#after bumbling my way through the “i checked. you can” they told me i need a paper prescription

[kiyrian]

Medical rant in the tags bc i had a terrible dag/visit/year

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 12 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bob asks you to go out for drinks at the Hard Deck as a thank you for helping out all week, and there's a special someone waiting for you when you get there. After meeting some of Bradley's other friends, the bubble you had been living in bursts, and you're left questioning everything. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

You managed to bumble your way through practice with Bob on Monday, mostly running around in your suit and taking care of whatever he needed. Your phone conversation with Bradley the night before had left you with just a few functioning brain cells, so it was a good thing you didn't need to take charge.

In fact, if you were left to your own thoughts for too long, you started thinking about how wet his voice made you. And you kept picturing the photo of his hard cock that you had shamelessly saved to your phone in a locked folder with personal items such as your tax return.

You felt flustered all week, and to make matters more interesting, Molly surprised you at practice on Thursday. 

"I had the day off!" she told Everett, scooping him into a hug when he climbed out of the car. The absence of the Bronco made you frown a bit as you circled your car to where your sister was tickling Everett. 

You kissed her cheek. "We had no idea you'd be here!"

She grinned at you as she sent Everett ahead toward the bleachers. "I have a date tonight," she sang in an obnoxious voice. "With Coach Cute Glasses."

"You do?" you gasped, happy Bob had taken the initiative. 

"Yep. We're going on a little stroll through the park after practice and then grabbing a late dinner."

"Molly!" you squealed, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her. "Bob is so sweet. Do not ruin him."

She turned to look at him out on the ballfield, and a soft smile touched her lips. "I make no guarantees." You and she started walking, and she held your high heels for you as you changed out of them. "Oh, and actually, Bob has something he wants to ask you, too."

"Me? What?" You had no idea what your sister was talking about, but as soon as you got to the bleachers, Bob came over to the three of you as you changed Everett's shoes.

"Hi, Molly," he said softly, and you watched your sister do the unthinkable. She planted one hand firmly on his chest like it belonged there, and she kissed him on the cheek. You watched him turn bright red, and all of the other moms looked like they were about to reach for their pitchforks. 

"Hey, Coach Cute Glasses," Molly said with a laugh that had Bob fiddling with his whistle. "I'm excited for our plans tonight."

Sandra and Tara appeared about ready to rage, looking between you and your sister like the two of you had stolen the most priceless of treasures. But you supposed you kind of had.

When Bob finally recovered, he asked you, "Team Mom? Can I take you out for a drink tomorrow evening as a thank you? I wouldn't have made it through the game last Saturday or the practices this week without your help."

"I'll stay with Ev for you," Molly added, nodding her head. "You deserve it."

"Oh, that's not necessary, Bob," you protested, but then Molly was glaring at you. "Okay, sure," you said, sending Everett out to start warming up. 

"Great," Bob said, and you followed him out to home plate as Molly sat down on the bleachers. "There's a Navy officer hangout called the Hard Deck. You want to meet me there after work?"

"Sounds good. Thanks, Bob."

-----------------------------------

Bradley felt a little dirty every time he pulled up the photos you sent him, but he really enjoyed scrolling through the progression of seeing you in your bra to seeing you bare for him. You were something else. So sexy. So funny. So smart.

It was Friday morning, and he had one more flight simulation to go. And if he skipped lunch, he could probably get home by dinnertime. Bob had mentioned that he was taking you to the Hard Deck for drinks tonight, and Bradley desperately wanted to get back in time for that. He couldn't wait to see the look on Nat's face when she met you.

Bob had also told him about his date with Molly. He gushed about how much he liked her for fourteen messages in the text thread, and Bradley didn't know how Bob managed to pull this one off.

Bradley hit the road for the long drive back to San Diego, deciding to skip changing out of his uniform. His khakis weren't the most comfortable thing in the world, but at least he'd get back sooner. He wound along the coastal roads, passing some ballfields on the way. He was pretty sure Everett would be able to make a real pitch team by next spring, but Bradley was definitely going to have to work on some things with him before then. It was okay, they had almost a year to get him there.

Bradley had also been thinking about what he could tell the kids in Everett's class about aviation during his career day speech. The fact that Bradley was looking forward to that still kind of shocked him.

The sun was setting when Bradley pulled into the Hard Deck parking lot, and he spotted your car right away. Then he spotted you, heading for the entrance in your tight, black skirt and heels.

"Kitten!" he called out the open window, and you spun around to face him with a smile on your face. He quickly found an empty parking space and barely had the Bronco in park before you were there. "I missed you," he said, climbing down and closing his door. 

Your arms were instantly around his neck, and you were kissing him so sweetly. "I didn't know you would be here," you whispered against his lips. Your hand trailed down his chest to play with his pins while you nibbled on his lips. 

"I drove straight through to get back to you sooner, Kitten." That seemed to do something to you as you parted your lips and tasted his tongue.

He turned and pinned you against the Bronco, licking and kissing his way up your neck. "You look hot in your uniform," you moaned. 

"You wore my favorite skirt," he mumbled, and you gasped as he ran his palm down the front of it. You were rubbing yourself against him with your fingers tangled up in his hair, and Bradley was hard as a rock for you. 

"Bradley," you whimpered as he nuzzled his nose down the front of your blouse. He kissed and tasted the tops of your breasts while you scraped your nails along his scalp. You were so sweet. His mind was flooded with thoughts of getting you in his bed with your tight skirt bunched up around your waist and your pussy overflowing with his cum.

He kissed you hard, making the back of your head tap the side window. "Can I take you home, Kitten? Skip the bar?"

You eyed his face in the dim, dusk light. "Yes, but I need to have one drink first," you promised him, running your fingers along his mustache. "I told Bob I'd meet him."

Bradley groaned and kissed your fingertips and then your palm and the inside of your wrist. "Just one drink. Then I get some alone time with you."

When Bradley wrapped his arm around your waist, you snuggled in next to him, kissing his bicep just below his uniform sleeve. "I can't believe you wear this out in public," you muttered, running your fingers along his pins again. "I think I changed my mind. Let's leave now."

Bradley chuckled and held the door open for you, guiding you inside the noisy bar with his hand at your lower back. "One drink," he reminded you. "Then you're mine, Kitten."

--------------------------------

You felt warm and flushed all over as Bradley guided you through the crowded bar. There were people in uniforms and some in civilian clothes, and you spotted Bob near the pool table as he waved to you. 

"Team Mom!" he announced as you and Bradley neared him. "And Rooster, you made it back," he added, fist bumping Bradley. You had never heard anyone use his call sign before, and it made you laugh. 

"I forgot your name was Rooster," you said, smiling up at his face as he lazily rubbed your back. "What's yours, Bob?"

You watched his cheeks flush in embarrassment. "It's actually just Bob."

"Oh," you said, thoroughly confused as you were immediately introduced to a beautiful woman who went by Phoenix.

"So, she's the Team Mom," she said with a devilish grin in Bradley's direction. "I think that would be your aviator call sign. Team Mom. Also, I'm still pissd you don't have another sister." Phoenix sighed and shook her head at you.

You laughed as she offered to buy you a drink, but then Bob stepped in. "No, it's on me! It's the least I can do since you gave up so much of your time this week to fill in for Bradley. What do you like?"

Bradley leaned down and kissed your temple and murmured, "Expensive champagne." He was making your tummy feel warm, the way he was being so affectionate in front of his friends and colleagues. You turned to look at him and he kissed you softly. 

You pulled away, suddenly feeling shy; five more minutes in the parking lot with him and you'd have been fucking on his backseat, but apparently this was too much.

"I'll have a beer. Thanks, Bob," you managed, cuddling up next to Bradley's side as Bob headed to the bar. 

"Hey, Rooster. You playing us a song tonight?" drawled a handsome blond man who was smirking at you. 

Bradley glanced down at you. "You like Great Balls of Fire?" he asked.

You gave him a strange look. "As long as you're talking about the song and not some sort of medical condition, then yes, I do."

Bradley started laughing with his head tipped back, and you grinned as the handsome blond laughed, too. "You're funny. My name's Jake," he said, shaking your hand as Bradley meandered a few feet away to sit down at the piano. 

You introduced yourself to Jake and listened to the tinkling sound of the keys as Bradley warmed up. You had no idea he was musically gifted, but you were excited to hear him play. He was probably one of those severely annoying people who was good at everything. He started playing the song, and even his singing voice was good. 

"So, how do you know Rooster and Bob?" Jake drawled, drawing your attention back to him just as Bob handed you a pint of beer. 

You thanked him and took a sip. "My son is on their tee ball team."

"How old's your kid?" Jake asked, smiling at you in a way that had you a little flustered. 

"He's almost seven." You were still distracted by Bradley, and now he was looking at you as he played. He winked only at you, even though he was starting to draw a crowd.

"I love kids," Jake informed you. "Hey, when you're done that beer, let me buy you another one."

"Oh, okay," you agreed, and then Bob called over to Jake.

"Come on, Hangman. Leave our Team Mom alone!"

Jake looked at you with renewed interest as you drank your beer. "Oh shit. So you're the Team Mom. I've heard a lot about you."

You were really surprised. "You have?" you asked as Bradley finished playing the song. You clapped for him along with everyone else, and then he was making his way back over.

"Yeah," Jake replied with a laugh. "You're the hot mom that Bradley is never going to date, because moms aren't his thing."

Your smile immediately vanished from your face. "What?"

Jake waved his hand in the air while he sipped his drink, as if you were supposed to know exactly what he was talking about. As if you weren't immediately on high alert and having a difficult time breathing. "You know...too much baggage. Complicated. Not worth the aggravation. That sort of shit."

You were frozen in place, barely able to speak. "He said that?" Your voice sounded tiny and your throat was tight. You ran your fingers along your neck, trying to make sense of this.

"Yeah, he went on and on the one night we were all hanging out."

Bradley had told his friends he would never date you. He had said you were too complicated. He told them you weren't worth his time. And now he was walking your way, smiling at you like you were still expected to go back to his place after this and let him fuck you. That had been his plan the entire time.

"But listen," Jake added. "I don't feel that way at all. If you're interested, I'd love to take you out to dinner." You thought maybe Jake was a little drunk, because he couldn't stop talking and then he reached out and stroked your cheek with his knuckles.

You gently grabbed his hand and guided it back to his side, just as Bradley rushed over with an irate expression. 

"The fuck?" he asked Jake.

"Hey, it's cool, man. I get it," Jake replied. "She's so hot, I can't believe you won't date her just because she has a kid. But good for you for getting her to agree to come out tonight. No reason you can't enjoy her."

You gasped and took a step away, knowing you needed to escape now with your dignity intact, but Bradley was immediately focused solely on you.

"Kitten."

You handed your pint glass to a random person, and then you were stumbling over your own feet, trying to get to the door as quickly as you could. Time seemed frozen, and you felt like you were going to throw up as you rushed past people who were happy and laughing. You could vaguely hear Bradley's voice behind you as you tried to get away. 

Once you were outside, you sucked in a deep breath of the salty air and fumbled in your pocket for your car key as you started running.

"Kitten!" he yelled, and you could hear the crunch of his boots on the gravel, and you knew that you would never be able to outrun him. So you skidded to a halt and rounded on him instead. A lot of things in your life were scary, like paying your bills, and making sure Everett had everything he deserved. But you would not be too afraid to stand up for yourself. You would not let another arrogant asshole determine your behavior for you.

As Bradley stopped abruptly in front of you, his face was illuminated by a street light, and you hated him for being so handsome. "Kitten. I can explain," he promised, holding up his hands in surrender. His brown eyes were wide as he searched your face.

"Did you tell your friends I'm too complicated to date?" you asked, voice steady as you stepped into his personal space.

"Yes, but-"

You stomped your foot, effectively silencing him. "Did you refer to my son as baggage?"

"Yes, but Kitten, I can explain."

You slapped him hard across the cheek, but his gaze never wavered. 

"I don't need you to fucking explain anything to me!"

"Please." He was pleading, his chest rising and falling as his expression was filled with panic. "Kitten."

"Stop calling me that. I can't believe you were just leading me on for fun."

"I wasn't," he insisted. "I wouldn't do that."

You just scoffed at him and shoved his chest. He grabbed gently for your hands, but you yanked them away and took a step back as tears filled your eyes. "I can deal with getting played, but not Everett! His dad already bailed on him, and I won't let him feel unwanted by anyone ever again! We come as a fucking package deal!"

Bradley was running his hands through his hair in dismay. "I care about both of you." His voice sounded choked up, and you wanted to believe him, but now you knew better.

You jabbed him in the chest with your index finger. "You're a liar," you told him as your tears finally spilled over. "Stay away from us outside of tee ball practice."

"Kitten." He tried reaching for you again, but you backed away, bumping into a parked car which made you cry harder.

"I need to figure out how to deal with Ev," you sobbed. "And don't you dare ever speak to me again." 

You ran for your car as you tried to take gulps of air into your burning lungs, swiping away the tears that were obscuring your vision. It took you a few tries to get the key in the ignition with your shaking fingers, but when you did you cranked the engine and pulled away. You could see Bradley in your rearview mirror as he dropped down into a squat in the dark parking lot with his head in his hands. 

The short drive back to your house was filled with the sound of you sobbing, and you stumbled out of the car and up to your front porch. You leaned against the railing and tried to compose yourself. But this was where you and Bradley had been making out less than two weeks ago after you had one of the best orgasms of your life. So you paced the length of your porch instead, wiping your tears and making sure your breathing was even. Because even though it was late enough now that Everett was surely in bed, you were going to have to contend with Molly.

"Hi," your sister said as you walked inside. She was snuggled up on the couch reading a book, but when she got a good look at you, she jumped up. "What happened? I thought maybe you'd be staying out later? Or all night since Bradley is back."

You pressed your lips together to try to prevent them from shaking, but Molly knew you too well. She was across the room collecting you in her arms immediately. When you started crying again, she didn't stop you, rather she just let you get it out of your system.

Finally, you were able to whisper, "Bradley told all of his friends that he'd never date me, because I have baggage."

Your sister's loud gasp was vindication to your soul, but you didn't like the price it came with. "That fucking prick. Does Bob know about this?"

"Probably," you said softly against her shoulder. "He must."

"I'll call him right now," Molly said, but you grabbed her tighter. 

"No, please don't. You had an immaculate first solo date with him last night which ended in a hot makeout session. I don't want the three ring circus that is my life to start messing up yours."

Molly kissed your cheek and promised, "Your life is not a three ring circus. And Everett is not baggage. And Bradley isn't worth your time if that's what he thinks. Now let me help you get changed for bed."

Molly helped you out of your black skirt, something you had hoped Bradley would be doing just a few short hours ago. And then you washed your face and brushed your teeth while shaking your head at your puffy eyes in the bathroom mirror.

You ended up climbing into bed in your bathrobe while Molly plugged your phone in. "You have thirty missed calls and seventeen text messages from Bradley."

"Ignore him," you whispered, pulling your covers up to your chin. "What am I supposed to do about Ev, Molly? He's so attached. Oh my god, I can't believe I did this. I knew better!"

"Shh," she replied, climbing into bed next to you. "I'll sleep over and take him to the game in the morning. And I'll deal with everything."

Eventually your exhaustion took over, and you fell asleep next to your sister, holding her hand in yours. Your last waking thought was a feeling of thankfulness that you had only mostly fallen in love with Bradley. 

-------------------------------

Wow, Jake. I mean, he's not wrong, but still. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 13

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[cinewhore]

To the Ends of the Earth (3)

Pairing: Lara Croft & Marcus Pike (Tomb Raider AU)

Rating: Mature

warnings: mention of missing limbs (looking eye emoji), magical rituals, usual treasure hunter things. 

Summary: After obtaining a seemingly normal piece of art from a flea market, Marcus Pike enlists the help of an old friend in tracking down its origins. They both get more than they bargain for.

A/N: a familiar face pops up in this section! To be honest, I think this is my favorite chapter so far. I really hope y’all like this. credits to the gif maker. 

“Bite me and know that I bite back.”

Ava stares at Lara, blankly, then she blows a huge raspberry.

“Lara, please give me my child.”

Lara smirks as she hands Ava back off to her mother, the cooing child now sticking her tiny fist into her mouth.

Lara wrings her hands together, leaning back on the couch. She has been to Marcus’s house plenty of times, often enough people would think that she lived there but each time she visits it feels different. Like she didn’t belong there. With all the children there now, it was as if the house was getting too small. Not big enough to include her.

“I, uh, want to thank you for letting Marcus come with me. I realize it must be a hard thing to discuss.”

Ginny nods, wiping drool from her fingers absentmindedly. “We had a long talk.”

Lara wasn’t in a relationship but she knew what long talks meant. It meant that there was a compromise made and that there were unspoken things floating around in the air that Ginny nor Marcus would disclose to her. It meant that she had to be careful and play by the rules. Two things Lara wasn’t particularly good at.

“Just keep him safe, please. I want my husband to return to me in one piece, if you can help it.” Ginny tells Lara.

“I’ll take care of him, Gin.”

The twins come bumbling from the back of the house, one with Ginny’s bra on her head and the other with a pair of Marcus’s briefs on. Lara’s eyes widen as they chase each other around while Ginny just stares at them. Marcus isn’t far behind, dragging a suitcase behind him.

“Alright, you little monsters, surrender the bra and underwear to your mother or else.” Marcus warns them. The twins do as they’re told, Oliver pouting.

“But I wanted to be a superhero!” he whines, handing Ginny the wrinkled under garment.

“You can be a superhero by going upstairs to brush your teeth. You too, Tess.”

The twins are reluctant but with a stern look from momma, they trudge up the stairs in unison.

“When will your sister get here again?” Marcus asks Ginny, taking Ava from her. He leaves a few kisses along her face. Lara laughs.

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Good.”

Marcus looks to Lara. “You ready?”

Lara stands up, stretching her limbs. “Waiting on you as always,” she turns to Ginny. “One piece.”

“Thank you.” Ginny murmurs. Lara steps outside while Ginny and Marcus say their goodbyes, wanting to provide some privacy.

As Marcus steps into the car, Lara cranks the engine and the vehicle roars to life.

“Where to?” Marcus asks.

“How’s your German?”

“I’m too old for this shit.” Marcus complains, picking at his shirt. “When is Alex meeting us again?”

Lara slips her shades on and sighs. “He’ll be later on. I just need to meet with someone quickly.”

“At a fucking rave? Jesus, way to make me feel twenty three again.”

“The guy owns the place. He’s peculiar but I’m sure he’s got information about the epitaph.”

Marcus nods and follows Lara inside of the building. Security checks them both at the door, allowing them entry when they don’t discover any threatening items. They slide through the grinding bodies, the bass from the music pulsating through their chests. Lara leads Marcus to the VIP area where more security is posted.

The bouncer holds his hand up to stop them. “VIP access only.”

“Clearly,” Lara snarks. “I’m Croft.”

The man relays the name in his headset, waiting a brief moment for a response before letting Lara and Marcus through. The area opens up to a more calm part of the club where a guy is seated in a circular booth. Men and women are all around him, some indulging in heated passions. A red haired woman opens up her mouth and the man slips a colored tab under her tongue.

He looks up from the woman, face curling into a blinding smile once seeing Lara.

“Well, I’ll be. Lara Croft, in the flesh!”

“Ezra. Nice to see you haven’t changed.” She motions around the room.

“Oh, you know me. One must give in to the delicacies of the flesh from time to time. Excuse me puddin’,” Ezra scooches from around the table to greet Lara and Marcus properly.

“Lara, who is this?” Ezra gestures to Marcus who extends his hand out to shake Ezra’s but Lara stops him.

“Married.”

Ezra chuckles. “And what exactly is marriage, I find, is the most pressing question.”

“Happily married. With three children.” Marcus adds.

Ezra thinks on it and decides to leave it be. “Suit yourself, Marcus. Just know, for future reference, I am a gracious lover.”

Marcus smiles and much to Lara’s surprise, he blushes. “Noted.”

“Ok, my prospecting friend, allow me to escort you to my office.”

Ezra prances to a small room set off to the side, parting the beaded curtains. Marcus crosses his arms and leans against the doorway while Lara takes a seat on one of the stools. Ezra mutters to himself while he attempts to organize the clutter on his desk.

“So, if I should do myself the honor of calling you a friend, Lara, that means that you’ve come to me because there is treasure snuffing the surface somewhere. Am I correct in my assumption?”

Lara hums. “As always, Ez.”

He smiles. “Wonderful! Uh, what is it exactly?”

Lara nudges Marcus who takes the lead. “I found one of the panel pieces from this dutch epitaph and it seems that it’s a pretty hot item on the market.”

“Balashov is looking for it.”

This stops Ezra in his tracks, the smile fading from his face. “Ah, our dear old Russian comrade. Never a good thing when he’s involved.” Ezra’s left hand creeps over to his right shoulder, massaging it gently. The once stump was now fashioned with a prosthetic, one that Ezra was hesitant to get.

Marcus senses tension in the air. “Am I missing something?”

Lara speaks first. “We were all employed on a dig in the Amazon. He flipped, Ezra lost his arm. Business.” She shrugs. Ezra does not.

“Taking a man’s arm is no petty thing.” he counters.

“Can you tell us something about the epitaph?” Marcus asks.

“Well, the obvious being that there are three main pieces and I assume that you have one?”

“Perhaps. Can you tell us where to find the other two?” Lara answers.

Ezra clears off his desk by throwing everything on it on the ground, spreading out a large map. “So, according to my studies that epitaph is from a Danish artist, Nanko Bonten,” bonus points for Marcus. “Legend has it that this man dabbled within the dark arts, performing a ritual that allowed him to possess certain powers. He created a portal within this epitaph, which can transport matter from one dimension to another.”

“But my fathers studies, it mentioned something about the Umrah.”

“Yes!” Ezra exclaims. “He stole the ritual from the Umrah, who used it to transport the living to the underworld and vice versa. The art may be Dutch, yes, but everything else is not. When Europe was taken over by the Nazi’s, Nanko was worried that they would take it from him. So he took it apart, scattering the pieces all over the globe. Some mention that he might’ve had a map that disclosed the location of the parts but no one has discovered it.”

“Interesting. And somehow one of those pieces ended up at my local farmers market.”

“Oh, you are a marketer? I fancy the ones here myself. Nothing compares to the fresh nectar of produce that has been grown by the working man’s hands.”

“Does your market carry sausages?”

“The bratwurst is to die for, my friend.”

“Really? I’ve had some while traveling in Italy but you know it doesn’t taste the same.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Boys. Focus.” Lara interjects. “Any leads?”

Ezra points to India. “You may find another piece in Mumbai. Rumor has it that Nanko had a lover there who he entrusted a piece to. I’m afraid that’s where my knowledge stops.”

“India, got it. Marcus.”

Lara nods to the door. She thanks Ezra silently.

“Well? Nothing for your guide?” Ezra holds his arm out.

“You still have your left arm.” Lara laughs, both her and Marcus disappear into the flashing lights.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin goes home for a little while, determined to enjoy a well-earned vacation;

Camelot immediately falls apart, with the sole exceptions of Guinevere and Gaius.

Merlin knows Arthur really well.

Which just means he knows exactly how to get him to let his servant go home for two weeks to visit his mother and relax a little:

“You just don’t want me to go because you know you can’t cope without me! Look, if you want to come with me, that’s fine, but you’ll struggle just as much there as you would here because I refuse to act as your servant in my own home.”

Arthur turns red, looking outraged as he loses the ability to speak. Merlin turns around before The King can see his satisfied smirk, tidying around the prat’s chambers with exaggerated annoyance as he just waits for the inevitable-

“Fine! Go! See if I even notice that you’re gone! Honestly, Merlin, the running of the Kingdom will probably end up going smoother without you here to mess things up, you bumbling idiot.”

Merlin grins to himself before schooling his face back into annoyance and turning around with a huff, crossing his arms petulantly:

“Fine!”

The servant decides that he’d better leave, what with the way he was struggling to keep the victorious grin from his face, so without waiting for a response, he “storms” from the room, slamming the door behind him as dramatically as he’s able when he hears Arthur yell:

“FINE!”

~

Merlin sets off at the beginning of the next week. Gaius had raised a disapproving eyebrow when his ward had told him how he’d gotten Arthur to agree to such a long vacation, but didn’t say anything. They both knew that the elderly physician thought it was funny.

Gwen and Morgana make sure to see him out of the castle gates with big hugs, and whilst all of the knights were meant to be training, it came as no surprise to anyone when Gwaine slacks off for half a candle-mark to say goodbye as well. Mordred shoots him a quick goodbye across their mental link as the servant walks away from the city, after promising Merlin that he would warn him if anyone was in any serious danger (”Serious danger only, Mordred, I mean it. If I get called home because Arthur is throwing some sort of tantrum, then I’ll act out your destiny for you.”).

Merlin’s journey goes smoothly. The world was hovering in the junction between Spring and Summer, but with a little magical manipulation, the Warlock had no trouble staying warm and keeping his feet beneath him on the uneven path. Unsurprisingly, the young man is a lot less clumsy when he doesn’t have to focus on keeping his magic locked away so tightly.

Two days after his departure from Camelot, his mother is greeting him outside her little house with a long hug and a wide grin, stroking a hand through his hair as she welcomes him home.

Coincidentally, that’s also about the time things started going to shit for everyone else.

~

It was just after noon when Elyan had to be carried to Gaius’ chambers, his whole body juddering as he struggles to draw breath, the lack of oxygen from his throat closing up mixed with the panic making his brain go fuzzy.

Percival holds him up from one side and Leon holds him from the other, the two of them bursting through the physician’s door just as Elyan’s eyes roll back in his head. Gaius looks up suddenly, obviously startled by the abrupt intrusion, but he swiftly focuses, eyes wide and assessing as he quickly points them to a patient pallet:

“What happened?”

The two knights lay him down as carefully as they can before standing out of the way as Leon forces out an answer, trying to catch his breath between words:

“I don’t know, servants brought lunch out whilst we were training so we stopped to eat and he just started... wheezing. We thought he was choking at first but he said he couldn’t breathe. Has... has he been poisoned? We stopped everyone from eating.”

Gaius had gathered a handful of odd looking dried leaves the moment Leon mentioned the food, recognising the symptoms of an allergic reaction and putting two and two together immediately. He crushes them in his hands quickly, knowing he didn’t have time for a proper mortar and pestle as he shoves the crumbs into Elyan’s mouth, following through with a vile of something green and gross-smelling

He massages the odd concoction down Elyan’s throat as best he can around the swelling, and lets out a relieved smile when the knight’s eyes blow wide open and he chokes slightly before swallowing it all, grimacing at the taste but breathing deeply as his airways open again.

Leon and Percival let out similar breathes of relief when Elyan begins breathing again, chuckling breathlessly at his disgusted groan. The door bursts open again before anyone can say anything, and Arthur strides in, his flushed cheeks and rumpled clothes implying he had sprinted across the castle in his panic.

He spots Elyan on the pallet, his deep breaths interspersed with the odd cough, and his eyes widen even further as he looks to Gaius for an explanation:

“A servant told me something was wrong, what happened?!”

The King loses a little of the tension in his shoulders when Elyan waves a thumbs-up in his vague direction, but still looks frantically between the two knights and the physician as he waits for an answer. Percival wordlessly moves to Elyan’s side, running a hand up and down the man’s arm as Leon looks to Gaius expectantly:

“He had an allergic reaction, likely to nuts in the food. He should be fine, but he needs a day or two of rest, and to come back to me immediately if his throat swells again.”

Arthur sags in relief, nodding his approval of Elyan’s needed bedrest, but Leon’s eyes go wide as he lets out a knowing noise:

“Of course! I forgot about his allergy, it hasn’t been an issue since we were kids.”

Gaius nods knowingly and begins reorganising the jars he had knocked over when the knights had startled him:

“Hmm. I imagine he watched what he ate carefully when he was travelling, but Merlin keeps an eye on all of your food now.”

Leon frowns slightly as he tilts his head in confusion, but Arthur beats him to the punch, asking incredulously:

“What do you mean, Merlin keeps an eye on our food?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow, holding in his smirk as he slowly replies:

“Well, Merlin is usually the one to bring food out to you when you train, is he not? And on days he can’t he always speaks with the kitchen staff to double check what food is going where. Sir Elyan is not the only one with an allergy, My Lord. Merlin always makes sure any food the seven of you are given is safe. He has a tendency to check the Lady Morgana’s meals as well, whenever he’s able.”

Arthur is too taken aback to reply, his mouth hanging open, but that is when Percival looks up from his place at Elyan’s side, a confused frown on his face:

“Why?”

Gaius doesn’t manage to hold his smile in at that, looking between the three knights, and Elyan, who has just about managed to regain his breath:

“To avoid situations like this, I imagine, and to check for poison. It’s not uncommon for assassins to try and lace the royal’s food with something or other.”

Arthur finally shuts his mouth, only to open it again, speaking slowly:

“So... Merlin checks all of our food?”

Gaius nods:

“Religiously, Sire.”

Leon and Percival just shrug, adding it to their list of Weird Things About Merlin That They Should Be Grateful For, and Elyan smiles goofily from his place on the bed (whether it was the lack of oxygen or something funky in the vial, the knight didn’t know, but he was definitely still feeling a little... odd), but Arthur just frowns deeper, muttering a distracted “Take it easy.” to Elyan before walking stiffly from the room.

The King makes quick work of the journey back to the council meeting, desperately trying to persuade himself that this was nothing to do with him not being able to cope without Merlin. Elyan was the one not coping, clearly. Merlin was still wrong and stupid and Arthur hadn’t even noticed that he was gone until Gaius brought him up (a lie, he missed him terribly, but shhh).

Leon and Percival look to Gaius in confusion when Arthur had almost stormed from the room, and the Physician simply smiles again, the amusement shining clearly in his eyes:

“Merlin persuaded Arthur to let him take a holiday by heavily implying that he couldn’t cope with Merlin’s absence.”

Percival snorts with laughter and Leon raises an eyebrow as he grins:

“Arthur took that as a challenge then, I suppose? Two days in and we’ve already got The King sprinting from meetings because a knight has collapsed from an allergic reaction... because Merlin wasn’t here...”

Gaius just nods, and Percival mutters an amused:

“This will be entertaining.”

~

Arthur steadfastly refuses to acknowledge that the next mini disaster, a few days later, was also down to Merlin’s absence.

Ok, so maybe it was because Merlin wasn’t here, but ultimately, it was Gwaine that messed up, not Arthur. So it didn’t count.

The knight came back from a night patrol that he’d taken with The King with an infected gash on his arm. Arthur grins teasingly as he describes to Gaius how the knight had tripped on a loose cobblestone and scratched his arm on the sharp edge of a stray cart at the beginning of the patrol, and Gaius hums disapprovingly as he unwraps the scrap of fabric Gwaine had used as a bandage:

“Did you not have any medical supplies in your pack? Or did you think it best to let it get infected so I had to wake an hour before dawn to deal with it?”

Gwaine swings his dangling legs back and forth from where he sits on Gaius’ table, pouting sheepishly as he admits:

“I looked, but there wasn’t anything helpful in there, usually the armoury-hands have them stocked up for the patrols, I guess they missed mine.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at Gwaine’s seeming ineptitude, but his scolding is interrupted before it even begins when Gaius shakes his head in disagreement:

“Hmm. The servants that work in the armoury only tend to check the packs every few weeks, and even then they only check if they need any repairs. Merlin is the one with easier access to patrol rotas, so he’s the one who stocks them up on a day to day basis.”

Gwaine just nods in understanding, as if he should’ve expected that, but Arthur’s smile drops as he unfolds his arms, getting over his annoyed speechlessness in a matter of seconds:

“You’re telling me that Merlin, my personal manservant, is responsible for all the knights’ patrol packs?”

Gaius finishes cleaning Gwaine’s wound, muttering a quiet apology when the knight hisses at the first poke of the needle, speaking slowly as he focuses on making sure the stitches were neat and uniform:

“No, Sire. Technically the knights are meant to take care of their own packs, but Merlin is a paranoid man, he likes to double check things to make sure everyone has what they need. I suppose some people got used to having it done for them.”

Gwaine winces abashedly, making a mental note to remind the others to check their packs before their next patrols, but Arthur rolls his eyes, crossing his arms again and immediately accepting that this little incident was therefore Gwaine’s fault, and not down to Merlin's absence.

The voice in his head sounded a little doubtful, but he ignores it, choosing instead to chide his rebellious:

“Do try to pay attention to your own responsibilities, Sir Gwaine, I’d hate to see something terrible happen to you because you’re unable to complete your own simple tasks.”

Gwaine just sticks his tongue out petulantly, looking away from The King before he can see the blonde’s rolled eyes. Arthur huffs at his childishness, turning around to cover his grin and speaking over his shoulder as he walks from the room:

“You will be on time for once, Gwaine, training starts in a few hours and I want to see you bright and early.”

Gwaine just smirks, waiting for the door to shut behind Arthur before moving his sly, curious eyes to the physician in front of him:

“He’s missing Merlin, then?”

Gaius just gives him a knowing glance before looking back down at the now stitched gash, gathering bandages:

“I’d imagine so, though he’d never admit it. Merlin implied that Arthur wouldn’t cope with his absence,-”

Gwaine interrupts him with a laugh:

“Hence his insistence that it was entirely my fault?”

Gaius nods wordlessly, and Gwaine snorts, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

Meanwhile, Arthur stalks back towards his chambers, eager to get out of his armour and get into bed; Gwaine had training in a few hours, but so did he, and he needed at least a little sleep. He purses his lips in annoyance as his gaze falls upon the clinical cleanliness of his room... George had been in then. 

Look... Arthur being used to a slightly messy room did NOT mean he depended on Merlin. And Gwaine not being used to having to actually organise himself ALSO didn’t mean that Merlin was... ok. Maybe Gwaine relies on Merlin a little.

So that’s Sir Elyan and Sir Gwaine, two of The King’s most trusted knights, who can’t cope without Merlin. But Arthur is doing just fine. It’s been half a week and he is just. Fine.

Just fine.

~

It was the next day that things began going wrong a little more... drastically.

George wakes Arthur up for training on time because of course he does. Arthur had found himself losing out on a lot of sleep without Merlin insisting he go to bed at a reasonable time, and waking him up late; Merlin had gotten into the habit of snatching Arthur’s paperwork away and holding it out of reach until The King agreed to go to sleep, and somehow manages to fit Arthur’s entire morning routine into half a candle-mark. George would never snatch away Arthur’s paperwork, and he takes so much longer in the mornings meaning Arthur has to wake up earlier.

Not that Arthur would ever admit to enjoying his and Merlin’s unorthodox routines. 

Eight more days to go, and he’s fine.

At least... that’s what he thought until a nameless guard approaches the training field, waving him over from his spar with Mordred. Arthur strides over quickly, annoyed at the interruption and nodding at the guard to speak as he drinks from his water-skin:

“My Lord, Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel have arrived. I believe they’re waiting for your presence in the courtyard.”

Arthur chokes, managing to turn his head to the side just in time before he spits a mouthful of water over the guards face. He quickly wipes his mouth and turns back to the pour armoured man with wide eyes:

“That’s today?!

The guard nods hesitatingly:

“Yes, Sire, would you like me-”

He’s interrupted when Arthur shouts a hurried:

“Fuck!” as he drops his water-skin and begins sprinting up the field towards the castle, desperately trying to calculate if he had enough time to wash and change before they got antsy with waiting. Probably not.

Seeing Arthur’s panic and hearing his loud curse, Leon hurriedly approaches the guard, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder as he speaks with a frown:

“Gavin? Is everything alright?”

The guard, Gavin, looks to Leon with a confused frown:

“It would appear that His Majesty... misremembered the date of Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel’s arrival.”

Leon’s eyes go wide and he glances quickly to the castle as he rushes out an exclamation identical to Arthur’s:

“That’s today?!”

Gavin just nods again, and Leon drops the hand from his shoulder, letting out a loud:

“Shit!” as he recreates Arthur’s sprint up to the castle, knowing that he was expected to be at The King’s side when welcoming guests. He doesn’t pause, even when he shouts:

“Lancelot’s in charge!” over his shoulder.

The knights all look to each other in amusement, but Lancelot quickly takes charge, running drills as if he had been doing it his entire life and trusting that, whatever it was, Arthur could get things sorted. And if Arthur couldn’t get things sorted, then Leon would get things sorted. And if Leon couldn’t get things sorted, then Merlin would... oh.

He glances worriedly to the castle just as Leon falls through the door, not bothering to shut it behind him in his panic. Oh.

Arthur lets out the deepest breath of relief he thinks he’s ever experienced when he sees George ahead of him in the corridor; he gestures him over hastily, making the servant jog to keep up with him as he continues his fast pace down the hall:

“I don’t care how many other servants you have to pull from their duties, but I need the castle prepped for Halbert and Ethel’s arrival right now.-”

Arthur barely pays attention to George’s faltering step of shock, just stops suddenly in front of the door that leads down to the courtyard, turning to the servant and putting both hands on his shoulder as he stares at him intensely, face flushed and breathing harsh:

“I need you to do this for me, George. Prepare guest chambers, send someone down to show them to the right rooms, and make sure the Kitchens know they’re feeding two extra nobles for three days, starting today. If you can organise all of that in the next two minutes, I’ll give you a raise and a Godamn hug, you hear me?!”

George gulps, his shoulders tense, his face pale, and his breath frozen in his lungs as he meets Arthur’s frantic gaze with wide eyes. He gives a shaky nod, instantly turning and sprinting down the corridor without a word when Arthur lets go. 

Leon skids around the corner, moving to stand next to Arthur with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath, speaking in a slight wheeze:

“I... I left Lance... in charge.”

Arthur nods in approval, pulling Leon to stand before holding his hands out to the side, presenting himself for inspection. Leon takes one last deep breath, smoothing the training tunic over Arthur’s shoulders, attempting to rub the dirt from his nose, and brushing a quick hand through his hair before stepping back and holding his own arms out. Arthur pulls a leaf from behind his ear, but is otherwise satisfied, and the two of them turn to the door, schooling their faces and stepping down into the courtyard.

Arthur has a calm, welcoming smile on his face, and Leon stands stiffly behind him, hand on the sword that he luckily had on his hip as he stares blankly ahead.

The nobles seem taken aback at The King's state of undress, but don’t say anything, covering their shock quickly. Arthur’s hoping that his friendly attitude will just give the impression that he’s...approachable and slightly laid back, as opposed to just an idiot who forgot they were coming because no one had reminded him.

Gods. Merlin can never know about this.

~

Thankfully, the next three days went smoothly, or at least as smoothly as possible after Arthur spent an hour rifling through his old mail to try and figure out the original reason for Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel’s visit (watching their eldest’s knighting ceremony, and discussing with Arthur the potential for their youngest to move to the city to become a squire).

He waves them off in a much more regal manner than he had welcomed them, and keeps his promise to George, upping his pay slightly; though he exchanges the hug for an awkward pat on the shoulder, which he thinks both of them were grateful for.

~

He’d successfully made it through nine days. Semi-successfully. He’d just about made it through nine days.

Five more to go. But Arthur was feeling fine about those five days. He’d double checked all his mail, and made sure to find out when his patrols were scheduled.

Which is... unknown to Arthur, where the next problem stems from. 

Arthur wasn’t the one to rota the patrols, he really didn’t have the time to sit down with a list of names and hours and times and maps and organise everything fairly, it was difficult and time-consuming, but he made sure that Leon knew exactly how many hours he could give up for patrol each week.

Apparently, the communication between Leon and the council was normally handled by Merlin, who wasn’t there. So whilst Arthur was enjoying a solo patrol along the city borders at noon, waving at citizens and making his horse do tricks for giggling children, the council were sitting around the table, waiting rather irately for his arrival.

Now normally, this could’ve been easily dealt with, but when the same guard from three days ago gallops over to inform him of the problem and take over his patrol, Arthur was reminded rather suddenly that Merlin was always the one that came up with sensible sounding excuses.

(He also makes a mental note to avoid that guard forever out of embarrassment.)

This was one of the very rare occasions when Arthur simply glares the council into submission. Normally he likes to work with them; he hates to feel like they're just doing what he wants because they were kissing his arse, but he has no excuse other than “I forgot.” and he felt like that was worse than just.. acting like a bit of a dick for five minutes.

So... yeah. Merlin wasn’t there to reorganise the council meeting around Arthur’s patrol, and then also wasn’t there to come up with an excuse for why it wasn’t reorganised.

Arthur makes it ten days before he admits to himself that perhaps he relies on his manservant just a little too much.

~

Four days later, Arthur had missed another council meeting (despite his best efforts), Lancelot and Mordred had accidentally insulted some visiting Lord (and had therefore been told not to leave their rooms until he had vacated the city), and Gwen was no longer speaking to him, on account of The King being a dick without realising because Merlin wasn’t there to rein in his ego and... well... dickishness. That, and his crown had somehow gone missing between yesterday morning and now.

(If that last one had happened even a week prior, Arthur would’ve been adamant that it had been stolen or something else equally not-his-fault, but with how quickly he’d been made aware of his apparent bad memory and social clumsiness, he had every faith that he’d just misplaced it, and Merlin would know exactly where to look.)

Arthur was sitting on the courtyard steps, tunic unlaced at the top and hair a mess when his servant finally, finally walks through the castle gates. The King perks up slightly, but refuses to give Merlin the satisfaction of being run to, so forces himself to remain in place. He was especially glad that he’d made that decision when he saw Guinevere spring over to greet him. He has a feeling she won’t be all that... welcoming, at least not yet.

Merlin wraps her in a tight hug and Arthur forces down the swell of jealousy in his lungs, especially when he laughs brightly and pulls back to clasp her shoulders. Arthur sees Gwen’s face fall at a question Merlin had asked and he gulps, biting his lip when Merlin frowns and raises an incredulous eyebrow at her response. She points in Arthur’s direction, and The King’s eyes go wide as he rapidly stands, failing miserably at looking as though he weren’t staring in their direction. Guinevere rolls her eyes before giving Merlin one last hug and walking very deliberately in the opposite direction to Arthur.

Merlin marches towards him, slight annoyance mixing with a secret eagerness to check on Arthur speeding up his normal pace significantly. Before the servant can say anything, Arthur grabs his wrist, pulling him up the steps and through the castle without a word, tugging harshly every time Merlin opens his mouth to demand an explanation for himself or an apology for Gwen.

When they finally reach his chambers, Arthur quickly locks the door behind him, whirling on an angry Merlin with flushed cheeks and a desperate look in his eyes:

“I swear Merlin, I will never doubt you again, but Elyan almost died, Gwaine got an infection, Leon and I forgot about Ethel and Halbert, Lancelot and Mordred are essentially under house arrest, I missed two council meetings, lost my crown, and now Gwen’s not talking to me. You’re never allowed to leave me again.”

Merlin freezes in place, staring at Arthur with wide eyes and an open mouth for a few moments before he bursts into laugher. Arthur huffs, crossing his arms as his blush deepens, but waits patiently instead of demanding that Merlin stop. Honestly? He may have been laughing at Arthur, but it was still the most beautiful sound The King had heard in two weeks, and he’d definitely missed it. Which is... something to think about at a later date.

Merlin finally relents, his dimples showing prominently as he holds in another round of giggles at Arthur’s red face. The servant drops his pack to the floor, stepping forward and not giving Arthur time to move away before he pulls him into a tight hug, sighing contentedly at the warm contact:

“I missed you too, you prat. You’ll just have to come with me next time and we can leave Gwen and Gaius in charge.”

Arthur huffs out a gentle laugh, finally wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle tightly and burying his face in the slightly taller man’s hair:

“I did. Miss you, I mean. And I also mean it when I say you’re never going anywhere without me again, this has been a nightmare.”

Merlin snorts, tightening his grip on Arthur as if he were trying to squeeze all of the stress out of him:

“Co-dependency isn’t the healthiest thing in the world, you know.”

Arthur just huffs, refusing to let go as he petulantly responds:

“I don’t care. I’m The King, I can do what I want.”

Arthur can almost feel Merlin rolling his eyes, but the servant just laughs again and seems to nod in agreement:

“Hmm. That excuse is going to come back to haunt you one day. Heard you gave George a raise?”

The blonde tenses in embarrassment, now refusing to pull away so Merlin wouldn’t see his pink cheeks:

“Uh... yeah. He cleans too much and is shit at coming up with plausible excuses, but he did save my arse a few times.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s laugh vibrate through his ribcage, and though the man was usually rather touch averse, he found he never wanted the feeling to stop. He found himself hoping that Merlin felt the same when The King chuckles at his response:

“Oh yeah? Does that mean I get a raise for being good at excuses and bad at cleaning?”

~

THE END!!! 

Literally wrote this in one day so... sorry if it’s bad😅

Had no clue how I was going to end it until I got there, my thought process essentially just went “Hugs? Yeah. Hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs.” :D

Same as always lads, you wanna write it out in full or remix it or whatever, go for it, just drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

[bananonbinary]

Time for a Salty Meta Post about Martin!

people who’ve followed this blog for a bit know that spending six hours combing through text for some goddamn sources is my specialty, so i compiled every time jon ever talked about martin’s work in season 1. which for the record, he stopped complaining about all the way back in episode 26, where he was angry that martin of all people got hurt.

things jon gets mad at martin for:

not being able to find records that don’t exist

not being able to find someone based only on a first name

the Dog

not wearing trousers in his off-hours

being the one that got caught up in the jane prentiss thing

mag 004 and mag 012 both have jon taking potshots at martin over research that was proven accurate by outside sources

things jon has never once complained about:

martin not understanding the filing system and just putting stuff away at random

martin being clumsy, constantly ruining things, spilling tea everywhere everyday, etc

martin turning in incompetent, poorly-edited, or badly formatted reports

martin not understanding the terminology used, skills expected, etc., and generally being extremely new to the field

please for the love of god stop making martin the silly bumbling idiot who can’t do anything right just because he doesn’t have a formal education. there’s zero evidence for it in the text, and it’s really weird to act like a 4 year degree would outweigh the *10 years* of job experience he has, not just in academia, but in the institute itself by season one. my boy has worked there longer than ANY of the rest of the main cast. screw you guys.

tl;dr: martin is never once shown to be bad at his job, jon pretty much only ever gets mad at him for the really stupid first impression and also not finding stuff that no one else was able to find either. after martin got hurt, jon talks about his research basically the same way he talks about tim’s or sasha’s work.

fucking proof under the cut:

(i didnt include the s1 finale or martin’s statement bc that’s just...two entire episodes of them talking to each other, but there isn’t really any notable Martin Complaints in either of them imo)

I swear, if he’s brought another dog in here, I’m going to peel him.

[pre-launch trailer]

.

Well, technically three, but I don’t count Martin as he’s unlikely to contribute anything but delays.

[...] Alongside this Tim, Sasha and, yes, I suppose, Martin will be doing some supplementary investigation to see what details may be missing from what we have.

[MAG001 Anglerfish]

.

Martin couldn’t find any records of Ex Altiora as a title in existent catalogues of esoteric or similar literature, so I assigned Sasha to double-check. Still nothing.

[MAG004 Pageturner]

.

I had Martin conduct a follow-up interview with Mr. Woodward last week, but it was unenlightening. Apparently there have been no further bags at number 93 and in the intervening years he has largely discounted many of the stranger aspects of his experience. I wasn’t expecting much, as time generally makes people inclined to forget what they would rather not believe, but at least it got Martin out of the Institute for an afternoon, which is always a welcome relief.

[MAG005 Thrown Away]

.

Martin was unable to find the exact date the original house was built but the earliest records he could find list it as being bought by Walter Fielding in 1891.

[...]

We cannot prove any connection, but Martin unearthed a report on an Agnes Montague, who was found dead in her Sheffield flat on the evening of November 23rd 2006, the same day Mr. Lensik claims to have uprooted the tree.

[MAG008 Burned Out]

.

According to Martin, who was here when they took this statement, it was at this point in writing that Mr. Herbert announced he needed some sleep before continuing. He was shown to the break room where he went to sleep on the couch. He did not awaken; unfortunately succumbing to the lung cancer right there. Martin says the staff had been aware of how serious Mr. Herbert’s condition was, and had advised him to seek medical aid prior to giving his statement, but were told rather bluntly by the old man that he would not wait another second to state his case. I can’t decide whether this lends more or less credibility to his tale.

[MAG010 Vampire Killer]

.

“Veepalach” might also be a mishearing of the Polish word “wypalać”, according to Martin, which means to cauterize or brand. Admittedly, if Martin speaks Polish in the same way he “speaks Latin,” then he might be talking nonsense again, but I’ve looked it up and it appears to check out.

[MAG012 First Aid]

.

I sent Martin to look into this ‘Angela’ character - not that I want him to get chopped up, of course, but someone had to. Apparently, he spent three days looking into every woman named Angela in Bexley over the age of 50. He could not find anyone that matches the admittedly vague description given here, though he informs me that he had some very pleasant chats about jigsaws. Useless ass.

[MAG014 Piecemeal]

.

Martin declined to help with this investigation as he’s “a bit claustrophobic”

[MAG015 Lost John’s Cave]

.

There simply aren’t enough details given in this statement to actually investigate, short of Martin confirming that Mr. Vittery did indeed live at the addresses he provided.

[MAG016 Arachnophobia]

.

Oh, he’s off sick this week. Stomach problems, I think.

Blessed relief if you ask me.

[...]

I asked Martin to try and hunt down Mr. Adekoya himself for a follow-up, but have been informed that he passed away in 2006. 

[MAG017 The Boneturner’s Tale]

.

MARTIN

Well, I need to tell someone what happened, and you can vouch for the soundness of my mind, can’t you?

ARCHIVIST

…

That is beside the point.

[MAG022 Colony]

.

Martin! Good lord man, if you’re going to be staying in the Archives, at least have the decency to put some trousers on!

[MAG023 Schwartzwald]

.

Martin found one other thing while combing through police reports for the Hither Green area. About a month after this statement was given, on May 15th, 2015, police were called out to once again investigate the chapel.

[MAG025 Growing Dark]

.

I know, but it would have to have been Martin, wouldn’t it? I mean, anything goes wrong around here, it always seems to happen to him. Anyway, we’re getting off topic. Why didn’t you report this?

[MAG026 A Distortion]

.

Martin made contact with the son, Marcus McKenzie, but he declined to talk to us, saying that he’d “already made his statement.”

[MAG027 A Sturdy Lock]

.

Tim and Martin had a bit more luck investigating Tom Haan, though only really enough to confirm that he seems to have completely vanished following his departure from Aver Meats on the 12th of July.

[MAG030 Killing Floor]

.

Martin’s research would seem to indicate the place employed a reasonable number of international staff they preferred to keep off the books

[...]

TIM

Ah well, that’s actually what he was asking, huh! Um, apparently Martin, uh, took delivery of a couple of items last week addressed to you. Did he not mention it?

ARCHIVIST

No, he… Oh, yes, actually. I completely forgot. He said he put it in my desk drawer, hold on.

[MAG036 Taken Ill]

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3016

bad time. tw description of a meltdown, self-harm, emergency rooms.

woke up late, stayed long with the kids, stopped for lunch, went home.

so i wanted to take a nap.

but my mother has been so fucking wound up about setting up the house for thanksgiving and trying to get everything done in advance. she refuses to take my advice or even listen to me when i tell her it'll be fine, that everything will fit and it'll be okay.

no. of course not.

so instead of leaving me the fuck alone and letting me nap, she started rearranging the pictures on the photo walk in the living room and roped me into doing the thing for her.

but i was fucking tired. i had already told her i wanted to take a nap. i was already grumpy. but her complete lack of awareness of how i was feeling added to the frustration of being forced to do a project or be yelled at for a week on top of not being able to get nails in or out of the wall.

i snapped. rather, i had a meltdown.

i punched the wall. i put a dent in it. decided that wouldn't be good, so i stepped down and some pictures fell. flare. i stopped and screeched quietly to try to vent it but it just didn't go away. i was shaking. so i punched the wall by the window, where it's stronger and won't dent if it takes a few punches. then i turned away from that, still angry and frustrated and fully overwhelmed. so i turned around and i hit myself, instead. i got myself in the head probably half a dozen times, and as i fell to my knees i hit the floor, too.

and i cried.

i cried not because it hurt, but because i was overwhelmed and frustrated. i cried because i was embarrassed. angry. fucking mad that i couldn't be fucking normal about anything, ever.

mom finally came back in the room after looking for a picture hanging kit to help me. but the damage had been done.

i couldn't use my words, obviously. so being told to use my words wasn't going to fucking work. i told her to not touch me as she walked close to me to sit down. i got up.

"are you hurt?"

"of course i'm hurt."

"what did you hit?"

"i hit the wall, i hit the floor, i hit myself."

i tearfully bumbled my way to the freezer to find some peas or whatever to put on my hand, but i couldn't focus on it through the tears and the pain. so i left my glasses on the table and went to the other living room. i grabbed some tissues from my desk in the order room and then i laid down on the floor.

i stopped crying briefly and started crying again because i was so mad that i could never be fucking normal about getting upset. i tried straightening out my hand. nah. something was definitely broken. first time i've done that, though, broken my hand from punching something.

mom finally got over herself and came to find me. i had to tell her twice that i needed some time because she apparently doesn't fucking get it, that i'm not okay ever and i will not be okay.

she took me to the urgent care in town, but i had to check if my insurance covered them first. thankfully, they did. good news is that when it comes to physical pain i'm usually pretty good with it. i have a very high pain threshold and a high tolerance for pain.

besides the throbbing pain in my hand, i was perfectly fine.

i was able to talk to the doctors clearly and levelheaded and i'm pretty proud of myself that i managed to keep it together until the x-rays. those were miserable. i couldn't move my hand that way. and then she kept needing to move my hands on the pad and that fucking hurt. more than just doing the pose would have hurt. just position my hand and leave it. don't fix it thirty times. christ almighty.

anyway, my knuckle appears fractured in those x-rays, which, yknow, is a break. so the nurse splinted my hand and wrapped it and told me to make an appointment with orthopedics for a few days from now when the swelling goes down so i can get a cast on it.

great.

anyway, the moral of the story is that i need to learn to punch properly.

also chelsea brought over ice cream for me which i was grateful for.

but also? the immense hypocrisy at coming home and mom lying down to rest.

bitch??? you couldn't have let me take a nap earlier, huh??? and now you want to take a nap because you're tired?????

i'm the one with the broken hand because you wouldn't fucking leave me alone.

christ almighty.

i fucking hate this.

oh! and??? she expects me to be thankful for doing the bare minimum?????? absolutely the fuck not.

it's your goddamn fault my hand is broken.

fuck.

typing is so fucking hard.

i just got back my research and writing functionality and i broke my fucking hand. my classmates are going to think i'm a fucking basketcase.

the wont be wrong, but i already feel like a failure. so that sucks.

i just want joel.

[13uswntimagines]

Her Mess (Christen x Reader)

Request: Christen x reader where reader is younger and in college and reader meets the team

It was safe to say that you had always been a bit of a mess. You would argue that you were an organized mess, but Christen would disagree. If the gay mess you turned into the first time Mal had ever introduced you to her was anything to go off of. Yes, you were a mess, but you were her mess, and she took great joy in helping to keep you on track. 

From the very beginning, she had helped you with your schedule. Made sure you ate and gave yourself time for studying and soccer. She never overstepped, she was your girlfriend not your mother after all, but she was definitely the organized one in your relationship. 

It was why the prospect of traveling without her was incredibly daunting. She was already at camp with the rest of the national team (who you would be meeting for the first time) and you would be meeting them there with Mal after the two of you finished finals. To say you were nervous was an understatement. It was your first call up, and though your girlfriend and best friend had assured you it would be fine, you weren’t so sure. You had quadruple checked the list of things Christen and you had made, but even as you left the plane you were sure you had left something important. You were going to meet the team and you didn’t know if you were supposed to be meeting Christen too, or if you two were going, to be honest. 

You sighed, running your hand through your messy hair, before slipping your beanie back on. Your knee jumped up and down impatiently, and you bit your lip. You didn’t like waiting. Why did this car ride have to be so long?

“Do I need to call Mama Press or are you going to chill out on your own?” Mal said finally, her hand coming down to still your leg. You grinned sheepishly at her. 

“I just-... What if they don’t like me, and what if they’re weirded out by the age difference?” You rambled, your fingers tapping on the car window. 

“You’re like the funniest person I know. The team is going to love you! And I’ll be honest, It was a little weird at first for the person who was like my sister to be dating someone who was basically my mom. But after watching you two together, it’s obvious that you were made for each other,” Mal said softly, her hand running soothing circles on your thigh. You frowned. 

“What if she doesn’t want to tell them that she’s dating me because she’s ashamed of the age difference?” You asked softly, staring intently at your lap. Sure, Mal was cool with the age difference now, and so we’re your parents, but you knew that there were a lot of people out there who weren’t. Plus Christen was the Christen Press, and you were just a disorganized rookie. 

Gentle fingers tilted your chin up, and your Y/e/c met Mal’s brown.“Christen is a lot of things. I don’t think ashamed is one of them,” 

You nodded, returning your attention to the city passing by. You loved Christen, and you hoped that Mal was right. 

******

Most people would hate getting off a plane and stepping directly into practice, but you were grateful for it. The field was your happy place, a place you didn’t have to think about all the what-ifs. A place where you could simply showcase your skills. 

By the time you and Mal made it to the locker room, it was nearly empty. (Barring your girlfriend, who had stayed back to give you a tight hug and kiss, and Tobin who just sent you a small smile). 

“You ready for this cutie?” Your girlfriend asked, settling down on the bench beside you, nudging you with her shoulder, and placing a kiss on your pink cheeks. 

You stuck your tongue out at Mal who made a gagging sound. 

“I think so,” You shrugged, rooting through your bag to find the last items of your gear, things you were sure you had put in this morning. Your eyebrows furrowed as you shoved your shin guards aside in search of your socks. 

“Is it true you have the sprint record for UCLA?” Tobin nudged your other side. You nodded, not taking your eyes off of the contents of your bag. Had you been paying more attention, you probably would have freaked out that the Tobin Heath knew who you were. 

“Don’t forget the juggling record either,” Mal added, smiling. You had quite the reputation for putting defenders on their asses, and it was going to be entertaining watching you work your magic with the national team. 

“Damn,” Tobin mumbled wide eyes. She was going to have to call dibs on you for the scrimmage. You barely spared her a glance, groaning as you continued to dig for an item you were beginning to fear wasn’t in your bag. You took a deep breath, trying not to panic. Of course you had forgotten something important on your first camp with the national team.

Christen rubbed your back, her head tilting to the side as you ignored one of your heroes (your hero being her best friend was something she found immensely entertaining), her hand coming up to rub your back. “What are you looking for my darling,” 

“I forgot my socks,” you huffed, shoving your bag to the floor pouting. Christen’s lips ticked up slightly as she leaned in to kiss your pink cheeks. 

“That’s alright. I have an extra pair for you in my bag,” 

Your blush deepened as you took the extra pair, slipping them on your feet. You nodded in thanks, she simply winked in return. She knew you’d forget something. You always did. 

******

Meeting the team was an… experience. Kelley had immediately jumped on top of you, squealing about a new baby to corrupt before she was pulled off by Alex. Ashlyn and Ali had argued with Becky and Alyssa about who was going to be your team moms. The youngins had bombarded you with so many questions that it felt like your head was spinning. But through it, all Christen’s hand remained firmly in yours. 

Standing in line, waiting for the forward vs defender drill to begin was a surreal experience for you. You watched with a keen eye as Mal went first and nearly navigated the ball past Becky. You kissed Christen’s cheek before she went and cleanly got past Kelley. Tobin took the next spot, pulling a clean nutmeg off on Abby. You were going to have to one-up her. 

You took a deep breath, trying to settle your nerves, waiting to see which defender you would be up against. 

“You good kid?” Megan asked, bumping your shoulder with her. You blinked, fighting the urge to squeal that The Megan Rapino was talking to you. 

“Hm, excited!” You smiled, biting your lip as Sonnett took her place at the front of her line. Sonnett was good, but you were better and your desire to make a good first impression meant that you were really going to have to put on a show. There would be no better partner for the dance you had planned. 

“Think you can best Sonnett?” Carli smirked, tapping you the ball. 

“Definitely. Cant let a Cavalier get one over on me,” You winked, beginning to juggle the ball. Yeah, this was going to be fun. 

******

“Holy shit, how are you so fast,” Emily panted, catching up to you after you’d made another shot at an unsuspecting Alyssa Naeher. It speared just past her fingertips, making the goal rattle as it made contact with the net. 

“I ate lots of fudge striped cookies when I was younger,” You nodded, wiping the sweat from your forehead and heading towards the sidelines for your water break. From the time you were little you had believed wholeheartedly that the cookies made you run faster. 

“Fudge stripped what?” Emily asked, her eyebrows furrowing beside you. 

“Made by the Keebler elves. They’re magic,” You shrugged, glancing around for the greenbottle with your name on it, entirely unaware of the odd looks the team was giving you and the loving smile your girlfriend was sporting. “Where did I put my bottle?” 

“It’s over-“ Mal started, only to be cut off by Christen’s elbow being lodged in her ribs. 

“Take mine babe,” She laughed, passing you her bottle. You nodded in thanks, squirting the liquid into your mouth. What would you do without her? Mal smirked over your head at the green-eyed forward. Maybe part of your forgetfulness was her love of coming to your rescue. 

“Sick ball skills Ducky,” Tobin clapped you in the back. 

“Thanks!” You squeaked, the stream of water missing your mouth and spraying Christen in the chest. “Oops,” You giggled. 

“If you want me to kiss you, you did it have to get me all wet, you could just ask,” She winked and you felt heat wash over your cheeks, all your previous confidence evaporating. 

 Mal covered her ears and shook her head fast. “Please don’t answer that with the comeback you’re thinking of,”. You smirked, shaking your head. You wouldn’t force her to bear her best friend and her team mom flirting. 

“Hmm, I love your kisses,” 

Christen giggled, wrapping her arms around your waist, and pulling you into a quick kiss. You pulled away when the team wolf-whistled, burying your face in your girlfriend's chest. 

“Told you she wasn’t embarrassed,” Mal said, patting your back. 

“Yeah, how could she when you put everyone on their ass,” Sonnett cackled. Your groan was muffled by your girlfriend's soft skin. Her fingers found their way under your chin, coaxing you out of your favorite hiding place. You Y/e/c eyes met her green ones. 

“You thought I was embarrassed?” She asked softly, and you gave her a slight nod. How couldn’t she be? She was the Christen Press and you were just a bumbling college student who would lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her body. 

“You’re you, and you have everything together, and I’m me and I forget everything,” You mumbled, shrugging. 

“Well, I love you, even when you forget stuff. Plus, You look really cute in my clothes,” She kissed your nose and your cheeks before landing on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, enjoying the way her soft lips felt against yours. 

It didn’t matter that you were younger. You would prove yourself to be an asset to the team and Christen loved you. 

“Did they forget we’re here?” Emily’s whisper read followed by a slapping sound and Lindsey’s voice. 

“Way to ruin a moment Sonnett,” 

Yes. You were a mess, but you were Christen’s mess and you’d fit right in. 

[ofmythsandmadness]

touch-starved | d.h.

or...the seven times it takes diego hargreeves to realises he’s touch-starved, and the one time he actually acts on it.

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SUMMARY: diego x gn!reader. an idiot in love, told entirely from his pov as he walks back on a series of monumental moments in his life. WARNINGS: a tad bit of foul language (bc i can never contain myself, jeez). allusion to sexual acts (nothing explicit, but if you know, you know). flowery garbage writing. probably poor characterization. a weird ending. WORD COUNT: 5.7k NOTES: it’s way too late (early?) for me to be putting this out. but after literally driving myself to tears over this stupid thing, i’m forcing myself to publish it and leave it to the world, for better or for worse. it’s...yeah. i hope it’s alright. x

BUY ME A COFFEE HERE. | CHECK OUT MY OTHER WRITINGS HERE.

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THE FIRST TIME HE REALISED WAS IN THE SUMMER.

“Can I say something weird?”

There is a nervous half-giggle that came after the question, like you aren't quite sure how he’s going to take whatever slipped from your gentle, just parted lips. It hangs much longer than the five words you passed to him and he almost forgets what you asked entirely, so hung up on the breathless fashion your chuckle had come.

But when you blink at him and let your beseeching eyes hover over his, he has to let go of the sound and return to the present.

“Sure,” he says dumbly. “What?”

He loses your eyes then and he finds himself following, eager to see what could have lost your attention so fast. His frown digs heavier as you stare at the table he’s leaned over. There isn’t anything there but his harness scattered across the worn wood and a knife in one hand. He’s been idly fiddling with as some show titters in the background, but his weapon (mal??)practices have never been much interest to you before. So...

Slowly a warm smile comes to cradle your cheeks. It rests as delicate as a crashing wave colliding with the great cliffs you had painted once -- like with everything you did, your smile’s a charging force that transforms you entirely and leaves him in awe that anyone could feel something so strongly. He watches with total enthrallment and for once, he’s not ashamed to feel so.

“You have like, really nice hands.”

You drawl the statement out like it’s some kind of joke. Though, the intense look you so briefly shoot him tells him it's anything but. And suddenly he cannot do anything; the knife falls from his hands and clatters to the table and his fingers tremble under your careful stare, paralysed. 

“I-I-”

“-I know, weird compliment, but,” you chuckle again, low and soft. You shrug. “I was staring at them and realised how nice your hands are.”

“Uh…” he doesn’t know what to do with that information. What does one say to that? Is thank you enough, or is he supposed to just force a laugh and pretend like he is not completely ruined by the way you look at his hands? Compliments are not a usual weapon of choice, but when they come from your lips -- Diego can die right there and go overjoyed.

“Thanks,” he mutters, folding and unfolding his hands on the table. “I...never thought about my hands like that.”

You brighten. In a flash of pastel movement you were pressing close, close, close to him and reaching for a fist. He’s again powerless, forced to just watch you pull his fingers in between your own, softly running gentle pads against his bruised knuckles. The touch is cool but he feels his body combust at the mere swish of skin-to-skin contact and he realises,

maybe he could crave someone’s touch.

“You should,” you grin, exquisite under your apartment’s shitty lighting and the flashes of whatever’s happening on the T.V across the room. “You could like, seriously be a hand model or something. Go-orgeous fingers.”

And maybe, he starts to crave yours.

━

THE SECOND TIME HAPPENS WEEKS LATER. 

He’d fantasized about your touch most of the days between it, but the thoughts had been forced to be fleeting and he had avoided considering the way you looked at him like he could actually hang the moon and stars -- and it only ever caught up to him in the ebbs of night, when he couldn’t sleep and just stared at the ceiling, considering what it would be like to really feel you against his hands and not let you slip away.

He so rarely let the sun touch his skin anymore. It wasn’t intentional to adapt a vampire lifestyle -- but between the shifts that let him keep his dingy ‘home’ and the nights he spends racing around the cursed city, trying to do the right thing (or stick it to his dad, depending on the night and how bleary his head felt), Diego rarely catches himself leaving the gym early than eleven anymore.

A fact that seems to exasperate you, and fuels what you dubbed an intervention. Aka, forcing him to wander around the city just barely kissed by autumn’s chilly embrace. And though he did argue against it (profusely, because he’s still that stubborn sonofabitch), he’s grateful for you still.

“I think we need to make this a regular occurrence,” you sing, tossing a smile over your shoulder. You skip several paces ahead of him as you soak in every bit of sunshine the crisp fall air could offer you. And he flounders and watches as he wonders what it would feel like to have that much energy from merely existing.

“I think I’m gonna have to mandate this. I’ll force you to schedule this into your life, and I’ll take shifts off from work so we can appreciate the afternoon sun while we can. It won’t be long ‘til winter you know.”

He chuckles hesitantly, “the sun’ll still be there in the winter.”

“Sure, but barely. And it’ll be cold then! The sun ain’t nice when it’s cold.”

He laughs again, and you join him. And it’s easy -- because it’s you.

“Diego!”

“Huh?”

You stop then, dropping your hands to your hips and glaring at him. Even from several feet away he can make out the infuriatingly adorable pout that puckers your pretty lips and the way he wishes he could go back in time and learn to paint, so he could capture the curve of your --

“--why are you so slow?!”

“I -- I’m not slow.”

“You are too! You’re dragging your feet like I’m forcing you to go to the dentist or somethin’.” You squint at him as the sun heightens his reach in the great blue sky. “Man, are you that allergic to a good time?”

“Shut up, I’m not that bad.”

The pout gives as easily as honey dripped -- that is to say, he adores the treacly sweet and slow slip from puckered lips to the easy smile you give him. Your entire heart’s behind the look just as it always is. You trot back up the path to him and held your hand out to him, wriggling it in the air.

“What?” he asks, frowning through a slow smile. 

“Take my hand.”

“I…” he hesitates again. “Why?”

“Because you’re slow, and I want to make it to the coffee place before next year. Duh,” you drawl, still shaking your hand like one would to a little kid. “Now, come on!”

You pull and he comes without a fuss, dazed as you bumble on about whatever miraculous happenings go on inside your mind. He hardly hears a thing. Every part of his body is fixated on the soft brush of your thumb against his hand, rubbing soothingly -- he isn’t even sure if you knew you’re aware you’re doing it, but he is. Hell, he can’t feel anything else but that.

Maybe your touch could be a tether.

━

HE HADN’T MEANT FOR THE THIRD TIME. Hadn’t planned to make an event out of it, anyways.

“You’re a fool, Diego. You know that?”

Obviously, he responds silently, grimacing as the cloth presses harder into his cuts. That’s why he did it. Because he is a fool. Honestly, that sums up the majority of the things he does in his life. Or doesn’t do, in the case of you.

Is it bad, if as you scold him, he’s creating a list of even more reasons to love you?

“I mean, one of these days you’re going to come here impaled on like, a pole or something and then -- what am I supposed to do with that?” Your tongue clicks like a disapproving mother’s, but your eyes still dance with childlike mischief as you work. “I am not a nurse.”

“Could’a fooled me, with those hands.”

You glare up at him over your lashes, a sight that made his breath hitch. “Quiet, you.”

Diego does as you said -- but not for any bits or for the joke, only because the way you look at him suddenly made his body tremble with the force of a thousand men and all he wants is to grab your neck and drag you up to meet his lips, finally be rid of the burning sensation in his gut that makes him want to ask the most obscene of--

“--does it hurt?”

He blinks, forcing away the images flashing in his mind so he can focus on the real you again. “Uh -- does what, hurt?”

You take that as a joke, laughing low like his horny idiocy deserved such praise. “This, asshat. Does this,” you press harder with the swab, making him cringe, “hurt?”

“Shit -- yes, it hurts! What’s that for?!”

“Had to make sure you were with me still! Sorry,” you hum, sounding everything but. But your grip softens. “You’re lucky. This could have needed stitches.”

Diego snorts. “It’s not that bad.”

“You look like the fookin’ dino from Jurassic Park felt you up.”

“Not that fookin’ bad,” he mocks back. 

“Your accent is appalling.”

“So’s yours.”

You press harder; when he scowls, you giggle, pleased to have won the battle again. 

The rest comes in silence. You stand between his legs, mopping at his cuts as you are often wont to do when he stumbles into your window. And he tries not to think about the way your weight so casually presses up against his torso as you reach to his temple, parted lips just out of reach. He could do it; he could just reach out and grab your chin, pull you in and kiss you with all the fucking passion that made his stomach roil.

But he doesn’t budge. There is no way you want that and he would never push past that fragile boundary without asking, no matter what the primal part of his mind fantasizes. His eyes fall instead down to his lap, staring at the folds on his pants as your fingers graze across his skin.

“There,” finally comes, along with you stepping away. Your distance leaves a cold chill running down Diego’s spine; he wonders if he asked you to come back, if you would. “Almost done.”

“Almost? What’s left?”

The next few moments move like a movie. The ones he only ever watches with you or with Klaus; the cheesy slow-mo romances, where the two main characters constantly dance around in a will-they-won’t-they that usually drives him nuts. Everything is always so slow in them and he usually hates them -- he did hate them. But when it’s his hands cradled in yours and you are smiling sweet and gentle as a honeybee, hell he’d take every single second of those crap rom-coms, if it leads to that moment more.

You lean in and, holding his hands in your own like an anchor held a boat to shore, press your lips against his temple. The slightest sting from the pressure builds but it falls with the blink of an eye. Your lips are cold, delicate, brushing twice against the cut before pulling away.

“There. Now I’m done.”

Maybe, you’re just some kind of angel.

But then, why are you bothering with him?

━

THE FOURTH HAPPENED SO FAST, he nearly misses it.

You pull him in close, examining his clothes and face for any glaring wounds. When you find nothing but dirt and a couple surface scratches, your worried expression melt into something akin with relief; a shiny-eyed, trembling lip smile that deserves its place in the greatest museums.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whisper, seemingly untrusting of your vocal cords. You sniffle. “I was - I was so--”

“--I’m okay.” It sounds more like a revelation than a reassurance and he repeats himself twice, just to make sure you understand. His hands still grip tight to your forearms, holding you to him in case you would disappear, too. “I’m okay. Everything’s fine.”

You nod and even as you pull away from his hold, you launch. Your arms lace around his neck and your face instantly finds a place to bury itself, right into his shoulder. Your body shakes; he realises that you’re crying into him, so relieved with him being there.

The embrace is short. Too short. He doesn’t do enough to hold your clinging form, only standing there slightly swaying and just barely grazing your back, He considers it too long and doesn’t act enough even when he wants to beg you to never let go again. And when you pull away, you refuse your tears again, sniffling through a smile and asking if he wants some food. But the embrace remained ingrained in his thoughts like a disease; it polluted everything else until everything was you, just you, holding him and wanting him.

Maybe, he was deserving. Maybe he deserved to be wanted. Was that justification enough?

━

THE FIFTH HE ALMOST DIES.

Not literally that time -- no, he’s done enough of that to you. It’s more of a metaphorical sort, making his heart stop as your fingers just graze against his stubble strewn chin, his breath catching on the lump in his throat as he realises yet again that nothing could be more beautiful than your smile.

Diego is not a formal man, nor had he ever really been. Even at the Academy his uniform was almost always somehow out of place or wrinkled or missing a detail. He hates shirts that buttoned all the way up to his throat and pants that have to be pleated that one specific way for no reason at all. If it isn’t important, he wears whatever is closest to him, or his domino-mask-and-leather getup if he’s ‘working’. Hell, the man isn’t even sure he had ever worn a suit outside of his childhood years and Allison’s wedding.

“You look...different.”

He swings fast around to see you leaning against his doorway. You’re all pink cheeks and cheeky grins. Something about the way you look him up and down makes him suddenly want to hide, slip away so you could not see how stupid he looked in this stupid monkey suit clinging to his arms and thighs like stupid plastic wrap. You probably see him as a circus animal, stuck in some stupid performance outfit and told to juggle fire. 

(Honestly, juggling fire would be worlds easier than doing whatever this was, though.)

Slowly, you step into the room, eyes never leaving him. He gulps.

“You look good, Diego.”

He blinks. That is...unexpected. “Y-yeah?” Damn his voice for giving out on him; it comes out squeaky and prepubescent, sounding every bit of uncertainty he feels. “I-I mean, I--”

“--relax, hot stuff,” you wink and his face fills with heat. “You look great. But, your collar…”

Diego glances down only to scowl at the mess of buttons he left around his neck. “Shit, yeah.”

“Let me?”

But you’re already coming to him, though, hands outstretching and delicately folding themselves across his chest. He wonders if you could feel the way his heart beat like there were a thousand drums locked into his chest, or that you knew you smelled like the gods’ ambrosia, honey -sweet smoke dripping from your velvet form. Are you aware how intoxicating your mere presence is?

“Can I?”

He nods dumbly, not trusting his words.

With careful fingers, you weave the buttons together that have been left undone. You then reach up higher, pressing down his collar. 

You hesitate against him, hands still folded into the sharp white fabric. Slowly, one set of fingers unfurl and lift to barely brush against his jaw. It’s a mere allusion to what it would be to have you cradle his face in your caring palms and it only leaves him craving more. 

Your lips curl up too, coloured as deep as the fabric that clings to your exquisite form. Just the tip of hot pink snakes out of your mouth, pressing slyly to the top lip, riling the hotblood boiling inside him right up to the brim.

“What…” the single syllable comes out strangled and hoarse. You’re strangling the life out of him without even moving a finger. Do you know your power?  “What are...what are you doing?”

In hindsight, that’s probably the stupidest question he could have asked.

You baulk and immediately pushed away from him. The fingers glide from his chest and chin and leave him cold. Gone was the confidence you had offered so easily before; he watches, stunned as your eyes fall to the floor, no longer eager to meet his.

“You look good, Diego.” You smile but that time it doesn’t look real at all. “Have fun tonight.”

“Wait, I--”

--you offer a wave and nothing more. Your figure crosses the room and leaves him alone in between the four walls that seemed to press into him without your comforting presence.

Maybe, you could care for him, too. As he wants you too. Is it selfish to think so?

━

THE SIXTH TIME, HE’S ALMOST ASLEEP.

Honestly, Diego isn’t sure how his head had ended up in your lap, or when his body had melted so effortlessly into your own. It wasn’t the alcohol; two beers isn’t enough to kill all of his conditioned issues or turn him into a total sop. It hadn’t even been intentional, nothing about making room or trying to do anything.

But there you are. Your thighs are his pillows and your hands kiss across his scalp, weaving through his hair like it’s yarn to be woven into something beautiful. Once in a while you pause and he thinks that that’s it, you would force him up -- but then you continue like nothing had happened and he continues to lay like a fish out of water across your legs.

Neither of you had talked about the incident before. It was simply avoidance until you both decide to brush it off and move on, forgetting all about the awkwardness. Or, at least, that’s what you silently promised.

But it’s late. Neither of you are thinking. Or, he isn’t at least, when his head slips from the couch to your thinly clad shoulder. And you hardly react when he relaxes even more, silently gesturing for him to use your thighs as a headrest as the movie neither of you are watching drones on. You make some sort of joke, something stupid and it usually wouldn’t be enough to convince him to act so foolishly. But he is tired, and you are you, and it’s all too easy to give in to you.

So he lays. Your hands in his hair. On your lap. Like a baby incapable of even sitting on his own. He should feel unbelievably stupid, right?

“You’ve got beautiful hair,” you mumble, eyes dragging off the television screen to your lap. He barely catches your soft, smiling gaze before it slips back up, but the memory sticks with him long minutes after. “Wish you’d let me play with it more.”

But he can’t bring himself to hate this moment.

He half-snorts, half-laughs because what a funny statement that is. In his state of lovesick, exhausted delirium, Diego hardly recognises himself telling you that ‘you can play with his hair any time you want’.

“Really?”

“Uh…” he had not meant to say that out loud. “I-I--”

“--thanks, honey.” Your hands linger against his temple before stroking down his wavy locks. Honey. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He pulls off of you after a short while -- not because he wants to, because he’s guilty to take your loving hands for his selfish needs. He claims the bathroom excuse and leaves with his head floating in the clouds. The domestic bliss you offer him wasn’t something he thought he wanted, before -- but every time he leaves your bubble, he finds himself more and more starved for your touch.

He leaves your place high on your smile and still stuck on the way you combed through his hair. Even after pulling away yet again, he’s still happy and actually hopeful.

Maybe, he could actually have this, more than just one random rainy night. Maybe he should try.

━

THE SEVENTH TIME, HE ALMOST KISSES YOU.

Almost, because he, Diego ‘number one himbo’ Hargreeves is a self-labelled idiot who loses all cognitive abilities and brain cells when he lays eyes on you, and fails to be able to use them for all the time you’re around him.

And it’s the moment when he finally fully comes to realise the extent of his overwhelming, absolute adoration for you.

He’s never been so bad with that sort of thing. Before he could throw an easy smile and wink his way into a heart he’d no doubt break the following morning and pull a quick-run attraction like it wasn’t anything. But with you? The idea of even your touch turned him bashful and running for the hills, you know...like an idiot.

It takes you pulling him along every single time for him to react and even then, it’s never enough. You’re always left with a pouting lip and that strange, far-off look in your eyes that tells him he’s screwed it up all over again. Every time you get close he’s too blind to react the right way.

Your head on his shoulder, the world’s at peace. He wants you to stay by his side forever. He’ll hold you as long as you want -- hell to his arms, you’re worth the ache or the crick in his neck from bending the wrong way. He’ll let his body waste away and his mind turn to cobwebs if it means an eternity on your balcony, wind in both of your hair and your hands interlacing between his own.

“This is nice,” you murmur. “Yeah?”

He nods. His chin bumps awkwardly against the crown of your head, but you don’t seem to mind.

“I don’t normally like the quiet. But it’s nice like this. With...with you…” you hesitate on the last syllables and the ‘you’ comes out thick and garbled. But he gets it anyways, and somehow he has the emotional strength to pull you even close to his hulking frame. You’re very close to sliding onto his lap and he’d be lying if the idea to just go all the way doesn’t spring to mind. But he doesn’t move.

“It’s nice, knowing you’re here. Safe, alive...with me.”

Diego smiles into your hair. “It is nice.”

Aaand the ‘most obvious statement of the year’ award goes to him. Yet again. Why do you put up with his thick-headed responses? And why can’t he explain the fuzzy feeling in his throat that he gets from being near you, and the desire to give up everything else just to exist by your side? A simple ‘yeah’ doesn’t cover that and he knows that, he knows he has to tell you the entire adoring truth but --

“I like being around you, Diego. You know that, right?”

If he’s being honest...he can’t really believe that. The idea that someone like you enjoys his company is a farfetched concept. But his head bobs up and down again anyways. 

“I, uh...I like our friendship.”

Did you -- did you just friendzone him?!

Did he really just --

“--but sometimes…” you snort out a derisive laugh, “sometimes I wish we were a bit more. Y’know?”

He shifts his weight on the chair and stares down at you, unsure what to make out of any of it. “I - uh - whatdoyoumean?”

“I just, I think we’re good together.” You move too, so he can finally see the pretty way the moonlight bounces off your irises. You’re smiling, and he can’t help but smile too, hopeful and eager as a puppy would be. “And I want to, just...man, I wasn’t expecting this to be so hard to say.”

Vaguely, Diego hears himself respond with a grunt (it’s meant to be an ‘it’s okay’, but apparently English isn’t his strong suit).

“I just like having you around. A lot, if that’s not obvious. I know I’m, heh, kind of a lot sometimes. And I’m trying not to be so uh, affectionate because I know that’s a lot for some people and I never want to overstep, or--”

“--you’re not,” he says quickly, finally finding his voice after oceans of gaping. “I like you being affectionate. It’s nice.”

Your smile grows. “Okay, that’s good.” You hold his fingers a little closer and he’s on cloud nine, staring at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the modern world. “Because if I’m being completely honest here, I don’t want to stop. I...I like you. Generally, in the sense of, more than just friendship. D’you get what I’m saying here?”

“Uh…”

“I don’t want to read into things too much, but I can’t stop myself from feeling really strongly about you. And I don’t want to go on like this, without telling you I’m like, head over heels for you at this point.” You blink up at him, pleading for him to not let you down as you finish with, “is there any way you feel the same?”

What Diego should have done, and wanted to do, was to tell her exactly how he felt, and pull her to him and pull the most cheesy, most cliche Hollywood moment in all the world. He’d finally get the girl in the moonlight as the stars sing above him and the world sleeps below and it would be perfect.

What Diego actually does, is leave.

Cold, and alone, with no hand to hold and no head resting on his shoulder. He leaves you bewildered and probably pissed off and he leaves with no explanation at all -- just a garbled sentence or two that adds up to nothing. He drops his shattered heart at the door and wanders  home shivering and hopeless, knowing he has just fucked it all up.

As he stares at the sidewalk and plods down the street like a lonely, hard down soul, Diego wonders if he’s deserving of your touch. If he was allowed to open up and feel your affection so strongly as you give it. He wants to like you would probably never believe. He wants to hold you and he doesn’t want to let go again. He’s starved for your touch and he’d trade the sun and stars to keep you by his side, no matter the costs.

But you’re worth more than him. Shouldn’t you offer your heart to a better, kinder man? To someone who knows how to hold you properly, and offer his touch right back? Not someone who shivers away or rejects your kindness like a parasite. But someone brave enough to feed you with all the adoration you’re worthy of. Shouldn’t he be who you seek?

Maybe, Diego muses, the universe is wrong, and the mistress is nothing but a cruel meddler too eager to break his heart.

But maybe, it’s his own fault, and she’s not cruel at all.

His pace quickens a beat, and he suddenly knows what he has to do.

━ 

DIEGO’S LIKE NINETY-NINE PERCENT CERTAIN THAT NO ONE, no one living soul, had ever said that the eighth time was the charm.

But if he had to be the first, hell he’d ring that bell a thousand times if it got him where he had to be.

He’s running like a madman. And he’s not drunk, even if at least five people have grumbled that about him -- no he’s as sober as the day he was forced into the world. He’s made a thirty-minute walk of hell into somehow a twelve-minute dash through the cold streets of their shitty city and he feels like a god, if gods were desperate sonofabitches who never knew how to acknowledge their feelings until it’s too late.

He takes the stairs, too high on adrenaline to wait for the elevator. He gasps and huffs and pants his way up but he makes it and keels down the hall to your door, falling against it with all his weight. It’s a foolish move but in his defense...his legs are about to give out, and all the energy he’s devoted to this half-baked, foolish, love-drunk plan is very quickly running out.

He pounds against the door weakly. “Hello? Hello? I--” 

and then he literally crashes into your apartment.

You both tumble to the floor with a loud thud-thump and he’s so glad you have thick carpeting because he could have probably split your skull right open with the fall. He’s smart enough to roll, so he cushions your upper body with his, but you still groan as you make contact with the floor. His entire bone structure quakes at the feeling of ground hitting him and even with nary a breath in his throat, immediate guilt floods his system.

He falls back and silently screams, wishing he had more tact than this.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I’m...I’m so sorry,” he offers with a smile. He quickly props himself up over your body and tries to look as sorry as he truly feels, though it’s hard as his breath still won’t come and he’s still absolutely exhausted from running all this way.

Why did he do all this again?

Oh, yeah.

“I-I love you,” he spurts, followed by him rolling off and promptly falling into a coughing/choking/hacking fit.

You lay beside him, silent and stunned. He can’t see you as he coughs but his mind tries to put the pieces together, and none of it looks good. You’re probably annoyed, and mad that he’s even there so late and after what happened before, and you’re probably tired, and maybe sad, or hurt, or uncomfortable because you just jumped from friends to him admitting he loves you and --

“-did you seriously run all this way and body me, just to tell me that?!” 

He pulls himself together long enough to breathe and then turn so he can stare at you. You’re still beside him, body still pressed against the floor (possibly broken after having a much larger man knock you over, who knows) and you’re…

“You’re smiling,” he responds, like it’s the most shocking thing in the world. “You’re - why-”

“Last time I saw you, you were running out of my place like your ass was on fire. And now you come here, knock me on my ass, and tell me you love me?! Diego...uh...wow.”

Diego just stares back at her. He’s still struggling to breathe and if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he can function after any of this. He just wasted so much of his courage (something he’s never been good at keeping stock of) on just getting here, how is he supposed to collect himself and head out the door with any sense of dignity? Or answer you in any way, shape or form? How is he supposed to even move when you’re looking at him like that?

Wait, you’re...you’re looking at him like that. Smiling, doe-eyed, honey-sweet and beautiful even after being violently collided with and forced to your shitty carpet…

“I love you,” he breaths, soft but still sure. He grins back at you and he feels like an idiot but he holds strong. “And I’m really sorry about before. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m just, all this stuff is stuff I’ve never done before, and I--”

And without another word or even the chance to think, your lips are on his.

Well, they probably were meant to be. What really happens is with a grunt and a swift push, you shift over to him and move to kiss him, only you’re both still smiling and absolute idiots who then just bang teeth against teeth. And you’re left groaning and keeling back, both gripping your mouths while still smiling and,

Ohmygodthisisamessbutohmygodishesohappyandinlovewithyou.

“I’m so sorry,” you groan, muffled behind your hand.

“Me too -- for knocking you over, too!”

“Yeah, that’s gonna leave a bruise.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you chuckle, and lift up again. You hover above him. His nose just barely brushes against yours and he’s straight back into heaven again, even as the embarrassment floods and his teeth ache. “I mean, I would have preferred a bit more warning, but...at least you don’t hate me.”

Diego grins and lifts his hand to push a tendril of hair behind your ear. “I could never hate you.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Mm-hmm. I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes and shove at his chest. His heart beats even faster. “Like I could ever hate you.”

He lifts his head, trying to pull himself up to meet your lips, but you dart away just enough so he can’t. “Can - can we try this again?”

“Mm…” you pretend to consider his request like one would a business proposal. Your thighs tighten their grip around his stomach and a part of him just wants to pull you in and act as his heart pleads. But, given the last time he did that...and the last time you did...he’ll take this slow.

Instead of answering, you lean down and press your lips to his. It’s gentle and leisurely, but he takes every motion in stride. You’re everything he expected and more. Soft petals of reddened flesh against his, your hips just barely grazing against his own, making him want to pull you into his body and never let you leave his side. He’s jubilant and exhilarated and he almost laughs like a baby as your tongue swipes against his bottom lip.

“If it isn’t obvious,” you breathe as you pull away, “from the way I let you tackle me to my floor,”

“I’m really sorry about that,”

You pull his hand up and intertwine your fingers, shaking your ‘head’ no. “I love your touch-starved ass too, Diego.”

“Good, cause this would have been--”

“--no more talking, chatterbox. Just kiss me and shut up.”

And he lets go of the maybes, and just loves you.

SECOND A/N...this ending is just ackwa!?!hiwogh. very annoyed with how it went, but if you know me, you know i suck at conclusions in every sense of the world and i also always leave them to the very last minute, meaning i’m typing this note as i read over the ending and hate it even more. and i’m sorry for the vague messiness of this! I had an idea, failed to deliver it the way i wanted, and a cool thought turned into a half-baked fic. thank you to those who read this, sorry’s also extended your ways because i know this isn’t fantastic. lmao.

- xx 

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Notting Hill AU Snippet #4

The next day and a half passes in a blur. Lena gets a call from a Miss Poppins and nearly crumples the message note to throw it away before a treacherous thought wonders what if.

When she calls the number Brainy scrawled down, she connects with the Ritz. When asked for a room number, she can only respond with "Miss Poppins?"

To her surprise, the clerk patches her through, and an increasingly familiar quiet voice answers. "Hello?"

"Um... hi." Lena nearly smacks herself on the forehead. "It's me. I mean, Lena. I mean. Is this?"

"Hi," Kara responds, and its said in such recognition that Lena releases the breath she'd been holding.

"You called. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"It's okay. I just... about the other day--"

Realization hits. "Oh, you're calling for payment on the cleaning. Here, let me get my card--" Lena begins to rummage for her wallet, and almost misses Kara's next words.

"No, no, nothing like that. Please, the orange juice is not a big deal."

Lena pauses. "Oh."

"Yeah. No, I called because I wanted to apologize. For how I left."

"Oh." Lena's heart falls. "You mean the..."

"No!" Kara says quickly. Too quickly. Lena's heart lifts again. "I mean, unless you didn't..."

"No! No, I did. I absolutely did."

God. It's like she's never held a conversation before. Lena runs a hand through her hair in frustration. Then--

"Can I see you again?" Kara asks.

Lena almost forgets to answer, she's already nodding. "Yes. When--"

"Tomorrow? Three oclock, here at the hotel?"

"Of course. I'll be there."

---

Lena arrives early, and feels out of place the second she steps into the hotel lobby. She'd thrown on another button down and an open vest for good measure, but she started doing up the buttons as she strode towards the elevator, conscious of the attire and ambience around her.

Catching sight of her reflection in the shine of the elevator doors, she quickly combed through the messy braid she'd thrown her hair into, until it lay tousled and wavy around her shoulders. Better.

Still, her feeling of displacement only grew when the person who opened the door to the room wasn't Kara Danvers.

"Here you go," the stranger said, thrusting a folder of press material towards both Lena and the man approaching from behind. He at least, seemed to know where he needed to be.

"Um, I think--"

But the woman who handed her the packet was already talking again. "Please come on in, make yourselves comfortable, we've got refreshments on the far side of the room." She ushered Lena and the man inside, and guided them towards a free table. "So, how did you enjoy the film?"

Lena freezes, caught in the headlights, but her companion answers swiftly. "Quite enjoyable, and oddly less derivative than I expected. Sort of a... Alien meets Gilmore Girls."

Relief overcomes Lena's confusion, however briefly. She nods. "Totally agree."

"And your names?"

"William Dey, CatCo Worldwide."

Both their gazes turn to Lena. Heart racing, she casts her gaze around the room for anything that could help her. Finally, her gaze settled on a stack of magazines on a nearby table.

"Um. Lena Luthor, with..." She read the magazine sitting prominently on the top of the pile. "Horse & Hound." She nods. "For Miss Danvers, specifically. She may be expecting me."

The woman, who Lena now realizes is Kara Danvers' publicist, nods. "All right. Stay right here and I'll check with her shortly."

Abandoning Lena to her plight, the woman disappears, and Lena can only stand and wait. What are you doing---?

"Miss Luthor?" The woman returns, her eyebrows lifting as Lena turns towards her. "Right this way."

Oh thank god.

Lena's led to a suite further inside the room, and when the door opens she sees Kara Danvers seated on a loveseat, shoulders back and legs elegantly crossed. For the first time, Lena's struck speechless at the sight of her, until she's introduced as a rep from Horse and Hound.

"Oh?" Kara Danvers' brows lift skyward as she renders Lena a quizzical yet amused expression.

Conscious of the publicist who remains in the room with them, Lena settles in for the duration.

"Yes, well, you see our readers are very interested in how the film utilizes its... horses."

"I'd have to say that our options were fairly limited," Kara responds diplomatically, "considering it takes place in a spaceship."

Lena blinks. "Right. Very... humanitarian?"

The publicist dips out again, and Lena almost collapses in relief. "I'm sorry, they asked, and I just answered and I have no idea what I'm doing, I just wanted to see you--"

"No, no," Kara waves away. "It's my fault, I thought all this would be finished by now."

"Listen, are you doing anything tonight?" Lena asks, desperate to see Kara when she isn't bumbling like an idiot.

Kara smiles. "Yes."

Lena closes her eyes. "Right, yes. Of course you are--"

"Make this your last question, please." The publicist chooses that moment to return, pouring herself a glass of water as Lena snaps to attention and back to business.

"And would you consider starring in a film that does include horses, here on terra firma?" she asks. Kara stares at her, an incredulous smile on her lips. "Or hounds, for that matter? Our patronage have a fondness for both. Obviously."

Kara seems on the verge of breaking into laughter, until she realizes that both Lena and the publicist are both waiting on her answer.

"Yes," she coughs out, then covers it by smoothing her skirt across her laugh. "Yes, I would... consider starring in a film with horses or dogs. Perhaps even both."

The publicist clears her throat pointedly. Lena shoots to her feet. "Our readers will be thrilled to hear that, Miss Danvers, thank you for your time."

"Right this way, Miss Luthor, and we'll rush you through the others as well." As the publicist leads her to the door, Lena shoots Kara a plaintive look over her shoulder and mouths a silent help. Kara only grins, covering her giggle with a hand to her lips.

---

Over an hour later, Lena leaves her final interview absolutely drained. She hasn't had to fib so much since she left school. Unbuttoning her vest to breathe, she almost makes it to freedom.

"Miss Luthor!" The publicist is back. Lena plasters on a smile and turns to face her. "Miss Danvers would like a word."

Suddenly, Lena's smile isn't so forced. She follows the publicist back, and this time the Kara Danvers she sees isn't the pristine, impeccable representative of a film, but someone exhausted and half-undressed, with her heels kicked off and hair loose from its french twist. Lena nearly chokes on her tongue.

"Your offer," Kara says. "About tonight. I'm free after all."

"Really? But you said--"

"I told them I had to spend the night with Britain's premier equestrian journalist, so..."

Lena's grin widens, then comes crashing down as she remembers. "Shit! I can't!"

"What? Oh..." Kara's bout of nervous confidence fades to just nerves.

"I'm sorry. It's my brother's birthday, I totally forgot. Fuck."

"All right."

"No, wait! I'm sure I can get out of it. It's totally fine--"

"No, I mean," Kara swallows audibly, but continues, "if it's all right with you, I'll go as your date."

"My... date?" Lena's head starts to spin. "All right. Yes, of course. Right! I'll just pick you up here then? Seven thirty?"

Kara nods, smiling bashfully. "Okay."

"Okay, great!" Lena shoves her hands in her pockets to keep from shaking. "I'll see you then, then."

She doesn't notice the way Kara's gaze of anticipation follows her out the door.

previous / next

[cheelduh]

A Liar’s Bait

Pairing: Kaeya x fem!reader

Warnings: Idk fatui abuse? Also Aether gets his braid pulled don’t hate me. Also unedited asf.

Synopsis: There’s a hiccup in the elaborate plan you’ve concocted to rescue your friends, and said hiccup comes in the form of a handsome Cavalry Captain that doesn’t have the foggiest of clues as to what personal space is.

"Ah darling, I didn't know you'd be wondering about this late in the night." The charming cavalry captain, Kaeya, sang from behind you.

For a brief second, you froze in place, but not long enough for him to see through your motives. "Kaeya," You turned to him naturally, and spoke your next words like an actor revising a memorized script. "Have to return a book. You know how Lisa gets."

"At these ungodly hours?" He raised a brow, and you blinked away any remnants of sleep in your eyes at the mention of time.

Barely skipping a beat, you gave him an acknowledging smile. "I have some tasks to do tomorrow. It's better if I return it now." The book that is supposedly due tomorrow is waved hurriedly in the air, as if to exaggerate your point.

"Though it seems like Lisa has went home." He pointed out, cornering you against the brick wall, a knowing look in the deep pools of his eyes.

Of course you knew Lisa wasn't in. That was the entire base of your plan. There were a total of four knights on rotation at the headquarters. It was simple really, sneak into the library with your authority as trusted aide, and if push came to shove, an easy knockout would do.

However, Kaeya's sudden appearance put a hiccup through your plans. It would take more than a sock to the face to put him out of commission.

"Oh really?" You tilted your head in confusion, eyes widening, as you eyed him. "I probably should have came by earlier. Well then, I'll just have to put it on her desk with a note."

"You could trust it with me, and I'll return it tomorrow. Captain's word." He replied innocently, snatching the book from your fingers.

Archons, you absolutely did not have the time for this.

Aether and Paimon were waiting after all.

You decided not to shove a stick up his ass, and instead let your anger blow over silently.

"Your hands are clammy darling," Kaeya went on, flipping through the text just for show. "I can feel it on the book."

'Ew that's gross' You wanted to say, but decided to play his game instead.

"Guess I'm nervous." A forced a blush made its way onto your face. Okay maybe it wasn't forced, but you couldn't blame yourself for letting his subtle teasing get to you.

"Oh?" He feigned curiosity, letting the book close with a soft thud. "My presence often does that to people." The cocky undertone in his voice made you fantasize smacking his face a hundred times over.

"Of course," It was a struggle to not speak in a dry tone. "You are truly..." A small cough escaped your lips, and you tried to stumble upon the words, wishing upon barbatos that the flattering would work. "charming."

Kaeya's grin widened, all cat like, and for a brief moment you felt your heart stutter. He swooped in to cage you against the wall. "I didn't know you were so bold dear."

Before he could utter another flirtatious remark, you pushed yourself close to him, distracting him for a mere moment just to strategically slip the book into the safety of your arms. "Thanks but no thanks. I'll return the book myself."

With a swift duck under his arm, you made your way to HQ before a cold hand grabbed your shoulder. You ceased any movement and glanced over your shoulder, a frown made clear.

Kaeya narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not liking how you weren't becoming a bumbling idiot at his flirty behaviour like you usually did. You'd love to—but you just didn't have the time to deal with him, not when the fatui were breathing down your neck.

"I'll go with you." He said slowly, testing you for any reactions. Shit. He's on to you. "I can't let a pretty lady wander all alone. You might get lost."

Like hell you would. You knew everything about the damn base as if it were the back of your hand. Kaeya understood this as well, but instead, he opted to wake up every morning and choose to be a dickwad.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Lead the way."

Kaeya seemed satisfied at your reply, and slid his grip down from your shoulder, straight to your free hand. He walked in front of you, pulling you behind him like you were a clumsy toddler.

His gaze wasn't on you, so you took the chance to examine your surroundings, trying to find the presence that was tailing you.

Kaeya being this close to you wasn't looking good for you at all. The walls had eyes and ears, and the only way to apprehend the risk was by doing as they said. Only then would you get your opening.

Paimon...Aether...hold on a bit longer.

With a nod to the guards, Kaeya and you made your way in, stopping right in front of the library. With a puzzled expression on your face, you were about to question his intentions, until he readjusted his grip so that your fingers were intertwined.

You were sure your face was flushed in all kinds of colours by now.

"Shall we enter?" He asked you, mirth clear in his eyes.

The only signal you managed to give him was a quick nod.

The library smelled of dark oak and silk flowers. You briefly remembered Aether giving her the plant from his adventures back in Liyue. The bookshelves were decorated with intricate designs, filled with countless of books that had all earned their rightful place.

And you were about to steal one, summoning chaos into Lisa's beloved library. It would be you who might deliver an archived book straight into the hands of the very people who sought out violence in order to achieve power.

"I'll check it in for you," Kaeya let go of your hand after dragging you all the way to the front desk, only to outstretch it for the text you were gripping too hard.

"Oh yeah," You handed it to him—willingly this time. "thank you. I'll be looking around."

It was understood what you had to do. Easily finding the locked case from which you would slip the book into your clothes only to make a run for it wouldn't cut it.

The captain would make too much noise and track you down himself before you could get the chance to shove the book up the Fatui's ass, get Aether and Paimon their freedom back. Then once you'd ensure their safety, you'd beat the living shit out of the Fatui agents right after. It's not like you'd have a choice.

The whole reason you were in this whole mess was because you decided to help Aether out with his latest commission, which happened to be clearing out a hilichurl camp smack dab in the middle of a road. The camp blocked all imports and exports, proving to be a stick in the butt for the merchants of Monstadt.

You, oh helpful and kind you, assisted him with the task, seeing as you were walking back from a fishing trip.

Turned out that the hilichurl camp was a cover for a bunch of Knights of Favonious hungry Fatui agents who were hellbent on getting the one and only copy of a book Lisa had tucked away in the library.

While you two could've easily ended every single one of those shady bastards, enemy reinforcements came out of nowhere and dug their claws right into Aether.

At least that was the cover story.

Violà, a hostage situation was born.

They promised to let Aether go on one condition. If you obtained a book they had their eyes on for quite some time. But their promise had as much worth as Venti's word did when he told you that the drinks were on him.

They couldn't risk the Knights finding out. You were just another loose string that would be cut off along your two friends.

Locating the book and hiding it in your outfit undetected was as effortless as it could get. What was coming would not be.

"Darling," Kaeya called out to you, but his voice is different. More darker than usual. You didn't summon your spear just yet.

"I've finished up. Let's get going yeah?" His footsteps are light on the wooden planks of the floor, but his words are solid. Frozen even.

You breathed out, but refused to turn around.

"You know," He continued, halting next to your shoulder, leaning his sweet mouth down to your ear. His hot breath fanned against your neck, but you paid no heed. "A liar is no stranger to a liar."

You lunged to the side, spinning on your heel as your back hit the railing in the middle of the library. The captain reacted quickly by swiping the air, but ultimately failed to grab you as you gracefully tipped yourself over, landing right on your feet.

There was now a floor that separated the two of you. Just as you had intended.

The reflexes you showcased earned you a smooth-voiced chuckle, an amused smirk gracing his lips. He leaned against the ledge with both hands, bending down his upper body.

"Oh my. We've got ourselves a thief. You didn't think I wouldn't notice, right?" He contemplated, weapon materializing right then and there, ready to put on a good show. You could read him like a book just as he could you. "Can't believe you're such a naughty girl."

Despite his teasing tone, his eyes remained cold and calculating.

"Don't flatter yourself." You spoke monotonously, brushing a hand in the air. "The date stamp didn't match up right? Tight time frame, couldn't really think about the logistics."

Kaeya narrowed his eye shrewdly, offended. "I can't let you go you know."

"I don't need you to." You quipped, but then placed a finger on your chin. "On second thought I kind of do. How about a friendly transaction? I really don't want to fight you."

"And I do not wish to fight you, darling." Kaeya's face split into a viscous smile, a far less forgiving gaze meeting you halfway. This was your chance to tell him, he was giving you a generous opening to explain yourself.

You bit your lip, feeling the unknown presence yet again. The walls had eyes and ears. The walls had vengeful teeth that would dig into you the minute you'd let it slip.

"I need you to let me go." You clutched the leather of your gloves desperately, your prior confidence flickering. Begging was the only card you had left.

His hardened gaze on your form softened slightly, but disappeared almost instantly.

You didn't have to wait for him to voice his answer. It was as clear as day.

The captain didn't waste any more time when jumping over the ledge.

By the time Kaeya's feet made impact, your pole arm was already aimed and ready to strike.

"Let's dance."

-

After a tactical withdrawal, you found yourself taking tentative steps on the outskirts of Springvale. It wouldn't have been possible if Kaeya didn't let his guard down momentarily.

The cuts on your shoulder still stung, but it was difficult to spare any time towards the throbbing.

Why were you walking so slow? Did your plan not work? No, it should have. You calculated every risk. But why the hell were you prolonging the inevitable end?

It didn't matter. Either way, you'd get to sink your teeth into some unfortunate fatui agents, injecting them with centuries worth of pain.

The opening was nearby, you noted, the pathway familiar. You always were good with maps, oftentimes lending a hand to the certain young outrider with a bright smile and kind heart.

You allowed yourself to calm your erratic heartbeat, and slow your breathing as to get a clearer sense around you. There were two, but before there had been three. The third one revealed himself when you deployed your "return the book" scheme, flipping through the guidebook carefully to see if you left potential breadcrumbs.

Gnawing at your lip, you followed the trail, the world behind you quieting down to a silent whisper.

It seemed like forever when you reached the destination, halting your movements.

Your ears perked up at their footsteps before you could catch a glimpse of them, but made no sudden movements except for dropping the book on the ground as they had instructed.

It was odd that you felt as calm as you did. It could've been because of your confidence in your abilities, or perhaps, something else entirely.

The pyro agent appeared from one of the bushes, right after shoving a bruised and gagged Aether. Paimon came next, in a cage controlled by a fatui cicin mage who wore a wicked smile on her stupid face.

They managed to shut Paimon up real quick. You wondered what it took, but not for too long.

"Hey now," You grinned, but your fingernails were digging crescents in your palm. "I thought we agreed that no one gets hurt?"

"The traveller here is a real handful." The fatui agent hissed from under his mask, harshly yanking Aether by his braid.

Aether, immobile, scowled in discomfort and continued to struggle through his bounds.

You didn't acknowledge the blond nor the agent's words, alternatively choosing to nod your head to the book instead. "Here as promised."

The agent motioned to the Cicin mage, who walked forward in order to obtain the book safely. She handed it back to him, and he briefly flipped through it, seemingly satisfied.

Just like that, Aether was knocked down on his knees next to your feet, Paimon thrown like a sack of potatoes atop him. They were out of the red. Your signal to strike.

"Unfortunately, promises are beneath our pay grade." The agent placed a finger on his chin, as if in thought. "However, you prove to be a valuable asset."

"Oh really?" You piped, eyes crinkling in mock excitement. "I'm really glad a lowly fatui scum thinks so highly of me. It's truly an honour."

Said fatui agent glared knives straight through his mask.

"Kill them." He ordered, and the Cicin mage hummed a sound of delight, summoning her electro-flies or whatever the hell those things were called.

Your polearm took shape in the clutches of your left hand, a twisted grin plastered on your face.

"I'm gonna have so much fun tearing you apart." The bloodlust you emanated was enough to choke the air out of both the mage and agent.

Pouncing on your prey, you didn't give the mage a chance to scream before you landed a roundhouse kick straight to her ribs. She made a guttural choking sound, moving to clutch herself. You ended the move by twisting your weapon into the air to send a shattering hit straight to her temple.

Your blow successfully knocked her out, the kick back proving to be enough to send the pyro agent flying into a nearby tree.

"I really expected something more challenging." A pout formed on your lips, eyebrows furrowed. "Hopefully you can make up for what your mage lacked. If not, I'll be disappointed."

The agent chuckled painfully. "You won't get the chance. You can't take on all of us."

"All of you?" You questioned, tilting your head, eyes widening innocently. "Oh you mean those pesks that were tailing me? So sorry, but they're gone now."

"W-what?!" He sputtered, quick on his feet as he pulled out his knife, charging it with elemental energy. "How could you have—"

"How unfair," A low tone whistled, and Kaeya finally made an appearance, smiles and everything. "Don't give her all the credit. You're making me feel left out."

The pyro agent scattered around his flames, preparing to shake up the battle—

You lost your patience and picked up a decent sized rock, aimed for his nose, and sent a plunging attack.

The agent lost consciousness before he hit the ground.

"Oh come on!" Kaeya's dejected groan rang in your ears. "Could've let me have a turn."

"You already had your turn." You sent a pointed stare at him, bending down near the mage to wipe the blood of your pole arm with her clothes. "Two times if I recall."

He rolled his eyes playfully, forgetting the banter to go and free the traveller of his bounds.

—

"Let's me get this straight." Jean said with fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "You two roughed up some fatui agents without informing the knights, and put the traveller at risk." There's this look of disappointment in her face, but you're used to it by now.

Hanging around Kaeya sure had its ups and downs.

"Precisely. The folder on your desk has all the details. Enough proof to have them in our custody.” The cavalry captain nodded along, and it somehow made you feel like you were a kid being scolded after getting caught stealing cookies from the jar.

"It was an operation that the traveller agreed to," You declared so her brewing anger didn't overflow. "The perfect plan to catch them in the act. It was my idea. The captain didn’t really know until later.”

"Although I’m quite hurt you didn’t fill me in any sooner, I must say, watching those ignorant fatui diplomats scramble to try and find an explanation is going to be worth the wait.” He spoke with a hint of a smile.

The both of you fist bumped. Jean wasn't amused.

The acting grand master produced a stern glare. "Y/N, assist Lisa with anything she needs for the rest of the week. And the Cavalry Captain here won't be going out on patrols any time soon."

That was a clear lie, but Jean had to keep up appearances after all. What kind of acting grand master would she be if she didn't at least pretend to have some sort of authority over her two trouble-making subordinates.

With a dramatic sigh, you spun on your heel to leave.

“Hey Y/N,” Jean called out, and you tilted your head, wanting to know if she changed her mind and decided to make your punishment worse. “Good work today. That will be all.” She avoided eye contact, feigning deeper interest in the pileup on her desk.

After the "briefing”, as Kaeya liked to call it, you found yourself outside of HQ with him right on your tail.

"Not too shabby for a day's work." He winked, smoothing out his words. "I must say, I'm quite impressed with how this went. Didn't expect you to put so much faith in me.”

"How did you get my signal anyways?" You snorted. "The entire scheme was off the bat. I had to wink at the traveller like five times to get him to showcase a crappy fight stance and become my fake hostage. Dense little guy.”

There was a momentary pause before Kaeya enlightened you with an answer.

"You hate reading, and you're irresponsible." He pointed out cheekily, poking at your nose. You scrunched your nose and turned away, cheeks warming. "The abyss would freeze over before you ever read a book, let alone steal one. That’s several red flags for me.”

He kept going, finding the topic of this to be quite interesting. “Not to mention returning the “Code of Conduct” handbook.” The relentless teasing was one of the reasons why you dreaded work,

"Gee thanks." You remarked unceremoniously. “I didn’t need your help at all. You just love sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

"Aww don't be so low spirited." He suspended your movements by curling an arm around your waist. "Let me treat you for a job well done darling." His hot breath fanned your ear, lips teasingly close.

Dammit dammit...why does he have to be so close!

"That's unfair." Paimon screeched from thin air, scaring the living daylights out of you. "After all the traveller and I have been through, don't we deserve a treat as well?!"

Kaeya laughed apologetically, cold hand never leaving your hips. "Of course. The honorary knight has been quite the help. Now let’s get moving, we're not frozen in place, after—"

A smack on the arm shut him up real quick.

[toothpastecanyon]

We Creatures, Chapter 2

When Alcor felt Mizar calling to him, he came to help. Perhaps, this one time, he should have stayed asleep.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

“I can’t take this anymore.”

Mizar looked over at him. “Can’t take what?”

“This walking through the-“ his foot caught on a stump, and he growled low. “We’re literally right next to a road, why don’t we walk along that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Cause no.” Mizar flashed a grin at him. “I thought you could float, dude.”

He could, couldn’t he? Yet when he tried, he… he didn’t really feel like it. Maybe bumbling around like a human was frustrating, but it was also familiar, and he felt like chasing that feeling. He liked the idea of hiking through the forest with his Mizar, it-

He tripped on a rock, growled, and torched the thing with so much fire it melted into a lava pit. Then he turned to Mizar.

“We’re taking the road.”

“No, we’re not. It’s too exposed up there, we’ll-“

Alcor snapped his fingers, and a human car dropped down in front of them. Mizar looked at it, then up at him.

“I can’t drive, dipstick.”

“I can.”

“Really.”

“I can!” He snapped, and opened a door. “Or - I could. I don’t know. It’s been a long time, okay?”

“How encouraging.”

“Just get in.”

Mizar stayed out for a second, but she sighed and made for the car. “Great. Gonna get away from elves just to die in a car accident. Perfect.”

“You don’t want to sit in the front with me?”

“In that teeny space?” Mizar spread herself out across the back seats. “Noo thank you. Ah… this is much better.”

Alcor raised an eyebrow at her, but he looked back towards the steering wheel. The knobs, the lights… It all looked a bit more complicated than he remembered, but that was okay, right? He was literally an omniscient demon, he could handle anything a human could do.

Alcor turned the keys, put his foot on the accelerator, and… stalled. There was a snicker from the back.

“W̳̖̦h͙͎͓ạ̮t̯̞͖!͙͉”

“No, no, continue!” Mizar put her hands under her chin. “I’m loving this plan of yours, man. It’s way more fun than what I had in mind.”

He shot her a glare, and then snapped his fingers. It roared to life, and she slumped down.

“Aww, boo. You’re no fun.”

Alcor started turning towards the road. “Where to?”

“Huh? Oh, west.”

“West?”

“Yeah!” She pointed. “Thaddaway… why are you looking at me like that?”

“Uh, where exactly were you going to have us walk to?”

“Oh, the nearest desert, I guess. Elves won’t have any dominion over us there.”

Alcor was staring at her. “We’re in New York.”

“Yeah?”

“The nearest desert is across the country.”

“Yup.”

“That’d take a month to walk.”

“Uh huh.” She watched him pinch his nose. “What, you don’t like walking?”

“I don’t… this is…” He dragged his hand down his face. “Did you even have a plan?”

“Hey, we were doing my plan! You’re the one who’s improvising- uh, what are you doing?”

“I’m not doing this.” Alcor was reaching a hand out. “I’m teleporting you, okay?”

“Wait, don’t-!”

He touched her arm… and then frowned. Touched her arm again. Nothing happened.

“What?” Alcor tried again, but she didn’t budge. “Ugh, why isn’t this working?!”

Mizar slapped his hand away. “I told you, elves did something to me. Can we please-”

“Elves shouldn’t be able to override my magic.” He tried teleporting her again, and growled when nothing happened. “I’ve never had this happen to me! Why can’t I do this?”

“Why can’t you stop treating me like a fucking idiot?”

Alcor blinked. He looked to Mizar, and saw her curled up in the corner of the car, hugging her legs. She glared back at him.

“You do think I’m an idiot, don’t you? You think I summoned a demon who can teleport people places and just decided I’d rather trek for days across the country? No! The only one who’s surprised by this is you, man!”

He raised his eyebrows. “But how-”

“Do I look like an elf to you? I don’t know how they did it, but it’s not important right now! They are coming to kill me! Drive!”

“But-”

“Drive!”

He flinched, and turned back to the steering wheel. Quickly he drove up to the road, checked for cars, and swung into the far lane. There they sat in silence for a while, trees whipping past them, Alcor glancing at Mizar through his rear view mirror every few minutes. She still looked tense, but the anger seemed to fade fairly quickly. It seemed they were both waiting for an opening.

Eventually, Mizar cleared her throat.

“Uh,” she started. “Sorry.”

Alcor shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I was being rude, I-”

“You weren’t being that rude.” She gave a dry chuckle. “Besides, you’ve got an excuse. You’re a literal demon; if the worst thing I can call you is rude, you’re being pretty damn nice!”

They both chuckled at that. Alcor found himself looking at his claws on the steering wheel, stretching his fingers a little. His smile faded a bit.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m trying. I’m trying.” He glanced at her. “I’m out of practice, really. I used to be better at this human stuff, but…”

“Yeah, you got a bit snappier with humanity a few centuries back. I remember - I remember reading about that.”

“Heh, yeah… and then I got bored of even doing that, I just-” he stopped himself. “Well, I don’t - I didn’t want this to be one of the first conversations I had with a new Mizar.”

“What, you’ve had better intros? Nooo.”

Alcor laughed, and it seemed the tension in the air had cleared. The road gently curved, and he sat back in his seat, watching the trees and the road signs glide past him. There was a sound as Mizar reached forward; she was poking at the radio.

“There’s a way to get… music to play out of this thing, right?”

“Yeah, you turn this knob.”

“What does it - oh. Why’s it making that sound?”

“That’s just static, you have to choose a- hold on. Have you never been in a car before?”

Mizar paused, and then shot him a grin. “City gal,” she said. “I’ve always used the underground.”

______________________________________________________________

They drove on into the evening and through the night, on long straight interstates that almost made Alcor feel like his eyes were glazing over. He kept the radio playing something lively, kept an eye on the forests and fields they passed, and kept an eye on the woman laying still on the back seat.

They’d talked for a while, but she’d gone silent hours ago. He didn’t know whether she was sleeping; he’d think she’d dozed off, but then he’d see the glint of open eyes from a passing streetlamp, or he’d hear her quietly ask how many hours it was to the next state.

He couldn’t check her aura, either. It was strangely opaque for a human, like making out shapes in the fog - she had to have some sort of charm on her, he was thinking.

Alcor felt the dewdrop in his pocket, and made a face in the side mirror. If she was robbing elves, having something like that would certainly make sense, right?

Yeah…

They drove on. The sky was brightening. A song ended on the radio, and a morning traffic report followed it. Mizar shifted, and he glanced up to see her stretch.

“Ugh…” she grumbled. “So tiny in here…”

“Good sleep?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” Mizar rubbed her face. “Oh wow, we’re really making time. Cars were a good call, dude.”

“Yeah… you want to stop somewhere?”

“What?”

“We’ve been on the road for hours.” Alcor pointed at a sign. “Looks like there’s a gas station coming up, you can… I dunno, get something to eat? Do all the human stuff you need to do?”

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Are you sure?”

Mizar hesitated. “I could really stretch my legs…” she mumbled, but then shook her head. “No, no, I can do that after we get to the desert, it’s fine.”

“That’s… that’s still over a day away.” He frowned at her. “You’re really not gonna-”

“Okay! Okay, we can take a break!”

“I mean, we don’t have to right now, I just-”

“No, you’re right!” she threw her hands up. “We should just stop here, you’re right!”

Making a face, Alcor flipped on his turn signal. He could see Mizar in the back, mulling something over.

“But, uh… Alcor?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think maybe you could, you know, go inside the store? I’ll just stay in the car.”

He blinked. “Why?”

“I don’t like people, is all.” She gave a laugh. “And they don’t like me. Oh, and could you park around the back? I’d like that better.”

“Why-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. It’s just a request.” Her legs bounced a bit as they turned off the highway. “Just a request.”

Alcor raised his eyebrows, but when they pulled into the parking lot, he did make his way around the building and park next to some dumpsters. He shut the engine off, opened the door, and watched a flock of teacup griffins that had gathered around his car stubbornly refuse to move out of the way.

“Ugh,” Alcor tried stepping between them. “These things are worse than pigeons.”

“What things?” Mizar opened the door a crack. “Oh, these guys! Oh yeah, these are all over the city.”

She stuck her hand out, and one landed on her. Alcor snorted at that.

“You’ve made a friend, I see.” A pause. “Oh, wait, no, we’re not taking that thing across country-”

“Of course not.” She waved him away. “You go buy things. I’ll stay by the car.”

Alcor stayed there for a moment longer, and then made his way into the station. It was quiet in here; there were a couple road trippers filling up on coffee, and a bored teenager at the register who barely glanced up from his phone when he came in. Alcor suddenly realised he didn’t quite know what to buy - he hesitated, and then headed towards the candy section.

Yes, this looked familiar. And some Pitt Cola, he should get that too. A lot of that. After gathering up all his pickings, he started towards the door, and-

“Sir. Hey, sir. Sir.” Alcor turned around, and saw the cashier waving at him. “You have to pay for that.”

Alcor stared at him blankly.

“You can’t just walk out without paying. I’ll get in trouble.” He mimed taking something out of his wallet. “You have money? You can pay for it?”

“Money… money!” Alcor snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah, I remember this! How much?”

“Come over here, let me ring you up.”

With a little skip in his step, Alcor made his way to the cash register and dumped a mountain of snacks on the counter. It took a while to scan them all; Alcor turned back to the growing line, and flashed them a smile.

“I’m on a road trip,” he said. The man behind him just stared into his coffee with a dead expression. “Yeah… good talk.”

“Alright, that’ll be… two hundred and fifty three dollars. And my manager says I can’t take bills over twenty, so…”

Bills… Alcor took a second to remember what those looked like, then manifested about fifteen of them and slid them over. He didn’t quite understand the exaggerated sigh he got when the cashier started breaking a twenty, but after a moment he got some smaller bills back and was shooed away.

Alcor started ripping into a candy bag as soon as he was out the door. All in all, a successful shopping trip!

Then he rounded the corner, and something immediately struck him as off. Different. He slowed as he approached the car, noticing the teacup griffins had abandoned the ground; he found them up on the roof, shaking and shrieking at him as he passed by. There was a bit of blood by the car, too - blood and feathers.

“Mizar,” Alcor breathed, then dashed forwards and threw open the door. “Mizar! Are you-!”

He froze. Mizar was still there - thank the stars - and staring at him with a startled expression. She was holding a burrito in her hands, and he pointed at it.

“Where did you get that?”

“Get what?”

“That burrito.”

“Burrito?” Her eyes darted towards the dumpster. “I… found it?”

“You- what?” He watched her stuff the rest in her mouth. “Wait, don’t tell me you-”

“Hey, let’s see what you got!” She grabbed one of the sodas. “Pitt… cola. Huh. I should try this!”

Alcor frowned at her.

“Oop, there’s that face again. The face where I gotta ask what’s wrong.” She tried unscrewing the top, then shook it and tried again. “What, I got something on my face? I killed your dog? What’s, what’s up?”

He shook his head. “What’s up is… I don’t know. You’re just very strange, you know that?”

“Hmm, if a demon tells me I’m strange, that’s gotta be some sort of compliment, right?” She smiled with her teeth. “Aren’t you the guy who said you’re out of practice with human stuff?”

“Hmmph…” He stepped back. “I guess.”

“Come on, big guy.” Mizar started trying to open the soda with her teeth. “Let’sh get o’ the road a’ain, eh?”

Alcor hesitated, and then sighed and got in the driver’s seat. There was a distinct stench when he got in - maybe his nose had gotten used to the smell of sewage while he was driving, and it suddenly hit him coming back. He glanced back at Mizar and found not a stain on her - even her socks were pure white.

Strange.

“Ack!” There was a pop as the soda exploded all over her face. “What the fuck, It’s all over me! Alcor!”

Alcor snorted a bit. “Oh, I can make a towel! Hang on a sec…”

After a little bit of cleaning up, they pulled out of the station, and hit the road as the sun crested over the distant hills. The light fell on the dumpsters, on the griffins nervously drifting back to the ground… on hooded figures, watching from the treelines.

They watched Alcor’s car pull onto the highway. Then they rose, stepped into trees, and melted through the bark.

[shanzodragoness]

On the back of my previous post, I couldn't resist to help fill a gap in fics. Here I am.

Title: An Old Flame

Tags: a bit sad, fluff, but don't worry it gets better

Notes: you work for Stark, after taking the wrong turn you find yourself in the hands of the TVA and promptly pruned. Not saying much else as it'll spoil the fun

My sincerest apologies if this is substandard, this is my first reader fic and the first written in second person. This took me a while bc the feels were intense. Enjoy

Y/F/F - your favourite flower

Words: 1622

----

Your nexus event was confusing. The TVA claimed that you were fated to turn the other way when the Avengers returned to Stark Tower with their newest intergalactic villain. But for some reason you noticed the stare of those blue eyes from across the hall. You noted the muzzle; probably for a good reason. Curiosity carried your feet across the tiled floor and you heard footsteps behind you. 

Fast forward an undisclosed amount of time and you were in a court, one that seemed very biased without a juror in sight. You had cocked your head when the judge sentenced you to be reset, what could that possibly mean, could you amend your mistake and simply go back to retrace your steps but as they were meant to be?

It seemed that you weren't getting away with your so-called crime so easily as one of the minutemen approached you with a stick. It wasn't until it was twisted and whirred to life that you realised the gravity of the situation. Did it hurt? The sensation was akin to a quick shock as you saw your body begin to disappear from your stomach outward, the yellow energy dissolving your being.

Your head hurt, your body ached, the light stung your eyes as you attempted to flutter your eyes open. Your eyes fixated on a shadow that eventually gave way to a brightly clothed old man, looking like a costume for a child's birthday party. The two golden horns on his headdress bowed forward and curled back, a feature shared by three of the four beings before you. The old man extended a hand to you as your ears began to tune into the world.

"Y/N?" He asked. Your streetwise nature told you to run, that you didn’t know this man regardless if he knew your name or not. Instinct however, that told you that you could trust this man, that in the grand scheme of things that you knew him, that he'd protect you. 

You took his glove clad hand in yours, him pulling you to your feet. "We need to keep moving," he said, his gaze betraying a sadness as he locked his sight with yours.

The four began walking off, counting the pet alligator, and you followed them. In this strange world you doubted that you'd make it on your own anyway, "are you running from someone?" You asked the group. The older one turned his head to regard your query.

"Alioth hungers for the pruned variants that are dumped here by the TVA," he replied. There it was again, this time you could see regret spark his eyes. You'd have to ask later.

After a trek through the wasteland filled with junk from many different ages, you were presented with an open hatch in the ground, "after you," the kid said. You nodded and climbed down the ladder, taking in the large bunker you had entered. A few chairs dotted to one side facing a makeshift throne, many trinkets adorned the living area, souvenirs from the surface. As soon as the click of the hatch reached your ears your heart sank, that rational part of your brain considered that you could've been trapped here. Again, part of you calmed upon seeing the older man. 

The kid sat on the throne and seemed to be the leader of this strange place. The dark skinned man sat down first, the others following his lead, and so you sat on a free chair next to the old man. You felt safe. You focused on the chatter of the men

"So, after I vanquished Captain America and Iron Man, I claimed my prize, all six Infinity Stones," the dark skinned man said. The alligator growled from it's paddling pool.

"That's alligator for growling and saying "liar" at the same time," the old man translated.

"At least my nexus event wasn't eating the wrong neighbor's cat." And as soon as he'd offended the animal, the old man pried the alligator off the dark skinned man. They laughed and you cleared your throat.

"What are your names?" You asked, omitting introducing yourself as it had been established that they somehow knew your name. You saw the pain rise to the surface again in the old man's eyes, but it was quickly suppressed.

"I'm Loki, so are the others. We're variants of the same being, from different timelines," he explained. You nodded and took in the information. They drank wine and you even sipped a bit of the hearty red wine offered to you. Soon Alligator Loki closed his eyes and curled up in the pool, Boastful and Kid leaving to different sections of the bunker. The style of the old man's clothes looked very retro, and so the nickname in your mind materialised as Classic Loki. He was watching the last of his wine swirl in the goblet.

"What was your nexus event?" You asked. He looked up from his wine slowly and locked his eyes with yours. 

"In my timeline, everything proceeded correctly, my entire life, until Thanos attacked our ship.

"I cast a projection of myself so real, even the Mad Titan believed it. Then hid as inanimate debris. After I faked my death, I simply drifted in space. Away from Thor, away from everything. Thought about the universe and my place in it, and it occurred to me that everywhere I went, only pain followed. So I removed myself from the equation, landed on a remote planet and stayed there in isolation, in solitude for a long, long time.

"To tell you the truth, I missed my brother, and I wondered if he missed me, if anybody else did. But as soon as I took my first steps to getting off the planet, the TVA arrived."

"I'm sorry," you said, it seemed the most appropriate response.

"Don't be," he replied, his watchful gaze lingering on yours.

"Ever since I woke up, I felt scared, but something deep inside told me I was safe. Have we met before? I have a strange feeling that I know you from somewhere," the words came tumbling from your lips faster than you could stop the bumbling speech. You saw a smile grow on his face, and for the first time you saw that sadness turn into a glint of hope. 

"Y/N my dear, in my timeline I met you on Midgard, the realm you call Earth. My brother convinced me to wear some Midgardian clothes to fit in for a little sightseeing under his guard, the incident in New York made freedom that tiny bit beyond my reach. You were a beautiful maiden I met in the coffee shop Thor took us to. I found out you worked for Stark, and I spent the next few months courting you, as awkward as that was in a cell. Each time you checked on the prisoner I conjured you a gift, sometimes lavish jewellery that you joked that you'd not be able to hide from the others." He laughed as he recalled the memory. "When I was finally granted free roam of certain floors in the Tower I'd always make sure to conjure a vase of flowers on your desk every morning and find ways to see you. A year later we not so subtly decided to take the next step together. The exquisite diamond ring I placed on your finger whilst kneeling for my queen." 

You smiled at him, he spoke of you with a great fondness that it brought a tear to your eye. The man's joy was dampened once again.

"We never had the chance to become husband and wife, I brought you to Asgard, well, SHIELD sent you as a liaison officer. Ragnarok came. The ship. It was supposed to take you with the other refugees, Thanos had you killed first to demonstrate his threat to kill anyone who stood in his way to get the Tesseract. You know the rest of the story."

When you watched his reaction, he looked broken again, and you hated to see him so fragile after everything he'd told you. You stood up and looked down at the gap on the cushioned seat. He knew what you were asking, and so he shuffled to the side to allow you enough space to sit next to him. "Could you do me a favour?"

He looked down at you and a soft smile played on his lips. "Of course."

"Can you show me what the ring looked like?" You asked. His smile grew as his green seidr fluttered over your left hand and a flick of his fingers caused the seidr to swirl over your ring finger. When the magic subsided you saw the most intricately cut diamond you'd ever seen, the gold was woven at its base like flowers holding the stone in place. You didn't see the look of adoration that he gave you whilst you inspected the ring. When you turned you grinned at him. "I never thought that anyone would propose to me."

He moved his arm to hover over your shoulders, "may I?" He asked. You nodded and the adoration was back, he was unsure of himself even when you accepted him. His hold was firm yet gentle, showing how much he didn't want to let you go this time.

"Loki, I'd like to stay here with you. Maybe we can rebuild the life you remember we had."

"I will, dear Y/N. But before that," his green magic swirled between his barely clenched hand and formed a bunch of beautiful Y/F/F. "I must bestow my gifts upon you once more, every one, in the order that I gave them to you."

---

Tag list:

@sonhadoraativa @octopus5555 @stayfabulous @hubert-the-pterabug @russianbutchcrushing

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

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

Chapter Three ~ Chapter Five

Chapter Four: Chances

Aelin had sat on her bed thinking of only Rowan. She had tried and failed to read a book, as well as braid her hair and even as far as trying to brush Fleetfoot's coat. But no matter what she did, her mind wandered back to the Fae prince who was her soul-bonded. 

Her maids had knocked on the door an hour ago to dress her for dinner. She had wanted to form an excuse as to why she could not go, but nothing came to mind. And she was sure Aedion or Orlon, or both would come up here and drag her down either way. So she put on her finest gown and let the maids put her hair into a pretty updo and place the tiara on her head. And when she looked in the mirror she balked. Aelin knew she was pretty, as she’d been told by many suitors. But when she gazed at her reflection she really felt pretty. Her cheeks had a rosy glow to them and her eyes were bright. She felt good. 

The maids had let her stare in the mirror a few seconds longer before they ushered her away and down to the dining hall. Elspeth giving her a wink as she departed.

Aedion was at the door when she arrived, looking handsome in all his finery. He seemed to think the same as he grabbed her hand and spun her around before grinning. “You look… you look like a princess.” 

“Don’t you start.” She rolled her eyes.

“I look forward to hearing all about it later. The maids in the kitchen wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“What were you doing in the kitchen? Terrorising the cooks again?” She elbowed his side. 

“I haven’t done that since I was ten.” He elbowed her right back. “I was doing a favour for a friend.” 

“Oh, you mean you were doing whatever you could to get into Lysandra’s good graces? Honestly Aedion, you’d have an easier time winning Ren over than you do Lys.” 

“Very funny Aelin. Should I bring up all your successful relationships? Shall we talk about the mating bond now or later?” That lions grin crept up his face and Aelin didn’t know whether to start a brawl or to laugh along with him. 

“Careful Aedion, she could easily take you in a fight.” Her father stopped behind her, laughing quietly at their bickering. 

“Not without her flame she couldn’t.” Another grin.

“Settle down you two. We do have company. I don’t think they want to see the two of you bickering all night.” Her mothers words silenced them. Aelin poked her tongue out at Aedion as he poked her side, both of them earning stern looks from her parents. 

When they entered the hall Orlon had already been seated at the head of the table, Sellene at the other end. Dispersed along the table were a mixture of Whitethorn family members and spouses, along with members of the Terrasen royal family. Servers were showing everyone to their seats, but even so, Aelin made her way to the usual spot she took at functions such as these, when the server intercepted her before she could sit. 

“Your Highness, you will be seated here tonight.” She looked to the chair that had been pulled out for her and cringed. Sat in the chair to the left was Rowan. She glanced to Orlon who was actively avoiding eye contact, but she knew that he had been the one behind this little rearrangement. 

Despite her disapproval, Aelin sat and smoothed her dress as she did. Moments went by with silence, people around her chattering away. She tried and failed to meet the eyes or Orlon, instead she had the pleasure of Aedion laughing at her expense. She wasn’t going to give Aedion the upper hand tonight, so she decided to suck it up and turn to Rowan. 

“You clean up nicely.” As if he had not been dressed to the nines the first time she met him. 

“As do you, princess.” 

Silence. 

“Did you find your way to your rooms? The castle can be… large.” 

Since when had she become such a bumbling fool? 

“I did. I also had the chance to inspect the training facilities.” 

“Oh? And were they to your liking?” 

“They’re adequate. If you would be up to it we could use them tomorrow?” She hadn’t lied when she had told him she had never trained with anyone before. The only person had been her instructor, who had never really trained with her, more like watched and criticised. Her flame was more a party trick than anything, she wasn’t sure it would be that impressive using it in front of Rowan. But despite her reservations about the mating bond and him, she still agreed. 

Dinner went smoothly, their conversation remained strictly polite; talking about the food, the wine, the dessert. All too soon it was over and Aelin was thankful to be excused. 

She returned to her room and jumped at the sight of someone on her bed. Her flame immediately sprung from her fingers and she edged closer, only to sigh in relief when she saw Sam.

Sam?

“What the hell are you doing in here?” She quickly shut the door and lit the few candles and fireplace. 

“I needed to see you. Lysandra said you weren’t going to be able to see me for a few weeks… so I asked her to help me here.” 

“If someone catches you…” 

“I know, but I had to see you.” 

She stepped out of the slippers she wore and undid her hair letting it fall down her back. 

“You can’t be here Sam. I’m serious.” 

“I’ve never seen you dressed liked that. You look royal.” He smirked. 

“That’s because I am royal you fool.” She threw a cushion at him and then collapsed onto the sofa. “What is it Sam, that couldn’t wait until I came to you?” 

“I wanted to know if you’d thought my offer over again? I’ve found someone who will take over the library. And there’s a ship leaving for the Southern Continent in four weeks. It’s enough time to sort everything out, for you to—“ 

“I can’t, Sam.” 

He stopped where he had been pacing by the fire. “You… can’t?” 

Aelin’s body went hot and her pulse quickened. She loved Sam, but when she looked at him… there was no buzz. No spark. Not like what she had felt with Rowan. And she knew that was because of the mating bond… but it still meant something. Hadn’t she always known it was never going to be forever with Sam? Hadn’t her parents said the same thing to her? 

“I want to run away with you. Or I did… last night. But what would happen in sixty years? When you’re ageing and I’m still what I am now. What happens when you’re gone? I can’t come crawling back asking for the throne. Not after abandoning it like that. I have responsibilities, you know this.” She stood now. “My life is here Sam, it will be forever.” She turned to face him fully. “I love you, but my answer is no.” She choked on the last words. 

He stood there, staring into the flames. Neither of them said a word, the only sound came from the crackling of logs. 

Sam finally turned to her. “I had really hoped that you would give it all up. That what you told me about wanting to be free, wanting to live your own life, was true. That you would realise that your love for me was stronger than your love for this.” He gestured to the room, the palace, Terrasen. “I would give up everything for you Aelin. I would lose everything if it meant we could be together.” 

She was crying now. 

“And deep down, I thought maybe you would give up your immortality. Give up that side of you so we could have a normal life together.” Sam wiped tears from his own face, but still she said nothing. “I was never going to be good enough, was I?” 

Her heart cracked at his words. “You are enough Sam. But my country, my kingdom… it will always come first.” 

“Does the fact I would give it all up mean nothing to you?” 

“Of course it does! But I never asked you to do that. I told you from the beginning this would be temporary. We would continue as long as we could, but one day I would have to step up and be the person I have to be. For my kingdom, for my family… and for me.” 

He slid his hands down his face, despair in his eyes. “I should have known better.” 

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” She was angry now. 

“It means that I was right when I first met you. You are spoiled and selfish and only care for yourself. Maybe it’s a good thing it’s ending now. I’ll save myself the pain in the future.” 

His words stung. Sam had been angry at her before, but he had never been cruel. A knock at the door had them both freezing. 

“Aelin? Is everything okay?” Rowan. What was he doing here?

“Everything is fine.” Sam was staring at her, then at the door, trying to put it together. She didn’t take her eyes of Sam, he stared right back. Neither of them said a word until Sam gave a slight shake of his head and made off through the balcony doors and out into the night. She didn’t look away even as Rowan knocked at the door once more. 

“You might as well come in.” She sighed. 

The door creaked open, slowly at first, and then wider as he let himself in. Rowan left the door ajar, letting her know he had good intentions, whatever they were.

“What are you doing here?” She glanced once more at the balcony doors, sure that Sam was far enough away.

“I could... smell something was wrong.”

Right. The Fae senses. 

“It’s nothing, just a sad book.” 

“I’d believe that if it wasn’t just you I could scent.” 

He could smell Sam. 

“Rowan…”

“I have no claim over you, so what you do is none of my business. But I had to check you weren’t in danger.” Her heart panged in her chest, warmth spreading at his protectiveness. She returned to the sofa and motioned for Rowan to join her. She beckoned the guard outside and requested tea for them both. She could see Rowan’s hesitation as he debated whether this was a good idea.

“The door will remain open, no funny business, don’t worry.” She gave him her signature grin and he relaxed as he came to sit next to her. They had been closer at dinner, but the intimacy of them both being in her room… it was new and strange to her. Sam had never been in here. 

“Was the male…” He trailed off.

“He’s my… was my—“ she cringed at the next words. “Was my lover.” 

He flinched at the word, she felt his jealousy even if he did not fully show it.  

“You’re not planning on courting me for these few weeks just to reject me?”

“That was not what I was planning on doing.” Aelin continued. “To be honest, I didn’t know what I was planning to do. I’ve never been in this situation before.” She picked some lint from her skirts. 

“You loved him?” 

She gave a small nod. “He asked me leave with him, to runaway. Head to the Southern Continent, to build a life there. I didn’t give him an answer, so he came here to get one.” She didn’t dare look Rowan in the eyes. “I told him I couldn’t do it, and he said some things… and then he left.” 

“Did he hurt you?” A guttural growl. 

“No! Not physically. He would never hurt me. He’s just upset that I said no, that’s all.” 

Aelin’s own voice was low, sad. The maid entered the room carrying a tray of tea and sweets, she placed it on the low table in front of them and gave a small curtsey before scurrying away. 

“Do they always look terrified around you?” He picked up a cup and poured some of the herbal tea in. 

“They do not look terrified!” She swatted his arm. “My maids love me, I let them eat sweets with me and I always give them gifts on holidays.” 

Rowan’s eyes glittered with laughter, his body relaxing into the sofa. “Well, she looked like she couldn’t get away fast enough.” 

“If she looked terrified it’s because you’re in here looking grumpy.” Rowan barked a laugh and Aelin could’ve sworn it was one of the loveliest sounds she had ever heard. 

Rowan stayed for another two cups of tea and then politely excused himself, but promising Aelin that he would see her tomorrow for training. 

She went to sleep that night, not thinking of her fight with Sam, and the way that they had ended; but of Rowan and those pine green eyes. 

[mymoonagedaydream]

Lullaby

Summary: You’d learned to live with your nightmares, never expecting to find any kind of remedy

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, mentions of parent death

Author's Note: Back on it, ploughing through some lovely requests :)

---

You couldn’t believe it when you got the call.

Tony Stark had chosen you to be his new secretary, effective immediately.

Your flight to New York left the same day, but that wasn’t no issue at all, because you had very few belongings to pack and ever fewer goodbyes to say. No heartache or sentimentality, it was finally time to get away from your past and everything that reminded you of it.

Even though America was huge and bright and terrifying, it felt like your promised land, and you were eager to absorb every last drop of its mystifying beauty. You could barely stop yourself excitedly fidgeting in your plane seat.

Unfortunately, you’d greatly overestimated your capacity for adapting to sudden change. Your first day of work was really overwhelming.

You spent the entire morning just trying to familiarise yourself with the insanely complicated computer system, and a great deal of the afternoon doing the same, only getting a “break” during the hour or so you spent sitting in Tony’s meeting with Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes.

They were all huge, incredibly intelligent and intimidatingly attractive- you’d really been thrown right in at the deep end.

Steve and Sam didn’t take much notice of you, giving polite smiles when they arrived but nothing more than that. You figured that, with this workload, Stark probably cycled through a new secretary every couple of months, so they’d have no real reason to learn your name or engage you in conversation.

Bucky, on the other hand, seemed a little intrigued. You felt his gaze land on you a few times, but whenever you mustered the courage to look back, his eyes immediately flicked away.

It was unbelievably difficult to focus on note-taking whilst being repeatedly studied by this statuesque, mountain of a man.

It was also unbelievably difficult to shake him from your mind even after the meeting had ended. When you finally finished for the day, you were completely exhausted and ready to just collapse.

Thankfully, your bed was only an elevator ride away.

Stark had given you a bedroom in the compound while you were looking for an apartment in the city. You told him you were struggling to find a place you liked but, truthfully, there was no way you could afford a deposit until you got your first pay check through.

You whiled away the evening hours watching some crappy shows and reading, eventually bumbling through your night-time routine and slipping into bed, hoping so much that tomorrow would be just a little easier.  

---

A long, dark hallway stretched out before you. No doors, no windows, no turns, no end.

The soft padding of your bare feet against the ground echoed off the walls as your legs involuntarily marched into the darkness before you.

You focused more intently on the sound. It began to split, a distinct new set of footsteps detaching themselves and moving out of time with yours.

A cold wave of dread trickled down your spine. There was something behind you.

You couldn’t stop, couldn’t run, couldn’t turn. All you could do was carry on walking, forced to helplessly listen to the increasingly fast approach of your pursuer.

Hot, heavy breath brushed against the back of your neck. A set of long, dark claws crept their way into the corner of your vision, twitching manically, before clamping down on your shoulder.

‘Y/n!’

You bolted upright, eyes shooting open as you tried to gulp in deep breaths, heart thumping inside your chest like a jackhammer. Still struggling to separate the residual fragments of your nightmare from reality, you instinctively jerked away the hand firmly gripping your shoulder.

Bucky took the hint and stepped back from your bedside. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Jesus.’ You roughly wiped some of the cold moisture from your forehead. ‘Why the fuck are you in my room?’

‘I’m really sorry, I know this is weird but I heard you freaking out in here and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.’

Your gaze flicked towards him, the intense concern in his face confusing you a little.

He didn’t know you at all, why did he care?

You took a few deep breaths and collected your thoughts. Maybe cursing him out like that was a little harsh, he was just trying to help. Besides, if there was any face you wanted to shake you out of a nightmare, it was definitely that one.

‘I’m okay, thank you.’ You swung your legs over the side of the bed, perching yourself right on the edge as you shot him a faint smile. ‘I appreciate you checking up on me.’

‘Anytime.’

He lingered for a few seconds, rubbing his thighs nervously, before giving you a quick nod and heading back towards the corridor. Just as he reached your doorway, he paused, quickly spinning back around.

‘I’ll be in the living room for a while. Y’know, if you struggle to get back to sleep.’

You felt your smile grow into a wide, bashful grin as you watched him disappear down the hall. Your usual post-nightmare routine consisted of splashing cold water on your face and crying for an hour, so hanging out with Bucky was immeasurably preferable.

You debated how long you should wait before joining him, not wanting to miss an opportunity to get to know him better but also worried about coming across overly keen.

Ten minutes seemed reasonable.

Slipping on a sweater, you tiptoed past the other bedrooms on the corridor, hoping to god you wouldn’t wake any of the others and accidentally make a bunch of powerful enemies before you’d even spent your first night here.

Bucky was slouched on the sofa, watching TV with the volume so low that, at first, you thought it was muted. An open but untouched bottle of beer was standing on the table in front of him.

‘D’you have super hearing or something?’

His head snapped towards you, the corners of his mouth curling into a pleasantly surprised smile.

‘Something like that, yeah.’ He patted the seat next to him as he clicked the screen off. ‘There’s never anything worth watching on at this time anyway.’

‘You make it sound like you’re always awake at 4am.’

‘Mhmm. It’s nice to finally have some company.’

Chuckling weakly, you planted yourself next to him, as close as you could without invading his personal space. As soon as you were settled in, you felt him shift towards you.

‘You get nightmares often?’

‘Most nights since I was a kid.’ His mouth fell open slightly. ‘It sucks, but I’ve learned to live with it. They’re not nearly as bad as they used to be.’

‘Really? You were thrashing around like a fish out of water.’

Your face heated up a little when you noticed his playful smirk. ‘Trust me, that’s nothing. When I was eight I dislocated my aunt’s shoulder. Didn’t even wake up when she screamed.’

‘Jesus. You could’a warned me that I was risking my life earlier.’

‘Yeah, sorry. It’s just that, usually, people wait a few days after first meeting me before they come into my room while I’m asleep.’

He cocked a mischievous eyebrow at your teasing. ‘I’ll knock next time.’

‘Good plan.’

You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle a deep yawn, feeling incredibly drowsy all of a sudden, like you could drift off right there on the couch. The adrenaline from your nightmare must’ve finally worn off, it just never usually happened so quickly.

‘You good?’ Bucky obviously noticed your abrupt decline. ‘You can rest on my shoulder, if you want. Not as comfy as a bed but I can give you a hard shake if you start freaking out again.’

‘Thanks, I’ll try my best not to.’

You didn’t want to intrude too far, so you just leaned over and perched your head on the very edge of his shoulder. Without missing a beat, he shifted himself towards you, causing your head to slide neatly into the crook of his neck.

‘Did they start for a reason?’ You didn’t answer right away, needing a second to figure out how best to word it. ‘It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it.’

‘No, I don’t mind. They pretty much started right after my parents died. They probably would’ve just stopped on their own after a while if I hadn’t had to move in with my aunt and uncle, pair of fucking assholes.’

He let a low chuckle escape his lips, sliding an arm around your shoulder and squeezing them lightly. ‘Well in that case I hope you did much more than dislocate her arm.’

‘I wish.’

You yawned again, unconsciously nestling your head further into Bucky’s neck and your body into his side, the soft motion of his hand stroking over your shoulder just making you all the more drowsy.

‘It’s alright, you can go to sleep.’ His soft, low voice was like a lullaby. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ 

As your eyes fluttered closed, you felt your breathing fall in time with his, and you slowly drifted off into the most peaceful sleep you’d had in years.

---

It was a little embarrassing when Steve came across the two of you in the morning, fast asleep on the couch, tangled together like electrical wires. Bucky explained the situation, but Steve didn’t look too convinced by his tale of nightmares and innocent chat.

Even Tony gave you a knowing look as he walked past your desk.

This wasn’t exactly the reputation you’d hoped to build in your first week, but nothing that could’ve shaken your good mood that day. Every time you thought about the night before you couldn’t help grinning to yourself like an idiot.

You even felt more optimistic about your future in the job, everything just seemed so much more straightforward and intuitive.

It was incredible what a difference some good, deep sleep made.

As you were getting ready for bed that night, your heart jumped at the sound of a soft knock against your bedroom door. You inched it open to see Bucky, looking a little nervous, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.

‘Hey, I uh- I was just wondering-’ He paused for a second, narrowing his eyes at you slightly before chuckling and taking a step back. ‘Never mind, it was stupid.’

‘Go on. I promise I won’t laugh.’

You waited as he took a deep breath and steeled himself. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I slept better on that couch than I have in years. So I thought-’

‘Do you want to come in?’

You were a little surprised at how easily that’d fallen out of your mouth, and he looked pretty shocked too. ‘You sure?’

‘As long as you’re still willing to give me a cold, hard slap when necessary.’

He chuckled, nodding firmly. ‘I can definitely do that.’

You stepped aside and let him pass, quickly ducking your head into the corridor to check for witnesses before softly pushing your door closed.

After that night, you and Bucky fell into a routine of sneaking between bedrooms after everyone else had gone to sleep.

It was inexplicable, but the two of you just seemed to sleep so much better in each other's company. At first, Bucky had to wake you up and calm you down a couple times a night, but it really wasn’t long before you started sleeping through the night.

Between having him in your life, having your dream job and having the brand new feeling of being consistently well-rested, everything in your life finally felt like it was falling into place.

---

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---

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 3

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Ah Irony, I trust this wont be the last I’m seeing of you

First < Previous > Next

----

‘Sorry, Nino told Adrien that you guys said to go ahead!?’ Chloe explained.

“Looks like Liela’s at it again,” Marion tells Marinette.

“Of course she is,” Marinette was already hailing a cab

‘Lila must have told Alya who told Nino or something’ Marion responds.

'I am so sorry we’ll come back to get you’  

‘Dont worry bout it we’re getting a cab’

‘Dont let kags kill anyone’ He adds

‘No promises’

Marinette grabs Marion by the arm, dragging him over to a cab. Just as she's about to climb in someone grabs her, arm pulling her away. Reflexes kick in and she makes a jab at their stomach. They block her punch, but let go of her arm. Marinette looks up to see a black haired blue eyed boy who couldn't be any older than them.

“This isn’t a real cab,” He explains quickly, taking his phone out to snap a picture of the stunned driver.

“Oh? Oh!” Marinette processes, realising she just tried to punch him for helping her, “I am so sorry!”

“It’s ok, good reflexes,” He compliments, they step away from the cab as it speeds away, “I’m Tim,”

“Marinette,” She shakes his offered hand, “This is Marion,”

“Hi, thanks for that,” Marion nods towards where the ‘taxi’ was, “How could you tell?”

“You live around here long enough you learn to spot them,” Tim answers, “are you two french?”

“Yep,” Marinette chirped, “We’re on a class trip,”

“Where’s your class?” Tim frowns looking around.

“Ummm… they kinda….” Marinette looked down at her shoes.

“Left us,” Marion finishes for her.

“They left you? In Gotham?” Tim asks, the twins nod avoiding eye contact.

“Where are you staying? I’ll drive you there,” Tim decides.

“You don’t have to do that!” Marinette gestures wildly, wide eyed.

“We’ll be fine on our own,” Marion adds, because yes they did almost get in a fake cab, but it wasn't as if they couldn't have dealt with it.

“It’s all right,” Tim tells them, scanning the cars around, “Look my rides here,”

The twins turn to see a limo pull up, a well dressed driver steps out of the vehicle.

“Good Evening Master Tim, how was your trip?” He asks, taking Tim’s bag.

“It was fine Alfred,” Tim says, “would you mind if we dropped these two off at their hotel?”

“Not at all, Master Tim, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” Alfred greets the twins, “May I ask your names,”

“Uh, Marion, and this is Marinette,” Marion replies, “You really don’t have to, we’ll be fine,”

“It’s no trouble at all,” He tells them, “Where are you staying?”

“Wayne hotel,” Marinette goes to grab her bags to find them gone, turning to see Alfred already placing it in the trunk.

“Witchcraft,” Marion whispers to her, Marinette nods. She always made sure to at least be touching her backpack, as it held the Miracle box.

“Come in,” Tim offers, already sitting in the Limo.

The twins concede climbing in after Tim a little awkwardly. He had somehow gotten ahold of a travel cup and was holding it like a lifeline.

“I’m surprised you're staying at the Wayne hotel for a class trip,” Tim takes a gulp of the probably scalding hot coffee.

“Marinette submitted an amazing essay to the Wayne Foundation and won the trip for the whole class,” Marion dodges her kick, Tim hides his smirk behind his cup.

"We submitted an essay,” Marinette corrects, glaring at Marion for shaking his head.

“Thank you for the ride,” Marion changes the topic.

“No problem, I really don’t mind, the longer I stay away from the manor the better,” Tim replies sleepily.

“Why's that?” Marinette questions, concern written all over her face.

“Loud, too many siblings” Tim quickly clarified, “I need more time with my coffee before I deal with them,”

“I think I can relate,” Marion mutters, ignoring Marinette's look, “How many siblings do you have?”

“Officially? Thr-Two brothers,”

“Unofficially?” Marinette prods.

“Feels like half of Gotham most the time,” Tim sighs, making them chuckle.

“You two must be twins?” Tim guesses.

“Unfortunately,” Marinette sighs.

“You love me,” Marion scoffs.

“Unfortunately,” Marinette repeats, Tim cracks a smile.

“If it's any consolation you seem to get on much better than I do with my siblings,” Tim takes another long sip from his coffee.

“If it’s any consolation we’re always fighting,” Marion parrots, sharing a knowing glance with Marinette. Fighting? Yes. Fighting each other? Only when Chat Noir gets brainwashed.

“So what are you looking forward to in Gotham?” Tim asks.

“Lots of things,” Marinette and Marion start to tell Tim all about their(civilian) plans. Tim suggests places every now and then, he points out the hotel as they start to get closer.

“Ah!” Marinette exclaims, turning to Marion, “We were meant to check in as a class, will they even let us in?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they do,” Tim assures them. When they pull up at the hotel Alfred opens the door and Tim gets out with them.

“Thank you so much,” Marinette takes her bags from Alfred, giving him a smile.

“You’re welcome Miss,” Alfred smiles back.

Marion also gives his thanks and they follow Tim into the building. Marinette admires the architecture, brainstorming ideas for designs. Perhaps she can make improvements to the outfits they’ll be using at the concert. Tim goes straight to the front desk and explains the situation. The receptionists hands over the room keys, telling them their classmates had already grouped up, three to a room.

“That was surprisingly easy,” Marion muses, as they walk towards the elevator, “Thank you,”

“My pleasure,” Tim answers easily, as they step into the elevator, “I must be off,”

They give their goodbyes, letting the doors close as Tim walks away.

“He was nice,” Marinette hums in agreement.

“Hopefully there's more people in Gotham like him,” They step out of the elevator.

“There will be,” Marion assures, “Meet back here when they go to sleep?”

“No, I’ll text you when everyones asleep and you can teleport in,” Marion nods, both know Kaalki won’t be impressed.

They go their separate ways. Marinette knocked on the room door that was opened a few moments later by Kagami.

“I am sorry,” Kagami immediately apologizes, “I should have known better and asked you myself,”

“Don’t worry, we’re fine,” Marinette gives the girl a hug, rolling her suitcase into the room.

“Marinette, you need to see this place, although it’s as good as daddys hotel,” Chloe grabs her by the arm. Leading her through the well furnished and decorated living room with a kitchenette to the side.

“You do live in the penthouse suite,” Marinette looked out the floor to ceiling window, displaying the view of the city, itching to grab her sketchbook.

“True, but they didn’t put me in the penthouse, so it's their loss,” Chloe guides her to a room with a large bed, bedside tables with flowers on them and a mirrored closet door. “This is yours,”

Marinette went to grab her suitcase only to see Kagami behind them with it. She thanked her and got settled in. Once she was unpacked they sat together in the living room to talk about tomorrow.

“You’d better not go wandering off, Gotham is dangerous,” Chloe wagged her finger at Marinette.

“And you’re going to protect me?” Marinette threw a couch cushion at her.

“Well, duh, I was Queen Bee,” Chloe bragged, catching the cushion and throwing it right back.

“For, like, month, years ago,” Marinette caught the pillow, sending it to Kagami, “Weren’t you replaced with Bumble Bee?”

“It was a mutual decision,” Chloe caught the pillow that Kagami hesitantly threw to her.

“Right,” Marinette said in a disbelieving tone, knowing full well that Bumble Bee was just Chloe’s new alias. “I think I’d rather stick with Kagami,”

“Rude,” Chloe threw the pillow at her.

“Didn’t we all agree Kagami was as good as any bodyguard?” Marinette asks, throwing the pillow to said girl.

“Excuse you, we said she was better than any bodyguard,” Both gave her inquisitive looks, “What? I’m just stating facts!”

“Of course,” Marinette caught the pillow, still smiling.

“I am!”

“I believe you,” Marinette threw the pillow back at her.

“No you don’t!” Chloe throws the pillow forcefully at her.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Marinette chucks the pillow to Kagami.

“You’re infuriating Dupain-cheng,” Chloe huffs, catching the pillow from Kagami.

“I can show you some… moves,” Kagami hesitantly speaks up, as Chloe throws the pillow at Marinette, “For self defence,”

“Sure,” Marinette puts the pillow down, standing up with Kagami.

They spent the next half hour with Kagami instructing Marinette on basic fencing moves. With the cardboard wrapping of the now empty Toblerone block.

“Where is she going to get a sword?” Chloe was scrolling through her phone, “Unless you want her to carry that around everywhere,”

“What do you suggest?” Kagami challenges defensively.

“Like this,” Chloe takes over, showing both Marinette and Kagami how to break out of certain holds to get their arm free or how to disarm an opponent.

“Where did you learn this?” Marinette watches as Kagami practices the motions of disarming Chloe's hairbrush gun.

“I told you, I was Queen Bee and I took that job seriously,” Chloe drops the hairbrush, Kagami kicking it away.

“Didn’t you tell all of Paris your identity and then send a train out of control,” Kagami asks, retrieving the hairbrush.

“I was young and naive,” Chloe sighs dramatically, had to her forehead.

“Three years ago?” Marinette stands up to try and disarm Chloe now.

“Four actually,”

“Oh, my mistake,” Marinette rolls her eyes trying not to disarm Chloe too quickly.

They carry on a little longer before Marinette sends them to bed.

“We have an early day tomorrow, we don’t want to be late,” She pushes Chloe towards her room.

“Coming from you? That’s rich,” Chloe laughs.

“Whatever, go to sleep,” Marinette closes the door on Chloe's protests.

“Goodnight Marinette,” Kagami nods, walking to her room without a fuss.

Marinette goes to her room, firing Marion a text.

“Alright dude,” Nino turns to Marion, “I’m with Alya, we all know who Adrien has a crush on-”

“Everyone!?” Adrien sits up from where he’s lying on the couch.

“Yes, everyone,” Nino deadpans.

“What about Marinette?” Adrien turns pleading eyes to Marion.

“Oh not Marinette, she's as clueless as you,”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Adrien frowns defensively.

“Anyway,” Nino interrupts, “Dude, who do you have a crush on?”

“Ummmm,” Marion shifts uncomfortably from where he’s perched on the couches arm rest, “... It’s sort of a celebrity crush,”

“Oh? who?” apparently that was not the answer that would make him lose interest.

“It’s not really important, not like anything could happen,” Marion looks at Adrien for help, but he seems just as curious as Nino.

“Just tell us,” Nino pushes.

“It’s a hero,” Marion immediately realises that just got them more interested. “... From Gotham,”

“Batman?” Adrien guesses.

“No!” Marion shouts, “No! He’s old enough to be my dad, geez,”

“Alright, alright, who is it?” Nino placates leaning forward on his arm chair.

“..... Red hood,”

“Isn’t he a rouge?” Adrien asks.

“No!.... Maybe, he’s still a hero ok?” Marion curls up defensively.

“Why do you like him?” Adrien is grinning, shifting closer to Marion.

“I don’t know,” Marion rolls off the armrest, onto the couch next to him.

“You have to like something,” Nino gets up to sit on his other side.

“I don’t know, maybe because he looks good in his suit?!” Marion shouts.

“You’re not that shallow,” Adrien pokes him in the stomach.

“Ugh, fine,” Marion relents, “He works with Batman right?”

They both nod.

“He’s just so unlike everyone else he works with, I just kinda…. admire how he can just be…. be himself.” Marion curls up under his friend's stares.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Adrien teases, Marion huffs.

“He does look good in his suit though,”

“Wait a minute, is this why you always wear that MDC outfit?” Nino is clearly holding back laughter.

“No!” Marion bushes at the memory.

They were doing a practice interview about his newest song. Marinette had designed his outfit based on Red Hood's. It was something he had endured endless teasing over as he insisted everything had to be perfect, not that the great MDC would make anything less.

“Were there any problems that arose from the design MDC?” The interview asked, moving onto the outfit choice.

“We had some minor disagreements about the hood,” Marinette gestured to the outfit Marion was wearing. A red hoodie underneath a faux leather jacket(not that you could tell) on the back there were flying red bats embroidered up the side. He was wearing a black domino mask with red detailing in place of the helmet. It was the outfit they chose to alter into their vigilante costumes.

“She was getting very frustrated over it,” Marion teased, “I told her it didn’t need one,”

“His name is Red Hood! Why doesn't he wear a Hood? Robin wears a hood,”

“He looks cool without it,” Marion defended.

“You’re just saying that, cause you have a crush on him,” Marinette teased in a sing-song voice.

“MD!” He shouted, pulling the hood up to hide his blush, MDC laughing at him, he groaned. “Please tell me the cameras aren't rolling,”

“Don’t worry, nothing we say is being recorded,” The interviewer was luckily professional enough to not laugh, but was certainly amused, “I take it we will be omitting that from the real interview?”

“Yes!”

Unfortunately for him one of the staff members had been secretly recording. They leaked the footage online, getting fired, but not sparing MCD from the whole world finding out. The fanbase had been going crazy ever since they announced their concert in Gotham. Many imagining meet-cute moments or theorising that they were already dating. He shakes his head at the memory.

“I just think it looks cool,” He comes back to the present.

“Because it’s based on your crush?” Adrien teases.

“Nope, you don’t get to tease me about this, I haven't seen you not wearing something Marinette made you in years,” Marion cuts Adrien off with a raised eyebrow, looking down at his Ladybug onesie Marinette made him.

“Fine,” Adrien turns to Nino, “It’s up to you now,”

“Has Marinette made you anything Red Hood related?” Nino grins.

“Nooooo,” Marion moans, draping over the couch.

“Do you have a onesie based on him as well?” Marion finds his saving grace when his pocket buzzes.

“Stooooooooop,”

“Never this is too good,” Nino teases, “Did you bring it with you?”

“That's enough for tonight!” Marion claps his hands, standing up.

“Awwwww,” They both moan in unison.

“Nope! I don’t have to put myself through this, goodnight to you,” Marion walks straight to his room before they can protest further.

He locks the door behind him. Plagg and Kaalki are in the room chatting, they fly over to Marion.

“You ready to go Kaalki?”

“I am not meant to be used for something as trivial as a taxi,” The Kwami complains.

“We just need to grab out suits, this will be the only night, I promise,” The Kwami gives him a nod, “Kaalki full gallop,”

He transforms and opens a portal into Marinette's room.

“Ready Bug?” He asks, stepping into the room. He opens another portal to their room in Paris.

“Of course,” They step through the portal, followed by their Kwami’s, into their room as quietly as possible.

Marion drops his Marinette pulls out their costumes from the closet. They were disguised to look like regular clothing, but could be altered to quickly change.

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Marinette takes the hoodie he usually wears, reaching under a secret fold and unzips the hood.

“Come on bug, our hero-selves cant be seen in Gotham, and you know full well we wouldn't stand aside if someone was getting hurt in front of us,” Marion takes the body of the hoodie from her, flipping it inside out to the black side.

“True, but why do we have to do nightly patrols?” Marinette finishes pulling on her leggings, flipping her usual white jumper with a cherry blossom pattern inside out to the same red shade as the hood.

“It would look pretty suspicious if we just showed up when our class was in danger, now wouldn’t it,” Marion fasten the yellow belt around his waist, slipping his baton into the holster and pulls on his on his boots, hopping slightly.

“I think you just want to be a vigilante,” Marinette takes his Red Hood jacket, flipping it inside out to black with yellow trim.

“Well, it’s exciting isn’t it?” Marion takes what would usually be Mainette's skirt, flipping the pink inside out to the green and unzipping it along a black line, “We get to test out our skills without miraculous, and we don't have the fate of the city resting on our shoulders,”

“You could a least try to take it seriously,” Marinette flips her beanie inside out to the black side. Pulling it on after the severed hood, lining the holes up with her eyes and pulling the hood up.

“I am taking this very seriously,” Marion says with the biggest grin. Taking Marinette's infinity scarf, running his hands across it to find the secret fold. Flipping it inside out to a green with yellow and black trim. He pulls it over his head, yellow stripe to his hairline.

“Whatever," Marinette fastens her holster with a baton around her left leg. They both pull on their black gloves. "Lets go,”

Marion transforms back and opens a portal to a rooftop far away from the hotel. They take off across the roofs, using their batons to pole vault across alleys, to land on roofs and fire escapes. As they race, taunting each other, they survey the streets below. Marinette stops, crouching down as Marion catches up. A young woman was being chased by two thugs.

“Let’s go,” She whispers, using the fire escape as a firemans pole. Marion follows suit.

They land in the alley as the girl gets backed up against a wall, clutching her purse. She looks straight at them, Marion gestures her to stay quiet as they sneak up behind the thugs. Marinette takes the one on the right, as he lines up behind the left one. Marinette attacks first hitting the right one over the head with her baton.

“What the-” Marion cuts the left one off by sweeping his legs with his baton, sending him crashing to the ground. He pins them down, tying his wrist together with one hand, “You little fuc-”

Marion stuffs the mans own hat in his mouth. He then ties the crooks legs together for good measure. He looks over to Marinette, her thug unconscious, she was comforting the victim, offering her a cookie from a hidden pocket.

“Thank you,” She takes the cookie hesitantly.

“Not a problem,” Marinette gives her a winning smile.

“Wow, this is really good,” She mumbles, with her mouth full, “Um, who are you,”

“Don't worry about that,” Marion slings his arm around Marinette, "We're just your friendly neighbourhood strays,"

“Ignore him,” Marinette pushes his arm off her, “Do you want us to walk you home?”

“Uh- yeah, thanks,”

“I love your outfit by the way,” Marinette tells her, as they leave the alley way. Marion walks behind calling the police to come pick up the thugs, explaining what happened.

“Hey, can I get your number so the police can get your statement later?” Marion interrupts, as they follow the girl to her apartment.

“Of course,” He hands over the phone, letting her hang up.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” She hands back the phone, Marion walking on her other side.

“We’re new to town,” Marion smiles at her.

“I can tell,” They both give her inquisitive looks, “You’ve smiled more in the last five minutes than most Gothamites do their whole lives,”

“You’re exaggerating,” Marinette chuckles.

“I’m serious, you’re going to blind someone,” She laughs with them.

They walk her to her apartment, holding polite conversation the whole way.

“This is it,” She announces, “Thanks again,”

“No problem,” They both say, turning to leave.

“Wait…. Um,” They both stop looking back at her holding her phone, “Can I get a picture?”

“Of course,” Marion bounces over to her, Marinette taking the other side.

They give the same big smiles they do as Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marion throwing up bunny ears behind Marinette's head. They say goodbye and run off to find someone else to help.

“Whatcha doing Tim?” Dick looks over his shoulder, still in his Nightwing costume fresh from patrol.

“I ran into some French students who were left behind by their class at the airport,” Tim scrolls through a word document, complete with pictures of smiling teens doing a mixture of charity work and sports among other activities. “They won the Martha Wayne educational trip, I was just looking through their entry,”

“They got left behind, in Gotham?”

“That’s what I said! I actually caught them just before they got in a faux taxi,” Tim reaches the end of the rather long essay.

“They could have been mugged, or kidnapped!” Dick slams his hands down on the desk.

“I know , Dick,” Tim rubs his face, “The worst part is they didn’t seem at all surprised about it either,”

Dick leaves Tim to his work to change, muttering to himself.

“Is everything alright, Master Dick?” Alfred appears with food for after patrol.

“What if it happens again?” Dick asks.

“I assume you’re referring to the lovely twins Master Tim met at the airport?” Alfred nods knowingly, Dick nods back. “Well hopefully something similar doesn't happen tomorrow for their tour of Wayne Tower,”

“.... Alfred can you place me in charge of the tour?”

“Consider it done, Master Dick,” Alfred leaves him to get changed.

He finishes changing into regular clothes as the Batmobile pulls in. Batman and Robin exiting.

“We need to discuss security measures for the upcoming concert,” Batman tells the room, they gather around,

“MCD is known for his advocacy of superheroes, so we can expect a few villains to make trouble,” Tim pulls up a picture of MCD with MDC as they walk down the red carpet for some event.

Dick is amused that the picture he pulled up had them in Batman and Robin themed outfits. MDC wearing a beautiful black dress with the bat symbol subtly incorporated into the bodice. Her dress trailed behind in sharp points like Batman’s cape. MCD was wearing a suit with a red shirt, his tie green and some yellow detailing.

“You are going to be professional aren't you?” Damian gives them both pointed looks.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Dick asks innocently.

“You two are always jabbering on about these two,” Robin glares.

“We do not-oh that reminds me, if we’re going to be guarding this event we have to invite Jason,” Dick addresses Bruce.

“He is worse than you two, going on about that interview,” Damian must be rolling his eyes under the domino mask.

“Come on little D. how often does your celebrity crush like you back?” Dick smiles, remembering the night Jason called him yelling in excitement telling him about the leaked footage. He had also asked him to get Tim to find out who leaked the footage and have them fired.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,”

“As for actual security measures,” Batman redirects the conversation.

“Master Jason has arrived,” Alfred reports, coming to stand with them.

“Speak of the devil,” Tim mutters.

“BRUCE YOU MOTHERFUCKER,”Jason bursts into the bat cave, “I need to know these things!”

“We were just talking about the concert,” Dick tells him.

“What? No! Why didn’t you tell me you adopted more!” He yells at Bruce. “I need to know when you’re planning to traumatise more kids!”

“Jason what are you talking about,” Bruce only lets a hint of irritation into his voice.

“THis,” Jason slams down his phone to a screenshot of a tweet. It showed a picture of a boy and girl, both with black hair and blue eyes, following Tim into a limo. Written underneath was;

Wayne Twins? How long has Bruce Wayne been keeping them from Gotham? Are they adopted? Or could the Family resemblance be more than coincidence?

#wayne twins #Bruce Wayne's secret children #aren’t they just adorable

“What is this?” Bruce asks Tim.

“They’re the one who won the Martha Wayne educational trip, their class left them at the airport, I gave them a ride,” Tim briefly explained, noticeably omitting the taxi part.

“Wait so you didn’t adopt them?” Jason picks his phone back up.

“No, Jason, I didn’t,” Jason’s eyes narrow.

“... Are you going to?”

“... No, I’m not,”

“Keep an eye out,” Jason not at all subtly whispers to Dick, “He hesitated,”

“What are we going to do?” Damian cuts their growing argument off.

“We could release a statement?” Tim suggests.

“Drawing attention to it will only fuel the flames, let’s just let it die out,” Bruce decides, getting nods of agreement.

“By the way Jason, we were talking about security measures for the MCD concert,” Dick changes the topic.

“Without me!?”

They go back to making security plans for the concert, including Jason.

“I think we should have someone inside,” Jason looks over the blueprint of the venue.

“Of course you do,” Damian remarks snidely

“You little-”

“Bruce!” Superman's face pops up on the main computer, “You can’t just take in new kids without warning!”

“They aren’t my children,” Bruce clenches his fists, “The pictures with Tim are taken out of context,”

“What? I’m talking about the new Robins-,”

“THE NEW WHAT!” Jason and Damian shout at the same time.

“What are you talking about?” Bruce probably asking that question more times today than he would like.

“Uh, this,” A picture is sent through a screenshot of another tweet that was steadily becoming viral.

The picture had two teens in masks on either side of a civilian, giving the biggest smiles that had probably ever grace Gotham. The boy giving the girl bunny ears. Underneath was written:

Almost got mugged tonight and was saved by these two. Didn't tell me their names. They kinda look like Robin right? Also they gave me a cookie? It was actually good too.

#new Robins #Robin #Batfam #OMG their smile are pure sunshine #send help I might be blind

[hana-bean]

Close to you (5/7)

Everyone walks on To meet just one person someday

---

As Seiya enjoyed his small breakfast in front of the televised morning news, he then limped his way toward the closed bedroom door after hearing a knock. He opened it to the sight of Serenity standing there with a solemn expression, hugging her crystal touchpad to her chest.

“Morning… um… do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course, your highness.” He backed up to open the door wider for her to enter, bowing as she passed by.

He closed the door as Serenity made her way toward the bed and sat. She placed the touchpad next to her, her movements slow and almost robotic.

“I’m sorry the latest hit was another false positive.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m sure there will be more.”

There was a pause before she decided to keep up with the niceties. “How’s your leg?”

“It’s fine. The doctor this morning said it was looking good. I’ve been able to move for a few hours without the cane the last couple of days”

She nodded. “Good.” As much as she tried to smile, the air hung heavy around her, causing Seiya to feel nervous. He felt the imminence of bad news and his mind jumped to being kicked out of the palace or completely off the planet. They both allowed the silence to slowly suffocate them, each one afraid to break it first, but Seiya couldn’t take it anymore.

“Is everything okay, your highness?”

She looked up, biting into her lips and her eyes glistening. “Um… I think so… but maybe not. It’s not up to me.”

Even more confused than he was before, he joined her on the bed. “What is it?”

Unable to bring herself to look at him quite yet, she sighed for the strength to get on with it.

“I’m sorry I waited to tell you this… I wanted to be sure before I talked to you… It took so long because I had to reach out to other planets to make sure what I had was right…”

He shook his head as it was spinning with all kinds of scenarios from her obscure rambling.

Her cerulean eyes finally worked up the courage to look into his dark blues. “Kinmoku is destroyed.”

Those three words hit Seiya like a vacuum, sucking out all the thoughts and feelings from his mind and body, rendering his expression unreadable and his movements frozen.

Serenity grabbed his hand and placed it in her lap in efforts to comfort him.

“The first night when we talked and I was looking it up, I noticed it had an uninhabited status, which is why I assumed you were a refugee. But then at the parade, when you told me your plans were to go back, I—” She used the back of her finger to wipe away a tear. “My heart just sank. You didn’t know and I would have to be the one to tell you. But I had to make sure my information was correct because that’s your home…”

Seiya’s eyes were fixated on his grip on Serenity’s hand, which only got tighter.

“I’m so sorry, Seiya. If you want to see for yourself…” She picked up the crystal pad, unlocking it to reveal it already displaying the referenced information on Kinmoku before holding it out for him.

With a slight unwillingness, he accepted the device, reading and scrolling through the database meant only for a queen’s eyes.

He shook his head in denial. “I don’t understand. We would check out information on Kinmoku whenever we got the chance and never saw anything like this. We would send out messages with no answer, but we just thought the farther we were, the slower the responses would be…” He trailed off as his mind became distracted seeing keywords like, ‘unsustainable,’ ‘high death toll,’ or ‘military training base.’

“With the inhabited universe being so vast, a lot of planets are slow at receiving information. Or they don’t have the resources to keep up. But also, a lot of stuff is classified for some reason. I know I sometimes have to double-check things with other places. But… the planets that are considered the most trusted had the same information as me.”

Seiya tossed the pad to the side and rested his eyes on the base of his palms as if to push the tears back in. “Fuck. What are we gonna do?”

Fighting the urge to pull his hands away from his face, while it felt wrong to only sit there and do nothing, Serenity’s hands gently slid over his arms and around his back as she rested her chin on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Seiya. I’m so sorry you had to find out like this.”

He welcomed the affection, wrapping his arms around the royal waist and pulling her closer for him to bury his face in the crook of her neck. She soon felt his warm tears falling on her skin.

“It’s okay… it’s not…” His voice was too shaky to continue talking in his attempt to try to hold back from screaming.

“I know you need some time to think and talk about it with the others, but you’re more than welcome to stay here with… us. In the palace…” The emotions of her heart gave her away while the supposed logic of her mind was only helping them. “And even if you have to leave to continue finding your princess, we can be your home base. As long as she’s out there, and with whatever happens after that, I will do everything I can to help you.”

With a sniffle, Seiya pulled back to wipe his face. “Thank you, Serenity. You’re so kind.” There was a considerable pause for him to lose the strength of his composure and submit to the heaving sobs.

She allowed her tears of sympathy to fall as she squeezed his shoulders. “Are you okay, Seiya? Do you want me to leave you alone?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

She nodded. “Okay, I’ll stay.” Her pale fingers then threaded through his loose dark locks to push them out of his face and behind his ear before she guided his head back to her neck. And then ever so gently, she guided his body with hers to lay down on the bed.

Slowly, as they became wordless and emotionally exhausted, the lulls of random sniffles and sobbing turned into silence and blanketed them to sleep.

A couple of hours later, Serenity found herself the first to wake, her chin being tickled by the flyaways of Seiya’s hair as her hand still gripped his shoulder. His face lay only a couple of inches from her chest while his arm rested in the dip of her waist.

Carefully, she shifted to rest on her back while placing Seiya’s arm on his side, relishing moving onto a fresh, cool spot on the bed and being able to stretch her body. It didn’t take long for her movements to cause Seiya to stir, starting his wakeup process with a yawn.

“Hey.” Serenity smiled before having to yawn herself.

He rubbed his puffy eyes and returned the smile. “Hey.”

“How are you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Good.”

“What time is it?”

She then looked to the television that was still going on low volume, the news now turned into a morning talk show.

“I guess… maybe almost lunchtime.” And right on cue, her stomach rumbled.

He tittered. “Your stomach says it is lunchtime.”

“That’s only because I missed my morning snack.” She playfully whined as she hugged her tummy.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I wasn’t going to leave you alone.”

“Did you have anything important this morning?”

“Yes—that’s why I’m here.”

Seiya smiled while his eyes peered at the queen with both innocence and allure.

“What they say when they call you Queen Odango… is that your odangos are stuffed with love and justice…” As he touched both of her buns with a single finger for both descriptive words, he watched her blush appear over her nose and cheeks. His digit then moved to rest on her head.

“…and in here, some barbecue pork.”

Serenity’s jaw dropped in humored outrage before grabbing his hand. “You’re so rude!”

The laugh that came from him sounded pure and sincere, indicative of a person in pain finding true happiness in the moment.

“I’m sorry, I’m still thinking about those dumplings from the parade. They were so good.”

“Well, be nice to me or I’ll have them blacklist you.”

“Hmm, okay, they weren’t that good…”

When she went to push on his shoulder to get him to stop his teasing, she became aware that their hands were still grasping and their fingers now interlaced. It seemed that he had just noticed too, as she watched his face soften in realization. And yet, none of them made any movements to release one another.

After some time staring, silently agreeing that they wanted the same thing, Seiya moved closer to take her lips captive with his own.

---

As Serenity slipped through the door and closed it behind her, she took a few steps down the hallway before passing by a voice.

“I know that dress.”

She jumped halfway to the ceiling before realizing Rei was leaning against the wall a few feet away.

“That was the dress you wore to your anniversary with Endymion last year,” the fire guardian cocked an eyebrow. “For your private dinner in your chambers. I remember it took you weeks to decide on it.”

Serenity rubbed down on the garment as if to brush out its wrinkles. “Well… it’s… so pretty. Can I not wear it twice?”

Shaking her head, Rei stood up straight. “I came here about thirty minutes ago looking for you. The king has tried calling you this morning… twice. But you sounded busy.”

Her shoulders dropped, the color of her face gone, yet with glowing red cheeks. She knew she was caught. “Rei, I—… that—… we—… he’s just…”

“Kind of irresistible? I know.” She twisted her mouth into a smile and stepped slowly toward the bumbling queen. “It’s okay, Serenity. You don’t owe me an explanation… at least for now. I’ll give you time to think of one.”

Still too shocked to really speak or figure out exactly what Rei was thinking, Serenity sighed instead. Rei then threaded her arm through hers in a motion of support and began to lead her highness down the hallway.

“I mean, if we're all immortal, boredom is inevitable. Just didn’t think it would have hit you after only four years.”

“I don’t… I don’t know what that was. It just happened. I went in there to tell him about Kinmoku—”

“Ah yes, grief: the greatest aphrodisiac.”

“He was just so sad and… defeated. I couldn’t leave him.”

“And couldn’t not sleep with him?”

“I don’t know, Rei. We just knew that’s what we wanted… and it just happened.”

Approaching the front door, both women stopped to face each other.

Rei crossed her arms. “So is that why you gave him his own cottage—so you’d be able to scream as loud as you wanted just in case?”

Serenity formed a bubble in her mouth, trying not to laugh, but it only came out as suppressed raspberries. Rei also found herself unable to keep in her own giggling.

---

---

Please note if you would like to follow this story, I will be updating the rest of the chapters under the tag: hanabean close to you and other iterations of the spacing. I love you all!