam couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of the jester acting like a little child who got a kiss from their crush. "Well, then. It sounds like you picked a fine playmate for yourself."

Jevil giggled once again before leaning his head far back and just dumping the hot liquid down his throat before snapping up once again to face Seam. "More, more than a playmate my friend, friend!" He held out a clawed hand as if to show the old cat. "Our soul, souls called to one another, another! Do you realize what this means, means?!"

Seam gave off a bigger smile."Ooooh. I see now. A certain jester found his one stage to play for now.~"

"Yes! Yes! Soulmate, soulmate! Bwahaha! Chaos, chaos!!"

Seam smiled wider. So after all this time he found his soulmate huh? Well he won't deny he was absolutely happy for the little jester, it seems he was just as happy from the way he talked about his soulmate, and by the sound of them they could handle Jevil pretty well. He gave off a series of chuckles and raised his teacup to his old friend.

"Well my congratulations to you both. Who's the lucky lady-?"

"He's not a lady.~"

"Oh? Beg pardon. Who's the lucky person you speak so fondly of?"

"The Duke, Duke."

Seam stopped half way through taking a sip and gave the jester a sudden look. "A...Duke you say?"

"Hehe. Yes, yes. A by the bookworm must do, do type!" That same purple blush came back to his face as his hands kneeded at the poofy collar around his neck. "He's able to match, match my chaos with boring, boring harmony play turned fun, fun! The games hadn't even really begun until we made contact, contact month ago! haha" He tilted his head at the funny look Seam was giving him. "You look surprised, surprised?"

"Oh, nothing." he waved a paw. "But by chance did this Duke go by the name of Rouxls Kaard?"

Jevil's giggles answered his question before he even spoke a word. "The very same, same. Why do you ask?"

"Oh. Well, I just met him tonight by his shop?"

"His shop?"

Seam nodded. "Apparently he owns the shop just about half a mile up the trail. Or so that what he's told me." He finally managed to get a sip of the bittle tasting liquid before saying. "Funny man. Looked very tired though. Did you wear him down already?"

Jevil giggled again. "I always think that, but he always revolves back, back to me."

"I see....Well, either way. I'm happy for you old friend. Just don't forget about me when you two make it official."

Jevil giggled again before stretching his mouth wide in a yawn. "Of course, of course. But perhaps I should go back to my freedom."

"You're welcome to stay the night. I have a spare couch that should do you well. And I have spare blankets."

Jevil perked up at the thought. Spending time with Seam and in close distance to Rouxls's shop? How could he say no? It would be nice to have something to sleep on besides cold stone after so long, and it'd save him a long trip back to Card Castle in the middle of the night.

"Seam, Seam. I'm glad to accept this invitation.~"