#and also a reminder of my unfinished works staring me in the face ^^;;

[beansprean]

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oh my god they're engaged to be engaged...

(also this is entirely separate from the izzyguana series fyi, but my god I have drawn their little island so many times by now)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of Stede and Ed's ramshackle house on a hill of long grass, a forested mountain sliding into the sea behind them as the sun peeks above the waves, painting them orange and yellow. Some work has been put into the house since they found it: the holes in the roof have been boarded over or covered with tarp, a rickety porch railing and staircase off the left side have been built on from scraps, oil lamps have been hung on each corner, and an addition on the right side is in progress, rocks stacked on the wood-slat roof and tarps hanging from unfinished walls. Planks of wood, tools, and fishing poles are leaned up against the porch, the path to the house has been cleared out and defined by stones and shells, and a wooden sign out front has the words "Best Little Inn By The Sea! +fishing equipment" carved into it. Stede and Ed, wearing a teal blouse with brown leather trousers and purple tee with black leather trousers respectively, are standing on the porch and looking out over the land, arms around each others waist. Stede raises his arm in a wave and shouts, "Great to see you two! Come again any time!" In the foreground, Pete and Lucius are walking down the path away from the house, looking tired. Pete has one arm around Lucius's shoulders and his eyes are closed, head listing to the side. Lucius covers his mouth as he yawns, lifting the other to throw a halfhearted wave over his shoulder. 1b. Waist-up in profile of Stede and Ed on the porch, sunrise behind them. Closest to the viewer, Stede stares out after their guests, hand lowering, smile fading to something a little bittersweet. Ed leans into Stede, free hand in his pants pocket, and rests his head in the crook of his neck as he follows Stede's gaze with a thoughtful smile. Ed asks, "You ever think about that for us?" 1c. Repeat. Stede's hand drops further, wrist dangling, as he turns his face toward Ed with a bewildered smile. "What?" Ed straightens from his cuddle, embarrassed, but keeps his right hand on Stede's waist. His left gestures randomly as he scrunches up his face, avoiding Stede's gaze. He explains, "Y'know...the matie-monie thing, whatever."

2a. Zoom out slightly; Stede takes a step back toward the house to face Ed as he pivots with his back toward the yard. They are still connected waist-to-hand. Stede plants his free hand on his hip with a smug little smirk and says, "Well I certainly hope that's not your proposal." Ed waves his free hand in a 'stop' motion, flustered as he meets his partner's eyes, and splutters "Wha- no! No, mate, I just... 'M having a dialogue." 2b. Repeat, zoom in. Ed dips his chin to look up at Stede through his lashes, red-faced and accepting defeat as he mumbles, "...How would you want it to go, though? Hypothetically." Stede giggles helplessly, free hand leaving his hip to rest fingertips on Ed's chest. 2c. Repeat, the background cutting out in favor of the sunrise occurring between them. They are almost forehead-to forehead, both of Stede's hands now pressed to Ed's chest and idly playing with the tips of his hair. Ed stares at his face with hooded eyes. Stede smiles, gaze lowered to focus on his hands, and says "Oh, I don't know. A bit of romance, you know. Dazzle." 2d. Repeat, zoom in to bust, background now mottled oranges and yellows. Ed raises his head to look past Stede with a frown, brow furrowed in confusion as he repeats blankly, "Dazzle." Stede hums idly to himself, concentrating on petting Ed's chest. 2e. Repeat. Stede lifts his head with a little smile, putting them nose-to-nose and adds, "I wouldn't say no to some fireworks." Ed flusters at the pointed reminder of their first time, cheeks turning red and a wobbly smile creeping across his face.

3a. Repeat. Stede asks, "What about you?" Ed leans back from their embrace, smile turning incredulous as he repeats, "Me?!" 3b. Waist up of Ed as he turns, sunrise at his back, to lean his left arm against the porch railing. He glances over the yard with a resigned little frown, fiddling with a piece of his hair with his right hand. He replies, "I dunno. Never really thought about it." 3c. Chest up of Stede as he mirrors Ed's pose with a fond if slightly amused smile, stairs and forest behind him. Offscreen, Ed continues, "Bet you had a whole scrapbook of ideas, eh?" 3d. Repeat. Stede straightens with a "Well!" and turns his body to face the house. 3e. Knees-up from the house POV as both men lean against the porch railing, the yard, ocean, and brightening sky beginning to streak itself with orange beyond. Stede is facing the viewer, back to the yard, leaning with his elbows braced on the railing. He aims his gaze to the side with a bit of a pained smile and says, "When Mary and I were engaged, a scrapbook wouldn't have been much use." Ed is turned toward Stede, left elbow propped on the railing. He scowls and sticks out his tongue at mention of Mary. 3f. Repeat. Stede turns his head toward Ed, who quickly tucks his petty tongue back in his mouth and schools his expression into one of interest. Stede continues, "Everything had been decided for us already. Never really got to the proposal part."

4a. Repeat. Ed turns his body more fully toward Stede, folding his arms on the railing and leaning his head over them with a warm smile. Stede raises his eyebrows in surprise and goes slightly pink as Ed says, "I'll have to make it really good, then." 4b. Stede turns his body toward Ed, left arm sliding against the railing behind him and right hand cupping Ed's chin as he leans closer, nose to nose. Ed's eyes hood, looking at Stede's mouth as is curls into a loving smile. Stede responds, "Can't wait." 4c. Repeat. Ed suddenly goes pale and blurts out, "You'll say yes, though, right?" Stede freezes in surprise, lips puckered in preparation of a kiss. 4d. Repeat. Stede throws his head back in a loud bark of laughter, straightening up and turning fully toward Ed to cup his cheek in his right hand and his shoulder with the other. Ed aims an embarrassed, besotted smile at him as Stede replies, "Ed, of course! Who could say no to you?"

5a. Repeat, both now in profile. The orange and yellow light of the sunrise is slowly spreading across the sky from the left. Ed straightens up from his lean to bring their foreheads together, still a bit red-cheeked and with a nervous edge to his smile as he lowers his gaze. He says, "You can say no if you want, though." Stede smiles at him with every ounce of tenderness he has, hands firm on his cheek and shoulder. He replies, "There's nothing I want more than to say yes to you, Ed. Permanent ink, remember?" 5b. Repeat. Stede moves his right hand from Ed's cheek to hook around his back, tugging him closer as he leans himself back. Ed stumbles forward with a helpless grin, cheeks even redder, bracing himself with his right hand on Stede's chest. When their eyes meet, Stede's smile turns teasing and faux-sinister, continuing, "You're stuck with me regardless. Foreverrr~" 5c. Repeat, larger and brighter, as Stede and Ed finally come together in an affirming kiss, the land behind them retreating to allow the sea and sky to fill the background. The sun finally breaches the horizon, sending glitter sparkling across the waves and gilding the pair in warm golden light. Ed's right hand is cupping the side of Stede's neck, thumb tracing through his sideburns, and Stede's right is hooked fully around his shoulders, cushioned in his soft hair. They are both smiling into the kiss, unhurried and in harmony.

6a. Repeat as they pull back from the kiss just far enough to meet each other's gaze, arms still around each other, Ed's right hand brushing Stede's cheek and Stede's buried in the back of Ed's hair. Ed smirks flirtatiously, eyes hooded, and says, "You know... I hear there's a traditional engagement sex sabbatical, too." Stede matches his expression, left hand sliding down Ed's shoulder to press against his lower back. Stede replies playfully, "Oh, is there? I suppose I can plan that part, then." 6b. Repeat. Ed brings his left hand up to mirror his right, cupping both of Stede's cheeks, and arches up on his toes to lean over Stede with a teasing grin. His movement forces Stede to arch his back in the first motions of a dip, hands briefly flying free of their grip on his future fiance to try to catch his balance. Their lips a centimeter apart, Ed hums, "Mmm, gimme a rehearsal, first." Stede tosses his head back with a giggle in response, eyes closed, cheeks pink. Hearts float above their heads. 6c. Shot at the bottom of the hill Stede and Ed are stationed on, the packed-dirt path to the house curving upward in the background, the stones and shells now more conservatively scattered. Amidst the tall grass and tropical plants lining the way are handmade wooden signs shaped like arrows pointing the way to the inn. Words carved into them say "this way!" and "best inn!" Pete and Lucius are in the foreground, walking down the hill towards the viewer, Pete's right arm still looped around his husband's shoulders. They still look very tired with dark circles beneath their eyes - Pete still hasn't opened his. Lucius has, barely, and is scowling his way forward with a furrowed brow, declaring, "We are leaving them the worst review." Pete nods solemnly. Text nearby points to them and says 'kept up all night by noises'. Pink hearts and exclamation points spill out behind them from the bend in the path, echoing the lovey-dovey noises from above that must have made their stay so insufferable. /end ID

[surielstea]

Blade Bound

Based on a request!

Pairing: Cassian x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Cassian walks his wife home, and then some.

Warnings: Pregnancy | Slightest bit of angst

3k words.

The glow of the forge warmed my cheeks as I flicked my mask up, wiping at the thin sheen of sweat on my brow. My eyes scanned the steel daggers in front of me, the heat of the fire still making the blades gleam red-hot. The rhythmic hum of hammers meeting steel and the hiss of blades meeting water filled the air—a sound I'd grown to love. This was my sanctuary, my space.

I was so focused on the metal that I nearly missed the soft creak of the workshop door. Nearly.

My head lifted, the sound cutting through the symphony of my work. My lips curled into a grin as I saw the tall figure step into the dim light of my forge, wings peaking over his broad shoulders. "You didn't tell me you were coming, Cass," I called out, my voice teasing but warm.

Cassian stood there, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he shoved his hands into his pockets. His hazel eyes glinted in the firelight, and the sight made my stomach do the slightest flip. "Hey, love," he said, his voice low and rich, his grin deepening as he took in what I was working on.

I turned my attention back to the sword in my hand, its unfinished hilt still warm against my gloves. "You come to give me a hand?" I asked hopefully, plunging the glowing blade into the barrel of cool water. Steam rose in a furious hiss, curling around us like a phantom.

"You know I'm terrible at making the weapons, much better at wielding them." He grumbled, approaching the countertop and drumming his fingers along it.

"Correction," I said as I removed the blade from the water. "You're terrible at the fine details. But you're great at the grunt work."

Cassian huffed, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he tried not to smile. "You married me for my muscles, didn't you?"

"Partially," I admitted, sliding the unsharpened sword back into its mold. "Why are you here then? I thought you had a meeting with Rhys." I pulled my mask fully off and ran a hand through my hair, shaking out the strands that clung to my skin.

"He called it early," he said, stepping past the counter, his large frame seeming to take up all the available space in the room. He leaned casually against the workbench, his arms crossed, but there was something about the way his gaze lingered on me that made the air between us feel charged. "Besides, I didn't come here for weapons tonight."

I quirked an eyebrow at him, already knowing where this was going. "Oh?" I leaned back against the anvil, folding my arms across my chest to mirror him. "And here I thought you couldn't resist testing out my new blades."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and it sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Don't get me wrong—your work is as flawless as ever," he said, his gaze flicking briefly to the daggers on the bench before returning to me. "But I came here to walk you home."

His words hung in the air, soft yet firm, and I found myself momentarily caught in the intensity of his stare. "Home?" I asked, tilting my head. "Cassian, I'm fine. Just a few more hours and I'll—"

"You've been at this all day," he interrupted, his tone gentle but insistent as he pushed off the bench and stepped closer. He reached out, his rough, calloused hand brushing a stray streak of soot from my cheek. "Take a break. It's getting late."

I huffed a laugh, though my cheeks flushed at the tenderness of his touch. "The weapons won't forge themselves, you know."

"They'll still be here tomorrow," he said, his fingers lingering near my face before he dropped his hand back to his side. His voice softened as he added, "You won't do anyone any good if you work yourself to exhaustion."

There was no arguing with Cassian when he used that tone—the one that was equal parts concerned and endearing. He knew I could hold my own, but he also knew exactly when to step in and remind me to take care of myself.

I sighed, the tension in my shoulders easing under his steady gaze. "Alright, General," I said with mock seriousness, pulling off my apron and hanging it on the peg beside me. "What do you propose we do instead?"

His grin turned roguish, his hazel eyes lighting up with mischief. "I told you I want to walk you home, maybe take the long way just to stare at the stars a little longer. You've been cooped up in here all day—I think some fresh air would do you good."

"A walk?" I teased, though I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "You're practically courting me."

His laugh was deep and infectious, rolling through my workshop like a melody meant only for me. "We've been married for centuries," he shot back, his expression softening as he looked at me, his grin a mixture of teasing and devotion. "So trust me when I tell you—you're worth courting."

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, freezing me in place for a beat too long. Cassian, with all his swagger and bravado, stood in the middle of my cluttered workshop, looking at me as though I were the only thing holding his world together.

I cleared my throat, shaking off the warmth unfurling in my chest. "Alright, you win," I relented, grabbing a rag to wipe my hands clean, but the skin remained stained with charcoal and soot. My voice came out steady, even if my heart wasn't. "Let me grab my coat."

I turned toward the rack, but before I could untie my apron, I felt the familiar warmth of his hand at my waist. He loosened the knot with an ease born of centuries together, slipping the apron over my head with careful precision. His touch lingered, just long enough for the air to thrum between us.

"Take your time," he murmured dryly, his voice a low rumble.

When I glanced back at him, he was watching me with that quiet intensity he so rarely let show—like the chaos of the world had stilled, leaving just us in the glow of it. For all his fire and fury, Cassian had this way of grounding me, of reminding me of the steady flame that burned beneath the warrior exterior.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against his in a soft kiss.

His grin was as wicked as it was endearing. "Save that for tonight," he said, pulling back just enough to tease.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. Rising onto my toes, I pecked him again. "Fine, fine," I huffed, waving him off as I grabbed my coat from the hook, swapping it with my apron.

Reaching for a small glass case on the workbench, I handed it to him. "These are for Az," I said. "He requested them—something about restocking the nursery." I arched a brow, skepticism dripping from my tone. "Can you tell me why Azriel needs daggers in our child's room?"

Cassian's grin turned sheepish as he shrugged. "He likes to be prepared."

"Prepared for what? A rogue teddy bear attack?"

"Hey, I don't question his methods. I have yet to find one around the house, and it seems to keep him happy so I let him."

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Cass, we're going to have a child. Daggers hidden anywhere in the house isn't exactly baby-proof."

"I'll talk to him," he promised, holding his free hand up in surrender.

I sighed. "I suppose if I haven't found any yet, he's hiding them well. Just make sure he keeps them out of reach, okay?"

"Of course, love. No need to worry."

I gave him a long look, trying to decide if he was genuinely serious or just placating me. Probably a bit of both.

"Alright," I muttered, sliding my arms into my coat. "Let's get out of here before I start overthinking the entire safety protocol of our house."

Cassian chuckled, tucking the case of daggers under his arm. As we stepped out into the crisp night air, he slung his other arm around my shoulders, tugging me close. The world felt lighter with him beside me, the stars above brighter somehow.

The walk back to our house was comfortable, Cassian's hand never leaving the small of my back as we made our way through the city. It was late, far past sundown but Velaris was alive as always, the streets bustling with fae chatting, laughing, and living as though it wasn't nearing midnight.

When we reached the house, Cassian held the door open for me, his teasing grin softening into something quieter. "I'll drop these off with Az. You head up—unless you want to supervise the handoff?"

I snorted, shrugging off my coat. "I trust you to make sure he doesn't immediately shove one under the crib mattress."

"Funny. That's the first place he'd hide one."

"Cassian!"

He laughed, planting a kiss on my forehead before disappearing down the hall. I climbed the stairs, my steps slowing as I passed the nursery. The room was still a work in progress the walls half painted and the dresser dissembled, but the crib stood at the center, its dark wood gleaming in the moonlight.

I stepped inside, running a hand along the curved edge. The weight of everything settled on me in that moment—the good and the terrifying. A child. Our child. I could already feel my heart making room for them, expanding in ways I hadn't thought possible.

The sound of footsteps drew my attention. Cassian appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. "You're worried," he said softly.

I nodded. "It's, a lot. Everything's going to change."

He stepped inside, closing the distance between us in a few strides. His hands found my waist, grounding me in that effortless way of his. "You're not in this alone, you know. We're a team. And if anyone dares to mess with our family, well—" His grin turned wicked. "We've got Az's nursery daggers for that."

I laughed despite myself, leaning into his chest. "We're going to be fine, aren't we?"

"Better than fine," he promised, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. "I promise."

And in his arms, I believed him.

Cassian's arms tightened around me, his warmth sinking into my skin as I breathed him in. For all his teasing and chaos, he always had this way of making me feel steady—of reminding me I wasn't just a blacksmith pounding out weapons in a forge, but someone who mattered to him, to our court, and now to the tiny life growing within me.

After a long moment, I sighed and stepped back, my hand lingering on his chest. "Speaking of Az's daggers, you'd think the Spymaster would have a little more patience," I muttered. "I'm running out of ways to make his blades sharper, lighter, or deadlier. At this point, I'm half-convinced he's just trying to keep me busy." I drone, thinking of the recent orders he's been making for no real reason.

Cassian chuckled, his hand drifting to rest on my belly, a gesture so absentminded and natural it made my heart clench. "Azriel keeps you busy because he's secretly terrified you'll run out of projects and get bored. And we all know what happens when you get bored."

"Oh?" I cocked a brow, crossing my arms over my chest. "And what exactly happens, General?"

"You invent something," he said solemnly, though the sparkle in his hazel eyes betrayed him. "Something new. Something terrifying. Something that usually involves explosions or blades that even Rhys has to veto before you can patent them and start selling to Lord Devlon."

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "I've only had two experiments blow up in my face this year."

"Three," he corrected, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Don't think I've forgotten about that flaming sword incident last spring."

"That wasn't an explosion!" I shot back, pointing a finger at his chest. "It was a controlled combustion—completely intentional, I might add. You're the one who decided to put it down on a wood surface."

He laughed, the sound rumbling through the quiet nursery. "It only burned down a countertop before we got the fire out. No harm, no foul."

I gave him a playful shove, but the warmth in my chest wouldn't go away. For as much as I loved the forge—the smell of molten steel, the rhythm of hammer against anvil, the satisfaction of shaping something raw into something powerful—moments like this reminded me why I'd taken the risk of opening my workshop in Velaris in the first place.

"Do you ever regret it?" I asked after a minute, my voice softer now.

Cassian tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. "Regret what?"

"Falling for someone like me," I said, gesturing vaguely toward the soot still staining my hands, despite my earlier attempt to clean them. "Someone who spends most of her days covered in ash and sweat, hammering out weapons instead of wearing gowns and sipping wine like a proper lady."

He stared at me for a long moment, his golden eyes unreadable. Then he reached out, taking my hands in his. His thumbs brushed over the calluses on my palms, the rough patches I'd earned from years at the forge.

"I've never regretted a damn thing about you," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Not the ash, not the sweat, not the fact that you could probably forge a better sword than all the Illyrian smiths combined. And definitely not the fact that you're about to be the best mother in Prythian."

My throat tightened, and I blinked quickly, trying to keep my emotions in check. "You're just saying that because you like getting the first pick of my weapons," I muttered, my voice breaking on the last word.

Cassian grinned, pulling me closer. "True." He smirks. "I love well-crafted steel. But I love you more."

I leaned my forehead against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat calm the storm inside me. After a moment, I pulled back, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face.

"Well, in that case," I said, my tone lightening, "I suppose I could work on a few more of those experimental blades for you. Maybe even something you'd actually be able to wield without slicing off your own hand."

"You'd patch me up." He says confidently.

I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips refused to fade. "Come on," I said, taking his hand. "It's late, and if we don't get some sleep, you'll end up snoring in the training room tomorrow."

We left the nursery behind, the soft glow of starlight spilling through the hallways of the house. The quiet was soothing, the faint hum of magic in the walls a reminder of the safety we'd built here. Cassian's thumb traced absentminded circles over the back of my hand as we walked, his touch grounding me in a way that words never could.

When we reached our bedroom, I let go of his hand to start unbuttoning my coat. Cassian, ever the helpful mate, came up behind me and slid the coat off my shoulders, brushing his lips against the nape of my neck as he did.

"Careful," I warned, though my voice lacked any real bite. "You keep that up, and neither of us will be getting any sleep tonight."

His chuckle was low and rough, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Noted," he murmured, hanging my coat on the nearby rack.

I crossed to the dresser, pulling out one of his old, oversized shirts to sleep in. As I tugged it over my head, I caught Cassian watching me from where he stood by the bed, his hazel eyes dark and unreadable.

"What?" I asked, tugging the hem of the shirt into place.

"Nothing," he said, though the softness in his voice told me otherwise. "Just, you're beautiful."

My cheeks warmed, but I rolled my eyes, trying to deflect the compliment. "You're just trying to butter me up so I'll make you another sword tomorrow."

"Maybe," he admitted with a grin. "But it doesn't make it any less true."

I shook my head, pulling back the covers on the bed and climbing in. Cassian followed, sliding in beside me with a contented sigh. He stretched an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

I rested my head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a sense of peace I hadn't felt all day. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my arm, and for a while, we lay there in comfortable silence, the weight of the day melting away.

"Do you ever think about the future?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Every day," he replied, his tone just as soft.

"What do you see?"

He was quiet for a moment, as though he were choosing his words carefully. "I see us," he said finally. "You, me, and the little one. Maybe a couple more, if you're feeling ambitious."

I laughed softly, the sound muffled against his chest. "Ambitious is one word for it."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Whatever the future holds, I know one thing for sure."

"What's that?"

His arms tightened around me, his voice filled with unshakable certainty. "I'll love you and fight for you—always."

I closed my eyes, letting his words wrap around me like a warm blanket. "Always," I echoed, my voice heavy with sleep.

Cassian shifted, pulling the covers up around us before settling back down. His warmth and the steady rise and fall of his chest were the last things I felt as I drifted off, safe in the knowledge that no matter what tomorrow brought, we'd face it together.

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[duckimate]

GRUMBO WEEK DAY 3 - " Nightmare " @grumboweek

"read more" at your own discretion. messy+wordy explanation of the concept coming:) .

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pardon me for being late but i really couldn't stand leaving this looking unfinished so. had to spend a bittt more time on it (might even post for grumbo week even after the event's over if thats okay!!)

we all got over the progression from their friendship to their betrayal of eachother in Last Life too soon. i need people to mourn with me

"Nightmare" made my mind immediately jump to the series that waffle duo really got their share of angst from, Last Life. How an unbreakable bond of friendship strengthened by literally passing eachother something as valuable as a life so quickly crumbled into them both betraying eachother in the end, a Nightmare scenario that the two of them would've never even considered for sure. even grian, who upon turning red was still clinging onto the hope that their bond was so strong that mumbo would join him as a redname. (concept) even red mumbo, who in his last ditch desperation tried reigniting post-red yellow life grian's humanity by giving him the spyglass, the southlander's physical embodiment of their friendship, only for grian to crush it mercilessly ,,,,,,,,,

anyway for this piece i tried real hard to cram in as much symbolism and imagery and intent behind my lines and colors as possible, so heres some of it! (theres more but thats on you to figure out!)

Composition + just some of the details : the main concept that i really wanted to drive home is the use of the SPYGLASS as symbolism for the progression of their bond throughout Last life, up until the end. yellow-side grian holds up a spyglass, looking towards the right

day4 past and future concepts ahead the spyglass extends through the past to the present, like a solid line of sight into the future before its unfortunately crushed by red-side grian (him shutting down any friendship or reconciliation from mumbo) mumbo, back against the future, faced twoards the past, reaching his spyglass out looking for who his friend was, only to see a cracked figure of him staring back grian, faced towards the future in both drawings, but also looking back at mumbo, with different emotions but both with the same desire to move forward, one with adoration and another with the desire to move on from mumbo's dead body and focus on self-preservation. he knew he had to move on, and he was right.

SOUTHLANDERS BADGE: mostly for visual interest! but also unlike the spyglass, is an unremovable physical reminder for post-red grian (literally lodged deep into his shoulder)

CLIPPED WINGS: i felt like i had to mention that they're supposed to look clipped in the second drawing:) "HE NEEDS TO LEARN" was a real quote that was directed at both jimmy and mumbo, but we gotta adapt pfft ,,, this post is long. LOng long. i should stop. special SPECIAL thanks to my dearest @justrelaxhere for their hours worth of dissection of my drawing! god i could always count on them to squeeze every drop of symbolism out of my work. without them i wouldn'tve been able to fully articulate my ideas! okay thanks for reading people:D

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Warm Bodies

Astarion walks in on a gift you were secretly making for him.

Pairing: Astarion x GN Tav

Warnings: none really? Some fluff and teensy bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

Requested: yes

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I know nothing about making clothes so if something is super off...I apologize lol. I do not approve of my work being copied or shared without my permission.

REMINDER: my inbox is open for requests!

As you ripped the seam from the thick, cotton top you were working on, you whistled quietly and bit your lip. It was late, and you were exhausted, but you were also in a just one more thing... type of concentration, so you decided not to fight it and to continue working.

Buttons were scattered across your lap, hastily discarded from the two other shirts you had worked on earlier in the evening. They rattled around as you squinted your eyes, making sure your handy work was good as you went. It must have been late - maybe 1 or 2 AM - so you gave yourself the hard stop after you finished taking apart this garment.

"Darling, I noticed your lamp light is still on...what are you doing in here so late?" A melodic voice slipped into your tent as the tent flap gently opened and closed just as quickly. Gasping, you turned around and immediately tried to hide your project.

Astarion stood, a hand on his hip and a smirk playing on his lips. "Oooh...what is this, sweetheart?" He stepped closer, peering down on the pile of clothes in front of you. You frantically waved your arms, trying to cover as much as your project as you could.

"Nothing! Nothing, I promise. Just...something." You cleared your throat nervously and stood, the buttons on your lap clattering to the ground. Both you and Astarion watched the buttons fall, and stared at them on the ground. At the same time, both of your heads snapped up and he was smiling.

"I caught you doing something," Astarion said, matter-of-factly. "I caught you doing something...something secret? Which makes me want to know even more."

"No you have not. I'm just...mending some clothes. To see if Gale could use any of them for enchanting." Proud of yourself, you smirked back, crossing your arms. Astarion eyed you suspiciously then finally looked behind you at the pile.

"For an...enchantment?" He echoed, causing you to nod in agreement. "Then why does it look like you have 7,000 shirts back there?" He walked towards the pile, and after a quick examination, he picked up the shirt you were working on when he entered, "Gods, how many do you actually have? Is 75% of your Bag of Holding filled with pants?"

"I'm trying to help, and you're getting in the way! Go away!" You teased, pulling on his sleep shirt to get him to step back. He swatted you away gently and kept looking, gingerly picking pieces of clothes up. Once he started to unfurl the pile, knowledge dawned on him.

"...it's a blanket," He said simply, quietly. He started to spread the blanket out, holding it in his hands as if it was made of the world's most precious fabric, "It's beautiful. You did this?" He looked at you, his face unreadable.

You nodded, smiling at him. You stepped around him to investigate the unfinished work, "I had the idea at the Tiefling party to start, since you told me that night in camp you got cold with what you had. So I just...kept the clothes we all no longer needed and thought it would be a nice...surprise?" Suddenly embarrassed, you blushed and pursed your lips together, looking to the ground.

Astarion said nothing, but continued to rub the blanket between his fingers. The contrasting fabrics of the velvet cape and wool robe you stitched together made a soft rubbing noise as he moved his hand. You felt your heart speed up a tiny bit - Astarion was usually never quiet, so you didn't quite understand what was going on.

"...is that okay?" You finally asked, leaning down to his level. He swallowed and slowly looked at you, bringing the blanket to his chest.

"And it's for me?" He asked. You nodded again.

"Do you...like it? Is it...too much?" You sighed heavily and stared at the blanket again, "Gods, it's too much, yeah? I knew it would be. Just because you said you were cold doesn't mean that I needed to make you a blanket-"

"I love it." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. You stopped and looked at him, a smile erupting on your face.

"You do? You don't think it's....too much that I'm making this for you? You don't think I'm...weird?"

"Oh no, you're definitely weird," He said, gently putting the blanket back in its original spot, "I'm not negating that. But...you're also very kind," He looked at you and took your hand, standing you both up. For a moment, he held on to your hand before he hesitantly dropped it, "This is a wonderful gift. Thank you...I..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I have never been given a gift like this...at least, not in a long time. It means much more to me than you could know, that you did this for me."

You blushed, lacing your fingers between both of your own hands. "That...makes me glad. I'm glad you like it. It's not ready yet...a few more shirts should do the trick, though!" I gestured to the shirt I was working on earlier, "It'll be ready probably...in a few days? You'll definitely have it before we reach Baldur's Gate."

Astarion chuckled and nodded, "That is quite alright. Take all the time you need...I didn't expect a gift like this, so you are well within your right to take as much time as you want," Suddenly, he smiled, "Though I'm not an expert, I have made my fair shares of enhancements and such to clothing...the blanket is beautiful work. You should be proud."

You smile and shrug, searching his eyes. Very rarely do you ever get to see Astarion in a vulnerable mood, one where he doesn't mask himself with jokes and charm. You like it, and you feel special knowing that he doesn't have these types of conversations with everyone.

"Besides, it'll help Wyll get off my back whenever he rips his shirt or whatever," Astarion finally broke the air with a flick of the wrist, waxing annoyed about Wyll.

You laughed and rolled your eyes, allowing Astarion the safe space, but also allowing him to step back when it all got to be too much.

"Well...I'm glad you like it," You finally said, "I'll be happy to give it to you when it's finished. And I'm sure I'll also appreciate the extra space in my Bag of Holding."

Astarion bent down to pick up the scattered buttons, handing them off to you. He smirked and walked towards your tent entrance to leave. Suddenly he turned around and stared.

You looked up from the buttons and saw his face was soft, unusual. It almost seemed like Astarion didn't know what he was feeling, either. He waited a moment before he spoke.

"I meant it when I said I have never received a gift like this before. This means-" He stopped himself, swallowing audibly. He cleared his throat before he continued, "Well, this means a great deal to me, that you did this. You are a kind person..." His eyes were shimmering as he looked at you, leaving you a bit breathless.

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to forget your kindness," He finally said, "Thank you...again." All you could do was smile and nod. Was he crying?

Astarion undid the laces on your tent flaps quickly and exited, closing it tightly behind him. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and placing the buttons on your side table, you sat on your bed, looking at the blanket. You replayed the conversation with Astarion in your head, and you started to smile. How wonderful was it, that you could effect someone so greatly with just a simple, kind gesture? You started to fold the blanket and gather the materials, placing them in a more organized pile in the corner of your tent.

It was time to sleep now, and even though you were completely awake 20 minutes ago, you suddenly felt hazy and sleepy, like you were in a dream.

As you drifted off to sleep that night, Astarion lied awake in his own, staring at the ceiling of his tent. He smiled and felt his own, thin blanket on top of his body. This entire adventure, he was disappointed in his sleeping accessories - blanket in particular, nothing ever made him feel safe, or warm. Though he longed from something heartier and more luxurious, he would never admit it out loud.

And yet, you somehow knew that a new blanket was something he wanted...possibly, even needed. Soon, he wouldn't have to worry about his shivering waking him up in the middle of the night.

That night, Astarion fell asleep, and though he was sure it was just a trick of the mind, he felt warmer than he had in weeks.

------

Give it up for our favorite sassy tailor, Astarion everyone. I love Astarion fics where there isn't romance/sex involved...this man needs more FRIENDS.

REMINDER: My inbox is open for requests!

[pigfacedbitch]

Dating Hort of Bloodbrook

summary : general headcanons of dating Hort while being the princess of Camelot.

word count : 0.7k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Hort x Reader, Sibling! Tedros x Reader

warning/s : discrimination against Nevers and Evers.

here is my masterlist!

Note : I know this is late but this has been on my unfinished works since the movie came out. I fell in love with Hort, he is so cute and loyal to Sophie 🥹. I haven't read the books but I might soon when I need to escape reality again.

You will likely be a year younger than Tedros.

Because of the heir and the spare™.

I know it sounds bad but some rulers actually do those.

Tedros is extremely overprotective over you, especially when Queen Guinevere ran away with Lancelot and King Arthur died.

He's like the typical older brother you see in movies; handsome, buff, (kind off) a meathead, and annoys you to know end.

Will also be the first one to come to your defense.

When you got to the School of Good, you were determined to destroy the image of being Tedros' little sister.

Which results to you preferring to be a hero in your own story than being a queen in someone else's.

As expected, you quickly became friends with Agatha.

Not afraid to stand up to those who think girls are inferior to boys.

While the other Evers found the Nevers horrible for being future villains, you have a neutral perspective towards them.

After all, the School of Good has many stuck up and vain students.

Meeting Hort was definitely a memory to remember. It was when Professor Dovey took the first years to the Wish Fish (Let's pretend Agatha didn't free them).

When you put your hand on the water and begin to think of a wish, you didn't feel the water swirling like Agatha told you she experienced,

Instead, it was hand that intertwines its finger with yours.

And it harshly pulled you down the water.

The girls' screams and the professor calling out your name in panic caught the boys and Tedros' attention, running to the 'rescue'.

Under the water, you see someone smiling at you, or at least that's what you hopes he's doing.

A Never named Hort, son of Captain Hook.

Tedros immediately pulled you out of the water, with Hort in tow.

The angry professor commands the nearby guards to bring him back to the School of Evil and how Lady Lesso will surely punish him.

"It seems like I'm your wish, my lady."

He expects you to be disgusted like the other Evers. To his surprise, you give him the sweetest smile he has ever seen in his life.

"That you are, Hort of Bloodbrook."

To say Hort is surprised was an understatement.

You didn't only smile at him but also knew his name.

Cupid's arrow struck him at that moment. His villainous smirk drops, staring at you with wide eyes as much as he could before they were out of sight.

Tedros, who saw the whole thing, was not pleased and gave you a warning on how Nevers can't be trusted.

After your encounter, Hort seeks you out more.

You didn't mind, he is an odd yet funny companion.

He also doesn't care for one's physical appearance like the girls do or how you're nothing but a pretty face with a royal title like most guys think.

He encourages you to be yourself, like Agatha does.

You two would get judgmental looks from both sides.

Sophie was pissed, not only because Hort was losing interest in her but being the princess of Camelot is everything she wants to be.

So is Tedros. And everyone else who sees you together.

Agatha is just worried and would remind you to keep your guard up.

But you enjoy each other's company, that's what matters.

Hort was in love with you the moment you met but it took you a longer time to realize your feelings for him.

You only told Agatha about it but Tedros overheard.

Believe me when I say that Tedros will demand you to be examined.

"She's not under any spells, my prince."

"Are you certain?"

"Oh my God, I love Hort and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Everyone in the hall heard you.

Silence before a giddy howl ensues.

Hort runs to you and gives the biggest hug you could ever receive.

Despite being initially embarrassed, you returned it.

Before he could kiss you like he always dreamed of, Tedros stops him.

He pulls out Excalibur and points its tip on Hort's neck. Your brother will mercilessly give the poor boy threats if he broke your heart or hurt you in any way. Agatha joined in without words, just sending a warning glare on his way.

Hort would be lowkey terrified but so happy at the same time.

I mean you love him back. He could take a fucking army if you command him to.

Lady Lesso and Professor Dovey would only look at each other in disbelief, worried for what happens next.

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑆𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑀𝑒

Summary: Remus loved Defence Against The Dark Arts, even though every year, he would have to listen to his class and their hateful words about werewolves. What they said was right, and he was getting worse, everyone was worried but they didn't know what to do.

Who knew, all it took was a kind spirit reminding him of his homeworks and bringing him chocolate?

Warnings: General hate about werewolves, self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of thinking of "unaliving"

Inspiration: this, this

A/N: Tiktok should be banned for me, really. Every time I see a cool pov video, I get inspired and that's why I have a bunch of unfinished works but still start a new one *sighs angrily*

Remus Lupin was your rival.

That was a fact almost everyone one in the whole school knew.

It wasn't an unpleasant one that would make everyone cower in fear, or get uncomfortable around you two. It wasn't the kind of rivalry which would end with pranking the other one or scare the hell out of you by suddenly appearing beside you.

It was a sweet one, where you two would sit together in the library with candy and chocolate covered lips as you both studied and made bets who was going to get the higher grade.

Remus, naturally, was someone friendly and even cute, dare you said. With the mop of brown hair and big eyes that twinkled with mischief- not many knew but he was actually the mastermind of the best pranks they did- you knew, because he often explained those pranks to you in the middle of your study session in which you had to stiffle your giggles because how much chaotic the school would become sooner and unknown to you, he would try to hide his blush at your cute reactions too.

The first time you noticed him, was when you both answered one of the questions of Slughorn at the same time. You looked at him with squeezed eyes and a slight hmph, a playful smile over your face as you made a mental note to talk to the boy who was way too shy to look you in the eye after class.

But the first time he noticed you was the very first day of coming to the Great Hall and staring at you laughing to your heart's content at one of Sirius' corny jokes. The sight made him blush slightly, something that would become more intense through the years, but also remind him that he would never be the reason of that laugh.

After all, seeing his crush laughing with his bestfriend who every girl had a crush on and would giggle and blush at wasn't an ideal sight for an insecure boy like him to watch through the years. He never blamed Sirius, though he often wondered how he was able to get all the girls of the school around him even with that flirty, Casanova persona of his.

And, as the self-destructive boy he was, he often pushed aside his friends' teasings about how you always eyed him and stared longingly, so sickly in love at the scarred boy.

"No way that she is looking at me, Pads. She is looking at you." He pointed to where you were sitting as usual, reading, without even looking up, making James whistle teasingly at him.

"And how do you know that, Moony? You didn't even look up~" James smiled as Remus sighed out tiredly and lifted his head to answer the boy...

But instead was met the shining eyes of yours catching his own across the Hall.

"Aaand just like that, we have lost our Moony for good, mates." Sirius teased him as he leaned back like a proud mother but soon found himself falling, pulling James with himself when he wanted to grab him for balance, and made both of them fall on their butts.

"Dude, not cool! What if I broke my glasses and my precious lilyflower saw me and..."

But Remus didn't even listen to them, their words becoming blurry as he stared at you with his own shining eyes.

He was impressed, and a little bit bashful, at how intensely you were looking at him and how... in love you looked. His heart started to beat faster and harder, his sweater suddenly became too much for him and he had to fan himself quietly. He wasn't even doing anything remotely different like Sirius who often winked at the girls and blew kisses at them with a charming smile!

He was the same boy who chose to read his book as his friends goofed around, the same shy boy who couldn't look a girl in the eye- especially his longtime crush who was also a "rival" at this point-, the same boy who studied and then gave a last-minute lecture to his friends so that they could pass...

But also the same boy who thought himself to be a monster who deserved nothing good in life.

You frowned when his eyes downcasted and he didn't even nod his head at you. No smile, no acknowledging.

Nothing.

You nervously shuffled on your seat as he continued to read his book, though his eyes stayed fixed on one page and you were sure he wasn't reading but instead was pretending. Though you were saddened by his actions, you were also proud of yourself for being able to hold eye contact longer than the last time and got a reaction out of him without bursting into a fierce blush yourself, you were worried about Remus.

You knew how smart Remus was, you saw it firsthand at Slughorn's test or the Charms lessons when you both answered the question at the same time. Or that when time in Minnie's class when you both were the first ones to achieve performing Evanesco and then later Vera Verto in the same lesson, and earned praises from the stern yet soft you two's favourite teacher.

A rare occurance by itself.

But he wasn't just as academical smart. He was also emotionally smart too. You weren't sure if it was about him being silent and often watching around himself, but for some reasons, he always knew what mood people were in.

He always knew when you were feeling overwhelmed, for example. He would come with your favourite sweets and some water to keep you hydrated since you often forgot, and though he used to scowl at those times, you knew he cared for you.

His worry and wide, caring eyes gave it away even if he tried to hide.

He is really so pretty, so handsome, so caring is what passed your mind as you sighed out lovingly. You knew he was insecure of the scars decorating his face and body, you knew he often stayed away from you or didn't touch you in fear of disgusting you with his touch. How absurd, you thought while eating your dish. He doesn't even know how smart he is, how lovely his smile was and how elegant he looked under one of the trees near the lake, hand holding his book gracefully-

Oh, you were so in love with him it hurt.

But then again, you two were nothing but friends, friendly rivals. Besides, talking to the Marauders took a huge toll on you by how... intense they could get, especially if pranks are included, so you kept your distance most of the times but instead spend time with the calmer one in the quiet confines of the library.

But lately... He had been sadder than normal, more quiet and kept to himself, he fiddled with his hands more than usual, picked on his nail more than he did and made them bleed painfully. You always carried cottons and bandaids for him solely for that reason and had they not run out of stock, you wouldn't even realize it.

And it worried you, not being enough to comfort him.

Because you were obviously at that state where you were more than friends but below lovers. You couldn't exactly go up to him and demand answers but also couldn't leave him to suffer. Maybe it was the secret he kept from everyone, or something concerning his family... Why were you so concerned anyways? He wasn't anything to you, though the soft exchanges between you, the shy touches of hands under the table and stares you gave to each other, the way he hugged you close to himself whenever you fell asleep accidently on the table said other wise...

A few more days, you thought bitterly as you collected your things and left the Hall in hurry to go to your next lesson.

A few more days, and if things don't go for the better, I will talk to him...

As his group of friends watched you walk away silently, they angrily turned to Remus and put a pause to their bickering- which said enough about the importance of the situation at hand- as they exclaimed how he could do that to his future spouse and their sibling-in-law.

Which they deserved to be hit with a bludger, and then hang upside down on on the ole of course, right straight in their skull for.

This was for the better, he thought painfully as he slowly put his books back in his bag with a frown. With slow steps, he would make you dislike him enough to stay away and save yourself from the misery that was him.

Remus never let anyone know about it, even though his friends already did from how fond he grew of you, but to him...You were a miracle.

A miracle that lightened his dark and empty life.

All his life, especially after his condition, he had come to make a peace with the fact that he wasn't and would never be normal in people's eyes. He knew how people viewed werewolfs, how they despised and even feared them and he didn't blame them.

He also feared himself and what he was capable of doing.

He had seen what he could to in his wolf form, to both himself and those who deemed as family. When he turned, he wasn't the same kind boy everyone thought him to be. He wasn't the same boy you had come to have feelings for, both of you laying your heads on the hard surface of the table in the library and dozing of together, though he secretly watched you with an easy mind and peaceful smile.

He was a monster that could end your life in less than a second.

Therefore, he pushed and pushed everyone away to protect both himself and others whenever the Full Moon came and he was turned to a bloodthirsty, carnal monster. The last thing he wanted was to hurt the only people who he cared about, the only people who knew his biggest secret but still chose to love him and stay next to him.

The Marauders and above all you, were the most important thing in his life. They were already deep in this mess anyways, but he wouldn't taint your happiness and innocence with a disgusting person such as himself. For the longest time, he pushed his friends' teasing remark about how he was smitten by you- even though they never said your name bir he still knew it- and how you also felt the same for the boy beyond that academic rivalry.

Making friendships was already hard enough for him, he needed months to just to open up to them about normal, mundane things! You and him didn't talk that much outside of those "Study Dates" as Sirius and James called it with wiggling brows, even if he wanted to talk to you about anything and everything like any other person.

Like, your favourite hobby, or movie, perhaps music band? Or what kind of books you wanted to read, places you wanted to visit or simply, what you wanted to be when you were out of Hogwarts.

But he... destroyed all of those chances when he burst out at you right before the full moon. He already felt awful, like a total and royal douchebag, and it was no excuse for him to act that way when you both were finally able to land on a playful and friendly "friendship" but the teasing of his friends had become too much alongside the stimulation he felt.

He knew he could never be a decent boyfriend you deserved, this accident proved enough, someone present and whose emotions didn't change depending on the moon. You definetly didn't deserve someone who kept secrets, someone who was scarred badly either.

You deserved someone who would be your rock when you needed, someone who would hold you without any fears of ever hurting you. You were so adorable, so pretty and he could never taint it.

So, if he needed to be turned into a douchebag for you to hate him... He would do it, even if hurted him more whenever he would see your frown after his mean word and draw back to your shell.

The loud, cheerful, bubbly and teasing person was gone and instead... A shy and silent one came, in fear of irritating Remus more than usual even if you were worried for him.

But, that was also the end of your "friendly rivalry" since you two no longer talked... Which concerned even the teachers.

"Moony, I'm sure they would understand... Just, why don't you give a chance to-"

"I said no, Prongs, and that is final. I'm not gonna talk to them."

"Even if it makes you and them miserable when they don't even know what they did wrong?"

Remus groaned at his friends from where he laid on his bed, face buried in his pillow in a pitiful attempt to hide away from the truth reflecting in their eyes. To be honest, his day was already shitty and his misery of treating you harshly 2 days ago added salt to his wound. His body was aching painfully, and his own mind and body was restless. The usual quietness of the common room and even their dorm was nothing but suffocating, like water slowly rising in level and coming closer to kill him mercilessly, in fake comfort. He planned to retire to his bed to sleep, the assignment he was supposed to be working laid all by itself on the table in the common room.

One that he was supposed to write with you.

Instead, he buried his face deeper into his pillow, tears of frustration escaping his thightly closed lids as he tried to find some sleep. The reason of his yet another meltdown was... Everything piled on his poor heart and mental state.

The harsh words spoken about him, inderectly or not, in the class... How he felt the immense guilt crush him slowly whenever he looked at your face, still smiling at him kindly with a hint of sadness... How his friends' pitying eyes turned to him before Sirius and James almost threw the desk at the people who uttered all those... insults.

"Monsters, that's what they are!"

"They all should be kept away!"

"They would kill you the moment they see you!"

"To be honest, they only deserve death."

He didn't do anything except making a cacoon of some sorts with his arms, burying himself there with tears stinging his eyes and without listening to the rest of the lesson as the teacher scolded both sides for it and continued as if everything was fine.

It wasn't.

Because as Sirius comforted him, or at least tried to, Remus' mind was in a frenzy. Maybe what they said was true? Why did he even think that somehow he could have a happy life? What did he do to deserve it anyways? All he ever did was hurting people...Maybe he should come closer to the cliff next time and...

Your eyes, even from the first rows, didn't leave Sirius and Remus, as you and Lily tried to make what they were doing and feeling. Sirius supported a frown on his face, lifting it only to shook at you with sad eyes as he let Remus be with a single pat to his shoulders but still sat close to him.

The sight of him all miserable, at the verge of tears made your heart clench painfully as your hands bundled your uniform anxiously. You were blaming yourself for not speaking up before, not confronting him because of your crush on the boy and the "rivalry" between you two.

Even if his outburst at you a few days earlier, not showing up to any of the sessions or book readings said enough to you: He didn't care about whatever was happenig between you two, or in other words, could have happened.

Besides, the reason of your absence had a logical explanation in your mind to you, and it was utterly understandable when you didn't want to irritate someone and therefore stayed away.

You thought you were alwasy disturbing Remus, by how he would glare at you silently with a frown (not knowing it was one of the many times he was considering to just blurt everything out and let you hate him freely in his mind) even if your intentions were good. You were only worried for him, especially after DADA lessons, much like this one, or whenever he didn't show up for classes after full moons. James and Sirius often tried to play it off by teling you to not to worry and that he was just having... A bad day, a headcahe that just wouldn't leave poor Moony alone, or how he was having the flu that made his body ache slightly.

They assured you that he would be fine and come back to your "library dates", looking at you cheekily as you blushed and grumbled at them before slipping away, head and heart full of worry for the kind and soft boy.

Because, even if you two were "academic rivals of some sort"... You knew what was going on with him.

Yes, maybe they thought of you to be an idiot or not, but it was plainly obvious what Remus was, by how he disappeared the night before the Full moon, during the Full Moon, and the next day of it. At first, you weren't sure about your suspicions, after all it could be something else.

But when it became regular, and he would come back with more scars visible on his arms and face, and when you saw Madame Pomfrey comforting a crying Remus wrapped in bandages, was how you knew it.

And it did nothing to change how you saw him.

To you, he was the same boy who always offered you a piece of his chocolate under his friends' shocked eyes, he was the one who would land you one of his jackets when it was colder than normal, he was the one who knew where to find you whenever you cried, he was the one you always found in your usual spot just to irritate you and watch fondly as you lost it, he was the one who hugged you when shit went down and you needed someone to believe in you...

But above all, he was the boy you loved.

Even if he hated you, or didn't want you near him... You had to help him, confront him if needed. This could go in two ways: You leaving with tears as he kicked you out, or achieving your goal successfully.

And you made sure that the second one would be the case as you brought your notes from today and the books he had forgotten in the class, knowing that if he was in a good shape enough to talk to you, he would let you in with all these.

As you walked towards the boys' dormitory with an anxious biting of your lips, you were sure that you would make it all clear.

How you didn't see him as a monster, how he deserved good things in the world and even more, how there would be people loving him unconditionally even if he pushed them away...

Maybe not immediately, but through time.

James already made sure that none of the Marauders would enter or disturb you both, silently cheering for his ship that was about to sail as Sirius watched from next to him while biting on his fist with proud tears in his eyes. You could still hear their choked cries as Peter mumbled a surprised what the fuck, giggling to yourself as you slowly knocked on the door and let yourself in.

You already guessed Remus would be out for good, sleeping as he recovered from the night of Full Moon, so you quickly took a look around and sighed to yourself at the messy state of the dorm.

Boys, you sighed affectionately yet still tired. Putting everything together and tidying up didn't take much time and soon you were seated on Remus' bed with a thundering heart, silently cooing at how cute he looked with his mouth slightly open, face smushed to the pillow he held it thightly to himself.

"You're really pretty..." you murmured softly in admiration and love softly, heart flipping inside your chest as you swiped his slicked with sweat hair back, feeling the slight burn of his forehead under your finger tips. All this time, you always stared at him from afar and everything was fine, you could control your body's reaction from that distance but now that you were so close to him, eyes raking through his half-naked upper chest and back, you didn't know what to do with your shaky hands and heart full of love for the boy laying before you.

Watching him sleep, laying prettily was probably a good idea but you were sure the boys would be able to hold back anyone entering only for so long.

And even if no one entered, Peeves would, since the ghost loved drama and "peeving" into students' lives.

"Rem, wake up." you shook the boy slightly to not alert him suddenly, giggling when he mumbled a groggy five more minutes Sirius when his eyes snapped open at your next words and he stood up on his hands shakily, still not quite out of the clutches of sweet sleep.

"Wow, Sirius wakes you up with swiping your hair back and so softly?"

After the initial shock wore off at seeing you right in the middle of his dorm, smiling down at him with a soft smile as he stared at you... He didn't know how to feel and just blurted out whatever was in his mind as he leaned back on the bed frame.

"Why are you here?" he internally cringed at how hoarse and rude the question left him, hoping that you weren't angry but you only shrugged your shoulders noncholantly and smiled at his obvious confusion.

"I saw you in the infirmary and offered the boys to help them with their assignments for 2 weeks to leave us alone."

"That one was one big deal you got yourself, love." he couldn't help the sweet name leaving his lips, so naturally that he didn't realize it at first but soon flushed as soon as possible, looking at anywhere but you with his ears tinted red on the tips.

"Well, it was worth it. Besides, I needed to talk to you. And you forgot your books and I brought you the notes of today's lessons." you tried to hide the blush covering your cheeks at how the word warmed your insides sweetly and lifted your eyes to gaze at his confused ones. This was the only time he wasn't irritated and you had to make the most of it. (Remus would never be that asshole to you again, not when you came here even if you didn't have to and he had become calmer at your presence.)

"Then... What's the problem? If it's about the infirmary, you don't have to-" he immediately started to ramble excuses as to why you should never be worried about him, as if it was something forbidden which made you sigh tiredly and take his hand between yours, thoughtfully rubbing circles on his much larger ones and shutting him up immediately at your warmth coursing through him as his eyes widened.

"Why don't you accept that someone could care for you because they want to, Rem?"

Well, why would you when he was a bloodthirsty monster?

"I'm not that good of a guy as you think of me." Remus spitted angrily, venom towards himself visible to you as your heart once again broke for the boy, and felt anger at the injustice and harshness he was met all his life. You had a good guess that his sour mood was a product of those comments from before, as normal as it was, but still... Remus was never this affected, this sad and... gloomy.

It was something else, but for now... You wouldn't comment on it.

You hummed thoughtfully to yourself. Of course, it was normal for people to have different sides that they didn't show to everyone but yet again... Remus was like an open book to you, whether he tried to hide the biggest secret of his life or not.

"Why? Because you are a werewolf?"

Your question made the boy freeze in shock and fear, mind suddenly running with questions and trying to find a way to dodge your "assumption".

But as soon as he saw your understanding and kind eyes, he crumbled and a single tear rolled down his eyes.

"Who... Who told you that?"

" No one, I figured it out a few months ago when you started to act weird with me but waited until you came to me with your will... I wish I came myself though, maybe you wouldn't be miserable right now." you wiped the tear softly and craddled his face as if he was a delicate doll, the harsh skin of the scars running his face. To think that he thought he was ugly and disgusting...

If only he saw himself through your eyes...

"I see you for who you are. Doesn't matter if you turn into a wolf every month for a day, I want to be there for you to take care of you..."

"Besides, the boys don't know shit about taking care of a sick person." that made the tension disappear in a second as you both stared at each other for a few seconds and soon burst out laughing. Maybe you wouldn't be able to confess your feelings today, and Remus wouldn't actually talk to you about the probelm he has, but as you two hugged thightly just like you used to...

Everything felt right.

And, without you knowing, you saved Remus from committing or doing something he would regret later, from ending it all in one transformation day... It was you reminding him of his homeworks every day from that day on, always being there for him through thick and thin with your soft touches and kisses, coming to his dorm with a bunch of books and his favourite chocolate...

And accepting him for who he was.

"By the way, I know you knowingly did the last question wrong on the last week's test."

A deep chuckle as he hugged you thighter.

Yes, maybe he deserved happiness.

[logolepzy]

Through the Storm, Into Your Arms ⋆.˚

genre : hurt/comfort

pairing : spencer reid / derek morgan

word count : 2809

warnings / tags : hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, argument, communication

note : critique always welcome! i also post my fics on AO3 :3 dividers by : cafekitsune

Soft, gentle rays of sun glow on Derek Morgan’s face. Spencer lies beside him, resting his chin on his hand, mesmerized by his features, admiring him just like the first morning they spent together. He chuckles at the fact Derek’s mouth is hanging open.

Derek sharply inhales, slowly opening his eyes to squint at Spencer, who is still intently staring into his partner’s eyes.

“Jeez, stalker.” His voice was harsh, but he managed to let out a chuckle. “How long have you been watching me for?”

“I have nothing better to do. Why not just look at you?” Spencer joked, putting on his awkward, straight smile.

“Of course you’d go with that. Just look at this face.” Derek smiles as he rolls over to sit up on his side of the bed, locking his fingers together to stretch above his head.

“Do you know what today is?” Spencer giddily inquired.

“Why wouldn’t I know, Spence?”

“I just wanted to remind you.” Spencer grinned, dropping his head to stare at his busy hands. Although they were dating, his little nervous fidgeting never disappeared. It was almost as if they weren’t dating, and he was still constantly crushing on him, feeling that loving flutter in his heart whenever they had a conversation.

Derek pushes himself off the bed and shuffles to Spencer’s closet to pick out some of the work clothing he brought over the night before.

“I was thinking we could do something nice for our 6-month anniversary.” Spencer blurted. He couldn’t contain his excitement for this day and had to discuss his plans thoroughly. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“I’m okay with whatever.” He pulls up his dark blue jeans and starts picking out a V-neck shirt from his limited selection hanging up on the right side of Spencer’s closet. “Did you have anything specific in mind? As long as you enjoy it, it will be a good day.”

“I thought I could try to cook for you.” Spencer wasn’t usually the type to cook. He saved his skill for special occasions, for special people. “I already know you like Chinese food, but I’m unfamiliar with cooking that. Is there something I’ve made before that you also like?”

“You do make amazing ravioli.”

“I can do that, but we are out of pasta sauce, so we should grab some on our way to the BAU.” Spencer finally got up to start dressing himself. He makes his way toward the closet and starts sorting through his options, checking each fabric for the perfect material.

Derek exits the bedroom and heads towards the living room to scan for any mess. Spencer kept most of his life neat and well-kept, but considering he was frequently out of the house, the center of it fluttered around with his rushes. So Derek tidied up what he could, taking coffee-stained mugs to the sink and carefully placing his unfinished reads back onto the shelves with a bookmark on his last place.

Spencer comes stumbling out of his bedroom, nearly slipping as he tries to slide into his mismatched striped socks. He picks up his messenger bag, tossing it over his head and adjusting it on his hip.

Derek slides the last book back onto the bookshelf and looks back at Spencer, idly standing at the door, waiting for his boyfriend to complete their routine.

As they make their way out of the door, Spencer dives into detail on everything he had planned for the day. He was so overwhelmed with joy that he simply couldn’t keep all the specifics a secret. They make their way towards the lobby, Derek slightly picking up pace to open the door for Spencer, allowing him to continue rambling about various plans for their weekend.

The car ride on their way to the BAU was serene. Spencer suggested they take a more scenic route, considering today wasn’t a busy work day and the most exhaustive task they would have to complete would be a stack or two of paperwork. They casually ride through downtown and observe all the bustling businesses, briefly stopping at a corner store to pick up pasta sauce for their dinner later and a few other snacks to keep around the apartment.

Finally, they arrive at the BAU. Derek navigates through the parking lot, scouting out the best parking space. Not too far and easy to spot from the entrance. Spencer pulls on the handle of the car door, pushing it out to exit with it, and meets Derek at the front of the car, where he checks the time. 

“Ready to head in?” Derek looks over.

“I think so.” 

Spencer extends his hand out towards Derek’s as they make their way closer to the front door, but abruptly, he watches Derek jerk his hand back into his pocket, reacting to their contact. Immediately, a pit forms in his stomach. They weren’t a frequently affectionate couple, specifically not in public. Still, Spencer wasn’t expecting a reaction like this, not from Derek. It had taken some time for their relationship to even reach that level once they had made it official.

“Why did-” Spencer attempted to question.

Derek pulled the grand glass doors open, stepping aside, allowing Spencer to step in before him.

“Go ahead.” Derek bluntly stated.

Spencer can’t manage to get his work done, not after this morning. It was off-putting, even if it was a small, easily misunderstood action. He files through various documents and reports, patiently waiting to be completed. He snags a recent report off his stack and finishes the final details.

A worn office chair noisily rolls back, causing Spencer to look up from his work, spotting Derek rising from his seat to make his way towards the coffee maker, Spencer following closely behind.

Derek stops before the coffee maker, popping his favorite pod into its designated spot and placing his hands on the counter to tap a simple rhythm while he waits. Spencer slides beside him, awkwardly swaying as he stands in the silence.

“What was that earlier?” Spencer managed to mutter quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Before we walked in. Why did you not want to hold my hand?”

Derek’s eyebrows slightly raise, his jaw tensing in the same motion. He opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by the obnoxious beeping of his coffee finishing brewing. Turning to the machine, he presses a couple of buttons, allowing his roast to fill a mug.

“Can you at least talk to me about it later?” He mumbles.

Derek nods, and Spencer heads towards his desk, bumping into Hotch on his way back.

“Is everything alright?” Hotch tilts his head. He had glanced over at their conversation earlier, sensing the tension between them.

Spencer gives him a straight, awkward smile and a thumbs up.

“We have a meeting. Could you let Derek know as well? Just a quick review.”

Like every week, the team sits contently at the round table as Hotch goes through past reports and upcoming goals. Spencer had set aside his trouble with Derek’s odd behavior, hoping to focus on the current meeting and set a better mood between them. As he jots down reminders in his planner, he glances down and notices Derek’s right leg bouncing anxiously. In an attempt to regulate whatever he may have been feeling, Spencer placed his free hand onto Derek’s fidgeting leg, causing him to flinch slightly. 

He discreetly grabs Spencer’s hand, throwing it off his thigh while giving him a harsh look. Spencer catches onto what Derek did and feels his heart sink to his stomach. A defeated look draws on his face, grabbing Hotch’s attention as he wraps up the meeting. His entire body language shifted, making it hard for anyone not to notice. Spencer felt nothing but utter humiliation, a thrashing wave of shame throwing him back in his seat. He felt his eyes start to fill, and his face begins to heat up. “Reid?”

He picks up his head to face his boss, forcing himself to contain his upset. 

“Uh- Yeah, sorry.” He coughs back his tears, realizing the entire team's eyes are on him, including Derek.

As the end of their work day approaches, Derek seems to rush as he gathers his belongings to head home, as does Spencer. Both of them were more than ready to leave the overbearing climate their workplace had become today.

No words are exchanged between them as they make their way towards Derek’s car. Spencer attempts to share a glance with his partner as if doing so would give him even the slightest glimpse of an explanation, a peek into his emotions. They drag themselves into the car, taking a moment to sit in the strained atmosphere.

The ride back home was more than tense. Reid shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, running through several openers to this heavy conversation, continuously fidgeting with his clothes, hair, nails, whatever put him at ease. Derek sat with his right hand on the steering wheel, his other hand propped on his door to hold his head as he rested it on his palm, strictly keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him.

“Are you upset with me, Derek?” His words get caught in his throat before shakily making their way out as he watches Derek’s jaw clench at the sentence. A rainfall of regret washed over him.

“What?”

“You-you refused to show even the tiniest bit of affection towards me at work.” The sentence lingers in the deafening silence of the moving car. Derek presses his lips together, holding himself back until he can find the right words.

“You’re seriously bothered by that? Because you can’t be touchy in a work setting?” It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say. Still, he couldn’t find anything more appropriate, unfortunately letting the bitterness soak into his tone. He peers over at Spencer, catching his timid expression shift into a look of infuriation.

“All I did was try to hold your hand.” “And grab my thigh during a meeting?” The tension between them was growing more and more dense as they threw arguments at each other.

“You were aggressively bouncing your leg for 20 minutes. I was trying to help you!” Derek scoffs, shaking his head at the statement. He gives no response, once again leaving them in ringing silence.

“Why is this making you so upset? I’m not asking to make out with you while we’re being briefed on a case.”

“We haven’t even told the team we’re together, Spencer. I’m asking you to tone it down in public, that’s all.” Spencer huffs, picking at the crumbs on his seat.

“Are you just embarrassed to be with me?” He mumbles. “You’re always avoiding affection or trying to hide it from everyone.”

“Jesus Christ-” Derek spits. “How about we leave it at the fact that I simply hate PDA?”

“Okay, I’ll drop it!” His voice cracks.

Spencer turns his head towards the window, staring out as they slowly roll into the parking lot of his apartment complex. Derek works into a parking space and shuts the car off, quickly gathering his things, Spencer following after him. He shuffles behind Derek as they head to the lobby entrance, keeping his head low as Derek holds the door open for him.

They both head into the apartment without uttering a single word to each other. Derek steps towards the kitchen, swiftly placing the cold jar of pasta sauce on an empty kitchen counter, then heads straight to the bathroom to wash his face and clear his head. The creaky door closes behind him, and he grips his hands onto the cold ceramic sink, glaring into the mirror. He recounts the events of today, resentment bubbling up into his throat, spreading through his body. The crack in Spencer’s shaking voice replays in his head, his somber face when he had been denied holding his partner’s hand into work, and his reaction when he threw Spencer’s hand off his thigh. Everything had finally set with him. He frees his hands from the sink, steps back to hit the wall, and slowly descends onto the floor.

Spencer quickly started on dinner, retrieving ingredients from various parts of their kitchen for a simple pasta dough. He was slightly comforted by the fact they made it home before 6 PM, leaving him enough time to finish dinner and hopefully have time to spend together, despite their differences. Immediately starting with the pasta, Spencer kneads frustration into the dough. Every emotion he had held in at work began to come up, forming a lump in his throat. Once again, tears began to fill Spencer’s eyes as he picked up his pace with preparing dinner, quickly whisking a spinach ricotta mix together, rushing to start filling the ravioli. Quiet tears hit the floor as he hovered around the stove, slowly watching his handcrafted noodles boil.

Spencer’s head swings as he hears a door creak again, catching Derek slipping out of the bathroom to crash on the couch. He turns back to his noodles, gently grabbing the pot to drop them into a strainer. A warm browned butter sauce waits in a pan on the stove, sizzling as Spencer incorporates the ravioli with it. The fragrance of their dinner makes its way out of the kitchen, catching Derek’s attention as he sits slumped on the couch, browsing channels for classic sitcoms. Spencer awkwardly slides even portions onto clean places, gently placing them on his petite dinner table and getting positioned at his side of the table. Derek looks over and catches his partner’s unspoken words, sluggishly dragging himself off the couch and plopping in his seat across from Spencer’s.

“This smells great.” Derek mutters while poking around his plate, searching for a perfect first bite. Spencer returns a nod in response, bringing his eyes back to his meal as he taps on the fake wood of his dinner table.

“So, uh-” Spencer begins to speak.

“I know,” Derek says softly, practically whispering. “I’m very sorry.”

“I didn't mean to be overbearing.” Spencer's face was misty, tears coating his cheeks.

“No, you weren't.” He takes a deep breath, searching his mind for the right words. “It’s just very different. Our relationship.”

Spencer presses his cracked lips together, stretching his hand over the table to lie on Derek’s. He began to guess as to what was bothering him and patiently waited to hear him out.

“I'm not entirely ready to tell the team about us. I haven't been this committed to a relationship in years. I don't want them to profile us and assume things on their own.” Derek cringed at the thought. He refused to allow something so important to be reduced to senseless office gossip.

Spencer sighs in relief, feeling an unbearable weight lift off his chest. Although the conclusion was drastic, it brought him immense security to know that Derek wasn’t ashamed to be with him publicly. Derek lifts his hand to stroke a stray hair away from Spencer’s glazed eyes, resting his hand on the back of his head, surveying his face for a tell as his lack of a response was killing him.

“Spence?” 

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry.” Spencer jolted, finally snapping back into his consciousness as he stared back into Derek’s gaze. “I completely understand. I don't want to make you feel unsafe.” Spencer struggled to formulate a response aside from showing understanding.

“Still, I shouldn't have acted weird towards you out of nowhere.” Derek drags his hand from the back of Spencer’s head to his cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. “Let me make it up to you.” 

“Well, I can’t deny that.” Spencer softly chuckles at the offer, and Derek gives a pleasant grin in response. He squeezes onto Spencer’s hand, rising from his seat, his partner following along. As they wander through the cozy living space, relief washes over them both. Their relationship went through a rough patch and came out in one piece, and that’s what mattered to them now.

They plop themselves onto the pillowy couch, snuggling up to one another. Spencer allows himself to shift down to Derek’s lap, resting his head on his thighs. Derek tenderly caresses the doctor's rosy cheek, dragging his touch down to his shoulders and returning his hand to repeat the comforting motion. Using his free hand, he feels around through blankets and couch crevices for the TV remote, finally grabbing hold of it, and clicking through available channels in search of a laid-back movie. Something Spencer had already seen, to avoid the fatigued man being brought out of his dozing off to pick up new information. Derek tenderly drags a delicate throw blanket over his partner’s shoulders, placing a kiss on his forehead. Within minutes, both of them doze off, snuggled up against one another on Spencer’s couch.

[blinkaftermidnight]

Leah Has a Crush, Fatin Tries to Sleep With Her

I know it's been a while, but I still have unfinished material to share. Read on AO3.

“You know, it’s not fair that Toni and Shelby are getting some action out here while the rest of us aren’t. And they’re rubbing it in our fucking faces every chance they get. Look at them, sleeping all up on each other. I don’t know if it’s making me sick or horny.”

“Fatin,” Leah grumbles. “Go to sleep.”

“And this is a problem we could very easily solve,” Fatin continues. She knocks the back of her hand against Leah’s arm, startles Leah back into full consciousness. “You and me, Rilke. We could totally –”

“Fatin.”

“Right, right. Sorry.” Fatin pauses. “You know, it’s also not fair that you can get yourself off while I totally cannot, and –”

“Fatin!”

“Sorry!”

*

Fatin throws whatever kind of nut they’re eating at Toni, and it bounces off her forehead, immediately earning Fatin a glare from her. At least it gets Toni to take her eyes off of Shelby. “Stop staring at Shelby like that,” Fatin says. “It’s gross.”

“That’s homophobic,” Toni retorts.

Fatin rolls her eyes. “I can’t be homophobic. I’m not straight. And I didn’t mean it’s gross because it’s gay. I mean it’s gross because you’re obviously about to sneak off to fuck in the woods, and I’m having, like, the longest dry spell of my life – at least since I started having sex.”

“That sounds like a real you problem, Fatin,” Toni says, chucking the nut right back at her.

Fatin dodges it, says, “You need to work on your aim, Shalifoe. I thought you were on the basketball team?”

“Oh, don’t even come for me,” Toni scoffs. “Your dry spell isn’t my fault. Blame the pilot for landing our plane straight into the fucking ocean.”

“Yeah, ease up on them, Fatin,” Dot says. “Toni’s right. Your dry spell isn’t her fault.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Fatin snaps.

Dot shrugs. “I call it like I see it.”

“I hate you all,” Fatin announces. “You know, it’s probably in your best interest to make sure I have an orgasm sometime soon. If I go an entire month without one – and we’ll hit that milestone in exactly three days – you’re all going to regret it.”

“Ask Leah,” Toni suggests.

Leah stops chewing, eyes flicking between Toni and Fatin. “Don’t ask me,” Leah says. “She already tried last night.”

“It’s true,” Nora pipes up. “She did.”

Leah blinks. She hadn’t realized there’s a witness. “Just don’t encourage her to try again,” Leah mutters.

Toni smirks, gets to her feet. She holds her hands out to Shelby, pulls her up, and says, “We’re going for a hike.”

“No, you aren’t!” Fatin shouts after them. “We all know that you’re not!”

“Be back before sundown,” Dot reminds. Toni salutes her, and they disappear into the woods as Fatin fumes.

“How are you all okay with this?” Fatin demands. “If I’m forced into celibacy, we all should be forced into it together.”

“Oh, let them have their fun, man,” Rachel says.

“Yeah, they aren’t hurting anyone,” Nora agrees. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“And it gets them off our backs for a few hours at a time,” Rachel points out.

“I don’t know,” Martha says. “Maybe Fatin is right.”

Fatin holds out her arm toward Martha, exclaims, “Thank you, Martha, honey. See? She gets it.”

“No offense,” Martha says. “I think you guys are great, but I never get a minute alone with Toni anymore.”

“Oh,” Fatin says. “So it’s not that they’re having sex.”

“No,” Martha says. “I don’t really care about that.”

“Yeah, Fatin, you’re the only one hung up on how much sex Toni and Shelby are having,” Rachel says. “It’s kind of weird.”

“They are both having orgasms, on this island, right now,” Fatin says. “And I am not. And that is not okay.”

“Then go ask to join them,” Leah quips. She smiles as Rachel chokes on her mouthful, watches Nora pound Rachel on the back.

“You know what?” Fatin says. “That’s actually not a terrible idea.”

“Fatin, that was a joke,” Leah says, eyes widening. “Seriously, don’t – and there she goes.”

“Oh my God,” Martha says. “Toni will kick her ass if – Leah, go after her!”

Leah’s eyebrows raise. “Me?”

“You pitched her the idea,” Dot agrees. She pushes at Leah’s shoulder. “Go get her before Toni murders her.”

With all of the other girls staring her down, Leah gets to her feet and runs after Fatin. Luckily, she hasn’t gotten far, and she turns back when she hears Leah crashing through the woods. Fatin grins, leans against a tree.

“What –?” Leah says breathlessly.

“I’m not actually stupid, you know that, right?” Fatin questions. “I’m not about to interrupt Toni and Shelby. I’d have to have, like, a literal death wish.”

“Then why did you – what?”

“I knew they’d send you after me,” Fatin says. “And now we’re alone in the woods.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Leah scoffs. “You’re not even funny.”

“Please,” Fatin begs, latching onto Leah’s wrist before she can walk off. “Oh my God, I would totally owe you forever. I’m dying over here, Leah.”

“You aren’t dying,” Leah retorts, yanking her arm free. “We could’ve actually died, you know, and you’re still worrying about an orgasm?”

Fatin grabs a fistful of the back of Leah’s shirt instead, stops her from walking off. As Leah turns back around, Fatin says, “Name your price.”

“Jesus! Nothing about that sentence is okay, Fatin,” Leah snaps.

“Oh, you want to be, like, courted? I can do that. Or I can try?”

Leah’s jaw hangs open for a long moment as she determines that, yes, Fatin is very serious. “Why don’t you just ask Dot?” Leah questions. “You two are close, aren’t you?”

Fatin’s eyes roll. “Not like that. Dot is tragically very straight.”

“You’ve already asked.”

“Of course I have!”

Leah hums. “I’m not even your first choice. You’re just that desperate for an orgasm.”

Fatin hesitates. “No, wait, I never asked Dot to fuck me. That was a dream?”

Leah shakes her head. “Nice try. The answer is no either way, so. Let it go.”

“You think I can’t win you over?” Fatin says. “Is that a challenge, Leah Rilke?”

“No. It’s really not. Now come on. Let’s go back.”

“Oh, it so is,” Fatin replies. Leah ignores her. Fatin smirks, and she follows Leah back to camp without another word.

This was written in early 2021, and it's…comedic? Maybe? I'm not sure what I was going for here, but reading it now, to me, it seems comedic. In a way, it could almost be a completed tiny oneshot if I changed the title, but I don't think the quality of it is up to my current standards.

[witchofhellridge]

Taking the Leap: The Shock of Publishing My Stories on Inkitt

Let me tell you about the moment I officially lost my mind — in the best way possible. It was a regular day, chaotic as usual (because twins), and somewhere between cleaning up a yogurt explosion and folding laundry, I stumbled across Inkitt’s end-of-year contest.

Now, I’d been posting fanfiction there for a while. Nothing too serious, just a place to share my love for other people’s worlds. The contest was open to fanfics, sure, but only if they were new to the platform. And that was the catch — I didn’t have any new fanfiction ready to go.

But you know what I did have? A mountain of original stories, collecting metaphorical dust in old notebooks, drawers, and the farthest reaches of my laptop. Stories I’d written and loved but never thought were “good enough” to share.

Still, even with the contest staring me in the face and that little voice whispering Why not?, I might not have done it. Not without my best friend. She wasn’t just my cheerleader; she became my editor, my beta reader, and the person who gently but firmly pushed me toward the edge of the metaphorical publishing cliff. She believed in my stories when I couldn’t, and without her engagement, I never would’ve had the courage to let them out into the world.

So, with her encouragement echoing in my head and her notes scribbled all over my draft, I took the leap.

The Impulse to Publish

It started with a question that wouldn’t leave me alone: Why not share something original? Sure, I’d spent years as a fanfiction writer, someone who loved playing in other people’s worlds. But here was a chance to step out of that comfort zone, to show the world something entirely my own.

Would I win? Probably not. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that these stories deserved to be seen — not buried in my digital clutter but out there in the world, where someone might stumble upon them and see what I saw in them.

So, with my best friend cheering me on and beta-reading like a boss, I picked a story, polished it up, and hit “publish.”

The Shock of Being Seen

Here’s what I expected: a few polite reads, maybe a comment if I was lucky. Here’s what actually happened: people read my story. Not just skimmed it—they actually engaged with it.

The feedback was overwhelming in the best way. Readers commented on my characters, gushed over my plot twists, and talked about the world I’d built like it was a real place they’d visited. And suddenly, the voice in my head that constantly whispered, You’re not good enough, was drowned out by something louder: They love it.

I didn’t know what to do with all those positive comments at first. I’d spent so much time doubting myself that having strangers genuinely enjoy my work felt…surreal. But it was also heartwarming. Every kind word was like a little spark, reigniting my love for writing and reminding me why I started in the first place.

Finding My Tribe

What really sealed the deal for me was the community. Inkitt isn’t just a platform; it’s a gathering of readers and writers who genuinely support each other.

People there don’t just leave comments; they leave thoughtful comments. They ask questions about your characters, tell you their favorite parts, and cheer you on with every new chapter. It feels like finding a creative family, one that gets how vulnerable it is to put your stories out into the world.

And honestly? I wouldn’t have found the courage to even try without my best friend. She wasn’t just my beta reader and editor — she was my creative lifeline. The one who reminded me that I had something worth sharing, something worth reading. I sometimes just kick me in the ass J

Why I’m All In Now

Will I win the contest? Who knows. That’s not what matters anymore. What matters is that I took the leap. I stopped letting fear and self-doubt hold me back, and I let my stories have their moment in the sun.

Now, I’m looking at my hard drive full of unfinished drafts and thinking, What else can I share? Because here’s the thing: the joy of writing doesn’t just come from creating — it comes from connecting. From knowing that something you wrote touched someone else.

What I’ve Learned (and What I Want You to Know)

If you’re sitting on stories, art, or anything else you’ve created, wondering if they’re “good enough” to share, let me tell you this: they are.

It’s not about being perfect. It’s not about winning contests or becoming the next bestseller. It’s about letting your work exist in the world, where it can find the people who need it.

For years, I kept my original stories hidden, afraid of what people might think. But now, I know that sharing them isn’t just about me — it’s about the readers who connect with them, who see something of themselves in my words.

And if you’re lucky enough to have a best friend who believes in you? Hold onto them. Listen to their encouragement. Let them help you take that leap. Because sometimes, all it takes is one person believing in you to change everything.

Your Turn: Take the Leap

If you’ve ever hesitated to share your work — whether it’s writing, art, or anything else—here’s your sign: just do it. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to start.

You never know who might read your story and love it. You never know what doors could open when you finally let yourself be seen.

For me, publishing on Inkitt started as a whim, a shot in the dark. But it’s turned into something much bigger — a reminder that my stories matter, that I matter, and that it’s never too late to put yourself out there. (I admit, my therapist also help me see this.)

And most importantly, it’s shown me that creativity isn’t a solo journey. It’s a collaboration, a community, and sometimes, a shared dream between you and the people who love you enough to push you toward it.

So take the leap. Let your stories find their way into the world. Because if I can do it — with a best friend cheering me on, twins climbing all over me, and a heart full of doubt — you can, too. And trust me, the joy of being part of a creative community like Inkitt is worth every second of vulnerability.

Your stories deserve to be read. And who knows? You might just shock yourself with how much people love them.

[countlessrealities]

@mcltiples sent:

They hadn't known each other long, yet, but Rick insisted on getting things to a certain place. Even if it meant he would have to push himself onto his alternate.

Without a word, he approached the other, wearing a collar. Thin, pink leather with a white bow and a bell adorned on it.

Staring with a straight face, he softly purred and let out a "Meow."

{ To your Weird Rick from Rick C-151 // 🤦‍♀️ }

The last thing Rick had expected that night was to be interrupted while he worked on his latest weapon. After so many years of living alone, without the consistent company of another living being, he was used to having all the peace and quiet he wanted, whenever he wanted it.

The few live test subjects he kept with him didn't really count, especially since he tended to leave them in stasis when he wasn't using them.

So, his first reaction to hearing approaching steps was to reach for the gun he always carried on him. The moment his hand touched the handle, however, he was suddenly reminded that he these days he shared his lodgings with a new "buddy".

It also made him think about why he had ended up with such a living situation, but that was something he pretended to forget most of the time. It was easier on his pride.

Not that he would have had any time to be soured by the memory right now. The moment his gaze landed on his alternate, every other thought vanished from his mind.

Bright blue eyes widened, locking on the collar, and his mouth fell open, looking like it didn't know what kind of sound it was supposed to make. He was shocked, something that was very, very hard to achieve.

Then came that purred "meow" and suddenly Rick was snapped out of his stasis, his shoulders starting to shake as he burst out into laughter. This was fucking surreal and absolutely hilarious. Yes, also oddly endearing.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asked, barely keeping himself from hiccuping snorts in-between words. He couldn't stop snickering, this was too good. "You really took that pet name at heart!"

Huffing out a heavy breath, as he finally managed to calm down his hilarity, he wiped the corner of his eye before sitting in his chair a little more straight. One glance in the direction of his unfinished project, and then he looked back at the other.

"But I can't deny such a cute display, can I?" His voice came out lower, almost echoing his alternate's purring. "If you want to be a good kitten so bad for me, then come here and sit in my lap while I work. I'll pet you.~"

[markofcastiel]

The Plan

Relationship: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Summary: Cas has been his best friend since they were eight. But now they're both applying for universities and Dean is more anxious than he wants to admit.

Tags: fluff, first kiss, self-esteem issues

"If you get accepted to all of them, which one are you gonna pick?"

"I dunno, Sammy!" Dean snaps, closing the book in front of him with more force than necessary. The pencil that Dean had been anxiously chewing on just seconds ago rolls off the desk with the vibration, and lands on the hardwood floors with a clack.

"I'm so sick of everyone pressuring me for answers!"

"Dude... it was just a question..."

His baby brother is getting bigger and bigger. He's nearly Dean's size now and shows no signs of stopping his growth spurt. But in moments like these Sammy can still pull off a face that reminds Dean that he's just a gangly 14 year old kid - with huge puppy eyes and a sad retriever look. Dean would calm down and apologize for snapping if he wasn't so riled up:

"Not when you're the third person asking me that today. Just lay off my back already!"

Sam raises his brows high, and his lips quirk in the way they do when he's preparing a comeback.

"Touchy~~"

"Bitch."

"Moooooom, Dean called me a bitch..."

"You-"

Mary's voice reaches in from the hallway almost instantly: "Dean, language!!"

Sam sticks his tongue out, grins triumphantly, and then whispers "jerk" before running back to his room.

Freaking Sammy...

"At the risk of being the fourth to ask..."

His best friend speaks up from behind him, letting the sentence linger in the air unfinished. Dean turns around in his chair to see Cas sprawled across his bed, calmly observing him. He has a book open in front of him, but it's upside down so Dean's pretty sure he wasn't really studying.

"I do wonder the same, Dean."

"Not you too, man."

"I'm just curious."

"Look... I don't know, Cas."

Dean sighs, and finally decides to give up on studying, since his mind is too far gone.

His room is not so big, so when he stretches his leg, it actually reaches the bed. He uses this fact to his advantage, one foot pushing insistently at Castiel's thigh in a silent demand for him to move. It works, effectively making his best friend sit up and scooch over enough so that Dean can also sit down on the cushy mattress.

Even though there was more than enough space to leave a few inches between them, they end up squished right against each other. But Cas doesn't complain, so Dean lets his head drop onto his best friend's shoulder, and closes his eyes for a brief moment, trying to chase away the worry bubbling inside. His brain keeps racing around, thinking about the future and how everything seems so scary and uncertain. He still feels like a kid but he has to make all these grown up decisions and move away from everyone he loves.

It doesn't really seem fair.

"Can't I just stay here forever?"

Although Cas doesn't answer, he reaches out, sensing Dean's distress. His hand finds Dean's nape, and starts stroking tenderly along Dean's spine, soothing all the muscles down its path. Dean just leans into the touch and sighs again, now a happier sound.

Cas has a way of always feeling like sunshine, peeking through even on the cloudiest days. Dean basks in the attention, and lets go of the worries for a moment, just focusing on the warmth of Castiel's hand, and the way Cas' breath ghosts against his hair. He thinks he feels Castiel kissing the top of his head, a feathery touch, barely there - but maybe he was just imagining it. After a few moments of silence, Dean finally allows himself to ask:

"What 'bout you, Cas? You never told me which university you decided on."

The soothing hand leaves Dean's back and he instantly misses the contact. Cas stares at him silently, and it's only when Dean rights himself up and looks back, raising a brow in question that Cas replies, with a mysterious finality to his tone.

"I don't know yet."

"What? Really? You don't know?"

Cas simply shrugs. He's suddenly very interested in the book in front of him - it seems he finally notices that it is upside down and his hands fumble to turn it around.

"Oh..." Dean is surprised, to say the least.

His best friend is always so sure of himself, so certain of the path that has to be taken to succeed in life. When they started highschool Cas had already picked all his classes before Dean could even decide on one. So Dean wasn't expecting an 'I don't know'. If anything, Dean was expecting a bullet list of next steps and timelines to achieve his life goals or something geeky like that.

"Ok," Dean mumbles out, slightly dazed, before turning even more interested. He can't believe he never asked:

"Huh... which universities did you apply to?"

Blue eyes snap back up, meeting his.

There's a weird sort of tension in the air until Cas finally answers.

"MIT, Caltech and KU."

"What?! Are you serious?"

Dean turns to face Cas fully, the ecstasy obvious in his eyes. He grabs Castiel's knees and squeezes.

"Those are exactly the same ones I applied to! Dudeeee, that's such a coincidence - it would be awesome if we ended up in the same one!"

Dean rambles excitedly, not noticing the calculated gaze on his best friend's eyes.

"This is the best news I've heard all year, Cas - I freaking LOVE you!"

He throws his arm around Cas, squishing him tight and kissing his cheek like crazy, forgetting that wasn't a normal thing best friends do.

"And with your big brain I'm sure you are gonna get into all of them, Cas!"

Cas huffs out a small laugh, his eyes crinkling softly at Dean's excitement. But his smile fades away when Dean's face darkens. He slowly releases his grip on Cas, and Cas knows what's coming before Dean even starts.

"Me, on the other hand... I mean... what if I don't get into any of them?"

"Dean."

Cas sounds tired beyond his years, as if he hasn't just turned 18, but instead has lived centuries watching the Earth turn on its axis.

"Dean, look at me."

Dean complies, though he's not sure why. Emboldened, Cas barrels on, confident and unwavering:

"You're one of the brightest people I have ever known."

"No, I'm not," Dean scoffs.

Cas squints, and his head tilts.

"You do realize that your GPA disagrees?"

"You're one to talk, Cas... you have 5.0 GPA! And I'm pretty sure the only reason you don't have higher is because you were afraid the teachers thought it was too good to be true."

"I like Advanced Placement classes..."

"Yeah, well. You're basically a superhuman genius or something."

"Hmm... in that case perhaps you should listen to me when I say you'll get into all of the universities you applied to."

Dean rolls his eyes, but Cas persists:

"My GPA is not the point, Dean. I'm not the one who secretly thinks I'm dumb, despite being elected Valedictorian and having the second highest GPA in our entire school, and likely one of the highest in the country for our year."

"I was only chosen as Valedictorian cus everyone knows you suck at speeches, Cas! You'd probably just get up there and give a one-liner about how 'we're all people trying their best in a world where it's easy to do your worst' and then end with a weird goat joke that no one gets."

"That was my speech in middle school."

"Exactly!"

"The joke just didn't translate well. It was funnier in the original language."

Dean roars with laughter, and then slaps Cas in the back.

"And that is why I am Valedictorian, buddy."

Cas looks slightly uncomfortable, but it just makes Dean laugh harder. He's clearly imagining a myriad of terrible speeches that some imaginary Castiel would do. When he finally comes down from his high, he wipes the corner of his eyes, and shakes his head.

"Man... I'm gonna miss you too much if we don't end up in the same uni..."

Cas awkwardly looks away.

"Why didn't you pick one yet anyway? Knowing you, I thought you already had a whole grand plan in mind," Dean pries, curious. Cas remains quiet, staring a hole into a spot on the wall. Dean can tell when his best friend is holding something back. Dean bumps his knee against him, and insists.

"What is it, Cas?"

Cas chances a look, and quickly caves in as soon as he sees the bright green eyes staring up at him.

"I'm waiting."

"Really? What for?"

Cas looks away again, cheeks slightly tinged in pink. If Dean didn't know him so well, he would say Cas was embarrassed. But Cas was never embarrassed, so he must be imagining it. When Cas seems to stall, Dean pushes again.

"What are you waiting for, buddy?"

"You didn't pick yet."

"Ok..."

Dean scrunches his nose.

"What does that have to do with it?"

Cas looks back at him, annoyed.

"What?"

"You didn't pick yet," Cas repeats slowly, as if somehow that explains everything. Dean just makes another face, even more confused.

"So what? It's not like you're planning to follow me into whatever university I-"

Cas looks at him meaningfully.

Wait. What?

Dean can feel himself turn red and redder, all the way up to his ears. No. No way. Was Cas really waiting for him to choose just so he could go to the same one???

"Yes, so..." Cas confirms his unspoken question, closing the book in front of him, "please hurry up, Dean. Your indecision is interfering with my plan."

"Your... plan?"

And that's when Cas pulls out a bullet list of his life goals - Dean was right, he does have one - and hands it over.

"I was supposed to be at step number 7 already, which is getting an apartment for us near the campus. But if you don't pick a university I can't start on that one."

"Cas."

"Yes?"

"Did you seriously put 'Marry Dean Winchester' as bullet point number 20?"

"Well, 18 is too early, and 22 seems too late. I think bullet point 20 is the perfect balance."

"Cas..."

"Yes?"

"We're not even dating yet."

"Of course not," Cas says with some exasperation, pointing at number 10 on the list, "that's only after step 8 and 9, Dean, since we will be much more emotionally mature."

Dean smiles, a silly, huge grin and shakes his head. Well, he was never one to follow grand plans and by led by other people's rules so he cradles Cas' face between his palms, leans in and kisses that stupid look off of his best friend's face.

Cas squirms under him, a delightful surprised hitch leaving his mouth, but ends up clinging to his leather jacket like there's no tomorrow. When Dean finally pulls away he marvels at his best friend's spit-slick lips, and the way that dark hair got all ruffled up, making Cas impossibly sexier.

"So," Dean chirps cheerfully, the future suddenly seeming much more exciting.

"Which university are we going to?"

Cas doesn't answer, just pulls him back in for another kiss, and then another. They only stop to come up for air, and even then they're both smiling wide, breaths ragged and hearts beating fast.

"What about th-"

Oh god,

Cas started kissing up his jaw, and somehow Dean's jacket found its way the floor.

"-C-Cas, w-wha- t-the plan?"

"Mmm," Cas mumbles between kisses, and then his tongue darts out to lick a line behind Dean's ear, making Dean shiver and fall apart with a whimper.

"Changed my mind."

"Hell yea-"

"Boys."

The voice suddenly startles them both apart, and they turn at the speed of light to find Mary Winchester at the entrance of Dean's bedroom, staring past the -very open- door. Dean can't believe he was this freaking stupid, and he can feel his heart hammer anxiously in his chest.

"Mom, it's - it's not what it looks like-"

Mary rolls her eyes.

"Oh really? 'Cus it looks like you knuckleheads finally realized you're made for each other. I could power a town with the stares you two have been throwing at each other for the last ten years."

"M-mom," Dean mumbles.

"Now, hands off each other and come help me with dinner. I think I burned the rice again..."

---

"MIT."

Dean blurs out right in the middle of dinner. All the eyes lift off of busy plates full of food, staring up at him, waiting for more explanation. Dean squeezes Cas' hand a bit tighter below the table before clearing his throat and trying again:

"We decided on MIT."

His family cheers, rushing to congratulate him. Sammy however, asks all too eagerly:

"We? Are you both going to the same one?"

Dean blushes, suddenly nervous, "y-yeah."

John groans, making Dean practically jump out of his skin, heart hammering on his chest. But then his little brother's voice raises over the sound:

"Called it," Sammy announces, and shoves an open palm in front of their father, "pay up old man!"

John reluctantly pulls out 50 dollars, just as Mary smacks both of them on the back of their heads, clearly displeased with whatever just transpired.

Dean stares at his father like he just grew an extra head but John just slowly chews at his food, and doesn't provide any additional explanation.

"I'm happy to hear that, baby," Mary says gently, looking genuinely pleased. She proceeds to elbow John, and the man finally seems to realize he should say something.

"Yeah. Good for you, son. You take good care of each other, you hear? Keep your noses outta trouble."

Dean blushes and nods furiously, the words of his father always his gospel.

Cas, in the meantime, is far too focused on scribbling all over his (now slightly crumpled) piece of paper. It seems 'Marry Dean Winchester' is now circled extra hard, and has been moved up a few steps on The Plan.

Dean ducks his head and smiles, shy and proud. Yep, it's still gonna be scary moving away from his mom and dad and he's gonna miss the hell out of his lil brother.

But he's got Cas.

Whatever happens, they're gonna be alright.

[november-rayne]

Chapter Seventeen: A Kingly Visit

Summary: Odin and Loki share a father/son moment. Loki learns a long-held secret of his father's. Odin offers Loki some practical advice.

Word Count: 2400

Rating: Mature

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+

*Minors DNI*

Tags: Family Fluff

Chapter Index

Loki was eating breakfast the next morning while thinking about the day before. He had declared his love for Sigyn and spent several happy minutes with her firmly in his arms. She also admitted her love for him and made him the happiest man in the Nine. He resigned himself to giving up his current apartment. He formally apologized to Thor, paid him back the gold he owed him, and admitted a secret tryst. He finished the day with an emotionally charged conversation with Sigyn’s parents.

Last night’s dinner had been somewhat awkward. While relishing Sigyn's caresses and adoring looks, he could not help but notice Lady Anderson staring at him and barely touching her food. He needed to get to the bottom of her claims and put both of their minds at ease. And the sooner, the better.

He was less than two weeks from becoming a married man. He already had Sigyn’s ring purchased, but he still needed to decide which apartment they would move into, pick out furniture, and be fitted for his wedding clothes, not to mention the surprise that Thor was planning for his stag party. ‘Oh well,’ he thought, ‘one thing at a time.’

He finished his breakfast and went to his desk. He quickly wrote three messages and called for his chambermaid, “Margit?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Could you please see that these messages get where they need to go?” he asked as he passed her the parchment envelopes.

“Certainly,” she accepted them and stuffed them in her apron, “I can deliver them after I take care of these breakfast dishes.”

“Thank you.” Loki turned his attention to an unfinished budget that he had been working on the night before when there was a knock at the door.

“The Prince?” Margit asked as she made her way across the room.

“He never bothers with knocking.” Loki watched as she made her way to the door.

She opened the door only partially, gasped, and then sunk into a very deep curtesy before opening the door wide. Loki stood and quickly strode to where his father, the King, stood in the doorway. Loki bowed.

“Good morning, son. May I come in?”

“Of course, please.” Loki motioned for him to enter. “Margit, please bring tea to the sitting room.”

“Margit?” Odin asked, sounding shocked. “Margit, by the stars! It has been millennia! Lovely to see you again.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. Margit blushed and gave the King another curtsey.

“I heard you retired.” He placed his hand on her arm and rubbed it with his thumb.

“Oh, I got so bored sitting around the house. I returned to work in the kitchens part-time until the Queen asked me to come and work for the Prince.”

“Wonderful. The palace is lucky to have you back. I trust my son is treating you well?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. He is a very kind young man.”

“Good, good. How’s the family? You married Kristoffer, right? The guard?”

“Yes, he is well. He retired but volunteers at the elder home, delivering meals to the residents and engaging them in conversation. Whew, does he come home with some stories,” she laughed.

Odin regarded her tenderly, “He is a good man. I am glad you two found each other.”

“Yes...” she looked down at her hands clasped tightly, “I have had a happy life.”

“That is all I ever wanted for you.” Odin looked like he would reach for her again but clasped his hands behind his back instead.

Loki cleared his throat to remind the pair that he was, in fact, still in the room, “You two know each other?” he asked.

“Margit was my chambermaid when I was a young prince. My apartment was just down the hall from this one.” He motioned with his hand, not taking his eyes from Margit.

“I see.” Loki realized that they had been intimate but kept his face neutral.

Margit blushed, “My, that was so long ago.” She put her hand to her cheek, “Let me get you that tea, Your Majesty.” Odin nodded and watched her as she curtsied and walked away.

“Please, have a seat.” Loki motioned to the sitting room. Odin sat in Loki’s favorite leather chair, and he took a seat on the sofa. Loki used his seiðr to bring the fire back to life. Odin tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair and looked about the apartment.

Loki waited patiently for Odin to speak. When he didn’t, he asked, “Is this about the budget? I was finishing that up when you arrived.”

“No, son. I wanted to talk to you about your upcoming life event,” Odin gave Loki a tight smile.

Loki’s heart rate picked up a bit. Aside from polite small talk, his father rarely spoke to him about anything besides work. Margit returned with a tray of small cookies, a teapot, and two cups.

She poured the tea and asked, “Is there anything else, My Prince?”

“No, thank you, Margit.”

“Very well. I will see to your messages.” She curtsied, “Your Majesty, Your Highness.”

“It was lovely to see you again. Give your family my best.”

Margit gave the king one last look before nodding and slipping back to the dining room to gather the breakfast dishes. Odin occupied himself with his tea and a cookie until he heard the front door close behind the chambermaid.

He brushed the crumbs from his beard before he spoke. “The wedding is fast approaching.”

“Yes, Father.”

“And you are prepared for… all that marriage entails.” Odin looked very uncomfortable.

“I am.”

“Heirs?”

“Let me stop you right there. I know how babies are made, Father. I have been practicing for centuries.”

Odin chuckled, “Yes, I am aware. What I meant is that you are expected to produce heirs. My concern is… I hope you will take the time to enjoy your children when they are young. Do not make work a priority as I did. My only regret in my very long life is that I did not spend as much time as I would have liked with you and your brother while you were little.” Odin set his tea on the table. “The years passed so quickly. One minute you were a babe in my arms; the next, you were a young man with ambitions of your own.”

“You are the King. Your duty to the realm came first. I understand that.”

“And as the King, I could have delegated part of my duties while the two of you were small. It was just not done in those days. But times are changing; a man is not only measured by his work but also by the family he leaves behind.”

Loki nodded, “I promised Sigyn that I would prioritize our future children.”

“Then I do not doubt you will be a far better father than I was.”

“Are you not my father still?”

Odin was taken aback, “Well, yes...”

“Would you be agreeable to spending more time together in the present so I might get your advice on more than just work?”

Odin considered that momentarily, “If that is what you would like, I would enjoy that.”

“You and Mother have had a long and happy marriage despite…” Loki waved his hand toward the door Margit exited.

Odin leaned back in the chair and squinted his eye at him, “So you picked up on that, did you? Always so clever.”

“Well, you were about as subtle as a sledgehammer. Even Thor could have pieced that one together.”

Odin laughed, “That was thousands of years ago, before I was betrothed to your mother. I was younger than you are now. I was a young prince, falling in love with every maiden who crossed my path, getting my heart broken, then falling in love with someone else the next day.”

“It is hard to believe you were such a romantic.”

“That was before I knew what true love was.”

“When you met Mother?”

“I had affection for your mother, but it took some time to fall in love.” Loki gave his father a puzzled look. “I met your mother for the first time on our wedding day. We were not permitted to court each other in those days. Our parents arranged everything. I was fortunate that Frigga was so warm and caring. It was easy to fall in love with her eventually.”

“That is what you were hoping for with me? That Sigyn would capture my heart eventually?”

Odin nodded, “Your mother assured me this was an auspicious match.

“I must admit, though, your marriage to Sigyn was, first and foremost, a political move on my part to strengthen our family’s ties with the North. We depend on their resources here in the capital and throughout Asgard. If I somehow fell out of favor with them, the whole realm would be crippled, making a political coup a genuine possibility. With you as the Warden and Thor as King, everyone in Asgard will remain healthy and strong. The viability of those resources is crucial in keeping our citizens fed.”

“That is a lot of responsibility.”

“I could think of no one I would rather take Lord Anderson’s place.”

Loki sat back on the sofa. His father’s words hit him like an tidal wave.

“I am a King with only one kingdom but two sons. I do not have a second kingdom to offer you, my son, but I am giving you the second-best thing that I can. As Warden of the Northern Territory, you will oversee those lands. All the Northern Lords will answer to you; you will only answer to the King.”

Loki nodded, letting the weight of his words sink in, “Thank you, Father.”

“In the meantime, you get Sigyn. Not a bad trade-off, wouldn’t you agree.”

Loki’s heart did a little flip, “Sigyn is...” his smile widened, “the most,” he shook his head. “Ah, Father, I do not even have the words.”

Odin laughed earnestly, “I know, my son. I know.”

“She loves me, Father. She told me this, and I saw it in her eyes. There was no lie in her words. That beautiful spirit of a woman…” Loki shook his head again, “I do not know what I did to earn that love, but I will do everything in my power to make her happy.”

“I have not seen you this happy since you were gifted your first pony.”

“Sigyn makes me a thousand times happier than that, and we have yet to even…” Loki stopped himself from finishing his sentence.

Odin laughed heartily, “Saving it for the wedding night? There is nothing wrong with that.”

Loki’s cheeks flushed, and he looked at his hands in his lap, “Mother made me promise, but Sigyn is becoming…frustrated.”

“You will learn this lesson soon enough, but my first piece of marital advice: Your bride’s happiness must take priority over your mother’s.” He gave Loki a wink with his one good eye, “Maybe there is a compromise you could come to with Sigyn without breaking your promise to your mother?”

“You are a very wise King, indeed.” Loki grinned.

“The happiness of my subjects is my top priority.” They shared a laugh before Odin asked, “Is there anything else you would like to talk about?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. While I have your ear.” The King nodded for him to continue. “Have you given any thought to whom Thor will marry?”

Odin shook his head, “No, there have been no offers I would consider beneficial. Why do you ask?”

“I was talking with him when my betrothal was announced. He wants to get married and start a family. At first, I pitied him for being so idealistic, but now, after picturing my future with Sigyn, I want him to be as happy as I am.” Loki leaned forward in his seat. “I would ask that you consider letting Thor choose his own wife. Pending the Crown’s approval, of course.”

“Is Thor courting someone at the moment?”

“I am not at liberty to say, Father.”

“I will take that as a yes.” Odin steepled his fingers in front of his lips. “I will have to think about it. We are currently at peace. I did secure our family’s future with your marriage. I would have to broker something with the girl’s family if she is suitable. Hmm… I will talk it over with Frigga. This is not a yes, but it is a maybe.”

“That is all I am asking. Thank you, Father.”

Odin nodded, took another cookie, and asked, “Did you choose a man to stand up for you at the wedding?”

“I asked Thor.”

Odin gave him a proud smile. “Good choice.”

“I do not know what he is planning for the stag party, but I would be honored if you could make an appearance.”

“Ha! I have not been to a stag party in ages. I will get the details from your brother; if it is not too risqué, I would love to come.”

“Risqué? This is Thor we are talking about.”

“True.” Odin tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair again, “I must go hold court.” He stood; Loki followed. “You will have that budget on my desk before the next council meeting?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you need anything…” Odin clasped his hands together in front of himself and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Loki nodded, “Yes, thank you. Here, let me walk you out.” He motioned to the front door.

“Son, about Margit. No one needs to know about…” he waved his hand in the air, “ancient history.”

“No. No, of course not. You have my word.”

“I am not ashamed, mind you. But I do cherish your mother; I have remained faithful to her all these years. There is no need to cause her undo distress.”

“No. I understand.” Loki gave him a reassuring smile.

“My door is always open.” Odin clapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder as he opened the front door for his father. Odin’s guards bowed as he exited to the hallway.

“Thank you for this. I appreciate the visit.”

“I should have done it sooner.” Odin hesitated in the hall. He went to speak again but stopped himself. He nodded to Loki, then took his leave, four guards following close behind.

‘Love you too, Father.’ Loki thought as watched him turn the corner.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tags! Thanks!

XOXO- Rayne 💚

Tag List: @gigglingtiggerv2 @chantsdemarins @superficialdomina @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @smolvenger @trickster-maiden @simone818283 @gruftiela

[deckerroosevelt]

Chapter 13, part 3

   Saiyan was in a weak condition for a long time after the incident. I had only lost fat but he had lost some muscles too. Decker said he was lucky no limb gangrene. He had to roll on a wheelchair for a little while until his muscles would be able to hold him up. Just when he had made a solution for the fire problem he got another barrier to break. I blamed myself because if I would have held tighter onto him this wouldn’t have happened. He even had problems breathing and doing anything. 

   Decker had been right about the slow recovery and to be honest I don’t think he’ll ever fully recover. His heart isn’t like it used to be. Saiyan mostly spent his time in his room either coming up with inventions and trying to gain his body back. He also started making rather ugly bracelets. I use it because I didn't want to insult him now. We on the other hand had to continue with work. At least we got extra motivation for it. I don’t know if I did right by saving Saiyan. He said that it would’ve been better if he died there in the beginning of his recovery but it could be just the toughness of the start. I really don’t know.

   Few weeks after the incident Saiyan rolled to the dinner table with a hint of joy on his face. Me and Treacher shared a hopeful glace. Something had cheered him up a little. 

   “I cracked it! Ambeth, you will go to school with Loki.”

   “I always do, don’t I?” she gave me an unsure smile as if asking. 

   “No, but tomorrow you can converse with him!” Saiyan claimed with a triumphant mood. I could see the surprise and excitement in everyone’s eyes. 

   “No way! How? Tell me, do I have to share my brain with Loki?” Ambeth joked and everyone laughed. I didn’t know how to feel about everything but I chose to look excited.

   “No, no. I figured that if you need to be aware of Loki all the time in order to remember him–”

   “So I need to stare at him the whole time. I’ll look dumb”, Ambeth cut him off.

   “No! I made bracelets that simulates his exact heart rate on your wrist. That way you constantly get a reminder of him. I tested it by going outside for a while with the bracelet. I gave one to Loki already, you see. And I remembered him!” he explained with a slightly too fast tempo. He was getting excited. I looked at the ugly bracelet and it started to make sense.

   “And I thought you just made ugly bracelets”, I joked.

   “Rude. But I admit that it is a bit ugly. The visual part is still unfinished”, he confessed. “But that’s not important. The important part is that it works.”

   “True”, I consented.

[xknivesandpensx]

Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 13

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart? Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.  And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

Hermione tried not to watch Harry too closely as they descended into the dungeons after lunch. She knew Double Potions always caused him to be a bit petulant, especially since they shared class with the Slytherins (not that Snape aided in uplifting his mood either).

A part of her remained more concerned about his fight with Ron, given the two still haven’t spoken to one another and had no intention of trying to mend any bridges. It irritated Harry every time Hermione tried bringing him up so she settled on letting them figure it out.

“I finished your essay for you last night. Although, you really should’ve done it yourself considering we’re working on antidotes today,” Hermione mentioned, breaking the silence.

“Between avoiding everyone and the common room in general, I hadn’t the time. Thanks anyway. The last thing I need is Snape going on about another unfinished assignment.” Harry paused, catching sight of Malfoy and his usual crew standing outside the door.

Each of them wore large badges with the words POTTER STINKS glowing a bright green against a black background. Initially, Harry thought they had S.P.E.W. written across, seeing as Hermione kept pestering others about the importance of house elves. He should’ve known they’d never wear one.

He wished they’d stop blocking the entrance. It gave him no choice but to face the group when all he sought was to get Snape’s lesson over with. Harry already braced himself for another round of Hermione’s consistent chant of ignore them, said under her breath whenever someone commented on his champion status.

He didn’t care too much how Malfoy took to handling the situation. He appeared rather coolheaded on the outside, yet his anxious disposition on the night of their choosing remained locked in his memory.

“Like them, Potter?” Draco asked after noticing the pair. “It comes to no surprise you’re least popular. Even your own house thinks the worst of you for getting in the tournament. It wouldn’t surprise me if they started asking for some as well.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring Pansy’s loud giggles and evident necessity to be right at his side. “Oh, how very funny. Really witty. I’m shocked you didn’t add anything more.”

Almost magnetically his gaze drew towards her. It hardly mattered if Hermione donned the same uniform as everyone else, she still managed to stand out against the cluster of students slowly filling behind. The second he saw her in such a light, an image of his parents flashed, forcing a steady reminder.

He suppressed what he could and pulled out an extra badge, offering it to her. “Want one, Granger? I’ve got loads. But don’t touch my hand. I just washed it. I wouldn’t want a Mudblood sliming it up.”

Harry’s embarrassment, cheeks lightly flushed after laughter erupted, quickly jumped to anger. He kept the feeling buried underneath for days and it finally found reason to burst through. Before he got the chance to take out his wand, he felt a pull at his arm.

“Stop! You’ll get in trouble,” Hermione warned, aware of what he’d resort to. She then faced Draco, unwilling to be fazed by the other Slytherins staring her down.  “I don’t seem to recall you minding me touching your hand when you needed help.”

Draco lost his smug smile, tensing slightly. He glowered, sneering instead. “It sad, really, that you’ve got to make things up. As if I’d ever let you come anywhere near me,”

“Which is more likely? Me creating a story or you denying it ever happened? I can’t see how I’d benefit from lying.” Hermione ignored the heaviness against her chest, all too conscious of the puzzled expressions forming after her retort.

He shrugged, trying to force an indifferent pretense. “I’m not denying anything because it’s not true. And actually, I don’t appreciate the accusation.”

Harry started to wonder when the two of them started having rows of their own. They always began between Malfoy and himself, then somehow switched focus whenever Hermione got involved. Their bickering almost reminded him of how she and Ron constantly fought.

Suddenly, the noise died down. Harry didn’t need to turn around to find out why.

“What are you all doing standing outside the classroom?” Snape asked, eyeing each of them, lingering slightly longer on the Gryffindors. “I suggest you get in your seats before I start docking points.”

Harry hurried in and settled in his normal chair next to Hermione, trying not to glare daggers at the professor’s back when his head turned. Positive a detention would’ve been given if not for the Slytherins causing the holdup.

Snape made his way to the front. “We went over the specifics of your assignment last we saw one another. You’ll be split into pairs of my choosing… so stop inching yourself closer to Miss Granger, Mr. Potter. It won’t help you any, I’m afraid. No, I think you’ll benefit from working alongside Mr. Longbottom. The two of you seem to be on par when it comes to your potion skills.”

Harry’s hate for the man burned deeper. He didn’t know what was worse, getting openly mocked or enduring Malfoy’s not so subtle snickering.

It surprised Hermione to hear her name right after Draco’s, though it looked like a couple of students from different houses were mixed together. She gathered her belongings, requiring a few steady breaths prior to joining the empty space at his table.

Ron, sitting next to Dean, gave her a sympathetic look, thinking it rather unlucky to have him as a partner.

“You may all talk quietly amongst yourselves.” Snape paused for a moment, slowly folding his arms. “I will check on your progress in an hour’s time. If I catch any fooling around or off topic chatter, make no mistake, I will fail you. Anti-venom is not excessively complex but it requires accuracy. I want you to brew them carefully. As for your homework, it is to be given to me at the end of class.”

Draco kept his observation forward. He fought the wave of nervous energy threatening to rupture his chest. It proved to be futile. With each intake of air another wave of apprehension surged, feeling more hostile than the last. She sat so close the scent of her shampoo lingered heavily in the air. Some kind of flower, roses he presumed. The florid aroma floated about them during any close encounter, it took until now to pinpoint the exact smell.

He suddenly forgot how to speak. The constant repeating of reprimanding thoughts in his head blocked the outside noise. Maybe he should just say it and get the words out before they choked him.

“Are you paying attention to anything I’ve said?” Hermione asked, having already lit the fire under the caldron and spread out their needed ingredients. “I’m sure you don’t want to be partners any more than I do, but I’m not willing to fail because of it.”

He snapped back into reality, too jumbled up inside to properly respond and instead commented on something else. “Why did you have to mention that in front of everyone?”

Draco regretted the question the instant it left his lips. He switched his focus on his potions book, turning to the correct page, thinking she’d leave it unremarked upon. Obviously, he was wrong.

Hermione threw fire seeds into the boiling water, sprinkling a little anjelica in while stirring. “You know, you might actually be a decent person to be around if you weren’t so hung up on blood status. And I only mentioned it because…”

She hesitated, wondering why herself.

“Because you always have to prove a point, isn’t that right, Granger? Can’t even keep quiet in class. How silly of me to possibly expect anything less. And make no mistake, it won’t happen again.” Draco skimmed the page before taking a knife to chop a handful of vervain.

“I didn’t realize it was such a big secret. Honestly, I’m not sure why I bother. If you don’t want to be nice to me than be a little more consistent. It’s driving me mad.” She muttered the last part, reflecting more precisely of her emotional state whenever he flipped the switch.

“Maybe I could if you stopped making me feel –– ” Draco cut himself off, directing his gaze downward. He almost let it slip. How stupid of a mistake and with so many people nearby. Not that either of them raised their voices above a whisper.

Heat suddenly rose to his face, thinking his must've brain short circuited for a moment. The crushing reality of practically saying it out loud compelled him to remain quiet in fear of admitting it in full.

Confusion flickered, her heart speeding up a bit.

“Feel what?” The words left her in near stumble. By studying his countenance, she noticed a vague yet palpable difference. Something about his expression threw her off.

“Nothing. Forget it.” He went back to make another attempt at their project only to stop, sending a glare her way. “Will you quit staring at me and get back to stirring.”

Resisting the urge to do the exact opposite, she obliged. Though not willing to let the matter slip by. “I’m going to take a guess based off how you’ve been acting and say you’re afraid you’ll start to like me as a person if you admit it out loud? You’re scared if we have a conversation or get along, you might think I’m no different than yourself.”

Her analysis reminded him of when they were stuck in a supply closet at Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop at the end of last year. She read him easily back then in regards to his boggart, understanding more than he wanted or thought anyone could. He denied the absolute certitude of her deduction then as he intended to do now. Given her accuracy, thankfully Hermione hadn’t probed further and picked the pieces apart until she realized he genuinely felt something romantically towards her.

“Brillian story you just concocted. Making it a habit, I see.” He tossed the vervain in the cauldron. The liquid took on a shade of light green. “As if it’s possible for a filthy little Mudblood to mean anything to me.”

Hermione fought the realness of his answer, asking the next question more for herself. “Would it really be so bad?”

“Yes,” he snapped, noticeably catching Harry’s attention. “How about you try shutting up so we can get this stupid assignment over with.”

She said nothing else in return, fighting the need to further press her belief. Maybe all she managed to do by pointing out what she thought to be true, subjected him to push back. Again. Or perhaps Hermione simply desired her assumption to fall in the right. It was as if the more time they talked, the more justifiable her affections became. Merely to fracture whenever he resorted to open contempt.

Draco’s arm suddenly shot out, grabbing hold of her hand to prevent her from touching the snake venom required to counterbalance the antidote. She clearly didn’t notice it dripping down the side of the vial. “Watch what you’re doing.”

Even a second of direct interaction would produce an injurious effect strong enough to be sent promptly to Madam Pomfrey.

A light static pulse embarked across his skin from mere contact. His blue eyes met a pair of brown as he saw her features morph into a shy, flustered sort of quality, bordering on surprise and uncertainty.

The whole class might be watching them and he’d never know. Draco’s inability to move, much less look away, blinded him to the outside world. He knew the longer he remained frozen, the worse off he’d be, yet he couldn’t detach his fingers. Right after saying he’d never allow it too.

The sound of squeaking hinges screeched loudly, jolting him back. Draco let go immediately, drawing away as far as possible. His lungs unable to function.

Colin Creevey scurried past the students and spoke directly to Professor Snape. “I’m supposed to bring Harry and Draco upstairs. Mr. Bagman asked to see them. I think they want to take photographs and interview the champions.”

A long pause ensued, for if it was simply Harry, a negative response would’ve been given. “Very well.” He glanced between the two boys. “Hand me your homework on the way out. Your partner will finish your assignment and their grade will reflect your own.”

Hermione kept still as he proceeded to leave her side. Several things were circling her mind. Mostly on Draco, who oddly seemed to react opposite to his spoken aversion. But why overanalyze? It bewildered her more than ever and frankly she needed simplicity. An easy flow into a relationship. Something he’d never give her.

Knowing that still didn’t relinquish how she felt by any means. 

Draco got out the door first, not very keen on meeting anyone’s eyes. At this rate he’ll end up admitting his feelings by accident. It left him rather tangled up inside.

Colin departed once they exited the dungeon (mentioning his need to fetch Cedric), only then did Harry bring himself to say something. He saw their entire exchange near the end, lacking the ability to hear them, of course. And given Neville’s faulty skills in potions, his knew grade would suffer.

He certainly hated the idea of photos and answering questions. The ridicule he already received hit bad enough. This held the potential of making it a lot worse.

Harry waited until they came into the entrance hall, quickening his strides to keep up, fully intent to be blunt. “What’s going on with you and Hermione?”

The question hit like the shatter of glass. If he noticed, who else did? “How about you mind your own business, Potter.”

“Funny, I didn’t realize there was anything happening between the two of you to mind.” Harry waited yet no response came. “You’ve been acting dodgy lately, more than normal in any case and it’s usually while Hermione’s around. I really don’t care about your reasons, though I can guess. Just leave her alone.”

“And if I don’t then what?” Draco stopped, looking rather peeved and scornful. “Since you’re so very bothered by it, perhaps I won’t leave her alone at all. I usually refrain from going out of my way where that Mudblood is concerned. I suppose I simply required the right motivation.”

A hollow threat, no doubt, but a good excuse if he got caught near her.

Harry’s attempt to retort vanished as they approached the classroom Colin mentioned while they were ascending the stairs, Draco gone from his side instantly. Exasperation flared, lodged in his throat. He’d have to give Hermione the heads-up once this whole ordeal ended.

[rmu-victor]

sooo how do you feel about your roommate?

I feel like he should let himself take a break.

BUT actual response, Vincent works incredibly hard and always knows what he wants to do next, very organized, and never spends a second messing around to make sure he achieves his goals in time. I admire that!

Worries me a bit, though, since Vincent also seems to never rest for this. I tried to convince him to take a break and go somewhere like a cafe with me once, and instead just got a stare with my unfinished essays thrown at my face. That did remind me to finish them though! I forgot I hadn't written much .

[friendly-neighbourhood-spiderm4n]

You Only See Me At My Funeral | Avengers x No. 5! Reader

Posting this cause I wanna read on my new account, I just don’t have the time yet. It’s unfinished and not proofread whatsoever but eh

“Mr. Stark! I have something to tell you!” Peter said as he walked into the lab, filled with adrenaline and a panicked look adorning his face.

“What is it underoos?” Tony quipped from his chair, working on the repulsers that had been damaged last mission.

“On my patrol, these two crazy bad guys with guns came and attacked me. The weirder thing was they were wearing strange animal masks. Like looney tunes type of mask. They sort of reminded me of assassins but way worst than Black Widow.”

“Did you get them?” Tony asked, turning around in his chair.

“No, they teleported away before I could even web them.”

“What we’re they wearing and do you know what kind of guns they had?”

“Both we’re wearing blackish suits, they were a boy and a girl, and they had something like a mini machine gun. Oh, and they also had this briefcase.”

“What’d the masks look like?”

“The girl was wearing a pink dog mask, and it had like long black ears. The guy was wearing a blue chipmunk mask that looked old and creepy.” Peter recalled.

“I’ll check footage, what area was this?”

“Downtown Manhattan.”

“Alright, I’ll check and see if we can find them, until then, go shower, you smell horrid.” Tony dismissed.

“Oh, right. Sorry Mr. Stark! I’ll go do that now!” Peter turned around and started running out of the lab.

“Preferably.” Tony got the last word in.

An hour had passed since Peter gotten back to the compound. He was in the kitchen doing homework by this point.

Or he was supposed to be anyway. He, however, was listening in on Natasha and Steve’s conversation who were sitting sitting on the couch in the lounge room.

“Tomorrow will mark 4 years. Don’t know how I feel.” Natasha stated quietly to Steve.

“Yeah, I know. Feels like it’s been 17 years without them though.”

Nat nodded in agreement. Peter hadn’t understood the context of what they talking about. They were talking about someone named Y/N and how they had disappeared nearly 4 years ago.

“Whose Y/N?” Peter asked, after having been confused for much longer than he’d admit.

“An old friend, disappeared coming on 4 years soon. They had powers and wanted to prove themselves. No one’s heard of them since.” Nat said, her voice sounded sad.

“Oh.” Peter didn’t know how to respond. “I bet they miss you too.”

“I hope so.” Steve was looking down at the concreted floor, voice thick with uncertainty.

Everything went quiet so Peter continued with his homework.

20 minutes or so had passed when the alarms went off. FRIDAY had told the team that some temporal vortex had opened on the landing pad.

All the Avengers had rushed to the area quickly. Indeed, there was a violent blue vortex about 18 feet off the ground. A storm had grown over head because of it.

“How do we close it?” Sam asked, standing behind Peter who had been pushed behind Thor.

“Not sure, but whatever comes out of that thing, we contain it.” Stark answered, already in his suit.

They didn’t know how to explain the next part of that interesting event. Not when the same Y/N who had been missing for nearing on 4 years fell through the vortex.

They were wearing a suit much bigger than them. Though, they looked the same as the day they had disappeared.

They, too, noticed.

“Shit.”

All the Avengers were gathered around the kitchen as Y/N poured themself a coffee.

“Whats the date? The exact date?” They asked without looking up.

“The 24th.” Peter answered quickly.

“Of what?”

“March.”

Y/N paused, contemplating something.

“Good.”

“So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?” Steve asked. Y/N ignored and grabbed the loaf of bread, taking out two slices.

“It’s been 4 years.” Thor said, his stare hardening at the young teen.

Y/N scoffed and looked up at him.

“It’s been a lot longer than that.” They said bitterly. They disappeared and reappeared next to Tony, grabbing the marshmallows off the shelf.

“I haven’t missed that.” Bucky said, starring at the spot with the coffee and bread where Y/N reappeared.

“Where’d you go?” Bruce asked.

“The future. It’s shit, by the way.” They grabbed the peanut butter out the fridge, as well as a butter knife.

“Called it.” Sam stared at the teen.

“I should’ve listened to you Stark.” Y/N was spreading peanut butter all over bread slices. “You know. Jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice.”

They looked up. “Nice dress.”

Wanda smiled, “well, thanks.”

“Wait, how did you get back?” Nat asked.

“In the end, I had to project my consciousness foreword into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time.” Y/N answered, not even looking up.

“That makes no sense.” Bucky raised an eyebrow at the kid.

“Well, it would if you were smarter.” They placed the marshmallows over one of the slices before turning the other piece over and making themselves a sandwich.

Bucky stalked towards the teen, Steve’s arm blocking his way to the kid.

“How long were you there?” Steve changed the subject quickly.

“24 years. Give or take.” Y/N took a bite of their odd sandwich.

“So what are you saying? That you’re 38?”

“No. My conscious is 38. Apparently my body is now 14 again.” You sighed, clearly annoyed.

“How does that even work?” Peter asked.

Y/N stared at the kid, not recognising his face.

“Dolores kept saying the equation was off. Eh.” They took another bite out of the sandwich and stared off at something. “Bet she’s laughing now.”

“Dolores?“ Tony asked.

“Hmm. Tomorrow marks the 4 year anniversary I disappeared. Were you gonna hold some ceremony?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nice to see nothings changed.” They clicked their tongue. They grabbed the cup of coffee and walked out of the kitchen.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Nat asked, annoyed and frustrated to no end.

“What else is there to say? The circle of life.” You disappeared into the hall.

“That… was interesting.” Peter said, looking at the adult Avengers.

“Their personality did a whole 180.” Sam grinned at Stark.

“Someone figure out what the hell happened to them.” Stark walked away from the area and towards the elevator.

You had managed to find a room where all your old stuff was. All the posters, comics, cloths and other shit you had owned from before you disappeared.

Stepping over to the closet. You found cloths you hadn’t seen in years and cloths that you knew you hadn’t owned. You also saw a lot of Mr. Stark’s old sweatshirts and tees he gave to you once he no longer wore them.

You changed into a pair of old, worn out sneakers, ripped jeans and the same sweatshirt he had worn when the Avengers had fought Loki and the Chitauri.

You looked at the jeans. You remembered how they got ripped. It was something you liked and didn’t like to remember.

“So, today, I’ll be teaching You, Steve Rogers, how to ride a skateboard.” You placed the somewhat old board into his hands and grinned at him. Excited to see him fail.

“This looks odd. Are you sure it’s safe?” He looked at you skeptically.

“I know how to ride it. As long as you follow the safety measures you’re totally fine. I will warn that it’s hard to get at first which is why yours truely will do a demonstration.”

You grabbed the other board you owned and stood on it. You used your foot and pushed yourself forward. You felt a drop and crouched slightly, leaning back. The ground curved and the board straightened into a 0° line.

You jumped up and did a kick flip. You jumped again and landed on the rail before jumping off and turning around.

You gained speed before going back up the vert ramp. You grabbed the board from under you and landed feet first on the edge of the platform.

“That was impressive.” Steve grinned at you, placing the board on the concreted skatepark ramp.

“Yeah, I was just showing off. But, if you practice long and hard enough, you’ll be able to what I just did too.” You looked at him, smiling before it fell.

He was moving off the edge and down the ramp before you could advise him other wise.

Immediately, the board rolled out from under him and fell head first into the curved ground.

“Steve!” Without thinking, you jumped from the 8 foot ramp, barely landing the jump. You had scarped your hands and ripped a hole in your jeans where your knee now poked out.

You remembered cutting the hole bigger so it wouldn’t look like you actually had ripped a hole in them.

You had missed the Avengers. You knew the others had missed you as well, but it didn’t feel like they did.

You heard a knock on the bedrooms door. “Uh, Y/N, Was it? I came to introduce myself. Could I please come in?”

The voice was young. Unlike the Avengers you had left. “Sure.”

The door creaked opened and the boy from earlier stepped in. He stood by the door as he closed it, seemingly unsure of himself.

“Um, I’m- im Peter Parker, also known as a Spider-Man. Im 16 so we’re both similar in age.”

“Physically.”

“Right sorry.” He corrected. He seemed like the nervous type who could also ramble on for hours with no end.

“Y/N L/N. I am- or was- an Avenger who kept a low profile. Unlike Tony or Steve.”

“Right, I remember hearing about you. You were, umm, you were known as No. 5.” You hummed at his recognition.

“So, Spider-boy, how’s life treating you?”

“Spider-Man and it’s been great. I live part time with the Avengers and spend my weekends and holidays with my aunt May at her apartment.” He answered.

“Don’t care.”

“Oh.”

You hummed as you lent over the bed slightly, pulling something from one of the blazers pockets, which you had worn previously and slide it into your jeans pocket.

“Alright, I’m leaving. It’s not great to meet you, goodbye.” You walked passed him.

When you found the elevator, you went down to the garage, grabbed a pair of keys and hopped into one of Tony Starks sport cars.

You drove off and went to this clinic. You went in and headed straight for the front desk.

This man in a science coat spotted you. “Uh, can I help you?”

You glanced back at him, pulling out the object from your pocket.

A glass eye.

“I need to know who this belongs to.” You showcased the eyeball to the man.

“Where do you get that?” He gave you a strange look.

“What do you care?”

He stared at you expectingly. “I… I found it… at a playground, actually. Uh, must have just,” you clicked your tongue. “Popped out.”

“I wanna return it to its rightful owner.”

The lady at the the desk smiled it awe, “what a thoughtful young kid.”

You smiled dryly at her. “Yeah. Look up the name for me, will ya?”

“Uh, I’m sorry, but patient records are strictly confidential. That means I can’t tell you-“

“Yeah, I know what it means.” Your stare hardened towards the man.

He ignored your tone and continued. “But I’ll tell you what I can do. I will take the eye off your hands and return it to its rightful owner. I’m sure he or she will be very grateful, so if I can just-“ He reached for the prosthetic.

“Yeah, you’re not touching this eye.” The man stared at you confused and taken aback.

“Now, you listen here young-“

You aggressively grabbed him by the collar of his lab coat. He let out a surprised grunt.

“No! You listen to me, asshole. I’ve come a long way for this, through some shit your pea brain couldn’t comprehend, so just give me the information I need, and I’ll be on my merry way.”

He stared at you, fearfully. “And if you call me ‘young kid’ one more time, I’ll put your head through that damn wall.”

The lady at the desk sighed. “Oh dear.”

“Call security.” The man whimpered softly to the desk lady.

You stared between the two, annoyed before shoving the adult back. They exhaled in relief as you walked back to the elevator.

You had gone back to the compound and decided to grab Clint, knowing only he would agree to help you.

“Like I said to your kid earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential. Without the client’s consent, I simply can’t help you.”

“We’ll, we can’t get consent if you don’t give us a name.” You argued. You were now in the man’s office, the one you had spoken to earlier.

“We’ll, that’s not my problem. Sorry. Now, there’s nothing really more I can do, so -“

“And what about my consent?” Clint interrupted.

“Excuse me?” The man eyed him, confused.

Clint continued. “Who gave you permission… to lay your hands… on my child?” He pointed at you, staring at the man?”

You looked at him confused, as well as the doctor. “What?”

“You heard me?”

“I didn’t touch your kid.” He insisted.

“Oh really?” Clint leaned forward, onto his elbows. “Well, then how did they get that swollen lip then?”

The man did a double take and looked at you. “They don’t have a swollen -“

Clint stood up and punched your jaw with his right hand. In pain, you grunted, placing your hand over new busted lip.

The doctors stare switched between the two of you.

Clint inhaled sharply. “I want it. Name, please. Now.” He placed his hands over the desk and lent forward.

“You’re crazy.” The man declared.

Clint chuckled. “You got no idea.” His smile fell. He glanced down and picked up a snow globe of the earth.

““peace on earth”, that’s so sweet.” He smashed the glass object over his head, breaking it. He groaned, pained and regretfully.

“God that hurt.” He clenched his eyes closed, looking up. Blood and water dripping from his head as the doctor stared at him, shocked.

He immediately grabbed the receiver off of the desk. “I’m calling security.” Clint snatched the phone from his grasp and help it to his ear. “What are you doing?”

Clint gasped gamely into the phone. “There’s been an assault in Mr. Bigs office and we need security now. Schnell!” He sobbed violently into the receiver before boredly dropping it, clattering with the other objects on the table.

“Now, here’s what’s gonna happen, grant.” Clint focused on the doctor.

“It’s… Lance.”

“In about 60 seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door, and they’re gonna see a whole lotta blood, and they’re gonna wonder, “what the hell happened?” And we’re gonna tell them that you… beat the shit out of us.” Clint sobbed dramatically before sighing.

“You’re gonna do great in prison, Grant. Trust me, I’ve been there. Little piece of chicken like you. Oh, my god, you’re gonna get passed around like a… you’re just, you’re gonna do great, that’s all I’m saying.” Clint grinned at the man.

“Jesus, you are a real sick bastard.” The man Shakily stated.

Clint stared at him. “Thank you.” He spat out broken bits of glass. You smiled smugly at the man.

Once you cleared up the things the security, the three of you, made your way to the records room. The doctor searched the file cabinets, trying to find the serial number that matched the one back of the prosthetic.

However, no files or records could’ve been found of the prosthetic. It hadn’t been manufactured, nor purchased yet.

The sun has settled by now. You didn’t know what you could do. The glass eye was the only lead you had. And for the moment, that was put on hold.

“So, why did you come back now? I mean, I’m glad your back, but why 4 years later?”

“I needed a certain amount of time.”

You hadn’t answered his question well. Not because you liked to be an ass. Nor was it because you had poor social skills. Except the occasional threat.

It was just too hard seeing him alive, knowing you could somehow fuck that up too.

You passed him the keys, and spatial jumped away.

It took a few tries, but you soon made it to a closed cloth store. It was mainly a second hand woman’s cloths store. Though most of it had probably belonged to 40 year old adults.

You walked through the store. You were looking for someone. Someone important you. You grabbed one of the torches, as the place was dark, empty of light other than the dim blue cheap LEDs.

You spotted an area of manikins and walked up to them.

You smiled softly at one of them in particular. She was still as beautiful as the last time you saw her. “Delores.”

“It’s good to see you.” You stared at her, god she was pretty. “I’ve missed you… obviously.”

“We’ll, I… it’s been a rough couple of days.”

You heard foot steps in front of you, your smile falling. “No!”

They started firing, bullets hit the manikins while you ducked. You ran behind one of the many cloths racks, barley avoiding the bullets.

The assassins moved towards your previous area, in hopes of killing you. “Shit, it’s them.”

You ran back to the manikin stand and grabbed the Delores whose upper body had been shot off of its legs and was now missing her right arm. You ran to the opposite rack and placed Delores down.

“I’ll be right back for you.” You ran along the aisle, trying to avoid being shot. Hazel and Cha Cha shot after you so you spatial jumped.

Bullets we’re flying everywhere. They knew where you would be as your jumps would flash a bright blue. Cha Cha was doing most of the shooting.

“You see that?”

“You said he was special. So now what?”

“You start over there, I’ll go to the other end. Meet in the middle. Shoot anything that moves.”

They started moving off again. You grabbed a hunting knife off one of the slat wall shelves and spatial jumped again.

You appeared behind Cha Cha, face hidden by her pink dog mask. Using the hunting knife, you sliced the left side of her neck. She fell with a pained grunt as Hazel started shooting in your direction and you jumped again.

You ran down an aisle, crouched low enough that your head didn’t poke over the racks. You were running back to Delores, and when you had her, you placed her in a duffel bag which you threw over your shoulder.

You ran and turned down several different aisles, the noise alerting the two assassins and pointing their guns in your direction before firing again.

You tried a spatial jump, but you hadn’t moved off to another spot in the store. You were to tired. The shooting stop. You looked over the rack and they were reloading as they continue to walk in your direction.

You tried again, only for it to fail. “Shit! Come on!” The shooting started back up again so instead you ran. You reached the same slat wall and jumped over it, narrowly avoiding a bullet.

You pulled a muscle in your leg, pain jolting through your body when you hit the carpeted ground. You limped towards the exit.

“Got him.” Cha Cha proclaimed. You turned around and looked at the two. Guns pointed your way.

Police sirens caused the two assassins attention on the glass doors. 3-4 had pulled up.

You took the chance to hide behind one of the counters before the two turned back to where you were previously standing.

“The bastard jumped again.”

“Come on, let’s go.” Cha Cha and Hazel walked off.

You were all sweaty as you cradled Delores, trying to catch your breath. When you had enough energy, you jumped to the roof of two buildings over and started to climb down the fire escape.

You got back to the compound eventually. You were going back to your room when you bumped into Steve and Sam.

“Y/N? What the hell happened to you?”

You didn’t answer Sam.

“Are you okay? Can we help?” Steve went to put her hand over your forehead, though you stopped him by the wrist.

“There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing any of you can do.” You told him solemnly.

You walked away before he could interrogate or lecture you.

You went to your room and straight into the bathroom connected to it. You grabbed a another set of cloths along the way.

You changed, only now noticing your heavily bleeding shoulder. A bullet must have cut through your skin amidst the chaos.

You sewed it up and put a Band-Aid over the wound. You cleaned the rest of the blood off your shoulder with a wet rag before getting dressed into the fresh cloths.

In the last 4 days, a shit load had happened. Hazel and Cha Cha had attacked the compound and in the process, kidnapped Hawkeye. Nat had gotten him back when the two weren’t there.

Hazel and Cha Cha had blown up the clinic. You had started dragging Peter around, seeing as he was the youngest of everyone and most willing to help you.

Steve and Bucky had found you asleep in the library, empty vodka bottle in hand and math equations written on walls which surrounded you and a very concerned Peter.

They had carried you back, drunk as a skunk while Peter tried to make sense of what you had told him.

“Everyone is gonna die, the world is gonna end and no one takes the time to appreciate me for all my effort of trying to stop that.”

Eventually, you had told Peter the full story.

Breakfast was always eventful. Especially when you were forced to eat with superheroes who believed you were to small for anything.

‘Y/N, your not allowed to use the oven.’ ‘Careful, don’t want you to break a bone.’ ‘Y/N, your to young and inexperienced to help me with this. Go make friends or go to school.’

It was frustrating, being the youngest and having saved the world twice as much as some of the Avengers.

You had been there since the Avengers assembled. Having been found by Nick Fury, and trained by several professionals, such as Clint Barton and Captain Marvel.

You stared off, trying to ignore the joke Sam made about your height. Or the joke Stark made about you being cute and adorable and unsuspectingly annoying. Or how Wanda made fun of your lack in your Special ability.

You got annoyed, grabbed your butter knife and stabbed it into the counter. Everyone fell silent.

“Y/N?” Steve questioned.

“I have a question.” You intertwined your hands and tucked them under your chin.

“Knowledge is an admirable goal, but you know the rules. No children talking during meal times. You are interrupting valuable conversations.” Stark reminded.

“I want to time travel.” You crossed your arms and leaned back in your seat.

“No.” Many said in unison.

“But I’m ready. I’ve been practicing my spatial jumps, just like you said.” You kicked back your chair and jumped, appearing next to Tony. “See?” You starred at him.

“A spatial jump is trivial when compared with the unknowns of time travel. One is like sliding along the ice, the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of freezing water and reappearing as an acorn.” Stark explained.

“Well, I don’t get it.” You shrugged staring at the counter.

“Hence the reason you’re not ready.”

You looked back at everybody, who almost all were eating their food, ignoring you. Steve shook his head as for you not to continue. You look back at Stark

“I’m not afraid.”

“Fear isn’t the issue. The effects it might have on your body, even your mind, are far too unpredictable. Now, I forbid you to talk about this anymore.” Tony went back to his food.

Clenching your fist, you walked away from the table and towards the elevator, ignoring all their attempts to stop you. You broke into a run when you went to the lobby. You ran out the building and onto the street.

The sky was gloomy, covered by grey clouds. It was notably cold. You jumped. Appearing on the same street but it was sunny and hot out. You looked around, everything was bright and their were even food stands on the street.

You scoffed. “Not ready, my ass.” You grinning, proud of yourself. Again, you jumped. Same street, but it was snowing heavily and most stores were closed.

You jumped again. Rubble was everywhere. Buildings were toppled and fire was all around. Smoke and ash filled the air. You looked behind you. You ran back towards the tower, hoping to god the building hadn’t collapsed or someone was there.

You stood outside the unmistakable entrance, or the would-be entrance. It was all gone. Everything you had. Your home, your life, your family.

“Rogers!”

“Nat!”

“Tony!”

“Anyone!”

All that could be heard was the blazing fire and your own panicked breathing.

You tried to jump. Several times. But you didn’t have the energy, nor knew how to go back in time.

“Come on!”

“Shit.”

You threw your hands down in frustration and exhaustion. You fell to your knees, your legs hurt and body felt fragile.

Years had passed. During that time, you had found found Delores. As well as all the Avengers bodies. In Starks hand, he held a prosthetic eye. You also found a cellar filled with non perishable alcohol.

22 years had passed. You were still working on the equations for time travelling back.

Though one day, some woman appeared. Seemed about 60. Having not expected her, you pointed a rifle to her head.

She offered you a deal. You come work for this place for 5 years, and after your retirement, you could choose which timeline you wanted to live in.

You accepted the deal. For the next 2 years of your life, you were a killer. You killed anyone who messed with the timeline. Eventually, you perfected your equations and in the year of 1963, where you were doing a job, you jumped back to 2017.

But, you didn’t get your equations 100%. You were 14 again. You had been aiming for where you stayed in your 38 year old body, still insecure about being treated like a kid.

“So the world is going to end?”

“From what I can gather, in 4 days.”

“How do we stop it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you got any leads?”

“The glass eye was my lead, but that trail has gone dead. The clinic exploded.”

“We’ve got to tell Mr. Stark. He’ll help, he can-“

“He doesn’t take me seriously. He’ll look at me like I’m a joke and tell me to go play with my dolls.” You glared at the floor.

“Is this why you’ve not said something sooner.”

“Mhm.”

“What if I help?”

“Wouldn’t matter.”

“Of course it would.”

“For the record, you already tried. I found everyone. Their bodies.”

“We died?”

You saw all their dead bodies. It wasn’t something you’d ever forget.

“Horribly.”

He fell silent.

“You were together, trying to stop whatever it was that ends the world.”

“How do you know that?”

You pulled out the eye from your pocket and showed it to him. “This was clutched in Starks dead hand when I found everybody.” You tossed him the prosthetic which he caught.

“Must’ve ripped it out their head right before Tony went down.”

“Whose head?”

“Like I said, I don’t know. It’s just another hunk of glass.” He passed it back to you and you put it in your pocket.

“What can we do?”

“Well, Clint gave me this broken briefcase. Said he took it from Hazel and Cha Cha.”

“Who?”

“The two maniacs that attack the compound.”

“Wait, you know them?”

“Do you?”

“They attacked me the same day you got back. Like two hours before you came through that vortex.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m surprised your not dead. They’re the best in the business, besides me of course.”

“So, what does the briefcase have anything to do with the end of the world?”

“It gives me another chance to try again.”

“How? It’s broken?”

“The commission has very few rules. Strict ones, however. One of them being that you must keep these briefcases with you at all times and to not lose it whatsoever.”

“Once The Handler, my previous employer, discovers that they have lost their briefcase, they won’t be able to return back to the commission. So I’ll give them a fake one, one that looks identical to this.” You kicked the broken briefcase in front of him, causing it to tip and fall over.

“What’s so important about it?”

“It’s a time travelling device. It’s how agents get dispatched for missions and come back. That’s why they must be kept safe.”

“How do you know they’ll fall for it?”

“Cause they’re desperate.”

“How do they know they’re going to meet you here?”

“Found their hotel and left a message for them.”

“Oh.”

Peter didn’t continue, but it was obvious what he was thinking. His face almost screamed it.

“You know, I never enjoyed it.”

“What?”

“The killing.” You looked at him, he was seated in the passenger seat, eyes already on you. “I mean, I was… I was good at my work, and I… I took pride in it. But it never gave me pleasure.”

You sighed, looking back out the windshield. It was a long road surrounded by clear fields. “I think it was all those years alone. Solitude can do funny things to the mind.”

“Bucky can relate to you more than I can, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

He goes quiet and looks at the freshly store bought briefcase. “You’ll think they’ll buy it?”

“Don’t have a choice. There isn’t anyway to know without opening it. Like I said earlier, they’re desperate. It’s like a cop losing his gun. If the commission finds out, they’ll be in deep shit.”

“I should hold onto it. In case they make a move on you. I got sticky hands and web shooters. They wouldn’t be able to take it from me.”

“Okay, Parker, but be careful. I mean, I’ve… I’ve lived a long life, but… you’re still a young man. You got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t waste it.”

Minutes passed in somewhat comfortable silence. Finally, another car came into view. You nudged Peter and pointed towards the upcoming vehicle.

The car door slammed as you closed it. Peter moved to stand on your side, the car driving passed you and stopping a little ways passed your own.

“If this all goes sideways, do me a favour and tell Delores I’m sorry.”

Hazel and Cha Cha exited their car, masks on, and you moved forward to meet them in the middle.

“The masks really necessary?”

They removed the masks and chucked them in different directions. “So, where is it kid?”

“Wow, that’s how you’re gonna start? You know, we can get right back in our car and call it a day.”

Cha Cha pulled her gun from her holster. “You won’t even make it halfway there.” She threat.

“Maybe. But as I’m sure you found out in your previous foray, he isn’t an ordinary kid.”

“He’s right. You dropped a chandelier on him, got right back up.” Hazel chimed in.

“By the time you took him out, he’d smashed your precious briefcase to a pulp.”

“Probably us too, right? So, how do we help each other?” Hazel asked.

“I need you to get in contact with your superior, so I can have a chat with her. Face-to-face.”

“About what?”

“Well, I don’t believe that’s any of your concern.”

Cha Cha scrunched her face in annoyance. “Just don’t tell her about the briefcase.”

“Fair enough.”

She lowered her gun and walked over to the payphone. One of the factors that made you choose such a vacant area.

You stepped back over to Peter.

“What happens now?”

“Now we wait.”

A few moments of silence were interrupted by the sounds of ice cream truck music.

“Is that her?”

When the truck drove past you, Bucky was in the drivers seat while Sam rode passenger. They waved, grinning at you two.

“The hell are they doing here?”

“I may or may not have told them when you went somewhere.” Peter spat out.

Hazel and Cha Cha started firing bullets at the truck and you guys. Peter stood in front of you, making sure you didn’t get shot.

Time froze though, everything stopped. Except you, you were able to move. The fired bullets remained in the air, unmoving.

You moved from behind Peter and saw the Hhandler.

“Neat trick, isn’t it?”

You stepped over to her as she pulled the crappy veil from her hat over her face. She also removed her sun glasses.

“Hello, Y/N. You look good, all things considered.”

“It’s good to see you again.”

“Feels like we met just yesterday. Course, you were a little bit older then. Congratulations on the age regression, by the way. Very clever. Threw us all of the scent.”

“Ah, we’ll, I wish I could take credit. I just miscalculated the time dilation projection, and… Well, you know. Here I am.”

“You realise your efforts are futile. So why don’t you tell me what you really want?”

“I want you to put a stop to it.”

“You realise what you’re asking for for is next to impossible, even for me. What’s meant to be is meant to be. That’s our raison d’être.”

You pulled out your gun from your waistband. “Yeah? Well how about survival as a raison?”

“I’ll just be replaced. I’m but a… small cog in a machine. This fantasy you’ve been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse… is just that. A fantasy.”

“I must say, though, we’re all quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-itiveness, really quite… quite something. Which is why we want to offer you a new position back at the commission, in management.”

You chuckled. “Sorry, what’s that now?”

“Come back to work for us again. You know it’s where you belong.”

“We’ll, it didn’t work out too well the last time.”

“But you wouldn’t be in the correction division any longer. I’m talking about… the home office. You’d have the best health and pension, and an end to this ceaseless travel. You’re a distinguished professional in… teen angsty clothing.”

“We have the technology to reverse the process. I mean, you… you can’t be happy like this.”

“I’m not looking for happy.”

She stroked your cheek after she had lowered your gun. “We’re all looking for happy. We can make that happen. We can make you… yourself again.”

“And what about my family?” You sighed.

“What about them?”

“I want them to survive.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of them.”

“We’ll, I’ll see what I can do.” She placed her sunglasses back on. “Do we have a deal?” She stuck her hand out.

You looked at her hand. “One thing.” You walked over towards Hazel and Cha Cha, taking there guns and removing their magazines before throwing them two divided parts in opposite directions.

As you walked past, you noticed a bullet that would hit Peter, so you moved for it to go past him.

The Handler stuck her hand hand back out. You took hold of it and disappeared.

Just like you had predicted, the other Avengers were pissed. One of them being that you had put yourself and Peter in a dangerous situation without warning them.

You weren’t even going to mention that you had been shot while trying to get back from the Commission. They would only blow it in your face and call you immature and arrogant.

“It doesn’t matter. At least you know. Besides, it’s not like you would’ve believed me. You’d have told me to stop making shit up.”

“Whatever. Do you have any clue on how where gonna stop this upcoming apocalypse?”

“I got a new lead. This is who we have to stop." You handed Nat the letter in your hand and watched as she opened it.

"Harold Jenkins?"

Bucky's face scrunched up. "Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?"

“I don’t know, yet. But I do know that he’s responsible for the apocalypse. So we have to find him. And we have to do it now.”

“How is he connected to what’s gonna happen?” Wanda asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Wait, so you just know his name? That’s it?” Bucky scoffed. He still must have thought of you as a joke.

“That’s enough.”

“There’s probably dozens of Horsley Jenkinses in New York.”

“Well, we just better start looking, then.” You groaned in pain, placing your hand over the bullet wound.

“I’m sorry. Am I the only one that’s skeptical here? I mean, how exactly do you know all this about what’s his name?” Nat reasonably questioned.

“Harold Jenkins. You know those Lunatics that attacked the Compound?”

“Oh yeah, I think I remember those guys.” Clint said sarcastically.

“Yeah, the ones that attacked us while you were off getting a drunk.” Stark pointed at you.

“Yeah. Then. They were sent by the Temps Commission to stop me from coming back, and preventing the end of Life on Earth.”

“The Temps what?” Same hadn’t caught on, the brain dead idiot.

“My former employer. They monitor all of time and space to make sure that whatever is supposed to happen… happens. They believe that the apocalypse is coming in 3 days. So I went to Commission headquarters and intercepted a message that was meant for said lunatics. “Protect Harold Jenkins.” So he must be responsible for the apocalypse.”

Everybody stayed silence. They started at you, processing all of this. Peter was surprisingly the quickest to understand, his face lit up as all the information clicked into place.

Everyone else though…

“What do you mean, protect time and space?”

“Where is this Hazel, Y/N?”

“Do you have any idea how insane this sounds?”

“You know what else is insane?” Everyone looked back at you, while others went silent. “I look like a 14-year-old. Wanda moves shot with her mind, and Thor thinks he’s fooling everybody with that overcoat. Everything about us is insane. It always has been.”

“She’s got a point there.” Steve acknowledge.

“We didn’t choose this life, we’re just living it. For the next 3 days, anyway.”

“But the last time we tried to stop it, we all died. Why is this time any different? Why shouldn’t I go home to my kids?” Clint asked.

“Because this time, I’m here. We have the name of the man responsible. Guys, we actually have the chance of saving the lives of billions of people. Including Nathaniel.”

“You know his name?”

“I do, and I’d like to live long enough to meet him.”

“All right. Let’s get this bastard.”

“You had me at Gerald Jenkins.” Bucky confirmed he was in.

“Harold Jenkins.” You corrected.

“Whatever, I’ve already lost two good friends this week, I’m not losing anyone else.”