#and they’d make us hide in the trunk so they wouldn’t have to buy our tickets 💀

[moodyvoid]

Mr. Compress, walking into a movie theater, buying one ticket and going to his seat.

The lights go down and he takes out several marbles, decompressing them, the rest of the League of Villains all coming out and taking their seats.

[musings-from-mars]

@pollinationweek 2021: Day 1 - Band AU

They had been stranded here on the side of the road for a while now, and Ruby was not handling the fact that their van was seemingly broken down well, all while they were still hours away from their gig. “What do we do?” She asked for perhaps the twentieth time as she paced, her boots thump-thumping against the asphalt.

“We buy a new van,” Weiss grumbled, content with just staring at her girlfriend’s butt as Yang draped herself over the front of the van to check under the hood.

“About a week too late with that idea,” Blake said, also content with staring at Yang’s butt.

“Hey now,” Yang’s voice echoed from inside the van’s inner workings, her feet kicking up behind her. Her jeans were getting caught on the metal, revealing the top few inches of her plaid boxer shorts. So attractive… “I can fix this, don’t worry. I know Big Berty inside and out.”

Big Berty was an early-2000s era transit van with two hundred thousand miles on the odometer and a chipping coat of black paint. It was practically held together by Yang’s very hopes and dreams, and a liberal amount of duct tape.

“Yang, we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Weiss said as she stepped closer, glanced down into the van skeptically, diligently avoiding getting any van dirt on her white runners jacket. “Unless you can do magic, we’re not getting anywhere. We should just call a tow truck.”

“How much will that cost,” Blake asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Weiss assured her, alluding to her ability to still access her rich family’s fortune despite being disinherited. It would require a couple calls to a sympathetic butler and a particularly tech-savvy groundskeeper at her family’s manor, but she could acquire funds in an emergency.

“Okay, but how long is it going to take?” Blake added, pulling out her phone. “Because wherever we are, it’s nowhere close to a cell tower, so I don’t think a tow trunk is nearby either.”

“Ye of such little faith,” Yang said, then she tried to shift her position, yelped with pain, fell backwards and bumped the top of her head on the hood of the van. “Fuck!”

Weiss was the one closest by and caught Yang in her arms. “Careful, you dunce!”

Yang gritted her teeth as she rubbed her head with her hand. Then she sighed as she looked at Weiss, their faces close. “Heheh…okay, I’ll admit it. I think Big Berty is taking an impromptu sabbatical.”

“You mean it finally clunked out and we can get a new van?” Blake asked hopefully.

“I didn’t say that!” Yang said defensively, then stared at Weiss a little more. She sniffed and started to feign tears. “Don’t make me give up my Big Berty Baby, Weiss.”

“Someone catch her, I’m about to drop her,” Weiss deadpanned.

Blake volunteered to assume Yang cradling duties as Weiss sighed dramatically and turned to Ruby. “Hey, we’ll be fine. This is why we leave for long trips a day early, remember?”

“But it’s almost nightfall,” Ruby said, looking up at the orange dusk. “Even if we make it in time, we’ll have so little sleep. Gods, this is gonna suck, we’re gonna suck, I’m gonna suck…”

Weiss stepped closer, taking Ruby by the shoulders. “We’ll be fine, don’t worry so much.”

Ruby’s cheeks turned a faint pink, but she shook her head. “I just don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Weiss looked to the side and pressed her lips together. She remembered the last time they’d had a mishap. It wasn’t a big performance, just a local set at a club back home. But a combination of equipment mishaps, some rowdy club goers, and Ruby being on two hours of sleep at best made for a rough night. “This will be different, Ruby,” Weiss assured her. “We’re far better prepared now. We’ve got this.” She punctuated her point by leaning forward and giving her a light kiss. “Now come sit down while Blake calls the tow truck.”

“I just said I don’t have service,” Blake called while slowly lowering Yang to the ground since their drummer seemed to refuse to stand up.

Weiss pulled her phone from her pocket and threw it to Blake with a tremendous amount of trust that she would catch it. “I have service.”

Blake caught the phone with one hand and looked at her phone. “Full bars? How?”

Weiss didn’t answer, instead turning back to Ruby, who was calmer and more flushed-faced now. “Come sit on the tailgate with me. Maybe if you play something for fun that might help you settle a little more?”

Ruby’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, but she smiled and nodded. “Yeah, good idea.”

While Blake called a towing company, Yang stayed on the asphalt for a little floor time, and Weiss and Ruby sat on the back of the van. Ruby had her acoustic guitar in her lap, strumming random tunes and chords as Weiss sat with her, her head on her shoulder. She chuckled as she listened to Ruby play. “You know what would be funny?”

“Hmm?” Ruby turned her head toward Weiss, pausing her playing to listen.

“What if we recorded a song right here? Like, on our future album or something, just out in the middle of nowhere?”

Ruby blinked and looked where she was looking. Besides the road, there was nothing but grass and trees as far as the eye could see. “It is pretty quiet,” Ruby agreed.

“Once we hit it big time, you know?” Weiss continued. “It would be a cool way to remember moments like this, just us in Yang’s shitty van. But hopefully by that time, we’ll have a bus or something.”

“Aww, but then we wouldn’t have to sleep in a pile like we do in the back of the van,” Ruby said with a giggle.

“Says who?” Weiss joked, smiling and kissing Ruby’s cheek. Ruby smiled and leaned against her, then returned to strumming on her guitar, playing a few chords from one of their songs that sounded a bit odd on acoustic, but was nice to listen to either way. Weiss even joined in and sang softly, though it was nowhere near her performance level register, like a soft lullaby. By now, Ruby’s worries about arriving on time had faded. Sitting here while Weiss sang was just fine with her.

Soon, Blake rounded the back of the van and sighed. “Tow truck is coming, should be about an hour-and-a-half.”

“That long?” Ruby asked as she stopped playing abruptly. Weiss sat upright as she looked up at Blake.

“We really are in the middle of nowhere,” Blake said, taking Weiss’ phone from her button-up flannel’s breast pocket and handing it back to her. “I also called the hotel and told them we’d be in late.”

“Should we…cancel the hotel to pay for the tow truck?” Ruby asked like it pained her to say. She set her guitar aside and hopped to the gravel ground, straightening her plaid skirt.

“I told you, I’ve got it handled,” Weiss assured her.

“Sorry, I’m just…” Ruby took a deep breath. “I’m anxious about us missing our gig, or running out of money…”

“Yang,” Blake called out, cupping her mouth with her hand. “Stop taking a road nap and come comfort your sister.”

A few seconds later came the thump thump thump of Yang’s boots, followed by her capturing Ruby in a hug. “Don’t worry sis, it’ll be alright!”

“Egh…loosen up…” Ruby grunted as Yang proceeded to lift her up and crush her rib cage.

“Whoop, my bad.” She gently placed Ruby down and patted her head. “But seriously, though, we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the only gig we have lined up, we have savings, we have, erm, a rich girl.” She gestured at Weiss, who rolled her eyes at her. “We’re good, okay?”

Ruby sighed and looked down, shuffling her feet on the gravel shoulder of the road. “I guess you’re right. I just worry too much…”

Blake stepped up and hugged her from behind. “Hey, while we wait, what do you say we put on some music, raid our snack stash and have a chill sesh until the tow truck arrives?”

Ruby smiled and leaned back into Blake’s arms. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Yang grinned and pulled Weiss into a rough side hug. “Yeah, let’s have a chill sesh!”

Weiss grunted and tried shove herself away from Yang. “No sesh is chill if you’re involved, and you smell like the inside of Berty.”

“Aww come on, you love me,” Yang said as her strength overcame Weiss and pulled her into a proper hug.

“That’s irrelevant!” She claimed feebly, failing to hide the smile that was overtaking her face.

Blake hummed with amusement, then kissed the top of Ruby’s head. “How bout you pick that guitar back up. Maybe that’ll calm them down.”

“You think so?” Ruby asked with a giggle, watching as Weiss still flailed in Yang’s embrace.

“Worth a shot.”

~~~

An hour later, Weiss had fallen asleep in Yang’s arms. The two had laid down in the back of the van on the mattress, and after Weiss got through with her complaining and Yang had pared back her teasing, they’d settled into a close cuddling position and were asleep soon after. Ruby’s soft playing probably helped, as did the gentle breeze that had begun to blow through. The sun was almost set by now, bathing the sky in a deep graying blue.

Blake sat behind Ruby, holding her around the waist she she played with her legs to the sides. She was playing a slow, light tune, low in pitch and a careful rhythm that came and went like a tree swaying in the wind. Blake had said it many times to her before and Ruby never believed her, but Ruby really was the best guitar player Blake had ever met. Even while casually playing while stranded on the side of a road, her music was masterful. Blake felt so lucky to just get to hear it. “I love you,” she whispered.

Ruby hummed and smiled, continuing to play as she spoke, “I love you, too.”

“Thank you,” Blake said, kissing Ruby just above the temple.

Ruby chuckled quietly. “For what?”

“I mean,” Blake said as she began to reminisce. “You’re kinda the reason this is all real. If you hadn’t been crazy enough to convince us all to abandon our sensible career choices and form a rock band, I never would have gotten the chance to fall in love with you three.”

“I did kinda ruin all of your lives, huh?” Ruby said with a giggle. Her playing was slowing and getting quieter.

“Hardly,” Blake said, tightening her embrace around Ruby a little. “Because of you, Weiss got away from her dickhole father, Yang escaped the fate of becoming some bored shop mechanic, and I, well…I’d be in a shitty apartment doing nothing.”

“You’d still be writing,” Ruby pointed out.

“Maybe. ADHD doesn’t do well without motivating factors,” Blake said and Ruby nodded knowingly. “This band, though? My girls? That’s all the motivation I need. I’ve never been this happy.”

Ruby smiled, now no longer playing, her hands frozen in playing position. She didn’t realize she had stopped. “We wouldn’t even get to be stranded here in who-knows-where if not for me, huh?”

Blake giggled and kissed her head again. “Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the wind blow. It was properly nighttime now, stars dotting the sky.

Ruby yawned, finally setting her guitar aside. “Honestly…I’d be okay just sleeping here tonight.”

Blake hummed, turning her girlfriend so she could cradle her sideways in her lap. “Sounds inviting. But a hotel room with a bathroom sounds even more inviting.”

Ruby shuddered. “Don’t say that, I’m trying not to think about needing to use one of those bushes for cover.”

Blake snorted, looking down at Ruby’s face. “You’re such a dork.” She leaned down and kissed her softly, cupping the back of Ruby’s head with her hand. Ruby hummed into the kiss, then placed a hand on Blake’s shoulder and pushed. Blake slowly leaned back until she was lying on the mattress as well, with Ruby parting from the kiss and adjusting to lie on her chest.

“So you’re really happy?” Ruby whispered, her hand resting in the center of Blake’s chest with Blake covering it with her own, she stared up at the Edison bulbs they had strung along the upper trim of the van’s interior, bathing them in warm light.

“Ruby, being in this band is a dream come true. Being in this polycule is a dream come true. Hell, being here right now is like a dream,” she smiled and tugged Ruby a little closer. “I’m more than happy.”

Ruby snickered. “Sappy.”

“I know.” She turned her head to look towards her other two girlfriends, Yang on her side and facing towards them, face partially obstructed by blonde hair, with Weiss held close to her chest, the girl’s back to Blake and Ruby and her face tucked against Yang’s shirt. For a pair who loved to bicker, they sure knew how to cuddle.

Ruby noticed Blake staring and smiled. “I’m happy, too. To get to do something like this with my sister and our girlfriends, I just…” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Dream come true, like you said.”

“Sappy,” Blake teased.

“You started it,” Ruby joked, tucking her nose closer to Blake.

They faded into a natural silence, and soon, Ruby was asleep on Blake’s chest. Blake figured she’d try to stay awake so she’d notice the tow truck arrive, but no way was she moving from this spot until then. The music, the performances, the travel was all fulfilling and exciting, but these moments with her girlfriends were what made it all truly worth it.

Even if Yang was kind of a snorer. And Ruby was kind of a drooler. And Weiss was…Weiss. They were her girls. She loved them with every inch of her sappy heart.

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 1)

Last Time: With a little help from Susato, the lady in pink, we discovered that Miss Brett poisoned Dr Wilson with Curare, a fast acting poison that’s only effective when introduced into the blood stream. In a last ditch attempt to avoid justice, Miss Brett destroyed the evidence right in front of the court, but fortunately my man Hosonaga was on hand with new evidence he’d taken from the crime scene, meaning that all we had to do was catch the thief of a rare golden coin, and tie Miss Brett up with her own words! At last I (Ryunosuke) was acquitted!

...only to find out in the lobby that Miss Brett has managed to privilege her way out of any consequences and was gone like smoke in the wind. (Also Kazuma used his sword in a way I found very hot, and I think I’ve accidentally doomed him to death or moral corruption.)

I’m 90% sure The Speckled Band is a Sherlock Holmes case, and I’m 49% sure it’s one of the ones I’ve read. I’m guessing this is where we’ll meet The Great Himbo Detective Herlock Sholmes then!

Well I guess that answers that then.

(And yes, I have read this one)

HERLOCK!

And he’s voiced by Professor Layton maybe???

Ooh, this seems like a Study in Scarlet, are we doing a Study in Scarlet guys?

Herlock has a magic gun!?!

Also I’m not digging this Japanese scripture and talk of it being penned by ‘the victim himself’. Kazuma what did I tell you about leaving my sight?

Wait... I could have sworn I just saw Hosonaga dressed as a sailor...

Oh balls, am I about to be accused of murder again?

Honestly I can’t take you anywhere Ryunosuke

Well Ryunosuke, you remember how you went to a lovely restaurant and got arrested for a murder you didn’t commit?

Well, it’s just like that but substitute restaurant for ship.

Also I’m not liking how little I’ve seen of Kazuma...

Ryunosuke we really need to have a talk about you just saying what people want to hear.

ITS FUCKING KAZUMA ISN’T IT?!

:(

Nononononononono

I knew this was coming, you knew this was coming, Ace Attorney law dictated it was coming as soon as it set Kazuma up as both my mentor and best friend.

But even so, I thought they were just empty threats! I didn’t think they’d actually follow through! Or that we might at least enjoy Herlock Sholmes ad his magic gun together first.

I realise I’m stalling here, but maybe if I just don’t click I’ll not have to see his body.

Sailor Man, I understand that you’re very upset, we all are, but I need you to understand that I’m grieving here.

The man I love took one look at the morally compromised shits I’m normally into and decided he’d rather die than join them! And yes I know I’m still stalling and not taking this as seriously as I should because I still don’t believe it!

See, me and Ryunosuke are on the same page!

I didn’t Susato, but the problem is that you and I have only just met and I’m not very convincing!

:(

Kazuma you legend! I refuse to believe you are dead until I see your corpse.

Now Ryunosuke’s all: I can’t believe they tossed your case around that much. I thought I was going to die.

And Kazuma’s telling me he’s just amazed I fitted inside his trunk in the first place.

Kazuma you can’t be gone! Who else will condescendingly tell me to go to France and ask rather than translate a French label for me?

Now Kazuma’s telling me (Ryunosuke) that I’m going to have to live in his cabin for the next 50 days.

Also we’ve got to keep this from Susato because we’re breaking the law and Kazuma doesn’t want us to take her down with us.

Lol, every day I get shoved into the wardrobe by an uncaring Kazuma!

Oh, that’s what the message said!

God knows what the steward thought Kazuma was keeping in his wardrobe though

:(

See Ryunosuke, this is why we think before we speak.

I don’t envy the real killer when Susato gets hold of them.

From what I can find out it’s a locked room mystery, and the cause of death is still undetermined, so I’m guessing something like poison then rather than an obvious thing, like being stabbed with his big sword.

On one hand, I really hope it wasn’t something like Curare, because I don’t want Kazuma to have gone out like that, but on the other hand poison would explain why the killer didn’t need to be in the room when he died and why Kazuma didn’t strike them down with said big sword.

Ok, so Kazuma, legend that he was, got up every day at the crack of dawn to do sword training. And Susato, who I’m begging to suspect is incredibly hardcore, go up before him so she could go and wait for him outside.

Now that’s interesting.

The two of them seem like they were pretty close, so there’s a good chance it’s just that she’s so familiar with Kazuma’s habits that she can tell the second something’s off, or it could be that there’s some other reason we need to work out.

If that’s correct that means Kazuma was killed in the small hours of the morning.

You know up ‘til now I’ve been assuming Ryunosuke was knocked out or something, and that’s why he was unconscious in the wardrobe, but now I’m starting to think he might have just been sleeping in there.

:((

Wait why’d Kazuma write in Russian?

Like I’d buy that he might know it, but I don’t buy that’s it’s what he’d write in in his finger moments.

Well that proves my innocence then, all we need to do is get some witnesses to verify the ‘go to France and ask’ moment from the last case

Oh ok, I didn’t manage to screenshot it, but it seems that I (Ryunosuke) didn’t put myself in the wardrobe. That’s very odd.

I can see a vent up there, so maybe someone gassed us and then got in while we were asleep and set up the crime scene.

Kazuma said I should come, next question

Ryunosuke, with some of the words that come out of your mouth I don’t think you should be throwing stones.

Love?

Apparently not.

This is going to be something ominous isn’t it...

I’m starting to feel like Kazuma knew he’d never see England.

Kazuma how many toes did you tread on?

Oh fucking hell!

You can’t die and be heading down a dark moral path, that’s not fair!

Yeah, I want to know that too.

Ah

So my poison/drugging theory seems to be holding up. Apparently Kazuma bought me something to eat, I climbed into the hiding wardrobe, and then it’s lights out from there.

Given that I didn’t wake up when Kazuma was killed I’m going to say that also back that theory up. Even if it was silent I feel like Ryunosuke would have woken up if someone was going round the cabin knocking ink bottles over and killing Kazuma.

No, don’t blame yourself Ryunosuke!

It’s my fault really, if I was going to  find Kazuma hot I should have made sure I could manifest inside my switch and protect him!

Ah, of course! Isn’t her dad a professor of pathology? And she seems like the sort of person who picks things up pretty quickly!

In other words, if this is a poisoning, she could be the perfect person to be partnered up with.

:(((

Susato is fully prepared to kick our ass if we try and leave, and as the woman who got up before Kazuma, I think we should listen to her.

:(((((

I say we team up as an investigative duo and catch this bastard!

Yeah!

SHE FUCKED US UP!!!

Susato didn’t come here to play! Especially when we might have killed Kazuma!

(Editors note: this isn’t a bad screenshot, Susato genuinely made Ryunosuke’s vision go blurry)

I know we need to investigate, but my god this woman’s got a fist to match her convictions.

You know when I first met Susato I was a bit afraid she was going to be the inverse of Maya to the point of being meek and shy.

Now I see what a fool I was.

Susato might be prepared to politely follow the rules, but woe betide you if you break them.

She’s even named it!

Again I know this is bad for us but GO SUSATO!

(God damn it you can’t all be my favourite characters)

Her own special martial arts form Ryunosuke!

And just like that she regathers her composure and carries on as if nothing had happened!

I like how she’s still just standing over me.

Ok Ryunosuke let’s go!

(Seriously though we don’t want her as an enemy)

Ah of course, Kazuma stuck the seal on the wardrobe, and the fact Herlock Sholmes (the himbo detective) had to pull it off means I didn’t leave!

No one respects poor Ryunosuke...

So it seems that Susato doesn’t believe we’re innocent just yet, but as we’ve presented the possibility of doubt before her she will let us investigate this room.

Given the buck wild nature of the last trial she was involved in, I honestly can’t blame her for not ruling this possibility out. After all if this was something a witness in a trial had said I’d be thinking the same thing.

Susato’s going to be watching us to make sure we don’t disturb the crime scene, which again is fair.

I’ve got to say, I’m really digging Susato’s cautiously suspicious and sensible nature. It feels like a good counterbalance to Ryunosuke’s beautiful but naïve outlook on life.

I bet if Susato had stowed away onboard a ship you wouldn’t catch her immediately confessing as soon as a sailor started to press her.

Who am I kidding, Susato would never have got into this situation in the first place.

*sob*

Ok so far we’ve got:

A) Half a pink kimono fastener on the floor next to a brick red mark

B) One disturbed table, with the remains of our roast chicken dinner on the floor

C) The terrible knowledge that Kazuma spent his last night on earth hungry because he didn’t like chicken

D) Kazuma’s precious katana, that he loved dearly and that he’d apparently managed to persuade the government to let him bring to the UK.

Oh yeah, drive the knife in why don’t you game!

Why do I feel like Ryunosuke’s about to get roasted?

There we go.

(It’s what Kazuma would have wanted)

DON’T JUST GO WITH IT RYUNOSUKE!

Back to investigating, we’ve got a ransacked shelf, and Kazuma’s London diary.

Just, you know, to rip my heart out...

It looks like the final entry’s incomplete, which means Kazuma was probably writing it when the incident happened. Unfortunately Susato is violently insistent that we respect the Kazuma’s private thoughts after his death, so we can’t read it.

We’ve got the inky Russian(?) on the floor which none of us can either recognize, nor read (including me)

(Sorry to any Russians reading this by the way, I can only assume you’re screaming that this isn’t Russian, but I’m just going by what the Great Himbo Detective said in the cut scene.)

Ok, so the sailor who’s been guarding us got very flustered when we asked if everything was normal last night, meaning that either he’s been skiving off, or everything was in fact not normal last night.

Oh sweet, it seems that Ryunosuke and Susato both read detective novels, and while we’ve shot down the possibility of using the needle and thread trick to unbolt the door from the outside (side note: I must remember to try that later), I feel like both they, and the player who immediately started trying to rattle off facts about Curare, have had a bonding moment.

Ok, I think that’s this half of the room done, let’s go and check out that vent I saw earlier.

So the vent connects to the room next door. That means if the grate could be moved we have a way in and out of our crime scene!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

I mean, he’s quite hard to miss Ryunosuke

(I think Ryunosuke might have an Apollo complex short)

Understatement of the century

Her and me both Ryunosuke, it’s The Great Himbo Detective!!!

WE’RE TALKING TO HIM!

AND HE’S BLANKING US!!!

Herlock Sholmes I understand that you’re in a critical point of your investigation, but you need to understand that Ryunosuke, Susato and I are sad and need to see your magic gun.

YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSS!!!

IT’S LIKE HE HEARD ME!!!

OH GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE CHEER ME WITH YOUR WITH YOUR ECCENTRIC ACTS THAT ARE RELATABLE TO MY AUTISTIC ASS!!!

OMFG HE’S SO INCREDIBLY WRONG!!!

I hope this is the way all of his deductions go from now on.

Also I’m sorry Russia and the Russian language, I should not have believed what the man, who on reflection was sold to me as the great himbo detective, said.

Susato’s buying it!

Susato look into my eyes and tell me Ryunosuke could ever make it as a soldier.

No, please do!

And the bullet flies a mile wide!

I’m still upset about Kazuma, but I’m somehow also having the time of my life

SUSATO YOU KNOW I’M FROM JAPAN!!!

SHE TOOK ME OUT!!!

AND MY GOD AM I HERE FOR IT!!!

Ryunosuke’s finally snapped!

What I find amazing is that the Sherlock Holmes Herlock Sholmes stories clearly exist, basically unchanged in this world. So either Dr Watson Wilson was either lying through his teeth to spare his friend’s feelings, or he is the stopped clock is right twice a day person who Herlock actually hit the nail on the head for, and therefore he believed everything that was said.

‘On rout to foreign climates’ that’s how ships work Herlock!

Exactly!

I’ll say one thing for Herlock though, you can’t beat him down!

How am I both Ryunosuke and Susato in this scene?

Yeah Naruhodo-san! I thought you read detective stories!

Quick Susato! Get him to sign a copy!

Um... has no one told him yet...

I’m also curious about the fact that he still believes Dr Wilson’s in London. Either there are two Dr Wilson’s, or something weird is going on here.

Look at his hat Ryunosuke, it contains all the information you need

He got his own name wrong!

Hosonaga, I don’t know if you can hear from wherever you are on this ship dressed as a sailor, but there is a fight and you are rapidly losing!

(Also to be fair to Herlock, as someone who’s been playing a lot of Hitman recently, looking inside the wardrobe already means he’s doing a lot better than literally every character in that game.)

Ok so it was Russian then and I no longer have to apologies!

Do you think Herlock has ever been to Russia?

Ok Mr ‘is this cow a cat?’

:(((((((

HERLOCK THAT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME!!!

Ok everyone, we’re also on the lookout for a missing Russian Ballerina along with Kazuma’s killer. I don’t know how, but I wouldn’t have been told about her if she wasn’t relevant

I can’t believe we’ve finally found the vindictive part of Ryunosuke’s beautiful personality!

We’re finally reading Kazuma’s diary!

Oh fuck, Kazuma was bitten by an adder

Wait, if that was the case why didn’t he dispatch it with his big sword? We’ve seen him do precision work before, so that can’t be it.

Either way, I think we really need to talk to the person in the room next to mine.

Also: Herlock Sholmes gets seasick!

Did she just break my cuffs?

My mistake she’s just showing some tough love to get me to buck up!

Let’s go team!

HOSONAGA!!!

“What are you doing here?” “I think that should be my line” This feels like that meme of the two Spidermen pointing at each other

I wouldn’t be so sure Susato. Hosonaga seems a lot like me, a bunch of disabilities held together by sheer force of will.

He still has a job!

(Or his superiors are just trying to send him as far away from Japan as they can)

HELL YEAH HOSONAGA, LETS PUNCH THE RULES UNTIL THEY SQUEAK!

(Also your superiors are definitely trying to ship you out)

Oh...

That would explain Kazuma’s whole vibe.

Although something about this feels wrong. No disrespect to Hosonaga, but as determined as he is he doesn’t exactly have the physical prowess you’d associate with stopping an assassination. I know I haven’t exactly seen him at work yet, but something about this feels like he was set up to fail.

Now the thing is, that while he can cut it as a waiter, Hosonaga isn’t exactly built to fit in among sailors. It’s not going to take a genius therefore, to work out who Kazuma’s guard is, especially if he’s been around Kazuma from dawn till dusk. That’s probably why his killer had to kill him in his cabin, and it’s also why they probably drugged his food (which means they didn’t know him enough to know he didn’t like chicken)

:(((((((((((((

On the plus side though, it looks as though Hosonaga believes in my innocence.

Come on Hosonaga, remember when you bought Miss Brett to us!

Hell yeah Hosonaga!

Hosonaga heard my call! He heard that he was losing his place as my second favourite character and came back swinging!!!

Determination Ryunosuke!

Also probably hacking up a lot of blood, that does wonders to unnerve people in my experience

Now, I should present Kazuma’s diary here... but...

Yes, everything is as it should be...

He’s digging it!

Oh no he took it as an insult!

Sorry Ryunosuke, that’s the crime scene thief’s now

Ok let’s do this properly then

Yeah boy!

LETS DO THIS TEAM!!!

Ryunosuke, do you remember nothing about this man?

Hosonaga didn’t come here to play!

Ok, we’re moving on out (except not right now because I’ve still got a couple of things to look at before we go)

I think Ryunosuke might be a bad influence on Susato...

Also I feel like I’ve pegged Susato wrong regarding the rules. Susato’s just very good at keeping up the appearance of following them.

Come to think of it, the fact she’s a judicial assistant, despite women apparently not being allowed in the Japanese court other than to testify should have clued me in.

Susato Mikotoba: Breaking the rules in front of you, but in a way you don’t notice

(Also the bell pull’s not working, but I think we all expected that)

Susato I’ve been living in a cupboard!

Don’t pity me!

Ok, so I’m not quite sure when Ryunosuke and I started thinking as one, but we’ve all agreed it’s happening now

Ryunosuke do not get caught in the mousetrap!

Susato can see right through me (Ryunosuke)

Umm...

This is the Phoenix Maya dynamic inverted, and I am living for it.

Susato: Now this is an emergency button, it’s very important you do NOT press it!

Ryunosuke: *lunges for the trigger*

It feels amazing being the wayward partner!

Our rout into cabin 2’s blocked by approximately 1 ton of sailor, so for now Susato and I will have to dick around avenge Kazuma out here in the corridor.

It seems that last night’s log is mostly blank, so I’m guessing I was right about the sailor on duty skiving off.

Hmm, so the person in the next cabin’s probably quite important then. Given what just happened with Miss Brett that’s not a good sign.

And it seems like I’m not allowed to visit whoever it is without an invitation... which might prove tricky given as how there in there and I’m out here

Ah good, a Western Gentleman, that’s just what we need!

Hmmmmm

These guys left their post for a while didn’t they?

Either that or there’s something (or someone) they’re keeping off the records.

This might be a bit of a wide shot, but that mousetrap makes me wonder if the crew has some sort of secret pet squirrelled away somewhere. It doesn’t entirely add up what with them putting traps down, but with everyone in Ace Attorney having something to hide it’s all I can think of now.

Bif Strogenov’s left to report to the captain, nows our window to violate some privacy!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

Shot down!

Herlock that thing’s tiny, I don’t think anyone’s in there!

It moved!

Guess I’m eating my words!

Herlock???

Ok, we’re not allowed to look inside the case, or indeed anything, but fortunately we have HERLOCK SHOLMES THE GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE!!!

Deduce away Herlock!

Herlock... are you about to tell this man that he’s also the Russian Assasin? Are you going to do this round the whole ship until you get it right?

Wait this is working!?!

Herlock Sholmes is Susato’s one blind spot and Ryunosuke’s one point of clarity

CHOOCHOO!!!

THIS IS AMAZING!

He’s not entirely right though...

(Editors note: I completely managed to miss capturing 90% of the ? icons)

I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

HERLOCK LOOK AT THIS MAN’S NOSE, LOOK AT MY FACE! NOW LOOK AT THE MAN IN THE PORTRAIT!

However, the newspaper in his pocket and the little ! icon seems to suggest there’s some connection there.

(Editors note: I also managed to miss every ! icon)

And there is a crime being committed, but it’s not to do with the case.

Yeah, it probably just contains one of those pets we’re not supposed to have.

So... a baby?

So do a lot of people Susato

Ok, so The Great Himbo Detective is actually really good at making observations, it’s just how he applies them that’s shit.

I wonder if this is what Dr Wilson did for their partnership, but he just cut out the bits where he said things like: Herlock these people have completely different faces, maybe there’s a different reason they’ve got the paper?

Ryunosuke normally: The fact Hosonaga’s working in this restaurant clearly means he’s struggling financially!

Ryunosuke around Herlock: You can’t just say the first guess that pops into your head!

HERLOCK BUSTED US OUT!!!

(Ok he’s also the reason we were in handcuffs, but still)

Olay!

What! Noooooo!

‘Course Correction: Hold it Mr Sholmes!’ What a title!

Important news just in: Ryunosuke can’t grow a beard

A part of me says that he was about to use the sheers to cut up that paper, but there are obviously other copies around the ship, so unless he’s planning a sheers rampage that can’t be right.

Hello!

Wait a second... with that reaction to the paper... is there a Russian Ballerina in there?

WE DID THE HERLOCK SHOLMES COOL SPIN AND CLICK!!!

Also look at Ryunosuke’s little cocky smirk!

He’s really getting into this!

And I couldn’t be more proud!

We’re tag teaming it!

Herlock I swear to god if you tell me she’s that assassin

WHAT DID I JUST SAY!

(Editors note: Got that one!)

I sure am Susato!

Keep telling yourself that Ryunosuke, we can all see the truth

Ah, so the nose was fake too

That makes a lot more sense now!

Well she did disappear with a priceless tiara

He said, rubbing his hand in glee

This is definitely the start of a beautiful friendship!

Damn straight I do!

Bingo

For some reason I pictured it as being pink though, I don’t know why

Anyway so, while Nikolina does need money it seems that she didn’t steal the tiara. Apparently it was given to her as a present.

Also Nikolina is only 15, and has run away by herself for reasons currently unknown. I’m starting to get the feeling that the crew (or at least the two we’ve met) might have been looking out for her.

Oh yeah, the moving travel case!

Given the rules regarding pets, I wonder if that’s what’s in there? It would explain the attitude of the sailors we met.

Is it the Russian Revolutionary Herlock? You have to tell us if it is...

He’s learning!

Yep, she’s looking at the pet rule sign, now show me the pet!

Whoooooooo!

Yeah, I’m pretty sure the guys on the door were covering for her (and probably her pet too)

Hmm, so Nikolina’s running from someone, so she decided to disguise herself to be safe and has been a jumble of nerve ever since.

Can I see...

Bless you Nikolina, but you’re not the best at keeping secrets. I’m pretty sure the crew have collectively decided to just look the other way and let the traumatised 15 year old have her pet.

HE CUFFED ME AGIAN!!!

I wonder if Nikolina’s beloved pet’s a snake?

Can I just...

:(

Fine...

No, everyone must see my badge!

HA!

:(

:D

Ok now let’s go back to actually playing the game!

So, because she’s a jumble of nerves, Nikolina hasn’t been noticing much about what’s been happening around her. However I think she’d have probably noticed signs of danger, like loud noises, so I’m a little curious as to why she didn’t pick up on the sound of the tableware being sent to the floor.

From what I can gather about her ‘never dancing again’ whatever happened probably has something to do with the ballet.

Either that or she’s worried about being linked with her old life if she goes back on the scene under another name.

That’s a good point actually, while people are funny and I can get her wanting a memento of her life, that’s an incredibly distinctive memento to have.

It must have some sort of emotional significance, I think she said it was given to her by an Earl, so maybe her father?

Hmm, that’s a pretty distinctive thing to try and pawn Nikolina.

Yikes! So the Novavich Ballet’s got really unethical working conditions. (Which probably shouldn’t be too much of a shock given the time period.) Now I understand why Nikolina’s so keen to never put herself in that situation again.

Yeah, I thought that was the case.

Huh?

Oh yeah... that is odd

Ah, so that’s why everyone was so on edge!

Right...

(I feel like this would carry more weight if we hadn’t just been flashing our badge at anyone who looks our way)

Now onto the most important question:

HERLOCK NO!

Susato is me (but personally I’m hoping for a kitten)

Ok Genius, what sort of animal is it?

I’ll eat your funky hat if that’s true Herlock

Important information 2: Never trust Herlock with a pet

Please let it be that we were Kazuma’s pet

Wait no, I’m an idiot. I’m obviously supposed to ask about the speckled band

Wow she changed quick!

She’s leaving to talk to the captain, is this our chance to meet her friend!?!

Booooo, we’ve been chucked out!!!

[vindicatedvirgil]

can i get some flirty logicality? mayhaps?

Summary: Patton and Logan are best friends; they go to the beach together and end up flirting endlessly. also i’m basing this off of west coast US beaches because those are the beaches that i know and the water is cold on our beaches and idk how others are.

Ship: Romantic Logicality (Logan x Patton)

word count: 2000. Exactly.

CW: explicit descriptions of the beach and ocean activities. i know this is a trigger for some people so i’m making it very apparent! also, nonbinary Patton using they/them pronouns!

thanks to cat and Danni from discord for helping me brainstorm some of these flirting ideas!

---

Patton was pacing back and forth in their apartment. They’d been looking forward to this day for weeks, so glad to finally see their best friend after they’d been separated by going to different universities. Now, it was summertime and it was their first beach day of their holidays. Except Patton had a huge problem. They’d been in love with Logan for practically the whole time they’d known each other. 

Patton sighed, staring into the mirror. They had on pale blue swim trunks and a white tank top, and their bag with sunscreen, snacks, water, and towels was by the front door. Logan was the first person they came out to when they realized they were nonbinary, and Logan had supported them through it all; through coming out to their parents, and even by buying them their first nonbinary flag, the one that hung proudly over their bed. 

And now, Patton thought they were ready to finally tell Logan how they felt. They thought that maybe being separated by distance for college would help them get over him, but it had only made them miss and crave the touch of their best friend even more. And so, Patton figured if they told Logan today and it went poorly, then they could finally move on. Even at the risk of losing the most important person in their life. 

When they got to the beach, they set up their towel, applied sunscreen, and laid in the sun for a bit, gazing out at the sparkling sun on the water. Maybe they’d tell Logan how they feel when they were in the water, so if the waves were too loud and Logan couldn’t hear, it would be okay. And they’d be able to move on.

“Hi, Patton,” Logan’s voice was there, and Patton looked up to see him wearing a long-sleeved black rash guard and dark blue swim shorts. Patton leapt to their feet and enveloped their best friend in a big hug, holding him closely.

“Hi, Lo! I missed you so much,” they said, practically clinging to Logan. Logan let out a low laugh, prying Patton off of him, then set his bag and towel down next to Patton’s.

“I missed you too,” he said quietly, adjusting his glasses; Patton noticed the thin sheer of sunscreen over Logan’s skin, and smiled against his shoulder. “Shall we sit for a moment or would you like to go play in the water?”

“Let’s sit for a bit, okay?” Patton stepped back from Logan’s embrace, though a bit hesitantly, and sat on their towel. Logan spread his towel out right next to Patton’s and sat down, one of his legs stretched out in front of him. The pair sat in silence for a few moments, Patton a bit fidgety but so happy that they were sitting beside their best friend. They glanced over to see Logan staring out at the ocean. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“Hm?” Logan blinked, then smiled faintly, still looking straight ahead. “Oh, I read a book about oceans and beaches last night. So I was thinking about some of the facts that I read about. Would you like to hear a few?”

“Oh, sure, Lo!” Patton smiled brightly at him, eyes still focused on the profile of Logan’s face. Patton always loved listening to Logan’s rambles about facts, regardless of the subject. Sometimes they’d listen to Logan’s facts late at night, and they’d fall asleep to the comforting sounds of his voice. Some people think that ocean waves are the most soothing noise, but Patton? Their calming sound of choice would always be Logan’s voice.

“Well… oceans cover a little bit more than 70% of the Earth. And while most sandy beaches are made of silica or mineral quartz, there are all kinds of beaches,” Logan explained, and Patton smiled, leaning back on their hands, still watching Logan intently. “There are beaches with white or yellow sands like this one, but beaches in other parts of the world, especially near volcanoes like in Hawaii, there are black sand beaches that are made of lava.” Logan finally glanced over at Patton, noticing them staring at him. ‘What is it?”

“Oh, um…” Patton flushed bright red, but they decided to be a little bit brave. “I was just thinking that I always thought that the sound of the waves was relaxing, but… your voice is better.” Logan’s ears turned red, and he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“O-Oh…” Logan didn’t say much other than that, and Patton worried that they’d upset him in some way. The pair sat in silence for a few moments, then Patton got onto their feet, their hands on their hips.

“Come on, Lo. Let’s go stand in the waves for a bit,” they suggested, smiling down at him. Logan nodded and got to his feet as well, and the pair walked down the sand bank until they got to where the waves were coming up. “Lo?” Patton was feeling a bit brave.

“Hmm?”

“Will you hold my hand while we’re in the waves? I don’t want to fall like last time,” they said, and Logan nodded as if he was remembering that moment. It was the previous summer, their last trip to the beach before leaving for school; Patton had gotten knocked over by a wave, and they ended up swallowing a bunch of sea water. Luckily, Logan was able to help them up and onto the shore so that they could regain their breath. Logan was always there for them when they needed him.

“Oh, sure thing,” Logan held his hand out, and Patton wanted to jump for joy, but resigned themselves to just linking their fingers with Logan’s. They stepped forward so that their toes met the cool water.

“Don’t let go, okay?” They whispered, stepping closer to Logan, who squeezed Patton’s hand. “Ever,” they whispered that final word so quietly, hoping that Logan wouldn’t hear. He didn’t make any indication that he heard.

“I won’t, Pat,” Logan responded, and Patton wished that he meant the ever part, too. The pair slowly stepped further into the ocean, their hands linked as if eternally, the cool water slowly rising up past their ankles and to their knees. “You know, in the original version of The Little Mermaid, the mermaid turns into seafoam when she doesn’t meet the sea witch’s demands of killing the prince,” Logan said quietly, reaching his free hand under the waves, trying to catch some of the foam. “She doesn’t end up with the prince.”

“That’s sad,” Patton whispered, their eyes lingering to watch Logan, who gazed out further at the sea, as if in deep thought. “Not much of a fairytale.”

“Hmm, no,” Logan mused, a playful smile on his face. “She doesn’t stay seafoam forever, though. She becomes a daughter of the air, able to watch the man she loves for all of eternity,” he explained. Patton frowned deeper, not liking that option either. But they didn’t have time to discuss it more, as Logan swept his spare hand through the water, splashing Patton’s chest.

“Hey!” Patton giggled, using their free hand to splash Logan back. “You know splashing is against the rules, Lo!”

“What rules? We didn’t agree on any rules prior to stepping foot into the ocean,” Logan smirked a little bit, and Patton thought that they would swoon, the way that they were being looked at by the man they loved. Logan didn’t splash Patton again, though, and the two stood in the waves, moving along, gazing at the sparkles on the surface of the water.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Patton murmured, leaning their head against Logan’s shoulder, their feet sinking into the sand a bit. “Lo?”

“Hmm?” Logan made a noise, indicating that he was paying attention, and Patton figured that then would need to be the right time. They took a deep breath, gazing up at their best friend, the way he was so enthralled with watching the waves come closer and crash behind them. But then they remembered that if Logan didn’t feel the same way, they could lose him forever, and they didn’t want to ruin the beach day, either. 

If Logan didn’t feel the same… there were only three options that they would pay attention to. Option one, Logan felt the same way and the two entered into a happy relationship (Patton didn’t want to think about what would happen if things went poorly). Option two, Logan didn’t feel the same, but still wanted Patton in his life and Patton would finally get over Logan. Option three, Logan doesn’t know how to respond and needs time to process.

That hidden fourth option taunted Patton, but… Patton was an optimist, after all.

“Remember when we went to Disney last year? And we had just gotten off of Space Mountain, and there was this couple in front of us holding hands?” Patton had thought about this moment a lot. It was something they had run in their mind over and over again, trying to dissect it, figure out what Logan meant by all of it. Was it the merch that the couple was wearing? Patton couldn’t remember the situation, just the words. Always the words. “You said that in an alternate reality, that could be us.” Logan inhaled sharply, but said nothing. “Why does that have to be an alternate reality, Lo? What if… what if I want that in this reality?” They sighed, lifting their head from Logan’s shoulder. “I’ve tried so hard to not want it, because you’re my best friend and I… can’t lose you. And I thought that being separated from you would help, but… it’s only made me realize how far I’ve fallen in love with you.” Patton closed their eyes tightly, ready to pull their hand away from Logan’s and run back to shore and go home to hide under the blankets for weeks. But Logan squeezed Patton’s hand.

“I said what I said because I thought…” Logan started, and Patton glanced up, meeting his eyes. “I thought you would never feel that way about me, Patton. I thought that I was going to be resigned to being your best friend forever, and I was okay with that, but… I had to say something. And nothing came from it, so I figured…”

“I was hungry and tired, Lo, I wasn’t thinking straight, I mean, I never am, but especially around you,” Patton was starting to get flustered, their hand slipping out of Logan’s grasp. “I’m awkward and fumbly and when you say stuff like that I don’t know how to respond— wait,” it finally hit them what Logan had said. “You… feel that way about me, too?” Logan sighed exasperatedly, nodding as he tightened his grasp on Patton. 

“Yes, Patton,” he whispered, pulling Patton closer to him. “I have for so long. You know how I am with feelings, though… I don’t understand them as well as you do. Still, I am proud of myself for realizing it as early on as I did,” Logan adjusted his glasses, and Patton laughed a little. They turned to face Logan, ensuring they had stable footing and that there weren’t any large waves coming. They pressed their forehead to Logan’s.

“I’ve dreamt of our first kiss for years, Lo, I just…” Patton breathed out, and Logan inhaled with them. “What if it’s terrible?”

“It’s us, Pat. It won’t be,” Logan said reassuringly, and put it to the test by leaning in and allowing their lips to finally meet, their glasses clashing a bit awkwardly as the waves hit Patton’s back. Patton wrapped their arms around Logan’s neck, pulling him closer to them.

Later on, Patton swore that all of the dreams they had about the first kiss they shared with Logan were nothing compared to the actual thing. All of that pining, all of that worrying, and all of that unease… it all got washed away with the ocean waves. 

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 114: The Lion and the Serpent

Frank groaned, already missing the towel bed back as he lay on the cold floor once more flat on his back. His leg was propped up uncomfortably on a chest, and it was only after his head stopped ringing did he realize it wasn't his whole body shaking, just that.

He jerked quickly away with a startled yelp, drawing Alice and Lily's attention at once. He watched carefully, but they were in an open office with no obvious danger in sight, the two girls circling around a desk to get to him.

He didn't recognize it, but found himself unsurprised who did when the explanation came.

"I didn't even know Madam Hooch had an office," the older Black was tapping his chin and circling curiously on the spot. "Where in the castle would that be?" They were on the ground floor he was certain, bright sun streaming in through a window that directly showed the Quidditch pitch's entrance, but none of them really paid enough attention to her when she was refereeing to notice if she came and went from any door in particular down here.

"I've heard of it at least," Frank grumbled, now eyeing the chest in understanding, everybody knew the Quidditch balls were in here in between games to stop with tampering, and were returned here after practice so teams couldn't do anything in the meantime. It was probably the bludgers trapped inside that gave him a fright.

He smiled at Alice and Lily and told them, "did you know this is probably the most guarded office in the whole castle, even better than Dumbledore's. I once heard a Ravenclaw tried to sneak in here for her team to get at those, and no matter what she tried, she couldn't get in."

The younger Black came out of an adjacent door stretching, a bed beyond him showed this was also her room compounded.

"I've never heard that," Alice laughed.

"But I believe it," Lily rolled her eyes as she looked around in exasperation.

"Must be a Quidditch chapter!" Potter hooted in delight, shouting the summoning spell first. The chest went zooming across the office, Potter yelping in shock and ducking just in time as it sailed over his head and crashed into the wall behind him. Frank was now even more grateful he'd moved when he had the chance or he would have gone with that thing.

He tried to pry it open, but the lock on it would not give. Muttering in disdain, he went circling around the desk and went rummaging through it with no care for some keys, throwing things pell-mell in his wake.

"And here I thought this was the one place you'd show some restraint," Lily sighed as she spoke to him and had to dodge a magazine lobbed near her. "Madam Hooch is the only adult in this place you lot actually use her title for."

To everyone's utter disbelief, he ignored her and abandoned the desk to go into the room instead.

Every eye in the room turned to Sirius for explanation, and he quickly scrambled to hide his face wasn't as shocked as everyone else's, muttering audibly about body snatchers as he followed and keeping the building shame to himself.

How had he not realized the last time he'd talked to Prongs something had been on his mind? Sure he'd been distracted by having some fun with Moony, and then Longbottom just confirmed he was an arse, plus the mess with Regulus and Peter, not to mention the entire mess that was this future every time his name came up, but still, it bothered him greatly if James had somehow fallen through the cracks by not even registering if his best friend wanted to talk about something during all of that!

He walked in the room brazenly, determined to put Prongs in a headlock until he told whatever his problem was, but he'd already found the keys in a side drawer next to the bed and was trying to skip past him just as fast.

Sirius seized the back of his robes and kicked the door shut instead.

"The hell Padfoot?" James yelped in surprise, turning to him in genuine confusion. "Quidditch?!" It really would have been all the explanation needed under other circumstances, even he'd been distracted from Evans when one of their games was coming up, but Sirius wasn't buying that this time.

"Sure that's the only thing on your mind? I know there's not space up there for much else, but I'm just checking," he frowned, still casting his mind back to try and place when this could have started and still kicking himself violently he really couldn't say the last time Prongs had spoken up what was on his mind.

"I, err," he met his eyes uneasily and still glanced longingly at the door. "I was, just," finally he huffed and put it as bluntly as he could. "I was trying to give everyone some space, thought that's what you wanted."

Sirius looked stunned stupid, and James found himself just as confused as him now.

"What on Earth gave you that impression?" He demanded, glowering back at the door with a now familiar look that made James exhausted just recognizing it.

"You, you idiot," he said quickly. Sirius opened his mouth to protest so James continued with a halfhearted shrug, "I get a lot's been going on with you lately, I've been dead through all this so it's not like I know how it feels to be hearing about this future version of me, and you've been talking to Moony about it 'cause, he's alive, I guess, and I'm glad you two are friends again, honestly, but ever since you two have been talking to each other again," he stopped and rubbed at his temple, thinking that had come out all wrong.

Sirius wished a pit would swallow him whole already. Was he just cursed to ruin everyone's life? He really hadn't considered any of that at all!

The two were interrupted by a tentative knock on the door, and then it opening anyways and Remus shoving Peter inside.

Sirius had half a mind to kick the two out, he clearly needed to have a chat with his best mate, but Remus quickly intervened by smiling at the two and saying cheerily, "oh good, we weren't interrupting."

Peter laughed awkwardly, still eyeing the door like he wasn't even sure if he was supposed to be in here. Just because they didn't want to kill him now didn't make him automatically think he was invited back just like that.

James tapped the jangling key ring against his hip with nerves as he realized this was the first alone moment they'd gotten in a very long time, and they all just stood there awkwardly now. He was really starting to believe nothing was going to be the same anymore, and he looked miserably at the door and tried to stammer some half-hearted excuse to leave.

Sirius startled him by throwing his arm over his shoulder like old times, and then tightening around his throat in that choke hold that meant he wasn't going anywhere.

"Look, I'm sorry Moony and I didn't share our brilliant idea to try and get those others to relax around him by making a few more furry little jokes in front of them," Sirius said honestly, bouncing on his toes a bit and making James squirm all the more uncomfortably under his arm.

"Our?" Remus frowned at him, but Sirius ignored him and kept going.

"It, err, was a bit spur of the moment, and look, we really should have, but look, we-"

"It's not like I disagree," James nodded now that he understood, finally wrangling out of his grasp. "Just, I'd have liked a little warning."

"Sorry Prongs," the two said together, Remus adding, "I just, I saw an opportunity and went for it before I chickened out."

"Don't be ridiculous Moony," Sirius snorted, "you'd rooster out, and even then, it certainly wasn't a full moon, you had too much energy."

He stopped with a remorseless laugh as Remus shoved him. James smiled at the display as he told himself that whatever had happened, he was glad for it. If things had changed enough that Remus got through to him but he couldn't anymore, well, it's not the first change that had happened, and probably wouldn't be the last. He'd adjust...

Peter laughed in surprise at the idiots again, and then Sirius lunged without warning and snatched the keys away from Prongs, darting for the door himself now. James pounded after him shouting profanities, and the two barely had time to get out of the way of the door as the two began pushing and shoving each other, laughing madly by trying to get back to the trunk first.

James finally tackled Sirius to the floor, and the two went rolling around for several minutes before he came up victorious with the keys once more and finally retrieved his prize.

Sirius just grinned and threatened to release the bludgers on him if he didn't get started.

Remus stayed leaning against the door jam with a fond smile as Prongs read out The Lion and the Serpent, and wasn't even surprised when Peter wandered back over to Regulus and the two began smiling about the feeling Harry carried of his pride in the DA group.

He still winced internally as the root of the problem definitely hadn't been solved, they hadn't even seemed to realize Peter hadn't gotten a word in, again, but they weren't looking traitorously at him anymore as he went off. He didn't know if that marked a good thing that they had faith he'd come back if needed, or if he really wouldn't try to be a part of their group anymore. He seemed like he still wanted to be, having knocked and all, but Remus wasn't any better just shoving him like that, he scolded himself far too late. Would an apology just sound dumb so long after the fact?

Sirius finally seemed delighted to fix one problem right now though, as he stayed attentive at James's shoulder, trying to read with him and the two chatting loudly about the brilliance of Hermione's coin system.

As talk of Quidditch was built up and the two were louder than ever, she turned back to Frank and the three of them continued their much quieter conversation.

"I know you didn't mean anything by it darling, and you apologized right away," she squeezed his hand once more, "but I know you've been uneasy from him since all this came out, and it seems like he's trying a bit now. Can't you do the same?"

"It's not that simple," he wasn't even sure how he had to explain this to her, it still baffled him he seemed the only one with this problem. It's not like he'd been the only one in that cage, the mad animal having to be pinned down to stop from killing them, yet they'd gone back to acting like that never happened, that it couldn't happen again before all this was up. "Telling myself that and still doing it just aren't," he waved his other hand vaguely, but turned to watch him again. Seeing him now laugh along at Ron's inept yet impressive Quidditch save of accidentally kicking a Quaffle across the field into a goal post was the most normal thing anyone could do, but he doubted this would be the first thing his brain thought of if any of them had copious amounts of blood while in his vicinity again.

"I think Alice was right before though, maybe it would do us some good to, talk to them more," Lily paused with an eye roll as Crabbe and Goyle were announced as the new Beaters for the Slytherin team and the boys were mocking this. "At least, maybe when they stop being idiots about this game later."

Both of them watched her in surprise, she certainly hadn't agreed moments ago when Alice had said such a thing.

Lily just shrugged, waving vaguely at Lupin as well. "Couldn't hurt, maybe we've had them pegged wrong all this time, I know they've surprised me more than once during all this."

"I, yeah I guess," he sighed. "What are we even supposed to talk to them about? I'm with Lily, you know neither of us are the biggest Quidditch fans," he needlessly informed Alice.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll come up with something," Alice answered him with a beaming smile, leaning forward and planting a kiss on his cheek, before standing up properly and now sitting on the desk, joining the others in their disgusted shouts of this new low by the opposing team of making a full song about the Weasleys' life just to mess with them while the game was in full swing.

Lily and Frank exchanged an exasperated look, but still decided they'd wait for a better opportunity and began discussing games they wished they could be playing in a much more normal volume, like Gobstones. No one ever almost died playing that. The two did stop in outrage when Malfoy lost the game, and continued further insulting Harry now, even dragging Lily into it with more crude language.

She pursed her lips and couldn't say she blamed Harry or George attacking Malfoy, she'd curse anyone who called her that. She'd mostly forgiven Regulus for once doing the same, especially as he hadn't ever since that one time, and he'd only technically laughed along rather than out right saying it. She'd caught Sev even laughing at some cruel jokes before looking apologetically at her and changing the subject, insisting it was just force of habit from having to pretend around the others in his year.

Regulus's moment with his brother back in their house, each expressing they didn't want the other dead, was honestly the first step any of them had seen he'd even been willing to change. More than her own best friend had ever made, he wouldn't even say with any force he'd stop hanging around that awful lot.

The dragon bogies really hit the wind when McGonagall dragged the two up to her office for a telling off, but even though however much of that was deserved varied per person, Umbridge's arrival and banning Harry and the twins from said sport met a deadly silence from all.

"Well that sucks," Frank finally spoke into the heavy air.

Lily gave a nervous kind of laugh beside him, still watching all of them as if she expected someone to blow up any second.

"As if we didn't have reason enough to kill her before all this," Lupin said with an ugly scowl, then shot a guilty look at him, and Frank almost wanted to laugh at himself; Alice had been right already, he agreed with him. He still hadn't quite gotten over his fear of what this woman would do to Neville and the rest of the DA if she found out about that, but it would likely be the same if not something crueler as this woman carving up Harry's hand, and now stepping in from his own head of house and dueling out such punishments as lifelong bans.

Potter finally kept going with that same cold, calculating look in his eye Frank was now all too familiar with, but he'd help along with any plan these guys came up with to keep this woman from ever entering their school, let alone getting as far along in life as she had when they got back.

It was only in the last line of the chapter did any good news seem on the horizon, Hagrid was finally back.

[orangeoctopi7]

Who’s a Threat Now?

: Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 : Chapter 3 : Chapter 4 : Chapter 5 : Chapter 6 : 

In this chapter we finally get to the scene I first envisioned when I decided to write this fic. It was loosely inspired by this post by @a-tale-of-two-stans Obviously my idea ended up being quite different, but I still slipped in some of the dialogue. 

Morning came cold and cloudy. The storm last night had left a fine layer of ice over everything, which in turn was hidden under another layer of snow. Dangerous driving conditions, which Stan would normally take as an excuse to stay home all day. Not today though. No, today they had a very important mission. Thankfully, they only had to drive as far as the high school, and the poor road conditions meant they would probably be the only ones there, leaving very little chance of being caught.

“Why did you have to buy such a conspicuous car?” Ford complained as Stan parked the Stanleymobile as best he could behind one of the school’s dumpsters.

“Hey! This baby’s a classic, and easily the best purchase I’ve ever made!” Stan defended. “She’s gotten me through some of the roughest patches of my life!” Although, Stan would be lying if he said he’d never thought the same thing to himself. There had definitely been some points in his life where driving a car that blended into the traffic more easily would have saved him some trouble. “And besides, we’re just breaking into the school on a Saturday. Even if there were people out in this weather to see us, who would even care?”

“I just don’t want to attract any undue attention.” Ford grumbled. 

They made it to the autoshop’s door with minimal slipping and sliding. Stan picked the lock with ease, and they began searching for another small soldering iron. 

“If we can’t find another iron of the same size, I may have to just make one myself.” Ford mused as he perused another box. They were all too big. “On the positive side, I’d be able to make one the perfect size for the microcircuitry, but on the negative side, it would add yet another day to our stay here.”

“Well, let’s hope we can find a little one here then.” Stan said, pulling out a drawer and dumping its contents onto a workbench. “The sooner the better, right?”

Ford hummed in agreement. Their search was much more thorough that the one they’d conducted during the school day earlier in the week. They had no fear of discovery while the school was empty. Still, they searched two whole supply closets, and couldn’t find a similarly sized soldering iron.

Their hunt for the tool paused when they heard a car’s engine zoom right past the shop’s door.

“It’s, uh, probably just some kids spinning cookies in the snow.” Stan reasoned nervously.

“Probably…” Ford agreed, although his posture was still tense.

“I’ll just go check, to be sure.” Stan offered, edging towards the shop door. “While you keep looking.”

“Alright. Just don’t get caught. We’re in enough trouble with dad right now as it is.”

“Yeah, no kiddin’.” Stan rolled his eyes as he slipped out the door.

Searching the final supply closet took longer with just one person, and still no luck! Ford carefully surveyed the room, trying to think where the teacher would hide the nicer tools so rowdy highschools students wouldn’t break them. His eyes landed on the bottom drawer of the teacher’s desk. Bingo! It had a small lock built into it. The scientist had done his fair share of lock picking during his interdimensional travels, and while he still wasn’t as practiced as Stan, something like this was hardly a challenge. 

His breaking and entering was rewarded with the soldering iron he’d been searching for! It was even smaller than the one Stan had accidentally snapped, although it was still larger than Ford would have preferred. Still, it would get the job done. 

* * *

Despite the thick clouds still hanging in the sky, Stan had to squint against the rising sun’s light as it reflected off every flake of snow on the ground. The parking lot looked empty. In fact, it looked just like he’d left it just fifteen minutes ago. 

Wait, no. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a fresh set of tire tracks in addition to his own. The parking lot had been an unmarked blanket when they’d first arrived, so someone was definitely there. What’s more, the tracks went straight around the back to the teacher’s parking area; no cookies or fishtails or any other skids that Stan would expect from a student looking to have some fun in the snow. So whoever was here was probably a teacher. 

The old man in a teen’s body sighed. Just his luck. He didn’t remember any of their teachers being this dedicated. 

He followed the tracks, hoping to figure out who they belonged to. Depending on the teacher, Stan might be able to talk his way out of this. As he peeked around the corner, he was surprised to see a car he recognized, but not one that belonged to any of the teachers. He’d seen it just last night, at the boxing match.

Crampelter’s car. Well, Stan was pretty sure it was his parents’ car, the guy didn’t have the patience to save up for his own car, but that's besides the point. This was the car Crampelter would drive around in. The goon had probably seen the Stanleymobile parked behind the dumpster and decided to come harass the twins. Stan turned on his heel and ran back towards the auto shop to warn Ford, but he didn’t make it very far before he slipped on the ice. 

Luckily, Stan recovered from having the wind knocked out of him much more quickly than he was expecting. Unluckily, before he could pick himself up, a foot stepped heavily onto his upper back. Several sharp points dug into his winter coat.

“Just the guy I was lookin’ for!” Crampelter sneered.

“Hello to you too.” Stan mumbled into the snow. 

Two more figures stepped into Stan’s limited field of vision. Oh great, Crampelter’s lackeys. And they all had plastic ice cleats strapped to their snow boots. He quickly pulled his hands in close, to prevent the jerks from stepping on them. 

“It’s about time I reminded you of your place, Stan the lesser!” The bully snarled. “You really thought you could get away with breakin’ my nose?”

Stan did note with some satisfaction that although he couldn’t see the bully’s face from where he was lying in the snow, Crampelter’s voice was much more nasally than usual. 

“‘S part of the gig, kid.” Stan shrugged. “Y’know what they say. If ya can’t take the heat, get outta the kitchen.”

“I’m two years older than you!” Crampelter shouted indignantly. 

“Oh, right.”

“See, this is exactly what I’m talkin’ about!” the bully whined. “I’m tired of you not takin’ me seriously anymore! I’m gonna make sure you never forget that I’m a threat!”

“Yyyyeah, you’re really not.” Stan rolled his eyes.

Crampelter growled with rage and shifted his weight forward, digging his ice cleats further into Stan’s back before releasing his foot. Stan sprung up to strike the bully, but the lackeys each grabbed an arm before he could land a blow.

“What, afraid you can’t take me one on one?” Stan taunted.

“This isn’t about proving who’s the better fighter.” Crampelter chortled. “It’s about teaching you your place.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Stan had plenty of experience fighting three on one, heck, even more than that, and most of the time those people had guns or at least knives. He dropped to his knees, knocking the two lackey’s heads against each other in the process. Once free of their grasp, he sprang back to his feet with an uppercut to Crampelter’s jaw. He felt a tug on the back of his coat; the lackeys had recovered faster than he’d expected. Stan simply shrugged the coat off and swung his arm backwards, catching one goon with a hard backhand. The other one tried to grab Stan’s arm again, but he wound up and punched that guy with the other arm. 

With all three of the bullies reeling, Stan made a run for it. Over the years the main thing he’d learned about what to do when people ganged up on you was to get out of there as soon as possible. 

“Coward!” Crampelter shouted after him.

Stan flipped him the bird over his shoulder. “Better a coward than a guy with a broken nose!”

Unfortunately, luck was rarely on Stan’s side, and today was no exception. Before he even ran three feet, he slipped on the ice again, and this time he hit his head on impact. When his vision cleared, three ice cleats were digging into his back. Stan struck out with his arm, trying to knock over whoever’s leg he could reach, but they had too much traction to be knocked over from this angle. 

The lackeys didn’t bother letting him up and holding him by his arms this time. The three of them just stomped down on him with their ice cleats, kicking snow in his eyes whenever he tried to squirm away. While it wasn’t the worst beating Stan had ever received in his life, it still felt like being on the wrong end of a meat tenderizer. Without his coat, the ice cleats tore through his shirt and into his skin, leaving stinging scrapes across his back and arms.

Eventually the three bullies were satisfied that Stan was too dazed to fight back, and Campelter hoisted him up by his shirt collar.

“Whaddaya think, should we cram him in the freak’s locker to find on Monday?” One of the lackeys asked with a snicker.

“Nah, he’s too big to fit anymore.” Crampleter scrunched up his face like he was thinking hard. “Oh! I know!” He turned back towards his car.

The other lackey sneered and popped open the trunk. 

Stan’s heart leapt into his throat. Not again! He tried to break out of Crampelter’s grasp with renewed vigor, but the lackeys each clamped down on his arms. The three bullies roughly escorted him to the open trunk and shoved him in. The panic began to overtake him as they began to shut the door, and he wildly flailed about, trying to wedge it open with his legs. Crampelter kicked him in the calf, and his legs reflexively curled in pain, allowing them to shut him in. 

Stan could do nothing but bang his fists and feet against the roof of the trunk as his breaths came in shorter and shorter gasps, until it felt like he couldn’t think or breath at all.

* * *

Ford waited a couple of minutes for Stanley to come back after finding the correct tool. Their search wouldn’t exactly be a success if the soldering iron was confiscated by a teacher immediately after he found it. The fact that Stan hadn’t come back immediately suggested that there was indeed a teacher out there. Stan was probably hiding to escape notice. 

After a solid ten minutes of waiting, Ford began to worry. Surely Stan would have been able to sneak past any teacher by now. Unless he’d been caught? Perhaps he was causing a distraction so that Ford could get away? 

The young scientist carefully cracked the door open and peered out into the parking lot. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the bright winter sunlight, but it was clear that his brother wasn’t just waiting out there with a snowball. At least there weren’t any teachers out there either. Ford made sure the soldering iron was zipped securely inside his bag, flipped off the lights, and stepped outside, making sure the lock clicked behind him. 

Now, to find Stan. His brother’s footprints followed a second set of tire tracks around to the back of the building. Ford cautiously followed them and peeked around the corner, his breath catching in his throat when he saw Crampelter and two lackeys sitting on the trunk of an old car. From where the young researcher was standing, he could just barely hear the occasional thump over the bullies’ mocking laughter. 

It was like the whole world ground to a halt. In that instant, the rest of the universe outside of this parking lot didn’t exist. All concerns about the timeline and returning to the future just melted away. The only thing that mattered was getting Stanley out of there and away from those neanderthals. 

“Let him go!” Ford commanded as he marched menacingly towards them. The three bullies looked up with a start.

“Should’ve known you’d be shadowin’ him, freak.” Crampelter sneered. “Hey, you’re pretty scrawny, I bet we could fit you in here too.”

“Just try it.” Ford said in a dangerously calm tone. “I’ve faced unimaginable horrors twenty-six times your size and didn’t even flinch. You are a child with the IQ of a peanut and I can beat you without even lifting a finger”

Crampelter chortled. “Yeah, I’m so sure! After nine years of boxing lessons you never learned to even throw a real punch, but today’s the day you’re gonna beat all three of us up!”

“Let me put this in simple terms you can understand.” Stanford said slowly. “You let my brother go, or I will break every one of your fingers.”

The lackeys exchanged a glance. Something about their old victim had changed. There was a new, cold glint in his stare and a confidence in his stance that was completely different from Stan’s usual casual bravado. Cramplelter, however, took no notice of these changes. He just rushed forward with a raging yell, winding up a huge haymaker. 

Ford watched the clearly telegraphed punch and ducked under it with ease. He crouched down and gently pushed up on Crampelter’s stomach with his shoulder, which combined with the bully’s forward momentum, sent the lunk flying over Ford’s back. He spun around and backed up a few steps, keeping all three aggressors in his sight. 

Crampletler picked himself up off the ground, spitting out snow and ice, his eyes blazing with fury. Someone smarter might have noticed that just charging in wildly hadn’t worked last time, so it probably wasn’t going to work again. However, Ford’s earlier assessment of his IQ wasn’t too far off. 

The bully bolted forward again, this time attempting an uppercut. Ford reached out and batted the jab aside, grabbing his attacker’s wrist in one hand, and his face with the other. Crampelter cried out in pain as Ford’s fingers clenched down on the bully’s already broken nose. Once again, Ford used his opponent’s weight against him, and sent Crampelter crashing into his lackeys. 

“D-don’t just stand there gawkin’, get him!” Crampelter demanded. 

The lackeys charged forward, slightly more cautious than their boss had been. They tried to surround Ford, but he was too fast for them, ducking around them or jumping back whenever one tried to get behind him. Eventually, one was brave enough to try a straight-arm punch. Ford grabbed onto his arm and swung him into the other guy, crashing them both to the ice. The lackeys, now thoroughly intimidated, decided that they’d had enough, and fled. 

Crampelter’s face contorted with rage. This time, he just outright tackled Ford. The young scientist thrust forward his forearm, catching the charging bully by the shoulder. Ford took Crampelter’s head in his hands, craning the bully’s neck down and to the side, throwing him off balance and toppling him to the ground. 

With the other two gone, this time Ford was free to position Crampelter into an arm-bar. He pulled the bully’s wrist back, and he was sorely tempted to follow through on that threat to break all his fingers. It would take too long, though, and he needed to get Stan out of that trunk now. So he had to settle for stomping down on his tormentor’s hand. 

When Ford threw open the trunk, it was obvious that Stan was in the throes of a panic attack. His eyes were wide open and staring blankly, his breaths came in short shallow gasps, he was sweating despite the cold winter air, and he was shivering uncontrollably. Well, the shivering might have been from more than just the panic attack. Ford spotted Stan’s discarded coat lying on the ground and scooped it up, shaking most of the snow off of it before gently wrapping it around Stanley’s shoulders. 

“It’s alright, you’re safe now.” He assured his brother softly, half lifting, half helping him out of the trunk. “Let’s get you back home where it’s warm.”

The two brothers staggered back to the Stanleymobile, leaving a completely dumbstruck Crampelter lying in the snow.

[hecohansen31]

Whatever Your Heart Desire

Harald+Fake Prophet! Reader (Vikings Era)

The Ambitious King

Prologue

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

As I have promised, this is the entire part of the brief teaser I had pubblished!

I am low key... very very nervous about it, because let me tell you... I am worried when I write fics for new characters, even more because of the content and ‘length’ of it, so I really REALLY hope I did my best.

As always: feedback makes our heart beast faster and our hands writer faster, it also makes us better and more experienced, so be sure to leave a comment or a reblog with something writte.

And if you want to be extra and help us writers in our free adventure, you mgiht buy us a symbolic coffee over HERE!

SUMMARY:  After Harald's first visit, he has kept on coming to your hut, but he isn't the only one, as one day you found a familiar face in your hut, searching for Harald's gold, setting an entire plan in motion.

And you are only left to accept Harald's proposal.

WORDS: 12 K

WARNINGS: Dark Themes, Attemped and Mention of Rape, Graphic Description of A Poisoning Attempt, Harald Being A Cranky Old Man, HIstorically Inaccurate and Not Following the Series’ Timeline (although it is set after Halfdan’s and Astrid’s deaths!).

You didn’t worry as you saw a horse being left in front of your house.

Harald had come to visit you every Thursday since your first ‘prophecy’ to him, to gain the knowledge of his future and to know the mistakes of his past.

And today was indeed Thursday.

No matter how much you didn’t trust fully the king, his money was very much welcome in your home, no matter the fact that you were walking over a thin line, constantly risking to be discovered for the fake prophet you were.

You hadn’t pleasant words for him, because if you did, you wouldn’t have been able to properly make him believe that you were truly foreseeing his future.

Because you knew men like Harald: their future wouldn’t have ever been as successful as they wished it to be.

So, the first thing that you had told Harald when he had come to you again, after your first session, was that he had to focus on himself and not on his external ‘enemies’, which had made the blame away from him.

‘You might want the world, but you can’t have it without feeling well with yourself first’ you had explained, as you pushed him down onto the chair he was raising himself up.

And he had looked at you as if you had revealed some hidden truth.

He had  handed you a hefty amount of cash, after that, and the following day he had proclaimed that he’d be staying in Vestfold, after his return from the  war, instead of trying to take again Kattegat.

And although you could hear the familiar dissent through his earls, you knew that his people were happy to have the king back for a bit.

Even simply because they had to pay less the war taxes.

You knew that war had taken quite the toll on the people of Vestfold and you, on your own, had tried to help a few of the poorer with donations, although you had to admit that selling medical herbs and your own medical knowledge didn’t exactly permit you a luxurious life.

Harald’s money were indeed quite useful.

But although you were well aware that being Harald’s little ‘seer’ was quite fruitful, you knew that you couldn’t exactly last for much more than a season, even more when Harald wouldn’t see immediately the fruits of your suggestions.

He was an ambitious and impetuous man.

He wouldn’t wait to see what he had sowed.

He’d prefer to burn up the entire camp.

Hence, you had been trying to spare some coins to move away at the first signs of Harald’s disbelief in your methods.

Powerful men were downright dangerous.

Even more when they had a personal vendetta against women.

Your mother had known that all too well.

But till now, Harald had been nothing more than a lapdog, more than willing to endure your tongue-lashings in hope that they might win him new kingdoms and riches.

Poor fool.

He had already enough of that, alongside glory and fame.

And yet he searched for more.

He didn’t know that the Gods always frowned upon those who reached further than They allowed.

And eventually they’d strike them down for that.

You didn’t need to be a seer to see that Harald’s fatal flaw would have been his end.

And no matter what sweet words you spoke in his ear, destiny wouldn’t change.

Nobody could escape theirs.

You felt your head full with those thoughts, still, and pushed them away as you went to caress Harald’s horse, a soft white mare that immediately softened under your touch, as you questioned what had made Harald choose such a less threatening company, since he usually would come to you with his black stallion.

But you didn’t think too much of the horse, simply collecting store information in your mind.

What would you tell Harald, today?

That he shouldn’t underestimate the power of guilt he felt for having killed his brother?

That he had to finally confront the fact that he had reached the purpose he had set for himself, but it was still not enough for those around him?

Or that he fucking should stop pushing the blame on anyone but himself?

But you halted immediately as you moved to the threshold of the door, smelling a softer perfume than the one Harald wore naturally on his skin, something that brought you back to a shop you had visited earlier on your week.

The seamstress’ store.

Hence you weren’t surprised to find Jorun, the seamstress’ only son, who helped her out in the shop, inside your hut.

He was bit younger than you, but quite built and you couldn’t hide your uneasiness as you found him in your house, because one thing was to let Harald in, a dangerous man, but with an honorable conscience…

… and another was to let a boy like Jorun in.

An uncomfortable shiver run through your spine, as you tried to keep your breath even, comforting yourself and slapping a soft smile on your face.

You weren’t unused to finding guest in your house, but they certainly didn’t look as if they had been caught red-handed as Jorun was, looking through your herbs’ jars, a few crushed at his feet.

And you were quickly able to understand why Jorun was there.

You had spent quite the sum of money at the seamstress, a few days ago, the only vanity you had allowed with Harald’s money, ordering a few furs in case you were forced to run in the further North, and a dress, a pretty dress because you had fallen in love with the fabric, and asked Vidgis, the seamstress, to realize a dress for you with it.

Jorun had, probably, overheard your conversation and had formed this strange idea that you had gained quite a big sack of money for your services to the crown, and he had thought about stealing from you.

He knew where you lived.

He knew that you hadn’t the security measures many kept inside of the city, thinking that nature and whatever magic you wielded might would have protected you.

And he knew that you were a woman, easy to overcome, in case you came home early.

Like it had just happened.

He had lost his father in Harald’s many wars for conquering lands, and you knew that Vidgis had been struggling with her own shop.

Not many had enough wealth to buy a new dress, he certainly didn’t.

And he thought of taking what he thought was rightfully his.

In the end the money that Harald was paying you were the same ones that he paid monthly to him.

“If you had asked me, I would have given you the money” you breathed out, as you shifted against the threshold, aware that you hadn’t much choice, because if you had chosen to run away, he’d have laid waste to the hut and more importantly the few memories that you kept close to your heart “… I can still give you the money”.

And before you knew it, he was onto you, a knife at your throat, as you pleaded with him not to make any rushed decision.

Had Vidgis told her, she would have gladly given her the money she needed.

She would have paid straightforward the dress to help the woman.

But Vidgis was a proud woman, exactly like Harald.

But her son had had enough.

“Then show me where you stashed it” he intimated you, and you tried to push yourself a bit away from the blade of the knife at your throat, because you knew that with the way Jorun trembled, he could have made a big mistake.

This boy wasn’t cruel.

He hadn’t been born that way.

But hunger and vengeance had done this to him.

“They are under the fourth tile of my bedroom floor” your mother had taught you that: people could devastate an house and look through every trunks, but they wouldn’t have ever raised tiles to see what they hid.

Hence, they hid the most amazing of treasures.

“Then to your bedchamber, lady” he grimaced at you, as he led you through the small room, throwing you onto the bedroom, something for which you were grateful since his grip was so strong that it hurt you but he kept the knife unsheathed as a promise and he went to search for the money, finding it effectively.

But it was quite less than he had expected.

You had been hiding some somewhere else, deep in the forest.

And you had no intention of giving him that.

“That can’t be all…” he protested, as he threw the small bag of money across the room, before he jumped onto you on the bed, as you tried to shriek away.

Had you been able to reach out in the nightstand, you might have found your knife, stashed in the small beside table.

And although you had no intention to stab him, you hoped to put some fear in him.

Jorun wasn’t cruel or bad intentioned.

He was desperate and angry.

And that made him extremely more dangerous than a common criminal, so you hoped that pushing him to feel more fearful would have maybe made him to back off from you.

But as you were reaching out, he pushed you down on the bed, pinning your legs under his, effectively making you cease from moving any further away from him, as you tried to move your hands to push him off your body.

But although he might have been starved and malnourished, he still managed to be an unmovable rock against you, eventually pushing one of your arms back onto the bed with one of his elbows, the bone of it pushing down on your tender skin.

You certainly would have a bruise there the following day.

“Fucking tell me where you stashed it all, you whore” he spoke, although his voice left its strength through the quote, as it became more a whine, but you just fought against him, trying your best to get through him, to push him off you “… Harald must pay you well for fucking you”.

And then his mind became suddenly sharp, as a cunning smile appeared on his face.

And a shiver went down your spine, as you froze under him.

His eyes became wicked and he lost any pretense of humanity, becoming an animal guided from pure need and rage, and before you even knew it, he ripped the front of your dress, effectively baring your chest at him.

You shrieked and fought with one hand to hide yourself from him.

As you fought with your legs to try to kick him off, finally realizing what he’d do to you.

You’d already been in such a position, and the last time you had been barely out of childhood, praying to the gods that it’d end quickly but it had just continued, as your mother’s cold body laid a few steps away from you, her eyes looking at the sky as if they were sparing you the shame of catching her daughter in that act.

You had done everything in your life to try to fight this weakness.

To avoid returning under a man.

But now, it was happening.

And Jorun moved to push his pants down, as he scrunched your dress up, freeing your hands, which moved to slap his face, effectively blinding him and you managed to make your legs escape his hold, shooting a knee up and hitting his soft skin between his legs.

Then you tried to turn away, rolling off bed, your legs lightly numb but you were able to cradle as you felt Jorun screaming in pain.

If you could reach the door you’d been safe, you could close the door and push some piece of furniture against it, effectively trapping Jorunn inside your room.

But before you could move past it, you were yanked by a leg and Jorun this time straight up jumped onto you, as he fell on you, pinning you to the ground under his heavy body and you heard the noise of a bone breaking, before you felt the pain of it.

And with Jorun over you, you weren’t able to move away or try to free yourself from his hold, as he again scrunched up your dress, pushing his lips onto your neck, as you felt your body shaking and trembling as it all went back to that time, when a similar thing had happened.

And you closed your eyes, your body surrendering itself to the pain.

“… let me know why a king like so much sinking between your thighs, a fucking whoring bitch” and you closed your eyes, holding a tight breath in your chest.

And then you heard a scream, a male scream and you thought that you had been mistaking your memory with the present.

It sometimes happened to you that you’d forget where you were, because suddenly the past would overtake you and you’d be left in the memory of your shame.

But it wasn’t, and soon the weight of Jorun was pushed off your body, and you turned worried that he might have chosen to do something worse to you, but as you opened softly your eyes, you found out that you weren’t alone anymore with Jorun, but king Harald was holding him down against the ground, as the boy had done with you on the bed.

You tried to shift your weight in order to bring yourself back on your feet, but you leaned on the wrong arm, the pain of the broken bone inside of it making you hiss painfully, enough to attract Harald’s attention, who knocked out quickly Jorun slamming his head against your bedside table, before he came to you.

And more out of instinct than anything you pushed yourself away, fear shining in your eyes, as the king took it in, gently crouching down to you to calm your fear, offering you an hand, and waiting for you to accept it.

He pushed a blanket away from the trunk it was placed upon, and he gave it to you, to cover your naked breasts, not daring a simple look.

Then he helped you up, steadying you against him, but immediately leaving you as soon as he felt your discomfort, going to patrol over Jorun passed out body, a hint of blood coming out from his broken nose.

Hadn’t he tried to rape you a few moments before, you would have felt bad for him.

“I do think that you know him” mumbled Harald, slapping his face to see whether he was simply faking being passed out or he was truly, as you moved past him to check his pupils, finding out he had effectively passed out.

“He is Jorun, the seamstress’ son” you replied, tightly, as you tried to move over to the kitchen, where you had some herbs for the pain that was shooting through your arm, as if part of the bone had pierced the skin.

“Was he taking your measurements?” humored darkly Harald, following you, something for which you were thankful because he reached out for you to the taller shelves, as you showed him the herbs that would help you feel back to normal.

You proceeded to boil them as Harald took a seat on the kitchen table, as if you hadn’t a passed out boy in your room.

“He was trying to find the money you give me for my suggestions” you confessed, thinking that it was definitely not worth hiding anything, even more because Harald didn’t seem a man who liked being lied around.

It had already happened to him too many times.

“… then he isn’t only a rapist, but he is also a thief” he mused as he almost seemed to think about it “… I’ll bring him to justice, don’t fear my lady”.

As much as you hated the thought of letting Jorun go unpunished, you knew that having either his hand or his prick cut off for thievery and assault wouldn’t have done him or his mother any good.

“Don’t” you mumbled softly “… it won’t look good that you punish a rightful citizen of Vestfold for a witch, like me”.

Because although people wouldn’t certainly reject your coin, they hadn’t accepted you.

And you knew what they called you when you turned your shoulders to them.

And you knew what they said already about Harald for coming to you, every week.

Commoners could come to you to know whether their harvest would be good or not.

But their king?

It was shameful for him to be controlled so easily by a foreigner.

“… you know what he tried to do to you” he sent you a pointed look.

“I know” you mumbled, once the boiler whistled, signaling that your herbs had finished being boiled and you threw them in a bin nearby, grimacing at the strong smell in the pan, downing the beverage in one go “… but it wouldn’t… it’d make them do worse things to me”.

Your mother had taught you to act like a shadow in case things like this happened.

The villagers wouldn’t ever accept the meddling of a foreigner in their affairs.

“I can’t simply let him go” he spoke, almost as if he was seriously worried about you “… he would come back here and I am sure that this time he won’t try any attempt of courtesy”.

“You call almost raping a woman a ‘curtesy��?” you questioned him with harsh eyes, as he simply replied to you with a rough smirk on his face as if to say ‘then you know how much you are risking’.

“I won’t certainly leave you alone, at least for tonight” he proclaimed, As he moved from the chair he had sat onto, adjusting himself as if he owned the place, a sight you didn’t like “I’ll sleep with you, tonight, and then I’ll send some men, here”.

“That’d be a waste”.

You couldn’t understand why Harald felt this need to protect you.

He certainly valued you as some kind of trusted advisor.

But this didn’t justify the intense need of protecting you that he had gained after Jorun’s attack.

“… who is the king, (Y/N)?” he muttered tightly between his teeth, as if he didn’t expect you to deny him “My word is law”.

But you were a woman full of surprises.

“Because you are the king, you shouldn’t stay here” you retorted tightly “… I can handle myself”.

He shot a quick look at your locked bedchamber, where Jorun was sleep, as if to say: ‘are you sure’.

“I’ll stay here” he seemed unmovable and you believed that not even shoving him out of your house would have worked.

But at the same time, you didn’t want to shove him out.

“Do whatever you want, my king” you simply bit your lips, as you moved towards another small cabinet in your small kitchen, feeling Harald’s sharp eyes on you, meanwhile you got a few gauzes out of it, to properly push the bone in its rightful place, helping yourself with thin layers of wood.

Once you were done, you had a bit of relief, as the broken arm slung from your neck to keep its position steady, meanwhile Harald observed you carefully, almost fascinated by your knowing movements, helping you once you moved to the table to lay down your broken arm.

He passed you the gauze, as you pushed the bone in the rightful place, lightly number by the herbs, but you still felt tears coating your eyes, and Harald gently dried them with his rough thumb, without uttering a word, for which you were thankful.

Once you were finished, you both heard noises from you room and you turned to each other, now realizing that Jorun had woken up and before you could move to do anything, Harald lunged to the door, effectively coming face to face with a rather angry Jorun.

Whose face went straight up white as he took in his king.

“My… my king” he stammered, as Harald just looked at him with an annoyed look, before grabbing him by the scruff of his head, as he dragged him away, meanwhile Jorun protested, pleading and begging.

“I shouldn’t be the one who you need to address” muttered darkly Harald, as he sent you a light look, to make the boy know that you were the one on whose hands would come either his damnation or his safety.

“… lady… (Y/N)” he spoke softly, as he fell onto his knees, more for fear than true contrition “… I am sorry”.

“Harald… don’t…” you muttered, unable to withhold Jorun’s gaze, almost as if that pushed you to feel him again on top of you, entering the sanctuary of your legs, as your eyes shifted on Harald’s “… it is enough”.

“I don’t fucking think that it is, but… I’ll honor a lady’s word” he ushered at the boy with one last look.

And then he dragged him out, making sure that the moved onto his horse, before he released him from his glare, as you looked at the whole scene wondering what the Hel you had found yourself in.

---

“You’ll have to sleep on the floor” you mumbled as you took in the smallness of your bed.

Not that you had any intention of letting Harald sleep in your bed.

He might be a king, but he was a man.

A dangerously beautiful man.

“I have slept on worse” he mumbled, as he sat on the cold tiles, but you just shook your head, collecting a few blankets and an extra pillow for him, even going back to get some straw to make him feel better.

All mansions that Harald took upon himself, as he ushered out of the bedroom, leaving you a private moment that you took to slip in a nightgown, covering yourself with a thick fur, grateful for its warmth.

Harald had insisted, the entire night, for you to relax, but you hadn’t let him cook you dinner, since not only you had hidden a few poisonous herbs in your cabinets, but you didn’t trust him around a fire.

But still except that he had brought you anything, treating you almost as a goddess.

Something that made you blush and made your conscience heavy.

‘Why are you helping me?’ you had asked, as he washed the dishes, almost making a few crash, and destroy themselves on the ground ‘… I am nothing’.

‘You are a subject of mine’ he had answered, softly turning to you as you found yourself so close, that you could almost trace his wrinkles with the tip of your nose ‘… and you told me to take care of my subjects’.

But there was something more beneath it, lingering in his eyes, that for now you could only describe with curiosity lingering in his eyes.

And you weren’t sure it was a good thing.

As Harald came back he adjusted the straw and blankets to his own taste and then laid down there, and you took it as a cue to move yourself comfortably on top of the bed and go to sleep.

But you were sure that even ‘numbed’ with the herbs you wouldn’t have slept much.

“… if you need any more blankets, just ask me” you mumbled tightly, as you turned on the opposite side of him, hearing a grumble of assurance, as you spent the following first hour of sleep turning around in bed.

You were so unused to have somebody else in your room, that when you heard Harald’s voice you almost jumped out of bed, having forgotten for a moment that a king was sleeping on your floor.

“… (Y/N)?” it was your name and you moved to his side, worried that his old age had made him unable to move, but he looked honestly worried.

And not for himself.

“What is it?” you asked, faking a sleepy voice, but Harald didn’t buy it in the slightest.

“… are you cold?” he teased you, and you huffed at it.

“No, I am not”.

“Then what is making you roll around that bed, like a bear in lethargy” he retorted with a charming smile, that almost made you want to smack him across the face “… are you having trouble sleeping?”.

“… maybe” there wasn’t any need to lie.

The evidence was in front of his eyes.

And Harald would have probably annoyed you to death, hadn’t you given him an answer.

“Want to talk it out?”.

“I thought I was the advisor”.

“Something horrible has happened to you, I wouldn’t blame you, for…”.

“Honestly, you aren’t the person I’d like to talk about that with” you replied, as you turned far away from him, hoping that your bitterness would get him to leave you alone “… hope it didn’t offend you”.

“… just… it wasn’t the first time it happened to you, didn’t it?”.

You rolled on your back, focusing on the roof to shield yourself away from the memory of what had happened years ago.

“It is none of your business”.

Although you knew that with your words you had already said enough.

“I saw the way your body went taunt and still, under him and I…”.

“You knew it because you did the same Jorun tried to do to me”.

It certainly didn’t take a genius to know that men like Harald didn’t care for a ‘no’.

You knew it on your own skin.

It hadn’t been a normal soldier who had taken advantage of you.

“… it is war” he spoke, as if it justified the act, but you could almost taste the shame in those words, as if he wasn’t truly convinced of them “… it is different”.

“Not for the women” you mumbled, biting on your lips to keep you in that bed and not on the ground that ten years before had stolen your innocence “… it is always the same for us: laying on our back, hoping that the pain will be soon over as we feel the weight of our shame onto us”.

“(Y/N)” he tried to call you out, but you were too in deep in that memory.

“… pleading to be left alone, shrieking away and yet, pinned under your sweaty and horrible…”.

Harald’s hand reached out for yours, effectively pushing you out of your trance, as you opened the eyes you hadn’t realized you had closed, shocked back to reality by the sudden touch.

Your breath was heavy and for a few minutes you needed to calm yourself down.

As Harald moved himself so that he could sit on the bed, without touching you.

“… I know that…” he tried to speak, but your gaze was lost in the woods of your own mind  “… I am sorry”.

“It doesn’t make up for anything…” you commented, breathing deeply as you brought your knees under you, closer to your stomach, which was starting to hurt due to the agitation in it, the tense muscles clenching almost painfully “… nobody will give me back my innocence”.

Harald seemed shocked by that as you turned to him, with your eyes teary and he reached forward, almost as if it was the most natural thing, brushing them away, much more softly than you had believed those rough hands to be.

And before you knew it, it all fell down.

The pain and hurt you had been feeling made you crash as you slumped against Harald, his arms gently circling you, as they didn’t understand whether you wanted to be hugged closed or to push him away.

But you quickly solved it for him, reaching out completely, as you felt your entire body finish its energy as you ended up falling in a dark hole.

---

You woke up with a heated body against you.

And for a moment you thought that you had gone back to the time you and your mother would sleep together in the single bed you owned, to warm up, since during many winter nights you hadn’t enough wood for a fire.

But soon, you felt something scratchy against your face, immediately realizing that you had a male beside you and as you raised yourself, careful about the heavy broken arm on your chest, as you took in Harald, still asleep next to you.

He looked so peacefully that you gently shook off a few strands of hair that had exited his tight braid, as your hands lingered further on his face, as you weren’t able to push yourself to leave that male handsomeness alone.

And eventually he woke up.

Much to your and his surprise, as you immediately moved further away, acting as if nothing had happened.

As if you hadn’t slept next to the king, breath to breath.

Your cheek was slightly irritated by his beard, having slept so close to him that you had been almost in his lap.

Something that just made you blush further.

And to his own advantage Harald didn’t ask you anything of it, once he woke up, meanwhile you adjusted your hair in a quick braid, trying to look busy as the man next to you moved to stretch himself a bit and then collect the leather straps and his chest piece he had had discarded to sleep more comfortably.

You both moved uncomfortably around each other, both unused to being close to another, but you couldn’t help but laugh a bit for the way the king seemed so awkward and embarrassed.

It eventually made you gain the upper hand, after the outburst of the previous night.

… which made you want to almost bang your head against a wall.

If there was one thing that your mother always said, it was to never show your weakness to men: they’d either treat you like an idiot or they’d take advantage of it.

But Harald simply didn’t want to talk about it, looking at you like a lost puppy looking for direction.

And you decided to spare him, asking him whether he’d stay for breakfast, something for which his stomach replied for him.

‘I don’t need my power to know that you are quite famished, my king’.

He had just shook his head away from you, laughing lightly.

‘… and by the way you men are either hungry or…’ flashes of the previous night appeared in your mind ‘… horny’.

‘You don’t have a high opinion of my gender, do you?’ he had replied, softly, not a reprimand, but almost a different question from the one he had uttered, under his words.

That you couldn’t answer.

‘Can you blame me?’.

Your algid voice caught him unprepared and he just shook his head, lightly before he moved to the kitchen, leaving you the privacy of pushing on a proper dress, and to freshen up yourself as you were solely able to rub painfully the water on the zones that Jorun had touched.

You’d also need to change your gauzes, and to check whether the bone was starting to straighten itself or not.

You hoped it would, because you needed very much your hands for your work, and if not for that… you surely needed them to defend yourself, because sadly, you’d be as good as dead, without a working arm.

You adjusted a few flowers in your hair to help yourself brighten your appearance, since it looked quite pale and you looked definitely as ghostly as you felt in the inside.

Swallowing bile and piercing the skin of your palms with your nails.

For a moment a tight image appeared in the mirror, a you, bloodied and bruised you.

Your eyes held none of the will of living, you had always owned.

And you turned the mirror, hiding yourself from your eyes.

You instead focused on the lovely smell you were feeling coming from the kitchen.

And then you recognized it, rushing forward as you saw Harald trying to peel a few fruits that you had in your house.

The small tin of spices in front of him, but you could already sniff that he had dipped some of it in the brew he had made, contained in a glass, and you rushed to grab it as you checked how much he had consumed, knowing that not only this spice was expensive, but you wouldn’t have found it for sure at Vestfold.

“I didn’t think it was poisonous” excused himself Harald, noticing your worry, as you moved to hide away the spice “… please tell me that it wasn’t poisonous”.

“That depends…” you mumbled, as you saw the man’s skin turn deliciously red, as he sent you a worried look, which made you smile lightly “… if you have taken too much, your old stomach might trouble you”.

“I am not as old as you think I am” he retorted grumpily, with an adorable expression of indignation “… how old do you truly think I am, little one?”.

“I don’t know…” you pondered, with a finger to your chin “… had Odin already defeated the giants when you were born or…?”.

He flipped you off and you couldn’t now stop yourself from laughing out loud, as he soon joined you, welcoming you in front of him, as you took also a fruit and a knife, feeling your stomach being quite troubled, but at least peeling would have kept your mind off.

Although you weren’t sure that it was a good idea for you to hold a knife so close to you.

Harald seemed to agree, pushing his already peeled fruit in your hands, taking the knife and the fruit away from you, as if he was completely unbothered by it all, almost used to this routine.

You let him do it, as you played around with the fruit, eventually daring for a small bite, just as the king dared to speak:

“You’ll come with me today, I’ll bring you in the hall, to be safe” his voice was a clear order, but you didn’t let it push you down.

“I can handle myself”.

“You said so too, yesterday” he mumbled now softening his tone, as his eyes moved to your broken arm, a clear weakness for you “… but I don’t think that you are in any shape to kick some ass”.

“Yet, there are other ways” you replied, tightly.

You could have hidden for a few days in the forest, it wouldn’t have been pleasurable and getting any sleep would have been impossible, but you had done it after your mother’s death, and you could do it again.

“You pointed out yesterday that you aren’t welcome in the town, so I don’t think that you can stay a few days with someone” he pushed the reality in front of your eyes, searching them as he finished the peeling of his own fruit, taking a good bite at it, as juices dirtied his beard “… and I know that you haven’t any family here”.

“Have you been doing researches on me?” your blood froze in your veins, although you tried to utter those words with as much indignation as you owned in your body.

“My earls haven’t been… happy of your presence and I had to reassure them” he looked honestly embarrassed, almost as if your tone had had its effect on him.

Harald Finehair, the toughest man in all Sweden was proving himself to be quiet tamer than you had thought.

“Did you?” he shot you a confused look “… did you reassure them that I am a true witch and not solely somebody who is here to use your money and then take your throne?”.

“You wouldn’t take my throne” his voice was now rough, but sincere “… you have this power in you, and yet you live in a hut”.

Now it was your time to blink as you lowered your head pitifully, looking at the half-bitten fruit.

“… I like my hut”.

“You don’t have the ambition to be a rebel” the arrogant affirmation made breath come out of your lungs.

You hadn’t always been like this.

You had been a happy child, puffy cheeks and soft eyes, always running away from your mother.

But something had been broken in you, a long time ago.

And you had lost all your ambition.

Although right now it shone brightly in embers.

“… excuse me, but fuck yourself, king” you mumbled, as Harald’s eyes dropped, recognizing the anger in his voice “… if you treat women like this, I now do know why they run away from you”.

You had said that to anger him, you knew it.

But Harald looked almost heartbroken at your vicious word, and lowered his own head, pushing down his knife, and piercing his hands with the core of the fruit, all it was left of it, to the point that you were sure he was going to snap it.

“You’ll come with me at the hall, today” this time it wasn’t a veiled order.

It was an order.

“… then tomorrow I’ll arrange for a guard to station here, for a few days, at least till that arm get better. If you want you may ask my healer to check on it, but I am sure that stubborn head of yours won’t allow it”.

And before you could come up with any smartass reply about your ‘stubborn head’ Harald had moved away to get his horse ready, and you were left alone, thinking about whether you had just signed over your own death sentence.

---

The ride with Harald back to the hall was quiet.

You had taken enough for a night, hoping that your staying wouldn’t prolong itself for further than that.

Although you didn’t like holding onto places, you felt comfortable and safe in your hut.

Although you weren’t sure you’d be able to wash away the stains of Jorun’s memory from your body and the tiles of your floor.

Since you didn’t have a horse and your arm was broken, you shared Harald’s.

He had to settle himself behind you over the horse, to guide the animal as you were gripped by his essence and touch.

Something that would have made you uncomfortable after what had happened, the previous day.

Harald also seemed to realize it, settling himself so that you wouldn’t have any contact unless necessary, but you couldn’t help but feel almost protected by him, as his rough manly smell, mixed with yours, probably taken meanwhile you slept together.

It felt almost good.

Lulled by the rhythmic moving of Harald’s stallion, under you, you fell asleep.

Only waking up as you felt yourself being moved off gently by the horse, as Harald held you softly in his arms.

Which you escaped immediately, looking around to see if there was anybody around as you slowly came back to your senses, simply seeing a few guards, who were extremely careful in hiding their smiles.

“I can walk” you mumbled, once you were back to your feet, as Harald nodded with a smirk on his face “I didn’t break my leg”.

“You snored, pretty loudly” he said, once you were inside, nobody there except you, since it was pretty early, and it was a market day.

“Never as your father last night” you retorted, showing him a bit of a foul mouth that surprised him, before he shook his head, amused, and brought you to a guest room, as you held tight to yourself your small bassoon.

“You are a true pain in the ass, little seer, and the worst is that you know it” he mumbled more to himself than for you, but you still gave him a light smirk “… don’t wander off, without a guard”.

“Don’t tell me what to do” you retorted effectively challenging him.

“… I would gladly have you closed in your room, but you said that it isn’t the best way to a woman’s heart, so I’ll avoid it…” why did he have to be such a smartass?

Using your own words against you.

“… and also, there isn’t much that you can do with a broken arm”.

And you showed him exactly what you could do with a single finger, before he moved off, leaving you to push yourself for comfort, as a guard came to take a stand in front of your door, asking you if you’d need any help.

‘Yeah, I’d like to erase the fact that a man tried to take advantage of me again, and that king Harald, the man I have been conning, came to rescue me and he has been taking care of me as if he cares for me’.

“No, thank you” you simply replied, with the fakest smile on your face, as you closed the door right in his face.

You passed the afternoon, basically probing at your swelling arm, as you let it out of the gauze, glad that the bone wasn’t crooked or anything, but certainly for a good month you wouldn’t have been able to use it properly.

But it was better than for it to have broken out of your skin, which was lightly bruising with broken veins of a purple color.

You dosed on it some of the lotions that you had brought with yourself, alongside a change of clothes and your spices, comforted by their familiar smell, as you decided to try to exercise a bit the arm.

But you were mostly annoyed, feeling like you had just made yourself a prisoner.

You didn’t want to go out, both fearing the judgement of the people outside and both fearing something happening to you.

Although Harald was a smartass, he was right about a broken arm being a pretty weakness.

So, you were left to your own boredom.

And your own thoughts, which was even worse.

Because now you could feel your mind spiraling.

And then a thrilling laugh woke you, from your dark thoughts.

And you moved to the door with your ear against it, as you caught another two women’s voices, as you realized that they had been talking about you.

“… the king has brought a new lady” said the voice that had laughed, light and soft, almost airy and breathy “… do you think that he kidnapped her too?”.

You already liked these people.

“No, sadly… the guards said that she is here because the king said so” mumbled a quieter but steadier voice “… which if you think might be indeed considered, kidnapping”.

“Saga! Frigg! Shut your fat mouths!” this voice was graver and you linked it to an older woman, probably their mistress, since the giggles immediately quieted “… you’ll get your tongues cut for saying that”.

“… Ingrid! Just let us have a bit of fun! At least as long as the master isn’t home!” complained the softer girl, who you thought was Saga, because the second one replied, lightly:

“Saga is right! We should enjoy our freedom for a bit, since he’ll stay the entire day at the market”.

“He has been low key spending more and more time away from here…” pondered Saga, not that I am complaining, I can do my chores with more ease”.

And the girls continued on chirping in about Harald.

Meanwhile you couldn’t help but realize that Harald had been acting on your suggestions.

‘Stay with your people, show yourself around and share their burdens’ you had told him, on your first sessions ‘… that won’t make them see you as an unknown king, but you’ll be their king and they’ll be loyal to you, for sure’.

He had seriously… been following your suggestions.

And you felt your heart chirping as the girls outside of the doors, at that.

And again, the want to smack yourself across the face came back.

In the end, you’d have gotten nothing from keeping up with that overthinking and decided to open lightly the door, gaining a few ‘oh’s from the ladies waiting outside, who tried to move themselves further than they had been a few minutes, to hide their own spying.

The older one, Ingrid you thought, immediately pushed herself forward, in her lean and tall form, her hair peppered with grey and her eyes tired, and asked you if you needed anything, taking in your discarded figure and more importantly your limp arm.

A dark glare was shared between Saga and Frigg as they took it in.

“Ahem… not really, I just…” you felt awkward, since it had been quite some time since you had last been able to chat without contracting prices or defending yourself.

The best talks you had had in quite some time, although you weren’t proud to admit it, were with Harald.

“… is your arm hurting you, lady?” asked the blonde girl, lightly curvy and with puffy cheeks, something that resembled the Saxon definition of an angel, and you were able to link the name Saga to her, as her soft tone completely wrapped around you.

“A bit, but I took some herbs to numb the pain” you explained, glad that you could answer question.

“… did you fall from a horse?” asked Frigg instead, a pretty brunette girl, the smallest of the three but with a fire in her eyes that brought her to shine as bright as a star “… it seems serious”.

“Not too much, actually, I was lucky the bone didn’t break out of my skin” you explained as you withhold her gaze, to make her understand that it hadn’t been Harald.

Because that had been the question in her eyes.

And you couldn’t help but find endearing her worry.

Maybe if you had met more people like her, you would have liked spending more time with them, instead of hiding in the full nature.

“… do you want us to get some gauze and wooden bars to help you straighten it up?” asked Ingrid, eager to help, almost as if she was used to being ordered around and she thought it wasn’t ordinary not to be commanded by Harald’s guests.

“Ah, thank you, but I am mostly letting it out to avoid the skin being too dry and having blood problems later” you explained, but Ingrid’s worry didn’t look lessened in the slightest ad you asked her to get you some lotion, which seemed to make her extremely happy, as you felt Saga’s eyes on your limp limbs.

“Can I touch it?” asked Saga, pointing to your limb, as Frigg lightly decked her on her arm “Ouch!”.

“Sorry, my lady, my sister doesn’t think before talking”.

You looked at the surprised, because they didn’t look like sisters in the slightest: whereas Saga was puffy and soft, Frigg was tight-wounded and sharp, both beautiful but as distant as the sun and moon.

Frigg seemed to finally understand your surprise at that news and blushed lightly, before elbowing her sister, who spurred on croaked.

“My family took in Frigg, when her mother died”.

Your gaze immediately softened as Frigg, lowered her head, something similar to shame on her face.

“… I am sorry to hear that” you mumbled, gently offering your uninjured arm to the smaller girl, who seemed surprised by your gentleness “… I have also lost my mother, ten winter ago, I can imagine how difficult it can be”.

And for a minute you and Frigg were brought together in some kind of magical spell.

Your eyes sharing respect for another survivor.

And then Saga touched your swollen arm, making you hiss as Frigg pulled her eyes to the roof above you.

“That’s so cool!” commented Saga, as she lifted her eyes to you, seeing that you weren’t exactly comfortable “… sorry”.

“Saga wished to become a healer…” mumbled Frigg, justifying her sister, as she brought her a bit away from you “… or a torturer”.

“I did! But…” her eyes suddenly became lightly lost “… father said I am not very smart”.

You couldn’t help but dig your nails in the soft skin of your palm, as you heard that.

“Well, you don’t need to be smart for being a healer” you mumbled softly “… you just need a good teacher”.

Saga’s eyes brightened a bit, as a small smile appeared on Frigg’s face.

“I am not a proper healer, but I can teach you a few things” you proposed softly “… you can help me band up my arm”.

“I wouldn’t suggest that” Frigg commented “… lady, she is particularly clumsy”.

“Well, first of all: there is no need to call me lady, just (Y/N)” you insisted “… and believe me there isn’t much damage she could do, since it is already broken”.

---

And although you had to admit that Saga hadn’t the most careful touch, she learned quickly and moved even more, having your arm bandaged ever quicker than you could do, as Frigg observed around the room, looking curious, but justifying it as checking if you needed anything.

And you let her do it, since you didn’t have anything dangerous…

… laying around, at least.

Then the girls gossiped a bit with you, something that made you almost feel normal and you were more than happy to indulge them in your silly talks, as they laughed at your surprise when you heard the scandalous rumors of the town that had never let you in.

Till Harald walked in.

And then both Frigg and Saga moved to their feet, bowing at the king, almost as if they didn’t know whether to stay with you and have some fun or to move away, now that Harald was there.

But Harald solved it for them.

“Don’t you have chores to do?” he asked simply, and the two women excused themselves scurrying off, as you moved to send him an annoyed stare “… they are servants”.

“They brightened my dull afternoon” you replied with a sharp tongue.

“… you could have asked me to spend it with you” now it was him who had a smart smile on his face “… I certainly would have made your afternoon less dull”.

“Why do I even bother?” you muttered, facing away from him, an annoyed look on your face.

“Because I pay you” he spoke gingerly “… and because after all you like annoying me”.

“I just don’t like when you do it to me” you tried to appear completely unbothered “… I should be the only one allowed to do it”.

“That’d be unfair, milady”.

A soft laugh escaped your lips, and you turned to Harald, who had gently closed the door behind him, making you understand that what he wanted to discuss with you wasn’t to be heard.

“I went to Vidgis” he spoke, making you send him a small look “… I told her to send the dresses you ordered here, alongside mine, because I sadly can’t let you go back, to your small hut”.

“Do you seriously intend to kidnap me?” your shock activated your immediate sarcasm.

“… I have been having a few small riots at the borders, and I need all my guards there, so I won’t have anybody protecting you and your house, for these days” he explained quickly, making you grimace lightly.

“I can go back on my own”.

“And risk getting attacked by Jorun’s friends? I want to avoid that” he uttered, his tone an order that you didn’t want to hear “… why is it so ‘horrible’ for you to stay here, in my castle, all sheltered and with a servant for every need of yours?”.

“Why do you care so much about me?” you replied, with the same annoyed irritation “… because I am nothing to you, Harald, truly. I am not blood and neither a lover”.

He seemed taken aback and you wondered whether for a moment he had thought that your gentleness with him was your way of flirting with him.

To get him to be your lover.

You felt suddenly choked.

But Harald shook himself quickly.

“Why do you have to question the hand that feeds you?” he mumbled, hissing the question through his teeths.

“Nobody does anything for nothing” you replied “… name your price, because if it is my open legs…”.

“Woman, would you stop thinking badly of me for a minute?!” his face was red, and you couldn’t help but be a bit surprised by such an intimate expression as his eyes didn’t try to meet you “… I wouldn’t do that to you… I just…”.

“What do you want, Harald, then?” you pushed him further and he raised his eyes to meet yours, shining with an honesty and an ache that made you for a moment, ashamed.

“… your suggestions are useful, although you speak with such a sharp tongue” now his tone was back in check, extremely kingly “… that’s why I want to keep you around, because others won’t tell me where I go wrong, but you won’t hesitate to make me notice even in the slightest any flaw of mine”.

You were speechless, taken aback completely.

It was so utter sincere, that it should have hurt you.

But you were reassured to know that he hadn’t no further reasons to care for you.

That it was simply… for his own advantage.

No, it didn’t hurt you in the slightest.

And even if it did, you couldn’t just show it to him right now.

“I’ll stay” you were now hurrying to get yourself rid of him “… for a week, and then I’ll go back home, and you can’t stop me”.

“Wouldn’t even think about it”.

---

Your dinner had been consumed in silence.

And your night had been as well, as you had fallen in bed suddenly feeling tired.

You didn’t dream of nothing more than the intense black night that fell onto you, caressing as a mother.

But your sleep wasn’t long, and you woke up as soon as the Sun peaked through the curtains, making you turn and turn on the bed, till both the side of the bed were warm because of your movements.

And eventually you thought about waking up.

The covers being too hot, and your arm screaming for attention, as you disentangled your home-made cast, as you pushed yourself to the window of your room.

You looked at the calm moving of the sun, yawning because although your mind was active, your body wasn’t, hence you kept your day lazy as you went through the first thoughts of the day.

Harald’s confession.

You shouldn’t have been surprised by his admission of needing your suggestions to survive.

You had prided yourself with that thought.

But now, it just… it seemed almost stained with shame.

Because Harald was genuine towards his need to help you, almost protective in a way that he hadn’t any obligation to be.

Something that still pained you.

Because you didn’t deserve it.

And you were still worried it wasn’t genuine.

But you had put yourself in this game.

And you’d get yourself up.

As soon as it was a decent hour, you moved out of your room, intent on moving in the kitchens to be allowed to eat there, since you had no intention of revealing your presence there to Harald’s subject.

They already thought that you were his whore.

Oh, how were they wrong.

Because had they witnessed the exchange of words of the previous night, they’d have certainly realized that he was your whore.

Doing your bidding and taking care of you.

You were glad to find on your way to the kitchens both Frigg and Saga, who were even more than glad to lead you there, surprised by your decision to eat with the servants, but your stomach had just grumbled so loudly that they hadn’t questioned your decision further.

You were glad to spend some more time with the girls, since it was easy to talk with them, and they were quite chatty, definitely pushing away all the bad thoughts in your mind.

It had been such a long time since girls had come to you as friend and not clients, with eyes full of suspicion, that just made you uncomfortable.

But the two sisters were more than happy to exchange a few laughs with you.

And they even accompanied you back to your room, to help you get ready, mostly to bathe, since as Saga had commented after a few minutes.

‘You smell like a horse more than the arse of a soldier’.

Frigg had just decked her sister on the arm, and meanwhile you were finishing the bath, you heard small giggles coming from the main room, linked to the small private bathroom definitely made for a female, either Harald’s wife or daughter.

Something that made you a bit uneasy.

But he had good taste, if he had been the one who had set it up.

It was clean and homely, maybe a bit more than it was fashionable, but for Harald, a man who thought more with heart than his dick, it wasn’t that strange, and it made you feel less uneasy about having left the hut.

If you had to stay there for a week, you wouldn’t have certainly complained for the place.

As you moved out, the girls’ giggles were due to your dress having finally arrived and they were admiring it, immediately blushing as they were caught by you, and you simply told them to keep on looking at it, since you couldn’t do much, till at least your hair were wet.

Saga had a malicious smile on her face, and it didn’t take her long to ask you whether she could try it on.

‘Oh, Gosh, Saga! Don’t you have manners!’ complained Frigg ‘… and you aren’t in the slightest like lady… I mean… (Y/N)’.

Saga had immediately looked discouraged, but you had insisted she did try it on.

‘I do think that the color would suit you better, Saga’ you suggested ‘Do try it on, please’.

And she didn’t need to be told a second time, as she hurried in the dress, with little shame for her undressed state, as she put it on quickly, fastening lightly the ties, behind it, helped by Frigg, who had slowly moved in a less sour mood, enjoying the small smirk that was on her sister’s face.

The dress was a beautiful creation of a bluish fabric that complimented your skin tone, but even more it had been shaped perfectly for the body of the wearer, suiting Saga enough, that you almost thought that it wasn’t worth to keep it.

That you should have gifted it to her.

It was sultry and lightly shiny in its front, to bring out the attention to the right parts of your body.

It caught almost fire as light touched it, in a heavenly creation.

And then something happened.

Saga turned to you, and suddenly her smile became a grimace, almost as if she had pricked herself with a needle, and for a moment you thought that she had, although it wouldn’t have been extremely unprofessional for Vidgis to forget one inside the dress.

But then she turned to you and started choking on air.

And before you knew it, she fell onto the ground, Frigg immediately on her knees beside her, alongside you who pushed the other girl aside to check on Saga, as she was shaken by convulsions.

You quickly checked on Saga, who had started becoming quite purple-y, effectively her air being stolen by her lungs, and you didn’t think this was accidental, in the slightest.

Saga wasn’t in the slightest unhealthy, so it had to be the dress.

You quickly pushed your robe away from your body, standing naked in front of the girls as you moved to bind together the robe over your hands, to avoid whatever the dress had been drown in sticking also to your skin.

Uncaring of the expensive fabric, you opened the dress, rapturing its stitched to get it even more quickly the dress away from Saga, helped by Frigg, who although shocked, followed quickly through your actions.

Although Saga, breathed deeply, her body was shaken by feverish convulsions and you could finally realize that the dress had been poisoned.

You just had to understand with what.

You pushed a bit of the fabric of the dress, close to your body as Frigg asked you what to do.

But you couldn’t do much, till you understood what had been introduced in Saga’s body.

The dress was full of the smell of Saga, which covered the poison.

But there were also many poisons that wouldn’t leave out any distinctive smell.

Irritation for yourself coursed through your veins, as you thought about what Vidgis might have laced in the dress.

On what she might have put her hands on.

And then you found out what.

And rushed in your bag to take back the antidote, something that had been saved by Jorun’s rummaging in your house.

Saga would have to thank Odin, if she survived through this.

You rushed to her, pushing the antidote through the mouth, making her choking back to it and spit it back, something that made you and Frigg hold a breath, as the younger mumbled tightly:

‘Please Saga, I won’t ever make fun of you… please…’ she pleaded softly, as you tried to grasp onto her hand but she was too nervous ‘… please breath’.

And almost as if spurred on by an order, Saga breathed, normally.

And it made you realize something.

And you rushed out, quickly putting on a fur over your naked body, stopping an handmaiden, and asking her where Harald slept.

The poor woman was too confused by your presence and crazed eyes to think that you had any suspicious intention and gave you quick instructions as you ran to his room.

And opened the door to a shirtless Harald, the new clothes laid neatly in the paper that they had been wrapped in, something that made you let out a deep breath of relief.

“If you were so in need of my naked chest, all you had to do was ask” he mumbled tightly.

“Don’t touch the new clothes” you screamed immediately, uncaring of his sarcasm.

“… because you are going to rip them away from me, don’t you?” he asked tightly, with another smartass smirk.

“No, you idiot, because they are fucking laced with poison”.

And this was enough to get his smirk away from his face.

“How… do… “ and then he rushed to you grabbing your hands, almost as if he wanted to check on you “… are you alright?”.

“Yes yes” you spoke, as you felt all the tiredness of these events falling onto you “… it was Saga who…”.

Suddenly you couldn’t help but realize the shocking truth.

That dress had been made for you.

You should have been the one barely breathing like Saga.

You should have checked on her.

But as you made to turn around, Harald’s hands that were still linked with yours brought you back to look at him.

“Vidgis tried to poison me, you know what that means”.

That she had almost committed regicide.

An act of treason.

“I really need to check on Saga, but then we’ll have a talk about this” you promised to him, the warmth of his hands going unnoticed to you.

Almost as if it was a natural gesture.

“… this isn’t anymore a personal attack to you” he spoke, his voice suddenly rough “… this is a betrayal to my crown”.

@maggiescarborough​ @isthisreallife2017​ @okayytayy​ @dopeybubbles​ @rls905​ @gearhead66​ @fantasydevil2002​ @crazy-fan-101​ @pinkisokay​ @naaladareia​

[thesunlovesmuses]

Running Away

Prompt: Dirt and leaves tangled in my hair as he pushed me into the wall. He pressed his hand over my mouth and whispered; “Hush or they’ll hear you.”

The brisk wind chilled my bones as I walked the beaten path carved into the forest by merchants and travellers before me. The golden leaves in their autumn hues danced in the wind like lovers at a ball, and only made me think more about the decision I had made only this morning. Had I been too hasty in my decision? Was it right to leave on my own journey now, or should I go running back to the tower. Should I wait one more season to explore the world? Even it it had only been a day since I left, I missed everyone so dearly. Azra, Izax, Luka. The only companion to keep me company on the road was Oliver. Sensing my indecision, the cat rubbed his face against my neck from his perch on my shoulder. He might not be a real cat, but for a familiar, he truly felt like a friend. Giving him a comforting scratch behind his ear, I pressed on, knowing in my heart of hearts that if I didn’t leave now, I would never leave the tower. And if I didn’t leave the tower, then I would never find out the truth I so longed to find.

“It’s probably just the cold making me rethink Oliver. I’m sure once we settle down for the night with a nice hot meal, this’ll be easier.” I conversed with Oliver, trying to get my mind off of the crushing silence of a lonely road. Luckily, only being a day on the road, I knew we had some nice provisions in hand to cook us a nice camp meal. But those won’t last forever. By the time they run out though, hopefully I’ll have arrived in Lorminster and can find some work to help buy more.

“So we’re a day from Serden Village and then five away form Lorminster. And according to Azra, they’ll be a cartographer in Serden so we can buy a proper map of the area. I hope it won’t cost too much. I sighed, feeling the coin pouch attached to my belt. Not feeling as hefty as I would like it to have been, despite all of my saving. But what else can I do but pray to Hendorr for good fortune. 

But just as I was lamenting my monetary issues, a loud rustling started from my right, far off, but it sounded like it was getting closer and closer, with no sign of slowing down.

“Oliver, poof out for a second, this might be trouble.” I asked, the cat giving a meow in good luck, and disappearing in a puff of black smoke. And just as I was about to pull out the spear form it’s holder, the bushes parted and a figure bolted out, slamming into me and sending us tumbling down the hillside the path was next to. Over and over we went, and all I could see were tufts of blond hair and coats catching in the wind as fell.

Eventually we slowly came to a stop, with the figure on top of me, panted as if he had ran for miles. Dirt and leaves tangled in my hair as he pushed off of the floor. He pressed his hand over my mouth and whispered; “Hush or they’ll hear you.”

“Mmmppphh!” I screamed, but to no real effect. He looked around the forest to see if anything heard us. After a moment, he sighed and turned back to me.

“Ok. If I move my hand from your mouth, promise you won’t scream.”

I was hoping that the intense glare I was giving him would tell this guy exactly how I feel about him telling me what do after tackling me to the ground out of nowhere. But he was either very dense, or thought I wasn’t going to be much of a challenge if I did decide to fight back. Because after a moment, he lifted his hand off of my face.

“See, it’s going to be o-”

All it took was a second for his guard to be down. For in an instant, I twisted our position so he was on his back. Noting he had a knife strapped to his leg, I quickly unsheathed it and held it to his throat.

“Start talking. Who are you and why the hell are you following me?” I whispered back. As much as I wanted to shout at him for his actions, his asking me to be quiet made me think that maybe he knew something about these forests that I didn’t. 

“Well thanks for keeping your voice down at least, but if we are going to talk, maybe we could, oh I don’t know, move behind a tree so that we don’t get spotted!?!”

“Spotted by who?”

“The guards of course! They’re always prowling around here, looking for people like us!”

“What do you mean people like us?”

“Outsiders, travellers, people who might not necessarily agree with the ways that the town is run. Now can we please move befor-”

A rustle from the bushes sent both of our heads looking in the direction it came from. Dragging him quickly to his feet, we rushed to hide behind a big oak tree on the edge of the clearing. Just as we did, two people in shining silver armour came out and looked around the area. Seeing that the stranger was about to try and put his hand over my mouth again, I quickly crouched and looked around the edge of the trunk to try and eavesdrop on them.

“He has to be around here somewhere.”

“I told you Markus, you were seeing things.”

“And I told you, I saw him spying on us! Probably trying to get intel for those rebel friends of his.” 

“Tch. Can’t believe I’m wasting the evening here and not back at the barracks. At least there it was warm.” The taller guard moaned, kicking a stray rock at the tree we were hiding behind. This alone made the blonde behind me tense up in fear. Well, at least I know he’s been putting on a front all this time.

“Stop complaining and help me look. The quicker we find him, the quicker we can be done with this whole business anyway” The shorter guard, presumably Markus, replied in a tone that just begged for the taller guard to fight him on this. With a glance back at what must have been the direction of the barracks he mentioned, the other guard joined Markus and searched the bushes opposite of where we are. 

Giving the stranger back his knife and signalling that maybe now would be a good time to get out of here, we started to quietly tip toe deeper into the forest, avoiding any twigs and leaves that looked like they would make a lot of noise. As soon as it looked like we were in the clear, we started to sprint away from the clearing, still being mindful of where we were stepping in case we made unnecessary noise.

“So, were they your friends or what?” I asked, trying to get the full picture of what was going on around these parts.

“Hah! Unlikely! I’d rather be friends with the bears around here than them. And hey, I’m really am sorry about pushing you to the ground like that. I panicked since you were making a lot of noise.”

“As long as I don’t get in trouble for just being near you, I think we’re good..erm?”

“Lucien. Lucien Ingleton.”

“Katiana. Why would the guards want you though? You don’t look like a thief?” I mused, looking at the way he was dressed. Sure, the clothes were muddy from travel, but they were by no means clothes any old traveller would wear. Slacks like a nobleman would wear, boots that look like they were polished only this morning, and was that some kind of military coat?

“No… at least not yet. But honestly, the way we’re going, we might have to resort to that soon.”

“We?”

“Oh… Sorry, I forget you don’t know the area and it’s troubles.” Lucien mused, skidding to a stop, coming to the conclusion that we were far enough away that we could stop running.

“Me and my friends… we’re in a bit of a tight situation. But I’m not sure it’s best to tell you. After all, you’re just passing through. Our troubles shouldn’t be your own.”

“But what if I can help? Besides, it sounds like I’m going to have issues passing through Serden Village if it’s true what you say about not trusting outsiders. Maybe a heads up on the situation would help?”

“True, I’d hate for an innocent traveller to be tangled up in our mess. By the gods I wish they’d let us resolve this civilly, instead of having to resort to this.” He mused, losing himself in thought for a moment as I looked around the area. Nothing but oak trees and undergrowth all around. And no way of knowing where the road was. Getting anxious that I might have to find the road on my own, but it seems to have read on my face. Because Lucien smiled a sad smile that somehow suited his face, and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“While I don’t know how much information is too much information, rest assured that I will get you back onto the main road first thing in the morning. But I think we’re still much too close to the village border for comfort. If it’s not too much trouble, there’s a river to the east where a campsite should be. Well, I say campsite, it’ll be nothing more than a few logs and an empty fire pit at this point i’m sure. But if you wouldn’t mind setting up camp there, I can tell you more about… our situation.” He offered, scratching his scalp as he mentioned the humble offering of a campsite, as if it wouldn’t be enough.

“Ok, but only if you tell me the jist of it now. As much as I want to trust you, you did just tackle me out of nowhere, so I want to know what I’m about to walk into. For my own safety.”

“Oh… of course. It’s only fair…” He trailed off, walking a few paces away from me. And for a second, I was worried that he was just going to walk away and leave me here. But after taking a closer look at the way he carried himself and the way he was clenching and unclenching his hands, it almost looked like he was steeling himself up to say what he needed to say. But just as I was about to comfort him, he nodded his head, and walked back to me, with a sadness and fury in his eyes that made me think of a fire on a raining day.

“Serden Village, my home, has been taken over by a tyrant. And there’s a rebellion coming.”

[odderancyart]

A Yellow Sky

Chapter 1

Next

So... I wrote a Hamilton Foster Care AU because of Reasons. I guess I might as well share it here

AO3

Ten foster homes in three years. Alexander Hamilton is chronically unable to just shut up and do what he's supposed to, even when he's trying, which has certainly had consequences for him in his short life. The Washingtons are his best shot, his caseworker keeps telling him, but Alexander is a realist. They'll realize how annoying he is, hate how much smarter than them he is, and after a couple weeks they'll send him away.

But it's nice there, he finds. Far too nice. Almost like the calm before the storm.

***

Alexander leaned his head against the cool car window, his hands tightly knitted together in his lap. Outside, fields and meadows rolled by. A little while ago, they’d left New York City for the first time since he came to the mainland, and it felt strange to leave the cityscape behind. He’d never seen anything like this before. Back on Nevis, and then St. Croix, the ocean reached farther than anyone could see, and palm trees cropped up everywhere. Vast stretches of golden wheat was a new view.

The sun beamed on the clear-blue sky, oblivious to the sixteen-year-old's quiet distress. To the knot in his stomach. Of course it was. Why would anyone - much less the sun - care about him? An immigrant, bastard, son of a- Alexander cut himself off right there. Those words had been repeated at him so many times, and most of it was true. But his mother wasn’t a whore, and he refused to let anyone call her that. His father, now that was an asshole, but she... Kind brown eyes, black hair falling down her face as she stroked his deathly pale cheek. “Vivre, mon Alexander,” she’d murmured before coughing again. Live, my Alexander. “Become something great. You're so smart. It's your destiny.” By the morning, she was dead, and his own sickness had begun to recede.

He closed his eyes. That was the reason he was once again leaving, once again going to a new foster home where he’d undoubtedly wouldn’t stay for more than a few weeks, or months if he was lucky. His foster parents’ son had called him a whoreson and he’d punched him in the face. Had earned him quite the punishment, and then he’d been sent on his way, called difficult and violent.

Watching the fields buzz by dispassionately, he squeezed the pen in his hand hard. It was calming. No matter what anyone did to him, he’d always have his words.

No matter what the new family did. Without question they’d seem nice at first, and then they’d find out what an annoying brat he was and they’d make him regret it. Eventually he’d end up somewhere else, and the cycle would repeat.

In the back of his mind, he wondered what James was doing right now. His older brother, named after their deadbeat father, who had just turned eighteen as their cousin fucking killed himself, leaving them to fend for themselves. With no job – only an apprenticeship – he hadn’t been deemed capable of raising his younger brother at St. Croix and Alexander had been sent to the mainland after the hurricane. To New York City.

“-Xander. Alexander,” his caseworker, Mr. André, snapped, glancing back from the driver’s seat. “Are you listening to me?”

Alexander flinched, sitting straight and nodding quickly. “Yessir. S-sorry.”

“As I was saying-” He sounded annoyed, and it was hard not to flinch again. “-this is your best shot. Your one shot. You’ve been jumping homes for three years now. Ten homes, Alexander. In three years.”

Nodding, Alexander stared into his lap. Of course he knew that. “Yessir,” he whispered.

“The Washingtons are influential people, Alexander.” His voice softened marginally. Mr André sure liked to use his name a lot. Seemed to think it gave more weight to what he was saying. It was stupid – not that he’d ever voice that opinion, of course. Making enemies with his caseworker was the last thing Alexander wanted. “And they’re good people. This is the best chance you’ll get, and it was extremely kind of them to agree to take someone with your track record in. Don’t screw up.”

“Yessir,” he said for a third time. He’d learnt his lesson by now. Don’t open your big fucking mouth. Talk only when spoken to. Don’t ask for anything. Never say ‘no’.

And never let them know you’re ten times smarter than they’ll ever be. People don’t like that. They’ll make you suffer for humiliating them. Particularly adults don’t like becoming unable to come up with anything to answer a fourteen-year-old immigrant. The corner of his mouth almost quirked upwards. Would have if he hadn’t still been able to remember the pain coming after those stunned faces.

“Good.” A sigh. The car stopped. “We’re here.”

Without looking, Alexander slid out of the car, keeping his eyes trained on the ground as he went to the trunk to grab the gym bag in which he kept his meagre belongings. Enough clothing for a week, a few books, his notebooks, a lot of pencils, and that expensive fountain pen he’d saved for two years to be able to buy and which now was one of his most precious belongings. And the two things he treasured the most: a photo album from his childhood in the Caribbean, and the few letters he’d received from James.

“Take a look at your new home,” Mr. André prompted, and he automatically obeyed even as he almost scoffed. Home. Yeah, right. He looked up.

His bag fell to the ground with a thump.

Holy shit.

The house was gigantic, white with a red roof and at least two floors. Alexander couldn’t quite make out if there was a third or if it was an attic up there. A fucking tower stuck up in the middle of it. The car stood on a gigantic gravel circle surrounding a circle of green grass, and a lush garden stuck out from behind the building, and there was a lake.

This was his new foster home? Someone who lived like this wanted to take in a poor bastard from the middle of nowhere? Why?

Mr André let out a short laugh at Alexander’s open mouth and wide eyes. “Come on, Alexander. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Jerking back into reality, he grabbed his back quickly, following up to the brown double-doors. “Yessir.”

He swallowed as Mr André knocked hard on the door, forgetting to breathe for a moment as he waited to see his new foster parents. His heart pounded in his chest as he heard footsteps from inside.

The door slid open almost soundlessly, revealing a bald, middle-aged man. A quiet gasp of horror escaped Alexander. He was the biggest man he’d ever seen, with broad shoulders and a serious face. He swallowed, ducking his head to hide the fear in his brown eyes. If that was his new foster father, he could hurt him badly if he wanted to.

“Mr Washington,” Mr André said pleasantly, confirming his fears. Fuck. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Mr André, I assume,” Mr Washington replied, his voice one of someone who was used to being obeyed. “And this must be Alexander.”

Swallowing again, he forced himself to look up and nod slightly. “Yessir. Alexander Hamilton.” He blinked in surprise as his new foster father smiled warmly at him.

“Welcome to your new home. Come in. My wife is in the library, she’ll join us in a moment.”

Library. Alexander’s eyes snapped up to Mr Washington’s face, and he straightened without meaning to. They had a library? He was just about to shake his head to dispel his excitement as Mr Washington looked at him. Even if they did, there was no way they’d let him in there, was there?

“Do you like to read, Alexander?”

Biting his tongue, he nodded weakly. Hoping the other wasn’t insulted by his interest. “I do, sir.”

To his relief, Mr Washington only smiled wider. “Good. You’re welcome to read anything in there. Just be careful, some of the books are quite old. Quite a few first-editions too.”

Alexander couldn’t hide is shock, outright staring at him. “You’ll let me-?” He cut himself off quickly, freezing mid-step where he’d begun to make his way inside. “I- I’m sorry, sir,” he quickly mumbled. His stupid mouth, questioning things. Questioning something good. He gritted his teeth. Undoubtedly, he'd revoke the library privileges now, before he’d even had the chance to see it. Somehow, that felt worse than the beating he’d surely get for talking out of turn as soon as Mr André left.

Mr Washington raised an eyebrow, and Alexander swore at himself. For a moment, it seemed like he would say something but then he simply gestured for them to follow, calling out “Martha! They’re here!”

They were seated in a leather couch in the most luxurious living room he had ever seen in his life. If living room was even the correct word. Maybe parlour would fit better. The walls were covered in turquoise wallpaper, with oil paintings hanging on them. He recognized the coffee table as mahogany, and the back wall was dominated by a fireplace taller than him.

Smiling at him, Mr Washington gestured toward one of the paintings, the one hanging over the fireplace. Alexander recognized Mr Washington. He had his arm around a woman who must be his new foster mother. Then there were two other adults – a man and a woman – and a young boy. “You’ll meet Gilbert tonight. He’s our adoptive son, and your age. A few months younger, if I remember your birthday correctly. The other two are Martha’s - my wife’s - children from her first marriage. They have both moved back to Virginia, though.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, sir?” Alexander wasn’t sure what kind of response he was looking for. Mr André gave him a pointed glare, and he shrank in on himself.

Mr Washington only laughed softly, however. “Don’t be. They’re happy and that’s all a parent could ask for.”

He nodded quickly, averting his eyes. Focused on his breathing. The man, his new foster father, sounded trustworthy. Kind. But they always did. They always sounded like they wanted him there, like they wanted him to be family, but they never did. He hadn’t had a family since his mother died, not even his brother. It had been the same after that, and they’d grown more and more distant.

No, they’d keep the act up, especially as long as his caseworker stayed, and then they’d make sure he never forgot that he didn’t belong, that he was here on their mercy and that they could get rid of him whenever they wished. Or do whatever they wanted to him: no one gave a damn about yet another orphan lost in the foster system, especially not an immigrant. Even if the Virgin Islands actually were part of the US, but no one seemed to care about that.

Oh, Mr André actually had pulled him out of one of those foster homes himself after a teacher called CPS when the violence became too evident, but that was one time. One. Hardly something to cheer for.

Footsteps came from one of the arches leading into another hallway, and Alexander glanced up just in time to see a tall woman with her hair in cornrows and cornrows in a bun enter the room. Mr Washington lit up at the sight of her.

“Hello,” she said, voice light and sweet. “I’m Martha Washington.” She held out her hand first to Mr André who stood up and shook it, and then to Alexander. He quickly rose as well before shaking it weakly. A flush rose to his cheeks. Pathetic. He was perfectly capable of a strong, business-like handshake, but it wasn’t a good idea to show off to his new foster parents. Not to anyone who had power over him.

“Mrs Washington, a pleasure,” Mr André replied. “This is Alexander. We’re very grateful you were willing to take him in. Aren’t we, Alexander?”

He nodded, staring at the ground. “Yes, sir, we are. Thank you, ma’am.” The words tasted bad in his mouth. Gratitude. They always expected it, no matter how shitty they treated him. He glanced up at Mr Washington. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh you don’t need to be,” Mrs Washington was quick to say, causing Alexander to frown in confusion. “It’s our pleasure. We’re delighted to have Alexander in our home, and Gilbert is already so excited over having a brother his own age.”

“I already have a brother,” Alexander muttered, before stiffening. Stupid. His heart stopped, and he stared up at his foster parents in fear. “I- I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to talk back I’m-” He cut himself off. They’d hate if he rambled. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Mrs Washington tilted her head, watching him in...  was that concern? No of course it wasn’t, why would she be concerned about him? It was just annoyance disguised as it because Mr André still was here. Alexander already feared the moment when he’d leave.

“Why are you sorry, dear?”

“I didn’t mean to speak back,” he repeated, hating how weak he sounded. How weak he was. And hating that he hadn’t even been here ten minutes and he’d already fucked up.

The Washingtons exchanged a gaze.

“Don’t be, son,” Mr Washington finally said. Alexander flinched at that word. Son. “You’ve done nothing wrong. A brother, you say?” He merely sounded curious, but Alexander ducked his head anyway, nodding jerkily. Would they get mad he had a family outside of them? Even if he hadn’t seen him since he left the Caribbean?

“An older brother,” he finally replied softly. “James. He's still on St. Croix.”

“How come you’re not together?” Mrs Washington asked. “If you’re comfortable with me asking.”

He really wasn’t. Not at all. “He was just eighteen when our cousin... died. Our guardian.” His voice was almost inaudible. “Couldn’t take care of me, too old for the system. So he stayed, and I was sent to New York after the hurricane.” It had been so exciting, too, even with the scars watching his home being ruined left him with. He was going to move to the greatest city in the world. There had been no future for him at St. Croix.

Still wasn’t.

Smiling at him, Mr Washington nodded. “If you want to call him, the phone is yours. Don’t worry about long-distance fees, we can afford it.” He stood up, looking to Mr André. “Should we get the paperwork done?”

The other two adults agreed, leaving him behind to go sign the documents in Mr Washington’s study. Alexander curled up on the couch, careful not to let his dirty sneakers touch the leather. His blue second-hand Converse were so worn down he could almost feel the ground through the soles, and they were squeezing his toes. Half-turning, he looked back at the portrait. The fact that they had an oil-painting of their family was just... insane. People still did that?

He rolled his eyes. Rich people still did that. Because of course they did. The boy – they'd said he was his age – seemed to be about thirteen there, lanky and a little disproportionate, but already handsome. His thick, curly hair was in a bun on top of his head and he had a cocky sort of smile. Like someone who knew how good and smart they were.

Alexander remembered when he used to smile like that in public. He’d stopped sometime in his second year of foster families, he thought, though it was hard to keep track. Might’ve been a longer time ago.

Anxiety coiled in his stomach as he thought of meeting his new foster brother. Would he like him? Would he be like his last, a spoiled brat who thought he could treat Alexander like a slave? With riches like these, it didn’t seem unlikely. After all, Alexander himself was a nobody. Illegitimate, a deadbeat father, a deceased mother. Poorer than a church rat. His most expensive belonging was that fountain pen, which had cost him two hundred dollars. It was so smooth to write with it, and he adored it. Nothing else he owned cost more than twenty – his phone, that is. An old Nokia on which he could do nothing but text and call people, given to him by an old foster family. He was happy just to have it. James had called him on it on his sixteenth birthday a couple months ago. It was the last time they spoke.

Soon, the adults returned, and Mr André ruffled his hair, which he had tied up in a fashionably messy bun, and smiled at him. “Be good now, Alexander.”

“I will, sir,” he replied quietly.

With a nod, Mr André bid his goodbyes and left, leaving him alone with the Washingtons.

As soon as the door closed, Alexander braced himself, ready in case they’d decide to punish him for his rudeness already.

“So, Alexander,” Mrs Washington began, and he looked up at her, accidentally meeting her gaze. He held it defiantly for a moment before looking away, his heart fluttering anxiously. Damn him for being unable to learn his place. To his shock, there was not a hint of anger on her face. She just kept smiling. “Would you like a tour of the house right now, or do you want to go straight to your room? If you want to unpack and get some rest before dinner. Gilbert will be home by then, and he can be pretty intense.”

Unsure what the right answer was, he looked back to her, now careful not to look her in the eyes. There was no indication of which she wanted, so he carefully said, “Can we go to my room, ma’am? If that’s okay.”

She nodded, and he exhaled, relieved relief. Thank fuck, it had been the right one. “Of course. George, take his bag.”

“No!” His heart went up into his throat, and he stood up in alarm, his eyes wide as Mr Washington reached for the black gym bag. Were they- They wouldn’t take his things, would they?

Stopping mid-movement, Mr Washington stared at him in bewilderment before slowly straightening again, not grabbing the bag.

The relief was overpowering, and Alexander didn’t even care if they hit him for having the guts to act out like that, he jerked the bag toward himself, pressing it to his chest.

“Alright…” Mrs Washington blinked. “You can carry it yourself if you wish to, of course. Your room is on the second floor, next to Gilbert’s.”

What kind of name was Gilbert, anyway? Alexander wondered as he nodded again. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

His new foster parents led him out the room, up a dark-brown wooden staircase covered by a white carpet. Seemed like a stupid colour to make a carpet in his opinion. Especially one in the fucking entrance hall, where people would come inside from the garden. The walls were covered in art, and looking down at himself, at his worn black jeans, dark-blue t-shirt and flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he felt incredibly out of place. Alexander glanced up at them nervously. What was he even doing here? This wasn’t the kind of place he belonged in. Not yet, at least. One day, though. That was the thought that kept him going. One day.

“There is Gilbert’s room,” Mrs Washington told him, pointing at one door. For some reason, the French flag had been painted on top of the panel door.

Catching him staring, Mr Washington chuckled. “Gilbert is from France. His parents were close friends of ours and wished for us to receive guardianship of him if something happened to them.”

“That’s very nice of you, sir,” Alexander replied quietly, a pit of dread forming in his stomach. At least it had granted him some peace to know they had an adoptive son already. But if they’d adopted him because they knew his parents, it was a completely different thing.

Then, Mrs Washington opened the door next to Gilbert’s. “And this is yours. It’s a bit sparse right now, since we didn’t know what you’d like to furnish it with, but I’m sure we’ll fix that in no time.”

Alexander’s mouth fell open as he stepped inside. “This- This is all mine?” His voice sounded strangled as he stared at the room- at his room, at least for now. His throat felt thick all of the sudden.

“All yours, son,” Mr Washington confirmed.

It was so big. A twin-sized bed with a teal duvet stood by the wall, and the window had a window-seat, and there was a fancy writing desk with a real office chair that actually looked comfortable. There even was an armchair in one of the corners. “Th- thank you,” he whispered, hardly getting the words out. “Thank you so much, sir.”

Mr Washington smiled, and patted his shoulder. Alexander couldn’t help his violent flinch but was proud of himself that he hadn’t ducked away, at least. The hand was quickly removed.

“We’ll call you down for dinner in an hour.” Mrs Washington stepped out again, her husband following. “Gilbert will probably be home just before that. You can stay here, or explore the house. Do you want the door closed or open?”

Once again, he didn’t know the correct answer. Alexander chewed at his lower lip, then shrugged lightly. He wanted it closed. But he didn’t know what they wanted it to be. With a nod and another slight smile, Mrs Washington left it half-open as they left.

He listened to their steps disappear downstairs before he relaxed, throwing his bag on the bed and jumping up on it. The soft mattress bounced as he moved, and he couldn’t help the small noise of excitement he made. He’d forgotten what a comfortable bed felt like, if he ever had known. Compared to this, his bed home at Nevis had been a rock.

When he was certain they weren’t coming back, he started picking up his belongings. The books and notebooks came first, and then the photo album. He’d find somewhere to hide them soon, somewhere the Washingtons wouldn’t look if they searched his room. Then, carefully, he picked up the black folder in which he kept his brother’s letters to him, swallowing down the thickness in his throat.

He pulled up one of them, reading the first lines.

Alexander,

I’m happy to hear you’re doing well in America, and that you’re going to a better school than the one here.

Counting the times he’d debated with himself to call his brother and beg him to get him home to the Caribbean, to adopt him as his only relative alive – except for their father, wherever the hell he was. He’d almost done it one time last January after a bad beating for sneaking down to the kitchen to steal food. Especially during the horrible New York-winters. He never stopped being hungry during those months, and he never got enough food even during the summers. Alexander couldn’t count the times he’d gone to bed a frozen winter night sobbing for the tropical weather of the West Indies. Away from this frozen Hell. But eventually, he always talked himself out of it.

James and St. Croix were poor. He didn’t want to be a burden. They’d hardly spoken for over two years, and didn’t know each other anymore.

And in two years he would’ve aged out of the system. He’d finally be able to build himself a future, to go to a great college on full scholarship, become someone. A lawyer or politician, maybe. At St. Croix, he wouldn’t have a future. Certainly not one that would mark his name down in history. And that was what he wanted. What kept Alexander going.

A legacy.

Even if he had to survive two more years of foster care to get there, he would. He’d show them what Alexander Hamilton was capable of. That he was smarter than any of them, better than any of them. He’d be remembered by history while their petty little names disappeared forever as soon as their grandchildren were dead.

The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. It was small, but it was there, and he glanced toward the door. The Washingtons could do their worst.

He’d show them all.

[missdaviswrites]

22. Feast

Rosie always loved Christmas Day, of course, but this year was even more exciting than usual, because instead of going to Gram and Grandad's for dinner, Gram and Grandad were coming here to Baker Street. Sherlock didn't want to do it at first, but Daddy convinced him that they should, that it would be nice for Gram not to have to make a big dinner for once. Daddy said he and Sherlock knew how to cook, so it wouldn't be that hard, and it would be a good change from spending the morning driving out to the country like they did every other year.

After they opened presents, Daddy and Sherlock went into the kitchen to start getting things ready to cook. Rosie wanted to help but they said it was too crowded for three people at once and they were both sounding kind of cranky so she decided to start playing the new Mario game she'd got for Christmas instead. If Daddy and Sherlock were busy they wouldn't tell her she could only play video games for a little while like they usually did.

She'd only got to level three when Sherlock came out of the kitchen, dragging Lady by the collar. "Take her," he said, sounding way too grumpy for Christmas. Rosie set down her Nintendo for a second and put her arms around Lady while Sherlock went over to the hook by the door that held her lead. She started to wag her tail, which made it hard for Rosie to hold her because her whole body was moving. "No," Sherlock said. "No walk. Sit." He snapped the lead onto Lady's collar and handed it to Rosie. "Keep her in here. We're trying to stuff the turkey and she won't stay out of the way. We should have had it in the oven thirty minutes ago."

Rosie took the lead from him and stuck her hand through the loop at the end, then slid out of Daddy's armchair to sit on the floor next to Lady. Ginger immediately jumped up to take Rosie's spot on the chair—they'd only had her for a few weeks, but the kitten had already decided the chair was her favorite place to be whenever Daddy wasn't in it.

Rosie went back to her game, but didn't get very much further in it before she heard a weird noise. She looked down at Lady, who had fallen asleep with her head underneath Sherlock's chair, but it wasn't her. Then she heard it again, sort of like a weird coughing noise. It was Ginger.

"Daddy! Something's wrong with Ginger!" Rosie put her game down again and reached for the cat, who jumped over the arm of the chair, away from her.

Daddy stuck his head out from the kitchen, frowning. "Sounds like she's trying to vomit."

"Ew!" Rosie scooted away from Ginger, startling Lady, who woke up and barked a few times.

"No, it's pretty normal for cats. She's probably trying to bring up a hairball."

Rosie wrinkled her nose. She slipped Lady's lead off her hand so she could move around the chair on her hands and knees to get another look at Ginger. "There's something hanging out of her mouth. I think it's some ribbon from this morning."

"Oh, Rosie!" Daddy waved the large spoon he was holding in the air, then tossed it onto the worktop and marched out into the sitting room. "I told you to make sure everything got picked up and thrown away."

"I did!"

"Well, you must have missed something. Grab her."

Rosie lunged for Ginger and got her fingers on her but the kitten was too fast and slipped away, darting behind one of Sherlock's old stereo speakers next to the fireplace.

"Oh, for...." Daddy walked around to stand on one side of the speaker. "You try to grab her from over there and I'll get her if she runs this way."

Ginger made another hacking sound as Rosie reached for her. She could see the ribbon hanging from the cat's mouth still—it was gold, and had drool running down it, yuck. She stretched out her arm to try to pull it out of her mouth but suddenly Lady was in the way, trying to push past her to see what was going on, and Rosie lost her balance, falling forward so that she almost landed right on Ginger. The cat hissed and jumped, launching herself up and over the speaker and the pile of file folders that were stacked on top of it. The folders slid everywhere as she climbed over them, spilling papers in every direction. Lady started barking again and Rosie shoved her out of the way so she could chase after Ginger, who was running with the long piece of ribbon still trailing from her mouth.

"Get her, get her!" Daddy shouted. "If she swallows that long of a piece we'll need to take her to the vet!"

"I'm trying!" Rosie shouted back, as Ginger ran underneath the Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

"What is going on out here?" Sherlock came out of the kitchen, wearing a dirty white apron over his suit.

"Help us catch Ginger," Daddy said. "She's got a piece of Christmas ribbon in her mouth and I don't fancy paying the vet bill for her to have surgery to remove it."

Sherlock wiped his hands down the front of his apron and joined them in the sitting room. "Rosie, you crawl underneath the tree after her and we'll grab her when she runs away from you."

Rosie did as he said. She thought she was going to be able to catch Ginger now, because the cat stopped again to cough some more, but as soon as Rosie reached for her she ran again, only this time she ran straight up the tree.

"No!" Daddy shouted, and grabbed the tree just as it started to tip. He said at least three bad words while Ginger clutched at the trunk of the tree, about as high up as Rosie was tall.

Sherlock said another bad word, though not as bad as Daddy's words, and then he reached into the branches and caught Ginger, prying her paws off so she didn't drag the whole tree over as he pulled her out from it. He took one step back from the tree and tucked her under his left arm, then pried open her mouth with that hand so he could pull the ribbon out with the other. "Got it!" he announced, and tossed Ginger onto the sofa. She hissed and then ran behind the bookcase.

Daddy let go of the tree carefully, stepping next to Sherlock. "Let me see." He squinted at the wet piece of ribbon and said, "I think you got all of it—the end doesn't look chewed. She should be fine."

Rosie tried to turn around so she could crawl back out from behind the tree, but there wasn't much room, so she went backwards, instead. There were pine needles all over the tree skirt—there hadn't been that many on the floor until Ginger had jumped into the tree, but now they were sticking through her leggings and they were sharp. Maybe next year they should buy a fake tree like Daddy always wanted to, even if it wouldn't smell as nice.

Just when she got out from underneath it, there was another crashing sound, even louder than all the crashing sounds Ginger had made.

"The turkey!" Sherlock shouted, and ran back to the kitchen, with Daddy right behind him. Rosie stood up and went after them—it wasn't Ginger this time, though, because Rosie could see her tail sticking out next to the bookcase still.

When she got to the kitchen she saw what had happened—there was stuffing everywhere, the dish that had held the turkey and stuffing was on the floor, and so was the raw turkey itself, except one of the legs and a big chunk of meat from the top were gone. Lady had the missing pieces in her mouth—she stood at the far end of the kitchen, staring at Sherlock and Daddy.

"You little—" Daddy began, but before he could say more bad words, Sherlock dove forward and grabbed Lady's lead so she couldn't get away. Daddy yanked the turkey out of her mouth, tossing it into the sink.

"Turkey's not bad for dogs," Sherlock said. "There's some risk of salmonella since it's uncooked, and she shouldn't have the bones, but—"

"I'm not letting the dog eat our Christmas dinner!"

"Well, we can't eat it ourselves, now."

Daddy and Sherlock stared at each other for a moment, until Lady started to creep forward toward the meat that was still on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

"No!" Sherlock yelled, and then dragged Lady down the hall and shut her in his and Daddy's bedroom.

"What are we going to do for dinner?" Rosie asked.

Sherlock stood over the turkey on the floor. "Cook the part she didn't have in her mouth?" he suggested.

"God, no," Daddy said. "It looks terrible. Half the meat's missing. What would your mum say?"

"She'd probably laugh a lot."

"No. Sherlock. We need to figure out something else. What shops are open?"

"Nothing that sells whole turkeys. We could probably get sandwiches."

"Oh, God." Daddy put his hands up to his mouth like he was trying to hold in more bad words.

"Don't worry, John," Sherlock said, and stepped close to give him a little kiss on the side of his head. "We can fix this. We'll just find something else to cook."

"What? There might be some chicken in the freezer but not enough to feed everyone."

"No." Sherlock brought his fingers up to his chin and was quiet for a minute. Daddy squatted down and started to pick up all the food on the floor and then Sherlock spun around on his heel, pointing at Rosie. "You go downstairs to Mrs. Hudson's flat, you know where the key is. I doubt she'll have any large servings of meat, but maybe we'll get lucky and she'll have a roast in the freezer. If not, we'll just tell everyone we've recently gone vegetarian. See if Mrs. Hudson has some more potatoes, or maybe some rice. We'll make an extra dish or two to serve with what we've already planned."

"Okay," Rosie nodded and turned to head downstairs.

"Oh! Eggplant!" Sherlock shouted after her. "See if she has any! We can make a lasagna; it will seem like we planned it all along. Hurry. Gram and Grandad will be here at noon and knowing Mycroft he could show up at any minute. Go! Go!"

Rosie ran off, glancing at her Mario game and at the cat still hiding next to the bookcase as she passed by. Maybe next year they could go back to having Christmas dinner at Gram and Grandad's house. The drive out to the country really wasn't that bad after all.

Read all the ficlets here: Welcome Christmas

[harvest-honeymoon]

Raining Pitchforks

So,,, this is that Court Verse intro I talked about in the twitter poll I linked earlier. This is a long fuckin’ boy but I had a lot of fun writing it, since I really enjoy these characters.

Just as a note, this fic contains swearing, mentions of the Devil and urban legends, and 2 instances of misgendering, as Orianna/Pirouletta is a transwoman still coming to terms with her identity and hasn’t disclosed it to Sixer/King Dice. I know that subject matter can be triggering for some folks, so I’m putting a warning and ‘#misgendering tw’ for blacklisting purposes.

“Son of a bitch, whose idea was this?”

The question posed was rhetorical and often reiterated. It made Irving smile faintly and shake his head, even as he felt rainwater patter against the inside. Thunder rolled in the background, making his cup-headed brother Rudyard flinch.

Although the two toons lingered under an outcropping of trees, the torrent the sky bore seemed unyielding. The branches that loomed above them did little to shield them from the weather, let alone the handmade box of moonshine that sat at their feet. The rocky outcroppings behind them were slick from the rain. Even the mountains seemed soaked.

“You were th’ one who wanted out th’ house,” Irving replied.

“Well, yeah,” Rudy answered. “I was goin’ stir crazy! I can’t jus’ sit an’ sleep all day.”

The red toon wrung out his shirt, frowning. The bent, striped straw in his head swooped along his rim as he looked down at himself.

Although Irving didn’t pace about or bubble over, he too frowned, brow furrowed. He leaned against the damp trunk of a tree, arms folded over his chest. One hand’s set of fingers drummed on his upper arm.

“Y’think we rushed him?” Irving asked. “Made him nervous?”

“There’s nervous, then there’s leavin’ us an’ our hooch in th’ pourin’ fuckin’ rain,” Rudy said.

“I doubt he was gonna buy any of Ma’s stuff, Irv, even with th’ discount.”

Irving sighed quietly, bowing his head. Rudy picked up the box.

“C’mon, let’s go. We’ll catch our death out here.”

“We’re still fifteen bucks short.”

Rudy had started to take a step out from under the canopy, only to pause. Irv didn’t move a muscle.

“Irv, things’re tough all over,” Rudyard replied after a moment.

“It won’t be th’ end of th’ world if we tell ‘em we need a couple days. Even then, we’ve lived without electricity b’fore.”

The cup toon took the step he’d been planning, then another, starting to walk away.

“We can make candles like we used t’ when we were sippy cups. Bathe in th’ river.”

Rudy flicked his straw, so it sat comfortably at the back of his head.

“Who needs gas power anyway?”

Thunder roared just above them, causing Rudy to jump again and stop in his tracks. Unmoving, Irving glanced to the box Rudy held, his eyes lingering on its smudging XXX label.

“We promised Ma.”

Rudy swallowed, then returned to the tree. The brothers turned to look out over a field of grass beside them, each in thought.

With the heavy clouds that clung to the sky, the night was darker than most. The distant lights of Nib City hardly penetrated the gloom, only catching a set of defunct railroad tracks cutting through the prairie grass. Urban legend told of a ghostly train that had taken residence in place of the old engine, after the railway company dissolved under mysterious circumstances decades back. Nights like this guaranteed its arrival and departure for the unlucky found alone and destitute, or so folks said.

While no train occupied this space, the mere idea made Irving apprehensive. The mug-headed toon pulled out a cracked pocket watch and wiped at the glass face, to give himself something else to look at. The time read 11:59 PM, then 12 AM only a few seconds later.

At the stroke of midnight, the field was bathed in a soft, orange glow. Rudy stared, then nudged Irv to get his attention. Both pairs of eyes followed the light, which seemed to dance across the grass and shadows, to its origin, a cave in the mountainside.

This cave had its own fair share of stories, around Inkwell Isle. Some had claimed it was a bottomless pit, from which none who fell could ever escape. Some had said it was some primordial womb, where all had been born and were to die, should they try to reenter the sacred space. The most commonly held belief, however, was that the cave housed unfettered evi, so vile and conniving, the locals had blocked the entrance with stones for generations. The Devil himself was said to dwell within the cave, and should he find some hapless soul within his domain, they were most certainly damned.

Due to these superstitions and its peculiar resemblance to a yawning mouth, the cave had been dubbed The Devil’s Maw. As times changed, beliefs shifted, and explorers ventured into its depths, the aforementioned stones were removed from its entrance, but hushed whispers still spoke ill of the place and the youth were discouraged from entering its bounds.

By day, it appeared a sleepy chasm, untouched by color or sunlight… But now, it spoke with a tongue of molten silver to the young men, beckoning them inwards.

“...you’re seein’ that, right?” Irving asked.

“Sure am,” Rudy replied, awed.

“...last one there’s chipped porcelain!”

The cup toon took off like a shot across the field. Irving stalled a moment then pursued, shouting his way.

“Rudyard, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“What’s it look like?” Rudy called back. “I’m goin’ lookin’!”

“Like hell you are!”

Clutching the moonshine to his chest, Rudy’s head sloshed liquid onto his shoulders and the ground behind him, but that didn’t stop either of them any.

“We need to sell that booze!” Irving spat.

“We’ve got 4 hours at most before the best bars in Nib close!”

“I know!”

“So why are you runnin’ the complete opposite direction, jackass?!”

Rudy grinned, looking to his brother.

“First off, my head’s gonna roll off my shoulders, with all this rain in it! I need it out, an’ I bet you do too! Second off, I figure if there’s light, there’s somebody livin’ here! If there’s somebody livin’ here, then there’s somebody who can buy our shit!”

Lightning struck just behind the two brothers, causing them both to yelp in surprise. Rudy let out an adrenaline-fueled laugh.

“You can’t tell me you wanna walk home while it’s rainin’ pitchforks out here!”

With these words, the brothers entered the cave and slowed to a halt to clean themselves up.

“I don’t, y’got me there,” Irv admitted. “But I doubt there’s anyone worthwhile here. The only folks you’ll find is at best, squatters, or at worst, a cult.”

“Since when do squatters put up neon signs? ‘R cults, fer that matter?”

Irving stopped and stared, following Rudy’s hand as he pointed. A large grouping of stalactites ahead and above them was emblazoned with a quartet of neon playing cards, each with a unique suit.

“...can’t say for certain,” Irv replied, unperturbed. “But I wouldn’t discount the latter.”

Rudy’s expression flattened, his hands busy straightening his head. He then picked up his box and started walking into the depths of the cave, with Irving in tow. The air had a strong sweet-sour smell to it, but it didn’t take long for them to get used to it.

“Y’were supposed t’ let me be right about people livin’ here,” Rudy snarked.

“Y’know, fer more than half a second.”

“That was a lucky guess,” Irving observed dryly.

“A lucky guess that’ll keep us from, I dunno, gettin’ pneumonia.”

“We probably have double pneumonia already at this rate.”

Despite his annoyance, Rudy chuckled as they walked along. Double pneumonia was another staple of banter between them.

“Triple fuckin’ pneumonia with a side ‘f exposure. It was like Noah’s Ark out there.”

The brothers continued into the cave, looking about as more signs of civilization came their way. Neon arrows pointing deeper into the Maw decorated the walls, as did moving signs depicting showgirls, drinks, chess pieces, dice, and more card suits. 2 more signs reading ‘WELCOME’ and ‘CASINO ENTRANCE’ were embedded into the hanging rock of the ceiling, with a 12 ft gap between each. The air around them warmed, the further they went into the cave.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Irv deadpanned.

“No way,” Rudy beamed. “Noooo fuckin’ way--”

“Who on Earth builds a casino in a cave?”

“Someone who’s real hep an’ happenin’ I bet,” Rudy said excitedly.

“They must have some real big operation, t’ have t’ hide it in here.”

“All the more reason to head back out,” Irving snarked, eyeing the advertising.

The brothers then happened upon a series of tall, rounded steps, carpeted with lush, red cotton and accented with gold trim. Two rows of white topped stanchions marked a path with velvet rope. At their feet read the words ‘TRY★YOUR★LUCK’. Beyond these steps laid a ritzy casino built on the edge of a cliff, unlike anything either of them had ever seen. Volcanoes erupted below and beyond their line of sight, painting the domed walls and ceiling of the cavern with the orange light they’d seen outside.

Dancing on the edge of theme park and luxury hotel, buildings in the shape of archaic chess pieces surrounded the back end of the establishment, giving the resort an imposing silhouette against the newly understood berth of the cave. The main building itself was tall and sleek in design, as it was cream in color with plum windows all down its front. Topped with a reddish dome roof, past a fountain of lava circled by prancing demon statues, and betwixt a pair of oversized game dice, the hotel lacked lighted signage, save for some neon pink cursive above its red front doors.

“The Devil’s Casino?” Irving mumbled to himself.  “That’s awful kitschy,”

Irving stood, contemplating the architecture, while Rudy mounted the stairs, smiling wide.

“I was right! I was right, there’s people here, they’ve got money, I was right--”

In that moment, Rudy reached the top of the stairwell, only to bump into someone who towered over him. The cup toon took a step back and shook his head, only to realize what had just happened. The stranger seemed to have come out of nowhere.

“Aw hell, sorry about that! Didn’t see you there.”

“Y’needn’t worry, my good man.”

The toon Rudyard had bumped into had a game die for a head, a pencil-thin mustache, and a winning smile. Dressed to the nines in a cream zoot suit, shined and spatted shoes, and a pink bow tie, the stranger readjusted his suit jacket after the brush-by, but did so without making a fuss. His voice was sure to smooth over any remaining matters, as it was slick and low, but friendly.

“I was hopin’ I’d bump into you two. I heard y’halfway down th’ cavern.”

“Our apologies, sir,” Irving said, stepping forward. “The echo in here carried further than we thought.”

Rudy rolled his eyes and folded his arms. The die toon let out a short laugh.

“I didn’t say you were causin’ a racket,” the stranger replied. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“Are you here t’ play, gentlemen?”

“Yeah,” Rudy replied with confidence. “We’re here t’ pl--”

Irving put a hand over his brother’s mouth, causing Rudy to grit his teeth against his hand.

“Actually, we’re here on business.”

“That a fact now? Well, I s’ppose I should introduce myself then,” the suited toon replied.

He put forward a gloved hand for Irving to shake.

“Name��s Heath Cesarano. My friends call me Sixer, an’ I own Th’ Devil’s Casino.”

“Irving Biccheiri,” the blue toon introduced himself. “This is my brother, Rudyard. We run a bootlegging business out in the Scapes.”

Irving and Heath shook hands, freeing Rudy in the process. Although he seemed miffed by his brother’s invasion of personal space, the red toon shook Sixer’s hand as well, when it was offered to him. On mention of bootlegging, the die toon’s eyebrow quirked in interest.

“Is that what you’ve got in your hands there?” Heath asked, gesturing to the box in Rudy’s arms.

“Finest stuff on the east end of the Isle,” Rudy boasted.

“We’re looking to sell it,” Irving explained.

“I see,” Heath said, rubbing his chin in thought. “Do y’mind if I sample your wares?”

“Be our guest,” Rudy replied. Irving swallowed beside him.

On choosing a bottle, Sixer uncorked it and took a sip,  hen pulled it away from his mouth. He smacked his lips as he tasted the spirits, then smiled at the young men.

“Say, that’s not half bad,” he remarked. “You boys’ve got somethin’ in the making, definitely.”

“In the making?” Irving asked. “Or worth selling?”

“Hah, you’ve keen ears,” Heath observed. His tone shifted as he spoke, sounding authoritative.

“I’m afraid that while I like what you’ve got, I can’t sell it at my establishment, nor can I let you sell it too close by. Th’ folks in there are lookin’ for high-quality hooch from names they know an’ can trust.”

Irving’s expression saddened with these words. Rudy took note and moved in front of Irving, looking Heath dead in the eye.

“No offense, Mr. Cesarano,” Rudy said. “But we’ve been selling our stuff all up an’ down th’ Isle.”

“We’re in some of th’ bars you’ll find in Nib City, an’ real popular in th’ Scapes.”

“That might be so,” Sixer replied. “But I only just met you boys t’night.”

“I’ve got a certain standard to meet at th’ behest of my landlord. It’s nothin’ personal.”

Rudy looked ready to argue but held off. Irving didn’t speak further, though it was clear he was trying to put on a brave face.

“We appreciate yer business, regardless,” Rudy told their new acquaintance. “That’ll be $3.”

Sixer pulled out four dollar bills and handed them to Irving. Irving paused, looking over the money in his hands, then looked to Sixer questioningly. Sixer winked, then spoke up again.

“If it ain’t too much t’ ask… Why are you boys lookin’ to sell, anyhow?”

Irving’s hands curled, as he folded his arms over his chest again.

“Simple,” Rudy answered, mirroring his brother’s gesture.

“We got bills t’ pay an’ mouths t’ feed, same as anybody. Rent’s comin’ up t’morrow an’ we’re eleven bucks short.”

“Ah,” Sixer replied. “My apologies for proddin’.”

“It is what it is. No need to be sorry.”

“I’m guessin’ you can’t sell much back in th’ Scapes, then?” Sixer prodded. “With yer presence?”

“Well, not right now, yeah,” Rudy agreed.

“We were s’pposed t’ meet somebody from Nib City for a deal,” Irving added. “But he didn’t show.”

“The storm caught up with us not long after.”

Sixer’s expression softened a little as the boys explained their situation. After a moment of thought, this softness faded away, instead replaced with a wily glint to the older toon’s eye.

“That’s a real shame that fella skipped out on ya, but I don’t think you’re out of luck for th’ night.”

Rudy looked on with interest. He had a feeling he knew where Heath was going.

“You could always take a shot at the games here,” Sixer continued. “If nothin’ else, you could dry off an’ get somethin’ to tide yourselves over.”

“I hear that storm ain’t s’pposed to let up until noon t’morrow. You won’t wanna be crossin’ those tracks out front if you can help it.”

Rudy considered the die-head’s words. Irving exhaled breath through his nose.

“You boys ever gambled b’fore?”

“I might be half yer size but I ain't-a kid,” Rudy scoffed. “Course I have.”

“Rudy, we should get going,” Irving muttered. “We couldn’t make a sale an’ we’re dry enough.”

“We couldn’t make a sale, sure,” Rudy replied. “But I could make a wager.”

Irving glowered at the prospect. Rudy frowned in response.

“Irving, if I play here, I could win us the cash we need t’ pay off rent t’morrow! We don’t gotta trudge out there, we don’t gotta get stood up-- It’ll be a cinch!”

The mug-head still didn’t look convinced, so Rudy put both of his hands on his shoulders, turning him away from Sixer so their discussion could be more private.

“Irving… C’mon, Irv. You’ve been workin’ yerself to th’ bone all month.”

Irving’s gaze went half-lidded. In the firelight and neon, the bags under his eyes could easily be seen. All the while, Sixer watched the young men talk to each other, grinning to himself knowingly.

“Let me handle th’ moneymakin’, you take a load off, an’ we can wait this out t’gether. You don’t gotta lift a finger.”

After a moment of consideration, the blue toon sighed.

“...Alright. If you think you can.”

“I know I can,” Rudy beamed. “They don’t call me Big Red fer nothin’.”

Irving cringed, making Rudy snicker. Sixer took a step forward, smiling.

“With a nickname like that, I can’t help but ask; you a craps player, by chance?”

“S’my favorite way t’ gamble!” Rudy answered, slinging an arm over Irv’s shoulders. Irving’s eyes narrowed.

“In that case, you should head on in an’ take a left, then a right,” Sixer advised.

“You’ll find our craps tables real easy.”

Rudy clinked his head against his brother’s as a gesture of affection, then took off into the casino, still holding the box of moonshine. Irving chose not to match his pace this time, as fatigue was starting to weigh on him. Sixer noticed as he looked down at his other pint-sized patron.

“And you?” Sixer asked. “Any preference?”

“I’m a cards guy,” Irving admitted. “But I don’t gamble, let alone in a place plastered with devils.”

Sixer’s grin got tight around the edges as he moved to Irving’s side.

“Aw, wheat, you superstitious ‘r somethin’? Don’t get yer suspenders in a twist, it’s just a motif.”

As the two walked into the casino, the various eyes of the devils in the decorating watched Irving as he passed. Irving didn’t notice at that moment, though he did feel oddly watched.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Irving replied. “What with that train track comment.”

“Hah, I wouldn’t call myself superstitious,” Sixer started.

“More just… Aware. I’ve had my fair share of experiences that’ve made me privy to the goings on around these parts.”

“Uh huh,” Irving replied, a bit distracted.

It was hard to blame him, with the hullabaloo going on around them, but Sixer still had to resist the urge to give him a dirty look. A uniformed toon with a heart for a head moved up beside Sixer to whisper something to him, before departing from the conversation.

The die toon looked down at the mug toon again, giving him an apologetic smile.

“As much as I’d love to continue our talk, I’m afraid I’ve got business t’ attend to. You’ll find our bars well stocked and lounges abound. If y’need anything, keep your eyes out for folks dressed like her--”

The die-head gestured to the heart toon, as she weaved in and out of the crowd.

“Or come find me. Oh, an’ I want you to have this.”

Heath extended a business card between two fingers to Irving. The card was matte and emblazoned with a devil, a pair of purple pipped dice, and multiple red roses. It even had gold trim.

“Like I was sayin’ earlier, you boys’ve got good stuff. I might take you up on the offer we discussed, should you improve yer product.”

“Thank you, sir,” Irving replied without enthusiasm.

“Please, call me Sixer. And if we don’t meet again, Irving, I hope you have a good night.”

“Likewise.”

With that, Sixer blended into the crowd, leaving each cup brother to their own devices.

— — —

By the time Irving supposed he ought to find his brother, an hour had passed. How, he had little idea.

One moment, he was being served water by an orange cocktail toon in a blue dress; the next, swing music roared through the halls, signaling the start of some sort of nightly shindig. Checking his pocket watch, the blue toon got up with a start and nearly fell off his barstool, but managed to tip his bartender and head out of the lounge without further trouble.

The joint reeked of booze, cigar smoke, and metal, with a tinge of marijuana and sweat, no matter what room he walked through. Noise constantly rang in his ears, ranging from vapid conversations and bad pick up lines to the obnoxious rattling, slamming, and pinging of an arcade. Top it off with the crowds of people trying to shout over the noise, and subsequently, each other, and Irving swore his porcelain head was going to crack from the decibel count.

It didn’t help that the damned place was so dark. For whatever reason, the architect had opted for interiors that caught shadows like a hungry spider, coupled with luminaires akin to candlelight. This only made the sounds louder, the smells stronger, and Irving’s mood worsen.

The mug toon’s discontent was so clear, it made Rudy pause just before throwing down his dice in another round of craps.

“Where were you?”  Irving demanded.

“Busy,” Rudy said as he rolled. “What’s it look like?”

The dice hit the wall of the table, revealing a 12. Rudy winced.

The dealer came over and took half a stack of chips, handing them over to a skeleton in a bow tie and a bowler hat. The patron leered at him, making Rudy grouse and pull what little stacks he had close to him.

“I hit a good streak while you were takin’ a break, so I’m ridin’ it.”

”How good?” Irving prodded

“Those chips are worth $1,” Rudy said, pointing to his hoard and across the table.

“Those’re worth $5, an’ these are worth $10. I even managed to squeeze a 25 out of an Aussie on th’ far end.”

Irving glanced up, seeing a skeletal, bipedal horse where Rudy gestured. The equine toon looked mean, even for a dead man.

“This is more than enough, then,” Irving figured, averting his eyes to Rudyard’s chips.

“It was,” Rudy said. “Until you threw me off.”

He shot his brother a glare, as the crowd cheered for another patron.

“Now I gotta win it back.”

“Do you still have what we made outside?” Irving pressed.

“‘Course I do! I ain’t as dumb as I look,” Rudy exclaimed.

“Then... What are you gamblin’ with?”

Rudy rolled the dice again, earning himself a $5 chip.

“My soul. I cashed it out for $75 in chips.”

Irving stared at his brother in disbelief.

“What?” Rudy asked. “I didn’t wanna spend th’ money you got.”

“Rudy, we’re in a casino named after the Devil.”

“Yeah? And?”

“What do you think the cashier meant when they said you could bet your soul?”

“Th’ cashier didn’t tell me nothin’. Some dominohead he was talkin’ to told me it’s a secret transaction unique to this joint. Th’ guy looked like a high roller, so I gave it a try. I didn’t have to hand any money over or anythin’.”

“They just… Gave you the chips?”

“No, I had to sign somethin’ beforehand,” Rudy shrugged. “But that was about it.”

“Did you even read it?”

“I skimmed it,” Rudy admitted. “It was just some casino contract. No big deal.”

Irving looked like he was going to ascend, the longer Rudy went on. Before Irving could chew his brother out, both toons felt powerful hands on their outermost shoulders.

“Hi-de-ho, gentlemen,” Sixer greeted them. “How goes your game?”

“Oh, I’m the only one playin’,” Rudy explained. “But it’s been goin’ alright.”

“I took up that soul deal ‘f yours for these chips. We’ll be eatin’ like kings t’night!”

“Did you now? An’ how’d you find out ‘bout it?”

The look in Heath’s eyes was too pleased for Irving’s liking. The die-head, as if reading his thoughts, moved his hands off them and stood beside Rudy, as the two talked.

“I was talkin’ to some domino guy in a boater hat, at th’ cashier’s booth. He’s the one who clued me in.”

“That’d be my buddy Pippin,” Sixer remarked warmly. “He helps me run th’ joint.”

“Does your ‘buddy’ happen to swoop in on every country boy who walks through your door?”

Sixer was about to say something, only to pause with Irving’s comment.

“Awful convenient he was there to give Rudy the news. Especially since you were the only person we told about our situation.”

The suited toon chuckled lightly. Irving could feel the air chill.

“Pippin doesn’t swoop, Irving. He loves people as much as anybody.”

Rudy, half listening to their conversation, rolled another turn and scored an 11. The table roared in approval, the dealer slipping him a couple stacks for winning the bet. Ironically, the dealer had a head of stacked chips himself, his face lined with horizontal stripes of orange, blue, and indigo.

Irving immediately set to work counting the chips. Sixer eyed him with a sharpening gaze.

“So with that ‘soul swap’ you did and our remaining debt, you’d need... 86 bucks to break even.”

“How much more do I need?” Rudy glanced his brother’s way, catching his worn expression.

“10 bucks.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Rudy swore. “This table’s been colder than a meat locker most of th’ night.”

“Why don’t we raise the stakes, then?”

Sixer said this while motioning to the dealer, shooting Rudy a playful smirk.

“Sharps, get me a stack of fives, wouldja? I’m bettin’ th’ pass line.”

Sharps did as he was told, passing Sixer 20 $5 chips in exchange for a crisp $100 bill. The rest of the table’s players backed away, including the horse toon. Despite the change in atmosphere, Rudy grinned right back, a fire in his eyes.

Irving folded his arms tightly as the two men started to compete, forcing himself to watch the table instead of risking catching Sixer’s eye. There was something about the die-head that bothered him more than most, but he couldn’t place why, and that fact put him on edge.

A litany of rounds passed, but Irving wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone all of what happened. Some rolls got yells in glee, others had people throwing their hats to the floor. Chips went all around the rim of the table every which way, at dizzying speed. People chattered ceaselessly. The room seemed filled with eyes, all boring down on him and his brother.

Eventually, Rudy called out through the clamor, hopping up on the edge of the craps table to stand above the crowd. He breathed hard, face aglow from the adrenaline of gambling.

“Alright, you lot! This’ll be my last play!!”

Irving started to sigh in relief, only for Sixer to speak up. The die toon’s tone dripped with confidence and charisma, as he loomed over the craps’ table.

“If that’s th’ case, then I wager my soul an’ Sharps’! Right here, right now!”

Sixer pushed forward his remaining chips, which totaled to $150. The crowd whooped and laughed, eating up Heath’s enthusiasm like it was an inside joke. Sharps smirked faintly, shaking his head.

“Come an’ get me, small fry!”

The cup toon’s eyes rolled in his porcelain head like slots, turning to a pair of dollar signs.

“You’re on, Cesarano!”

Irving held his breath and lifted his head from watching the table, only to stare at something beyond the mass of people around them.

Across the room, there stood a great tapestry of imps and hellish creatures, galavanting through what appeared to be a monochrome jungle. Stretching high above the heads of the patrons gathered around, Irving would’ve figured it some priceless artifact… If the eyes of its inhabitants didn’t roll as well and fix on him. A chill spread throughout the mug toon’s chest.

“Rudyard,” Irving tried to say. “Rudy, we shouldn’t be here--”

“Irv, step off, I’ve got this.”

“No, you don’t. We need to go, now.”

The people around Irving booed, causing a ripple throughout the rest of the crowd. Rudy grimaced and threw his fists to his sides, midway through blowing into his rolling hand for good luck. His eyes had returned to their normal pie cut irises.

“I mean it, Irv, I don’t need your shit right now,” Rudy said sharply. “Let me do my thing.”

“My shit?” Irving demanded. “My shit?!”

“I’ve been dealing with your shit ever since we got here, Rudyard, and I’ve had it! If I weren’t exhausted from doing all the damn work back home, I would’ve dragged you out of here by your handle!”

The mug toon took a step forward, getting up in his brother’s face and earning more protest from the crowd. Rudy’s expression got dark, the liquid in his head bubbling.

“Well, now whose fault is that?” Rudy seethed.

“You never let me do fuck anythin’! I’m trying to do you a goddamn favor, so if you could sit the hell back and pull yer straw out of yer ass, I’d appreciate it!”

“Gambling isn’t a favor!” Irving spat. “Gambling is you, slacking off, getting into trouble, giving Ma a fuckin’ heart attack--!”

“You leave her the fuck outta this—” Rudy threatened.

“Then fold the damn game!” Irving ordered.

The cup toon clenched his teeth and looked his brother square in the eye.

“Fuck. You.”

Rudy threw down the dice forcefully, making them bounce hard against the back wall. Irving grabbed his wrist hard enough to bruise, but the damage was already done.

Snake eyes.

The crowd let out a low moan of sympathy and dissipated behind them. Now Rudy felt the same cold as his brother, looking down at the craps table. Irving stared down as well, then threw the cup toon’s wrist away, storming through the crowd and towards a doorway leading out of the craps room.

The moment he got a foot through the door, the mug toon collided with something hard enough to make him stumble backward. Irving sat up to protest, only to stop. In the meanwhile, Sixer made his way over to Rudy, putting a hand on his shoulder again, but without the camaraderie of before.

“Well, ain’t that a shame?”

A black sigil blocked the doorway. Looking around the room, similar occult drawings blocked the other doors, effectively trapping them in the room. Irving’s head moved Sixer and Rudy’s direction, hearing the snap of Heath’s fingers. With this motion, the contract Rudy signed appeared in Heath’s hand, which he proceeded to unroll and read over.

“Mhhm. As I suspected. You, my friend, are in debt.”

“Y’don’t gotta rub it in,” Rudy said quietly.

“Oh, I ain’t rubbin’,” Heath hummed. “But I’m gonna need both of your souls, as per our agreement.”

“What?”

Irving got up and stumbled back their way. Rudy couldn’t look him in the eye.

“I said,” Heath repeated. “As per our agreement, I’m gonna need both of yer souls, since that’s what I won in our wager.”

“Our souls?” Rudy asked. “As in… Immortal souls?”

“Mhhm,” Heath agreed. The die toon seemed detached, as if he’d gone through this spiel before.

“Why do you need his?” Rudy asked, pointing to Irving. “I’m th’ only one who signed.”

Heath smiled and shook his head, offering the contract for Rudy to read and reciting the terms off his head for Irving.

“Paragraph four, section one, addendum one. ‘Should the client be unable to pay a debt or a wager, due to a lack of necessary, spiritual capital, souls within the client’s company including, but not limited to, friends, family, pets, et cetera, shall be collected as seen fit, in order to ensure a fair transaction between the associated parties.’”

Rudy’s shoulders sank. Irving stepped forward to stand next to Rudy, though he kept distance between them. He stared hard at Sixer, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“...so we’re damned, then,” the mug toon said eventually

“Essentially,” Sixer replied. “I wagered my soul an’ my dealer’s in th’ form of those chips. Ergo, two souls. Rudyard here only had th’ chips to cover one.”

“I didn’t think you could wager a soul,” Rudy said, with a little laugh.

“I-I thought it was a steal… I… I...”

“Aw, don’t beat yerself up, wheat,” Sixer said, waving his hand dismissively. “Hell ain’t so bad.”

“I visit from time t’ time. It’s a little on th’ warm side, as you could imagine, but it ain’t all fire an’ brimstone.”

“...may I see that?” Irving asked, gesturing to Heath’s hand.

“Sure thing, kid.”

Heath handed over the contract, which Irving proceeded to scour. Rudy looked to Sixer with wide, sad eyes, mouth faintly open as if he was trying to protest. Sixer averted his gaze from the cup toon, opting for Irving instead.

“Here.”

Irving pressed his finger next to another paragraph and turned the paper Sixer’s way, then back to himself, to read.

“...paragraph six, section six. ‘Should a client wish for the return of their immortal soul, they are allowed to perform a designated task for the interested party, according to said party’s jurisdiction. This can include the retrieval of items and other souls, the harm or killing of another person, with or without a body, assistance in correspondence between the party and others, et cetera. Should the task be agreed upon by both entities and completed by the client, the client’s soul, and any souls hitherto collected, shall be restored.’”

As Irving read, Heath’s eyebrows furrowed, then perked, as he thought on these words. He got a wicked smile, seeing Irving’s angle.

“So you wanna work for me to get ‘em back, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Irving said, with a stony tone. The word ‘sir’ dripped venom.

“Well then you boys are lucky,” Heath remarked. “Cuz you ain’t the only ones who got rent t’ pay.”

The pair of siblings stared, apprehensive.

“I need souls like yours t’ keep the lights on here. My landlord ain’t interested in, ah, standard currency. There’s been a trend ‘round these parts of people comin’ to my place, sellin’ their souls to get chips… Then duckin’ out, whether they win or lose.”

Heath’s expression darkened. As he was 6’6”, he towered over the brothers, who each were around 4’0”, making him appear quite imposing.

“Now boys,” Heath went on. “Think of me what y’will, but I ain't-a cruel man.”

“I have it that my contract necessitates collection, but not immediately so. I let folks say their goodbyes, I let ‘em tie up loose ends… Hell, sometimes I let folks keep their souls ‘til their natural end if it strikes my fancy. I also know these folks are strugglin’, same as you. Everyone’s tryin’ t’ get by, however they can.”

Sixer paced around the cup toons as he spoke, fixing the rose in his lapel. He reminded Rudy of a jaguar, and Irving a cobra.

“But,” Heath concluded. “I believe that when terms like this are broken, they require punishment.”

“These folks agreed, like you, to hand over their souls and they know it. The lot of ‘em raided my casino a month ago an’ made off with their contracts, no doubt to try an’ forge up new terms, conditions, ‘r signatures. Those puppies are enchanted, so they can’t be altered by anybody but me, but I still need the physical copy I signed with my clients. They grant me proof of ownership.”

“So you want us t’ be yer repo men,” Rudy clarified. “Is what yer sayin’?”

“When it comes down t’ brass tacks, yes,” Heath agreed. “But you won’t be killin’ nobody unless you have to.”

“Those contracts have an agreed death date, as does yours. When I cash in, the clients will die as agreed, an’ their souls will be collected.”

“How efficient,” Irving said sarcastically. “How long do we have?”

“I’m sure you can guess,” Sixer hummed.

Irving screwed up his face, then let out a low, pained breath.

“Six days, six hours, and six minutes.”

Sixer smirked in surprise.

“I was right about you,” he said. “You really got a good head on those shoulders.”

“Sixer, all and no disrespect at once,” Irving deadpanned. “But I don’t give a shit.”

“You really should,” Heath purred in amusement. “It can get you places.”

Sixer slipped his hand into his pocket, then extended it to Rudy. Enclosed in his grip was $11.

“Consider this a deposit.”

Rudy took the money reluctantly, looking at Sixer with daggers. Sixer only smiled, like a cat who’d swallowed a canary. Once the money was exchanged, the sigils in the doorways disappeared.

Irving took initiative and walked out of the casino with long, punchy strides. Rudy followed not long after, leaving Sixer alone in the room. Once he was sure the brothers had gone, he called out to the rest of his patrons.

“Y’all can come out now, they’ve up and left!”

Like magic, the room was filled with people again, all getting up to raucous gambling and other forms of sinning. Sixer left the room with an accomplished laugh, dusting his gloved hands off each other. A moment later, he was seized by his bow tie and dragged down to someone else’s eye level.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

His captor was none other than his underboss Orianna ‘The Wheel’ Romano, a golden, geometric automaton in a dealer’s suit. Her nasally New Yorker accent bore into Sixer’s ears, but he didn’t mind at that moment.

“Giraudo, pal, you’re just the man I wanted to see!”

Sixer beamed on seeing her, but Orianna didn’t return the gesture. The name he called her made her uncomfortable, and while normally she could stomach its use, their current situation cut into her patience. She chose to press onwards in conversation and let go of him though, as she knew he meant no harm by it.

“You say dat every time I come sniffin’ you out, boss,” she huffed. “Now answer da question. I’ve been two steppin’ through dis helter skelter all night lookin’ for youse.”

“Sorry about that,” Sixer apologized. “I was outside earlier doin’ some carnival barkin’.”

“Carnival barkin’?” Orianna scoffed with a grin. “What year is it, 1925? Don’t we have people fer dat?”

“Sure, but I’m a professional.,” Sixer said with a sly wink. “Went t’ trade school and everything. I can’t let that degree get rusty.”

Orianna rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling a little.

“Don’t suppose ya roped in somethin’ to fix us bein’ 19 souls short?”

“Actually,” Heath replied, smug. “The funniest thing jus’ happened.”

Orianna looked his way, tilting her tapered head like some great bird.

“I bagged two souls jus’ now. Pair of cup headed folks from th’ Scapes. One of ‘em signed a contract but got in two souls deep.”

“Oh, y’pulled the old ‘one two’ on ‘em?” the robot prodded, interested.

“Yeah,” Heath agreed. “The one who didn’t sign was onto me, but the other guy? Pff, it was like takin’ candy from a baby. No impulse control t’ speak of.”

“Gee, don’t dat sound like somebody I know,” Orianna snarked knowingly.

Now it was Heath’s turn to roll his eyes, but his smirk didn’t die away. He was used to this line of talk between them.

“So we’re only down 17 now?” Orianna clarified. “Dat’s good, but I don’t get how dat’s a rip-snorter.”

“A what now?” Heath asked with a little laugh.

“A rip-snorter,” she reiterated. “Y’know, somethin’ real good an’ goin’ our way?”

“You sure Kahl didn’t fit ya with a faulty lexicon there, Romano?” Heath prodded playfully.

“It’s a real fuckin’ word, y’goon,” she insisted, gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder. “Ask around town.”

“Alright, fine, later,” Heath conceded. “Still, though, that one who didn’t sign asked t’ see the contract.”

“No shit. An’ den what?”

“He volunteered the two of em t’ get back our receipts,” Heath explained. “Under paragraph 6.”

A beat passed. Orianna’s eyebrows rose and settled, intrigued.

“An’... How old are dese guys ‘xactly?” she asked.

“21 ‘r so,” Heath said.

“Twenty one—“ Orianna rested her forehead in her hand.

“Please tell me dey got magic.”

“...I… Didn’t see,” Heath admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“...we’re outsourcin’ collect fer our boondogglin’ t’ a couple twenty somethin’s,” Orianna summarized flatly. “An’ you didn’t even check if dey got magic?”

“It’s not every day y’get free labor,” Sixer tried to reason with a shy shrug.

Orianna closed her eyes tightly.

“...Heath,” she said. “Why da hell didja agree t’ dat?”

Heath started to speak, only for his underboss to interrupt him.

“We got people fer dat, y’know. Lotsa people, actually, who’d be willin’ to chase down dose contracts for ya at da drop of a hat. Why on Earth didja cut a deal like dat wid a couple a bumpkins too far from home?”

“I know we got people,” Heath said. “But those folks who ran off with our shit don’t fuck around. I don’t want t’ lose anybody unnecessarily.”

“Unneces— Caesar, dis ain’t da minor leagues any more!” Orianna barked.

She grabbed his bow tie again, so that they wouldn’t be so easily heard. Her voice was a sharp whisper.

“Who gives a shit if a coupla card heads die chasin’ down Cagney Carnation or whoever da fuck? We got people all over da place who’d kill t’ be runnin’ wid us!”

“I got that,” Cesarano growled. “But we gotta play this smart, Gira. That last raid got our boys Chimes an’ Pocus killed, on top of a stack of card heads. We don’t know if those debtors are tag teamin’ still or flyin’ solo.”

“Don’t talk t’ me about playin’ shit smart,” Orianna seethed. “It’s my job t’ play shit smart. Or didja forget that while you were tryin’ to be 25 all over again?”

Heath pulled himself from Orianna’s grip, baring his teeth. Orianna gave him a hard stare.

“You watch your tongue,” Heath warned.

“An’ you keep dat bleedin’ heart ‘f yers on a damn leash,” Orianna said frankly.

“Just what the hell is that supposed t’ mean?”

“It means yer not thinkin’ straight.”

Orianna rested her arms on her hips, gesticulating in fluid, mechanical motions.

“It’s a shame we lost Chimes an’ Pocus but dat’s how it is sometimes, Heath. You of all people should know. An’ cuttin’ a deal wit’ dose kids? Dey’re adults, even if dey’re dumber dan a sack a bricks. Dey came here of deir own free will, an’ dey lost da draw. Why negotiate?”

Heath’s expression dipped, as Orianna continued.

“You dink dey can do all dat in six days? Or did one of ‘em give you puppy eyes ‘til ya bent fer ‘em?”

“I think they can,” Heath replied sharply.

“On what merit?”

“...they just…” Heath started. “I felt it, in ‘em. They had strong spirits, I guess. Reminded me of myself, back in those days.”

“If some scrappy kid from th’ Bleed could rise up, why couldn’t they?”

“Cuz—“ Orianna started, but caught herself. She hated being the bad cop in these kind of situations, so she exhaled some steam from her back vents, mirroring a sigh.

“...you really dink these kids got dis in da bag?” Orianna tried again.

“They might need a little help,” Heath admitted. “But I have… 80% confidence they got this.”

Orianna raised an eyebrow. Heath faltered.

“...ok, make that more of a 65%.”

“Dat’s what I figured,” the automaton remarked dryly.

“How do you think we should do this, then?” he asked.

“If I were you,” she said. “I would’ve sent a buncha card guys out dree weeks ago an’ kept ‘em pumpin’ ‘til we got dose contracts. If we needed reinforcements, I’d send dat lughead Iggy, August, ‘r Sharps out t’ finish da job. If we didn’t get any dice by dat point, den I woulda sent da kids as da clean up crew.”

Heath winced. Orianna noticed.

“Ah, sorry, analytic brain got goin’ dere,” she said with a modest expression.

“It’s alright,” Sixer said. “What should we do now?”

“If I were you, Mr. Sentimental,” she restarted. “Den I’d keep an eye on dose kids, either drough other people or checkin’ on deir progress myself, cuz I just can’t stand sittin’ behind a desk all day, drownin’ in paperwoik, an’ hearin’ my underboss tear me a new asshole wid ‘er brass teeth.

Heath let out a laugh, making Orianna smile.

“I’d use dose dorky die houses I got back in 1919 as a temporary base ‘f operations,” Orianna continued, still digging into her boss. “I’d hire somebody t’ trail those cup toons, an’ I’d default control of da casino to Pip.”

“To Pip?” Heath said between snickers.

“Yeah, cuz I’m comin’ with you, jackass!” Orianna said, earning another laugh from him. “Dis is a batshit crazy scheme you’ve cooked up an’ it’s my job t’ see it drough!”

“Alright, alright,” Heath giggled. “If that’s th’ case, you tell Pip he’s head honcho, I’ll handle the dick.”

“‘Course you will,” Orianna muttered playfully.

“What was that?”

“What? I can’t hear you over da sound of all these assholes partyin’! I’ll catch ya later, boss!”

Both of them laughed as they parted ways, with Orianna heading back the way she came and Heath to his office.

Once inside and away from the bustle of the game rooms, Heath sank into a purple leather chair and pulled out an address book. He thumbed through a couple pages, then let out an ‘ah-hah’ when he found the name he was looking for.

He picked up a white rotary phone and dialed the number under the name, the fingers of one hand tangling in the cord connecting the receiver and base. The dial up tone ceased after a couple moments.

“Hello hello! This is Alice, your operator. How may I help you?”

“Alice, doll, it’s great t’ hear from ya,” Sixer said warmly. “I hope you lot are enjoyin’ yer new gear down at th’ station.”

“We’ve never had smoother calls, sir,” Alice cooed. “Thank you. Is there something I could help you with?”

“Yeah, could you be a dear an’ get me Mike Phone?” he requested. “He runs that detective agency by th’ Bleed?”

“Of course, sir. Have a good night.”

“Likewise, sweetheart,” Heath purred. “Don’t stay up too late now.”

The call then transferred over a couple moments later. A masculine voice with a built in crackle spoke up.

“You’ve reached Transducer Detective Agency, Michael R. Phone speaking.”

“Hi-de-ho, Mike,” Heath greeted him through the phone, grinning wide.

“I’ve got a job for ya.”

[softjeon]

Spaghetti Syndrome

• Pairing: Jungkook x Taehyung • Genre: Fluff | Airport!AU ( ↳ Gifset Trailer) • Words: 11k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue​ ↳ (AO3)

↳  His boss might look at it differently for sure, but to Jungkook the prospect of a little fun at this hour was so much more worth that the risk of potentially losing the money for one single cup of coffee. That said customer was so handsome offered additional enticement.

He was sitting in the empty airport, staring out of the window. Gray clouds above, the drizzle dripping down the window pane as he was looking out on the dark asphalt. The gray environment was matching his mood. Just a few hours ago, there were thousands of people running around, waiting for their various flights to whatever destinations. People walking hand in hand or with children, some shopping through the stores, buying drinks, food or maybe even a present to bring their loved ones. But it all was quiet now. No children running around from window to window, looking at planes landing and taking off. It was just him.

His flight had been cancelled to an unknown time and now he had to somehow kill the time until they’d call out his plane again. Taehyung sighed deeply, as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was walking through the mostly vacant airport, looking for better reception. At this hour most of the shops were shuttered and dark and he was wandering until reaching another wing of the airport, when he saw a still lighted coffee shop. His eyes lit up when he saw the little blue sign that promised him better wifi and Taehyung pulled his laptop bag a little higher over his shoulder.

There were two young men standing behind the counter, one cleaning some dishes, while the other was already flashing him a bright smile as Taehyung neared. “One matcha latté,” Taehyung ordered quick, already looking around to find the best place to sit. He didn’t notice the confused expressions on the blonde boy’s face, but quickly paid in cash with a good amount of tip, eyes fixed on the one seat that was close to a powerpoint. Watching the man leave, Jimin quickly turned around to his colleague, “Do…do you know what a matcha latté is?” Untying the little apron behind his back, Jimin motioned with his head to where Taehyung was, “He ordered one and I really don’t know what is is, nor do I think he was aware that we don’t have it on our menu and I was too afraid to say something.”

Jungkook gave Jimin a questioning look, “Matcha latte? Hm, I would say it is latte with matcha powder.” He quickly tried to dodge Jimin’s attempt to hit him with the folded apron and smirked at how easy it was to rile the other up. Although if he was honest he had no idea how exactly a matcha latte should be prepared either. Which didn’t matter considering they didn’t even had matcha powder, only regular green tea. “What do you want me to do now - tell him that we don’t have it while you end your shift and sneak out the back door or use green food coloring to pretend our latte is green?” He groaned when Jimin told him that it didn’t matter as long as the customer would be happy in the end and that he was ‘the best colleague in the world’ before the older gave him a quick hug and vanished as quickly as possible. Jungkook knew of Jimin’s habit to get intimidated by certain customers but he let it slide - because in exchange Jimin took the pretty girl customers that made Jungkook go all red and stuttery. So they kinda complemented each other.

Jungkook pulled his apron straight and decided to just face this weird customer Jimin had been talking about, trying to put on his best customer service face. It wavered quite a bit when he saw who must be who ordered said latte, because he was the only one on the counter right now. Normally there were lots of customers but right now it was really late - or incredibly early however one wanted to put it.

“Sir?” He approached the guy who looked even more beautiful up close. No wonder Jimin had been intimidated. He also looked busy, with his laptop in front of him and his brows furrowed in deep concentration, “I’m really sorry but I have to inform you that we ran out of matcha powder. May I suggest something else?”

Taehyung got startled from the sudden voice above him when he saw the young barista. He returned his attention to his laptop and shrugged his shoulders, “Get me something that will make sure I’ll be awake all night and am able to work, please?” He looked up again, giving him a playful wink before he typed in another paragraph. Taehyung really needed to finish his presentation in time.

Jungkook nodded courtly, thinking about the caramel flavoured espresso that they had in stock. Maybe a double shot of it, if the customer really wanted to kick his heartrate up. Just like that little wink of him had done it to Jungkook’s heart. Jungkook cleared his throat with a flustered expression, glad that the customer was still immersed in his laptop while he prepared the drink. As soon as it was finished he brought it over, placing it on the right side of the man’s laptop, ready to consume, “Please enjoy.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung didn’t look up, but instantly reached out for the cup and took a big gulp of it, not caring how hot it was. He was just about to finish the last pages of his presentation, when a beeping sound of his laptop made him aware that he was low on battery. “Fuck,” Taehyung cursed, when he roamed through his laptop bag, not finding the one cable he needed. He must have left it in his suitcase, that was already suited somewhere in the trunk of the plane. This day was only getting worse and worse. He groaned, leaning his head back. Rubbing his hands over his face, another sound, alarming him about his low battery, made him jerk out of his thoughts. “No, fuck, no no no,” Taehyung cursed even louder, when his laptop suddenly turned black and just because he was so frustrated he slammed his laptop shut right away. Him out of all people forgot a stupid charger. He, who was the leading CEO of a multinational technology company.

Jungkook flinched at the sudden sound. He had tried to be polite and not react to his customers swearing rant but apparently the other was just getting more and more angry. “Uhm, excuse me, sir…,” He finally dared to step in, “Is there a problem? We... we are always trying to make our customer’s relaxed and happy.” He had added the last part hastily as to not seem as if he was prying but now that he had listened to himself talk it sounded even more awkward with it.

Taehyung groaned again, when suddenly the boy stood in front of him again and he raised his eyebrow. “No, your coffee is fine, don’t worry,” Taehyung opened the button of his suit jacket and raked his hand through his hair. He smiled with the way, the younger one was trying to make him feel all right, so he pointed at his laptop. “I forgot my charger in my suitcase and either way it’s awful to work here since the wifi sucks all over the airport, no offense! But...ah whatever, you don’t care,” Taehyung said and finally got rid of his jacket at whole, opening the first button of his dress shirt as well before he pointed to his empty cup, “You can get me another one of these, please. They are really good!”

Jungkook’s eyes followed the way his customer was opening button after button on his shirt and he swallowed hard when he the low groan had his mind going somewhere else. Jin would so have his head if he knew about his customer-inappropriate-thoughts. Jin was very strict about how they should behave and about the quality of the coffee so Jungkook tried to at least excel in one of those categories and got his chargerless customer a free refill. He bit his lip, considering if he should overstep even more boundaries and then gathered a little courage, “If it isn’t some special kind of charger then...I could maybe lend you mine? If you want.” He avoided the other’s eyes, getting shy after his offer. What must that boy think of him? He was the barista, not his friend. An airport barista at that. Somewhere in a small airport at ass o clock in the morning. He could feel his cheeks heating up and wished himself somewhere far, far away.

Taehyung didn’t mind his forwardness at all, instead asked him if he could get the charger right away with a smile. It was stupid to even ask to lend one, if he was the one who made sure there were enough produced, as well as all other kinds of electronics but there was nothing else he could do but to lend it from a cute barista in the middle of the night. “That would really help me,” Taehyung said again, making a mental note to tip the young boy later on. He was sure that he hadn’t recognized him and who he was at all. Even better for him.

Jungkook hurried back behind the coffee machine and into the little room that was reserved for the barista’s stuff. He blushed harder when he realized that he had taken the bright red version of his chargers, the one that he had decorated with a few gold lines to make it resemble iron man’s suit. But what mattered wasn’t the look but the quality and that it would work. And chamoe products always held their promises. So he rolled it up neatly (he couldn’t just give that customer a mess of knots and cable) and then got back to do as he promised. “Here,” He placed in on the counter hoping the other wouldn’t comment on the look.

Taehyung chuckled lowly, when he saw the little custom-made coloring that obviously was made by the boy himself and took it. “Cute,” He commented and plugged it in, a smile appearing on his face when he could finally start his laptop again, “Thank you!” He quickly got back to work, happy when Jungkook got him another cup of that delicious coffee. Jungkook bit his lip shyly to hide his smile at the other’s comment, happily going back to work (which now that his customer was happy meant cleaning the coffee machines).

Taehyung didn’t notice how the night sky darkened outside and how it got even quieter around him. Rolling his head around, he massaged the stiffness out of his neck as he looked up, his gaze falling onto the younger ones who was stifling a yawn cutely. Taehyung had been so occupied with himself, that he hadn’t noticed how cute the boy was looking, in his little black apron, with a white barista shirt. He squinted his eyes, trying to read the boy’s name tag but failed. When their gazes suddenly met, Taehyung awkwardly averted his gaze, his cheeks blushing from staring too long. Did he notice?  

Of course Jungkook had noticed the other’s gaze on him almost immediately and quickly came over, mistaking it for an understated hint that he should take an order or do a coffee refill. Taehyung coughed to get his voice back, when the boy was asking if he wanted some more coffee. “No, I’m good for now. But…You don’t happen to know a way to get better internet connection here as well?” He sighed, when he saw the two lines blinking, showing that he only got a bit of service and not all five lines.

“Ah, I’m sorry to disappoint. It’s always like this at this time. If you were able to get into the VIP section then you wouldn’t have any problems with that but passengers with normal tickets aren’t allowed to go up there,” He shrugged his shoulders, “I mean it’s not as if the entry would be heavily guarded but...you know, it’s not allowed.” The mischievous glint in his eyes never meant anything good. Taehyung leaned back, putting his hands behind his head as he got himself comfortable. “So, not really guarded…,” He murmured, looking up at the boy in interest. “Where can I find that magical land that promises me better wifi?” Taehyung teased the younger with a playful wink but only then he realized that even if he wanted to, he couldn’t go. “Ah, fuck, forget it,” Taehyung waved him off, “I can’t work without your charger, so I guess I’m stuck here. He sighed deeply, when he got his cup to take the last slip, “…at least I got cute company.”  

Jungkook almost choked at that comment that had been said to nonchalantly that he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t imagining things. He could feel his face heating up again and his heart beating quickly against his rib cage. He knew that what he was about to do was utterly stupid and could cost him his job but nonetheless he cleared his throat a little awkwardly before suggesting seemingly unperturbed, “Maybe I should go with you then. Just to make sure that you don’t run off with my charger of course.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at his suggestions, not sure if the younger one was trying to flirt with him or just being nice. A smirk placed itself on his lips and he nodded. “Well, maybe you should,” He leaned in a little closer to read the boy’s name tag, “Jungkook…but shouldn’t you also be responsible and be in charge of the coffee shop? I haven’t seen someone else around since your coworker left, so I guess you can’t leave like that, or can you?” Jungkook made a show of looking right and left, looking down the empty hallways where literally not one single soul was around. “Oh, I guess you’re right. I can’t possible close the shop under this onslaught of customers. I don’t even know how you managed to get a seat. Must be your irresistible charms,” He burst out laughing at Tae’s reaction while pulling at the apron’s bow on his lower back, “There is rarely ever anyone there at this time of the night. And if there is someone around who wants a coffee I can put up the sign that says ‘I’ll be back in a moment’. We are supposed to use it for bathroom breaks only but maybe I just needed to use the bathroom at the other end of the airport.” Jungkook smirked cheekily.

Taehyung couldn’t help but smile, liking the boldness of the younger one. He quickly saved his project, put his laptop back into his bag and then got the charger, before he stood up. Following Jungkook back to the counter, he watched him in interest as he got out the little sign and vanished for a few seconds behind a door, to come back without his apron and with a smile on his face. He had to admit that he really liked that smile. For a second Jungkook was considering his own rationality very carefully - but then he shrugged his shoulders and went on with it. Aside from everything he had told the other being true (he never had any customers at this time plus there was a coffee vendor round the corner) the airport wasn’t really a place for regular customers who would be pissed if their coffee shop was close. Jin might look at it differently for sure but to Jungkook the prospect of a little fun at this hour was so much more worth that the risk of potentially losing the money for one single cup of coffee. That said customer was so handsome offered additional enticement.

Just when Jungkook stood by his side again, Taehyung reached out his hand. “By the way…I’m Tae, nice to meet you,” Taehyung said and pulled his laptop bag a little closer over his shoulder again, ready to follow Jungkook. He only gave the barista his nickname, not sure if he would recognize his name as soon as he would give it to him. He liked it like this. There was no expectations, no weird looks coming from Jungkook or anything else that came with being a successful CEO at a young age whose life and business was all out there for the public to see through the media.

Jungkook took his hand easily, glad that he could refer to Tae by his name now. Calling him ‘my customer’ or ‘handsome’ in his head had gotten a bit tiring. “Nice to meet you too. Let’s find out how much better the wifi in the VIP section really is!” He made it sound like some an expose of two undercover investigators but Tae seemed to have just as much fun with it than he did so he felt like he could really be himself there.

“I hope it is, I’d really like to check if my secr-, if my emails came in,” Taehyung quickly changed the words, hoping that Jungkook wouldn’t notice, “I couldn’t access anything with the slow wifi.” He didn’t need the other to know that he had a secretary or anything remotely like that. Taehyung had only put his suit jacket over his arm, not wanting to put it back on as he followed Jungkook down the empty halls and now he was fumbling around with it awkwardly. Trying to distract from himself, in hope Jungkook wouldn’t ask him too many questions, he spoke up again. “Do you…do night shifts often?” Taehyung asked, wanting to hit himself for asking the dumbest question of all. It was equally as dumb as if he had asked him if he was around the airport often. Jungkook didn’t mind the question and he also had entirely missed Taehyung stumbling over his words. He was stumbling over his own tongue so often whenever he was nervous that he didn’t thought anything of it. “Oh I do most of them. They get you the highest payment rate and if I’m quick and clean everything perfectly before my shift ends then I can play video games or practice dance moves in the aisle front of the counter,” He answered honestly. “I often share the shifts with Jimin, the guy that you met before me,“ He chuckled, remembering the matcha latte incident, “I’ll tell you a secret, he was quite intimidated by you. What kind of important stuff where you writing on your laptop back there if I’m allowed to ask. Were you studying?”

Taehyung only chuckled low when Jungkook mentioned that his coworker had been intimated. Either he had recognized him, or he had sounded rude, but Taehyung was sure he had asked nicely for a coffee so it couldn't be the last option. “I..yeah…kind of. It’s like a research project though,” Taehyung tried to be as subtle as possible and not give to many details, “I just hope my flight gets back on schedule soon or else the work will be for nothing.” Taehyung pointed at a door at the end of the hallway, keeping Jungkook from asking more questions, “Is that it?”

Jungkook gripped Taehyung's arm out of reflex when the other stopped so abruptly. “Yeah, that’s it,” He lowered his voice a little, an enjoyable tingle running down his spine at the ‘adventure, “Now we have to be really sneaky - if the VIP personnel gets us we’re screwed.” He made a few careful steps forward, looking around before waving Tae forward, “Come on, I think we’re safe. Let’s get you that wifi. You’re gonna ace that project, i’m sure!”

Taehyung grinned at the way Jungkook was pretending to be a secret agent but followed him quick. Both were quiet, taking only slow measured steps. Jungkook leaned over, peaking into the door to see if it was clear, when suddenly the security guard came right into their direction. “Shit,” Reacting quick, Taehyung pulled Jungkook back and a few steps away from the door. Pushing him against the wall, he put one arm onto the wall, leaning in closely with his whole body. “Stay still,” He hissed quietly, his breath tickling Jungkook on his neck. Jungkookie did exactly what Tae told him - staying as stiff and motionless as a piece of wood. Funnily it wasn’t because of what Tae had said but rather what he had done, his body stiffening the moment his back hit the wall and Tae leaned in.

The security guard was whistling happily, when he stood at the entry to look left and right. Only when he saw the two boys, seemingly busy with something very private (at least that’s what it looked like to him) he stopped. “Kids,” He murmured in a low voice but went ahead to walk further down the hallway and away from the VIP section.

For a moment Jungkook felt like the girl in so many highschool kdramas where their love interest crowded them in just to kiss them passionately a second later. But obviously this wasn’t a drama and Tae wasn’t kissing him. Sadly. Jungkook swallowed hard when his eyes were automatically drawn down towards Tae’s lips who looked incredibly soft and kissable. Where was that infamous self-control if one needed it?

“I think we’re good,” Taehyung whispered, still staying close to the other for a little while. He leaned back, making sure that the guard was gone before he turned back to Jungkook. “Let’s go, Jungkookie,” The cute name slipped from his lips naturally as he pushed himself off the wall. Walking ahead, Taehyung didn’t notice how flustered Jungkook was, his eyes only set on the better wifi. Nonetheless, when he was opening the door, he bowed dramatically for Jungkook, “After you.”

The urge to chase after Tae’s lips and capture them with his own was almost unbearable and only when Taehyung moved away was the spell broken and Jungkook could breathe normally again. He really hoped that Tae hadn’t noticed how fixated he had been on his mouth or else he would die from embarrassment.

Jungkook tried his best to act absolutely cool when Tae cleared the way for them but he lost that game the second when Tae called him ‘Jungkookie’. He loved that nickname and hearing how naturally it rolled off Taehyung’s tongue was internally making him shiver.

While Jungkook was busy with keeping himself together, Taehyung was already looking around the private section. It wasn’t as fancy as the ones he had seen in bigger airports, but it definitely held the same things: comfortable seats, two floors with an incredible view over the runways, drinks dispenser with overpriced water and champagne and hopefully better wifi. Taehyung had spotted a more secluded place right away and turned to Jungkook, who looked like he was frozen in his movements. Not really wondering what was on the barista’s mind he grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. “I think over there we won’t be seen right away if the guard comes back, but we will have a good view over the main door,” Taehyung explained and when Jungkook didn’t make any move to sit down, he simply pushed him onto the high-class seats.

Jungkook blinked up at him, not sure if Taehyung really didn’t realize how much he was manhandling him or if he had noticed how much Jungkook was into him and was now teasing him about it. Either way Jungkook didn’t really have a choice but to act as if he was totally fine with Tae pushing him against walls and into cushioned seats as if he was about to make out with him just to turn away in favour of his wifi. If Jungkook hadn’t tried so hard to pretend he was cool then he would have pouted hard at this.

“So, tell me a little bit about yourself,” Taehyung asked and sat down himself, to get out his laptop again, “I guess you like Iron Man?” He waved the charger in the air a little, with a fond smile on his face, before he plugged it back in. “Do you paint over your chargers often?” Taehyung smirked as he opened the presentation again, looking up at the other, “Did you hate the way it looked that much?”

Taehyung didn’t mind the design; indeed, Taehyung had requested for a partnership with known movie productions, liking the idea of having customized products – but that was always a long way to go. Meetings, presentations, contracts, advertisement and even more meetings. Jungkook fidgeted with his sleeves at Tae’s gentle teasing, “Ah, no, that wasn’t it. I actually really liked the color of the charger. Only chamoe sells ones that are so nicely colorful. Apart from them also having the best quality of course. But...yeah, I’m a bit of an ironman fanboy and as the color was just too perfect I just had to add the little gold details.” His smirk went proud before he continued, “And apparently I did an awesome job with it or else you wouldn’t have recognized of whom I copied it so easily, right?”

“You did,” Taehyung said with a soft smile. “I’ll try and make this as quick as possible, so we can go back,” Taehyung reassured the other with a smile, who was still looking at him like a deer in the headlights, mistaking it for him being anxious about the coffee shop. Jungkook leaned back into the soft chair, unconsciously baring his neck to Tae beautifully before sighing contently, “Don’t worry about that. I’m perfectly fine here. I never thought that it really would make that much of a difference to fly first class.”

Taehyung’s gaze wandered over from Jungkook’s eyes to his jawline and neck, but he quickly shook himself out of his thoughts about placing kisses there and concentrated back on his presentation. “Yeah, quite a difference,” Taehyung smirked and started typing, “You said, you dance as well? So, you’re actually quite artistic in general? I like that.” His eyes were scanning over the text on his laptop, but Taehyung was still all ears on whatever Jungkook was telling him. A knowing smile on his face, each time Jungkook talked about how comfortable first class was – Taehyung had experienced it multiple times himself.

“Thanks,” Jungkook’s smile grew wider at the praise and he felt so at ease that he was joking around a little, “Maybe I should send the company my ideas and they’ll hire me as designer.” His little chuckle sounded cute and melodic, the way it did when he was actually happy, “Sadly those ‘artistic talents’ aren’t worth that much in my job. Unless you count coffee art. I can make you a really nice kohaku latte. That’s something else you can do if there’s no one around but most customers want their coffees quick and strong and definitely not decorated in spirited away fanart.” He was surprised about himself that he was talking so much and so personal already. Maybe it was the night or the rush of doing something forbidden that had loosened his tongue.

“Maybe you should send in a portfolio or something,” Taehyung winked playfully at him, loving the idea of having a look through of his designs, “You never know if you never try.” Jungkook easily waved it off, “Nah, I don’t wanna disturb a bunch of men suits within their office routine.”

Taehyung only raised an eyebrow at that, before he focused back on his presentation, typing away like crazy all while he was checking his emails for updates. Unfortunately his secretary couldn’t get another plane since he was stuck in a little airport where there was literally only two planes and on top of that she had confirmed that his plane wouldn’t take off until tomorrow morning. And if he didn’t want to fly back to europe, he had to wait.

Taehyung sighed, raking his hand through his hair when he had to come to terms with the fact that he really had to spend the whole night at the airport. He turned to Jungkook when a little smile appeared on his lips. At least he had company. Taehyung had just wanted to ask him if he would make him some coffee art later, when sudden footsteps made Jungkook jerk around and Taehyung saw the security guard coming back into their section. The tall and broad shouldered guy hadn’t noticed them, yet but if they didn’t get away quick, he for sure would.

“Sheesh, how often do they patrol around here? It’s a lounge not a museum,” Jungkook whispered before pulling Tae down from his seat and behind a couch where they could hide behind some of the plants that were all around the lounge area to make it look more ‘relaxing’ and ‘modern’. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable hiding spot but Jungkook was sure that the man would just pass them by and they would be out in the open in a few seconds again. “My laptop,” Taehyung murmured and pointed onto the table. There was no way he would walk passed it without noticing it. He leaned onto Jungkook’s back, stifling his giggles. Somehow, he found this way too funny, especially since Taehyung was allowed to be here.

Jungkook didn’t knew, but in his back pocket was settling a ticket for the business class, that also granted him access to the VIP lounge. But not telling the Barista was way more fun, since this way he had accompanied him. When the guard came closer, Taehyung wrapped his arm around the younger’s waist, pushing himself closer to Jungkook. His mouth right next to Jungkook’s ear.

Jungkook would have put his hand over Tae’s mouth to make the other shut up if he hadn’t been afraid that any movement would alarm the security man now that he was pretty close to them. Jungkook himself had no problem shutting up right now, his throat had closed up anyway. If he was found sneaking around the VIP lounge while also leaving the coffee shop unsupervised Jin would have his ass. He would very certainly be fired. So he held his breath, silently praying that the man would either not see the laptop or think that a customer had left it who was now on the toilet or that he would simply take it to the lost and found section where Tae would be able to get it afterwards.

A sudden cough made both of them jerk their heads up, when they saw how the guard parted the leaves of the plant, looking at them with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, I found some fruits,” The guard joked teasingly, motioning them to get up. Taehyung did as he ordered right away, pulling Jungkook with him, because the younger looked rather frozen. “You both know hiding behind a plant, even if it’s a poorly made fake one, will not help me in believing that you two are allowed to stay here?” The guard’s gaze was fixed on Jungkook, seeing him as an easier prey.

Jungkook took a step forward his excuse of him wanting to water the plants dying in his throat when the man told him it was a fake one. He had been too busy trying not to get caught to notice that while he had been hiding. Now there was nothing else to do but to come clean, but he would make sure that at least one of them got out of this unharmed. “I’m really sorry, Sir, it was my fault,” It was obvious that he was working somewhere around the airport from the clothes he was still wearing (the labels on their clothes were similar even though each one had their own logos, the one of Jin’s cafe on his back and all the aprons) but he still mentioned it, hoping that the ‘common ground’ would make the guard be nicer to them, “I work here and...and my friend here needed Wifi for an important presentation. His flight was delayed and there’s no good wifi around the airport except here so I told him to go here. But he had no idea it was forbidden. I just told him we have to be silent that no one who wants to sleep gets disturbed. I’m really sorry for making your job difficult, Sir. If you report me then please, leave my friend out of it. It wasn’t his fault that I got him into trouble.”

Taehyung had kept his face low, not wanting to interfere with whatever Jungkook was trying to get them out of this, but he realized too quick that it would get him into trouble. He wouldn’t want Jungkook to get fired. Not because of him being selfish and taking the barista up on his offer, while he had been allowed to be here all this time.

“Excuse me, sir,” Taehyung’s voice was low, and he slipped into his business persona easily. When the guard’s gaze met his, he furrowed his brows in confusion for a second, before Taehyung stepped forward a little more, the light illuminating his face and he could recognize him. His mouth agape and the guard took a step back, when Taehyung motioned for him to talk in private. He whispered a quick ‘don’t worry’ to Jungkook, before he followed the guard.

Jungkook stood dumbfoundedly right where Tae had left him, watching how the man’s demeanor changed completely - just like Tae’s had done only seconds before he had stepped forward. Whatever he was telling the man it seemed to work because Tae came back quickly - alone, and without the security man dragging them away on their collar.

Taehyung really didn’t want for Jungkook to lose his job, or to have any difficulties because of this, so he made sure that the guard knew who he was and that he sure wouldn’t want to mess with him. The guard quickly bowed and apologized, knowing the importance of this guest (though he still didn’t understand why he had hid, but it wasn’t his job to question that). Taehyung nodded courtly, getting back to Jungkook and quickly grabbed his laptop and then his wrist. “Come, let’s get somewhere else,” Taehyung said and dragged him along. At the door, they passed the guard again, who was apologizing repeatedly. “Don’t worry about that,” Taehyung’s hand laid on Jungkook’s lower back as he pushed him forward.

Jungkook didn’t dare to question anything as long as the man was still around so he just followed Tae obediently, giving the guard an apologetic smile when they passed him and trying to not look as utterly confused as he felt. When they had rounded the corner Jungkook speed up and because Tae didn’t follow immediately he plucked his hand from his lower back (where it had gotten awfully, flusteredly warm) and took his hand, pulling him with him. Only when they were back at the cafe, ‘safe’ cause that's where they were supposed to be, he came to a halt.

Out of breath he leaned his back against the counter, staring at Tae questioningly, “What exactly did you tell him? He actually apologized to us!”

“You don’t need to worry about that, please,” Taehyung answered quickly, “Just know that no one’s going to fire you or anything.” He smiled at him reassuringly, hoping that he wouldn’t ask more questions. He was fine with Jungkook not knowing who he really ways and what kind of influences he had. He liked it this way. Jungkook wasn’t sure if Tae was trying to be mysterious or if he really didn’t want to tell him because he had lied or blackmailed him or anything (though he didn’t really thought that Tae looked like someone who would do that) but he decided to let it slide either way.

Rubbing his neck awkwardly, Taehyung used Jungkook’s silent confusion to ask him something off topic, in hope for him to spend more time with him and forget to ask further questions. “Do…do you maybe want to…ehm…watch the sunrise together? I heard it’s quite beautiful…over the runways, I mean…I don’t know I’ve never seen it from here before, you probably know that better,” Taehyung stuttered, hitting himself mentally for asking such a cliché question.

Jungkook stared at him for a second - and then burst into laughter. “Wow, that really sounded as if you were asking out your highschool crush in some romance movie where the last shot is the main characters holding hands in the soft light of the rising sun. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it - and I’d love to watch the sunrise with you. And yeah, I’m a total sunrise expert. I can show you exactly where you should be and with that many people around…”, He stretched out his arms in the empty hallway, “...we can steal the nicest spot and some comfy chairs too!”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, and a bright smile appeared on his lips. “I know it was awkward to ask, no need to point that out,” Taehyung shrugged his shoulders, “There’s not much to do at an airport at this time and I’d really like…I just like you around.” The last words were almost a murmur, as he felt like he was exposing himself too much right now. He groaned quietly, turning to look around and find the perfect the place for them to sit. “We can still keep close if we just sit there,” Taehyung suggested and pointed at some chairs that were right in front of the big windows that spread all over the airport, “If any customers come and stuff…”

Jungkook’s smile turned fond when Tae was telling him that he liked him but he didn’t answer, instead he just observed Tae being even cuter and trying to look out for him with deciding on spots close to the cafe. “That’s nice of you. But if I do this…,” Jungkook went around the counter and then ducked to rummage through the storage shelves, getting out the metal table bell that they used if there were two of them working and the one at the front was getting too many customers to call the other for help (normally person number two was washing up then). He placed it on the counter so that it was obvious whoever wanted to be served just needed to use it, “...then we can go just around the corner where it’s even better to watch.” And they could push the sun loungers that were close in front of the windows so they could lay back comfortably.

Taehyung nodded, happy that Jungkook wanted to even spend more time with him. Though he really needed to get a hold of himself, or else it would get too obvious that he was getting fond of the other. Walking beside him, Taehyung followed Jungkook through the empty hallways. “Honestly, I don’t know if I could work this late at night,” Taehyung commented as he pulled out one of the sun loungers with the help of Jungkook, “It’s…weird with no one around, don’t you think? There’s literally not a soul…why do you have open then anyways? Not that I mind, but do you get customers often at night?”

“Not really. But that’s why I like it. When there are no customers I can finish my duties early and then do private things. Jin allows it as long as I’m behind the counter and are ready immediately if there is a customer after all.” He bit his lip before he added, “Which I normally always do, because I’m not sneaking into VIP lounges on the regular.” With a little wink at Tae he plopped down onto the lounger and stretched comfortably. “Ah, this is nice!” There were already the first tell-tale signs of the sun rising and Jungkook kept his gaze fixated on the massive glass front that gave them the perfect view.

Taehyung sat down on the lounger right next to Jungkook, but instead of watching out into the sun, he was observing the younger closely. The light was falling onto his skin, making it look golden. He had to fight the sudden urge to lean, wanting to touch the soft skin to see if it was radiating the same warmth. “I…I get us something to drink,” Taehyung stood up and turned, ignoring the fact that Jungkook was working in a coffee shop and easily could have gotten them something from there, he walked up to a drinks dispenser.

Jungkook frowned, thinking that Tae was talking about the coffee which meant he would have to get up and make it for him because there was no way he was allowed to let someone behind the counter even though the cash was locked away safely. But Tae walked the wrong way and then he realized that he was trying to get them something else which was a little bit dumb (considering that Jungkook could get himself a drink for free at the shop) but even more sweet. So he watched Tae with a little smile which only faltered when Tae chose the vending machine that he had a bit of a....personality. You had to treat it right or else she refused to give you anything.

Taehyung watched his money disappear repeatedly as he tried to get out some drinks. He cursed under his breath, not sure what to do. He really didn’t want to hit the poor dispenser, not wanting to get Jungkook’s attention and maybe make him think that he was always using his aggressive side first to solve problems. Taehyung laughed at himself, did he really wreck his mind about what Jungkook could think of him already? Only when the machine wasn’t responding again, he let out a frustrated curse.

“Wait, wait, wait, please stop!” Jungkook had jumped up when instead of just waiting Taehyung had just put more coins into the slot. “You’re confusing her. She needs some time to do what you’re asking!” He ignored Tae’s confused look and gently stroked the machines rounded corner where the color was already starting to fade. He gentle knocked against the side of the corner slot until he heard the sound of the stuck coins tumbling further into the machines insides. “And now if you…,” He gave the machine a heartfelt push against the side with his hip and it stirred to life, sending out four cans of whatever Taehyung had pressed the buttons for, “See? Not that hard.” His grin was so big it scrunched up his nose.

Taehyung had watched in awe how easily Jungkook managed the dispenser, his eyes fixated on his hands that looked so...soft...so delicate. He cleared his throat and kneeled to get the cans out. The smile on Jungkook’s face so pure that Taehyung was sure, he would do anything to make him smile like this again, even if it meant playing dumb at random drinks dispensers. Holding the four cans in his hands, Taehyung smiled right back at the younger and motioned for him to chose one. “Do you got magical hands or something?” Taehyung chuckled, happy that he didn’t spend more coins - not because he cared about the money, but because it would be awkward if even more cans came out.

Jungkook looked at the four cans, then choosing one at random because he liked all of them. Sweet sodas were just what he liked. He chuckled and then gave Tae a flirtatious look. “Hm, maybe I have. Do you wanna find out?” With a little click he opened the can and took a sip, all the while maintaining eye contact with Tae. If they had been in a club or somewhere else where flirting would possibly lead to something else he wouldn’t have been half as confident. But here, at the airport that he knew inside out somewhere in between night and morning and with someone that he knew basically nothing about but was inexplicably drawn to it came way more natural to him.

Taehyung almost choked on his coke, looking at Jungkook with big eyes but he quickly clicked his confident demeanor back in place. “Sure, whenever you want to,” He winked playfully before leading the way back to the sun loungers, the words Jungkook said lingering in the back of his mind for way too long. “Oh, but surely you don’t want to miss the sunset,” Jungkook winked at Tae, his heart fluttering in his chest and betraying his calm demeanor while he followed the other back to their prepared loungers. Taehyung put the two left over cans onto the floor beside the loungers, before he laid himself back down, putting one hand behind his head, while he sipped deliciously on his drink. “This is way more comfortable than the VIP area,” Taehyung murmured and sighed.

“Of course it is,” Jungkook agreed. “And the company is way better.” It was way too much fun to talk back and forth with Tae like this. They both knew that this was a one time thing and chance were that they would never see each other again. Jungkook ignored his stomach dropping a little and instead looked out the window where the first curve of the fiery sunball was starting to be visible on the horizon.

Taehyung was looking out, loving the view and how the sun was slowly painting everything golden. He sat up a little, a smile forming at his lips before he closed his eyes and let his face soak up the warmth. “I really spend a whole night at this stupid little airport, huh,” Taehyung murmured and gazed over to Jungkook, “At least I met you. You made it a lot more fun.”

“Stupid?” Jungkook blinked, getting strangely protective of his little world. Without noticing he started to pout until Tae’s compliment turned the corners of his mouth back up and he huffed. “You just trying to flatter me to get extra coffee,” He teased him, absolutely not serious about it. With the sun rising right before their eyes it felt like they could watch the time pass and Jungkook was a bit sad to realize that his shift would be ending soon.

Taehyung’s eyes were drawn to Jungkook’s lips the second he pursed them into a pout, sending his heart into an overdrive. He chuckled low at Jungkook’s comment, raking his hands through his hair. Leaning over the rest, Taehyung got closer to Jungkook, “I have do admit, I don’t really like coffee that much but…you…you probably would have been able to sell me anything.” He showed off his wide boxy grin, before he reached out to push a string of loose hair out of Jungkook’s face, that hid away his beautiful eyes.

Jungkook was just about to make another cheeky comment at that when Tae leaned forward and touched his face. His breath hitched while Tae’s fingers fleetingly graced his cheek, gently pushing away whatever hair had fallen into his face. Tae’s eyes were locked with his and Jungkook felt like he was drowning. It felt like his body was gravitating towards Tae on his own and his mind went completely blank.

Taehyung’s eyes fell onto Jungkook’s lips and his heart was beating wildly against his chest. Leaning in closer, he closed his eyes when…suddenly a ringing tone, followed by a hollowed-out sounding voice through the speaker interrupted the moment harshly. Taehyung startled, looking up to where the sound was coming from as he listened carefully. His flight has been called out and ready for boarding. Apparently, they had already shown that on the time tables, since it was the last call-out. Taehyung hadn’t even spare them one glance the entire night, his eyes only had been on Jungkook.

Jungkook hadn’t dared to move, caught up in the moment, anticipating lighting his nerves on fire until he could almost taste it on his tongue and then...Tae had jumped up. He flinched hard and then realisation hit him. His flight! Tae needed to go. Now.

Taehyung came to a halt in his movements, already up on his feet and ready to go when he saw Jungkooks face. He reached out a hand for him to take, helping him to get up from the lounger. Jungkook looked up at him, open and vulnerable, disappointment and longing clearly displayed in his eyes. He wasn’t really good at hiding when something got him emotional. When Tae helped him up he took his hand but dropped his gaze, looking bashfully at the ground. It had been a sweet little encounter, a coincidence. And now it was over and everything would go back to normal. Jungkook’s heart felt surprisingly heavy considering that he didn't even know Tae existed a few hours ago. he had gotten used to his presence remarkably quickly.

“I’m sorry Jungkookie,” Taehyung reached out to cup Jungkook’s cheek, lifting his head up so he could look him into the eyes. “It was so much fun, really. Probably the best night I’ve ever spend on an airport,” Taehyung jerked again, when his flight got called out once more. He needed to be fast. “Can I… can I ask you something?” Taehyung said and smiled at him reassuringly. Jungkook nodded quietly, his voice would probably betray him right now if he tried to talk. He had no idea what Taehyung could want from him. Taehyung spoke softly, his eyes on Jungkook’s, “Do you mind if I…I mean…can I kiss you?”

The final question was little a little electric shock that jolted through Jungkook, shocking him back to his senses. He stared at Tae, shook and not quite sure of he had heard right - but Tae’s sudden shyness proved it true. Without an answer Jungkook stepped closer until there was barely an inch left between them. “Only if I can kiss you too,” The whisper against Tae’s lips was swallowed immediately when Jungkook closed the distance and pressed his lips gently against Tae’s.

Taehyung stood still, letting Jungkook’s lips kiss his ever so softly. When he withdrew a bit again, Tae wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s waist, pulling him even closer. This time he kissed him for real. Deeper. More sensual. Pouring everything into the kiss that the boy had made him feel the last night. The sun rays were shining down on him, warming up their bodies all while Taehyung couldn’t get enough of Jungkook’s taste, his sweet feel. He just fitted so perfectly into his arms, as if he belonged there. Taehyung didn’t care that this time his name got called out, as the last passenger who was still needed for the airplane to take off, he just dwelled in the feeling of Jungkook’s lips against his. Jungkook got dizzy with the way Tae kissed him, his body melting under Tae’s hands like putty until it fitting right against Tae’s. He never knew kissing could feel like this so...wholly, sensually fulfilling.

Taehyung wasn’t sure what this was, or where this would go but one thing was sure – this boy already had him wrapped around his finger the minute Taehyung had laid his eyes on him. He cupped his face, letting his thumb stroke over his soft cheek as he withdrew to catch his breath. “Wow,” He whispered quietly, when a smile appeared on his lips. The butterflies in his stomach going crazy.

Jungkook sighed deeply when Tae finally broke away from him, as if Tae had kissed the air out of his lungs and now he couldn’t breathe right without him. He blinked a little, dazed from the warm feel where Tae’s hands were pressing against his body - and where his lips had been mere seconds ago. Another call and Taehyung groaned, but didn’t let go of Jungkook, yet. “I’m sorry, I really am,” He said and leaned in once more to place a soft kiss on his lips, before he unwrapped his arms from Jungkook and took his bag. “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Taehyung bit his lip, not wanting to part from the boy who had him losing his mind over the sweet kiss they just shared. He only reluctantly let go of Jungkook’s hand before he turned around, heading quick to the boarding station.

Jungkook looked after him, still a little dazed. He knew he should snap out of it but it was pretty difficult, if your world got turned upside down with a single kiss. He waved Tae goodbye who turned around once, twice, and then hastily tried to catch his flight.  The pull in his chest made it difficult to do anything else but it wasn’t exactly like he could go after him anyway so Jungkook stayed where he was. There was something lingering at the edge of his consciousness but he only realized what it was when Tae had rounded the corner and was gone. He didn’t even knew Tae’s full name! The flight attendant who had called him out over the speakers had said his full name, for sure and something in Jungkook’s mind had registered that it had sounded familiar but he couldn’t recall it at all. Tae’s touches had wiped anything else from his mind embarrassingly easily.

“Mr. Kim, nice to see you again, Sir!” The stewardess said and smiled as she took the ticket out of his hand. Taehyung only partly listened to her, his mind going back to Jungkook repeatedly. He also hadn’t noticed the stewardess, who asked what he wanted to drink, or who wanted to make sure he had enough cushions, so he was lying comfortable in his first class seat. He was staring out of the little window, looking at the airport, trying to desperately find a glimpse of Jungkook again. But any of these shadowy figures could be him. He couldn’t different them. Everything just looked the same from so far away.

Jungkook turned around to go back to the cafe to do his duty properly (at least at the end of this shift tonight) when he froze right within his movement. Wait – the direction Tae had walked in was completely wrong!

It was the business section, the one for the real wealthy folks, the business moguls and CEOs and spoilt brats of newly rich family dynasties. Jungkook turned back around to see if Tae would come back because he had realized his mistake but there was no one. Tae had just vanished. He must have somehow got the security guards to let him through. Just like he had managed with the one in the VIP area. Jungkook cocked his head, suddenly a lot more confused. It couldn‘t be that…no. Tae definitely wasn‘t one of those rich, spoilt brats. They wouldn‘t compliment a barista and spend time with someone like him or watch the sunset while drinking cheap, sweetened soda. Maybe…maybe they had announced that they had changed the gates for this special flight - and Jungkook just hadn‘t listened because he had been occupied. With how soft Tae‘s lips where. How perfect they had felt against his. With a shy little smile Jungkook traced his lips where Tae had kissed him.

…

“Jungkook! There you are!” Jin said hastily as he peeked through the door that was only for the workers of the coffee shop, “Can you please hurry a little? There are so many people here… I’m drowning in work…or coffee beans.” He laughed at his own joke, feeling content with himself as he disappeared again.

Jungkook gave an affirmative nod, while abusing his bottom lip with his teeth the way he always did when he was feeling the pressure on him. He was working as fast as he could already, but he still needed to go quicker, customers who had to wait too long just took another cafe and Jin relied on him to keep the customers happy.

He almost spilled the hot coffee over himself, when he brought the freshly brewed cups outside. “A vanilla latte and a double espresso?,” He asked, trying to find the people who ordered them which got more and more difficult the more faces he saw per hour and the more quickly they ordered. Quickly one customer by another vanished happily with a coffee in hand and Jungkook could finally breathe a little more, when he took another order. “Where’s Jimin, damn it,” Jin cursed quietly as he searched through the cabinet for sugar, hitting his head on the board above. Whining quietly, he came up again, when the boss’s eyes finally landed on Jimin but then his gaze wandered down to what he was holding. “We don’t get deliveries on Wednesdays,” Jin only commented.

“It’s not for us, it’s for Jungkook!” Jimin said with a smile on his face, “Here, someone put this aside for you!” Jungkook was ready to defend Jimin and invent something about the other getting milk (Jimin wouldn’t vanish without reason so until Jimin would come back to explain himself Jungkook would cushion the blow for him) but Jimin beat him to it. The package in his hand was explanation enough but Jungkook didn't think much of it - until Jimin said that it was for him.

“For me?” He repeated, incredulously, “But...I didn’t order anything! This must be a misunderstanding?” His eyes wandered from Jimin and the package to Jin and back, trying to figure out if this was a joke and they had put something scary into it as revenge for Jungkook leaving his place that night with Tae.

Tae…

A little sting inside of his ribcage had Jungkook sighing silently. He hadn’t heard from Tae since. And with neither his name nor a number or anything else to contact him he was bound to waiting until Tae would take the time to write him or call him or see him again. Every time he saw someone that looked like Tae from behind his heart took a leap - only to drop back down when that person turned, revealing a face that wasn’t Tae’s.

“Just open it,” Jimin nudged Jungkook’s side and even Jin was curiously looking over Jungkook’s shoulder after he had given the last customer his coffee, giving them a bit of a break. Both were watching Jungkook closely, anticipating who would sent an anonymous package to a coffee shop that was in an airport. And a small one at that. “It says your name right here on the top, so it can’t be a misunderstanding,” Jimin shrugged his shoulders and turned around to take the order from a customer that just arrived, but not before commenting it further, “Also that guy who brought it was pretty cute.”

Jungkooks head jerked up when Jimin said the secret messenger had been cute. “Was he…,” Jungkook bit his lip, breaking off to try and not tell Jimin too much if it really had been Tae (the boy was too curious for his own good already as it was). But why would he give him anything? Jungkook tried to shield the package from his coworkers eyes and failed miserably at it because he was too quick with opening it and instead of starting at one of the edges and peaking inside he had just taken the easy way and opened it where he was supposed to. Jin peeked over Jungkook’s shoulder, when he cocked his head at the sight of what was inside.

“Chargers? Why do you need so many chargers, Jungkook?” Jin asked with his brows furrowed, “Did you accidentally click the button too many times while ordering?" Jimin rushed back to Jungkook’s side, when he had finished the order and dipped his hand into the package. Jimin took one of the bright red chargers, that had an interesting detail to them out of the box and looked at it closely. “It’s…it’s Iron man?” He asked dumbfoundedly, “I didn’t hear that ‘chamoe’ even produced these kinds of chargers?”

Jungkook barely had time to observe the chargers which had strangely familiar color schemes before his nosy friends were speaking exactly what his mind was wondering. Inside the box were definitely chargers. Ones that he hadn’t ordered. But if he had known that they existed he would definitely have ordered them! Because they looked even better than what he had made of his; they had the same gold and red iron man color scheme but with an ironman mask on the biggest part where the charger was supposed to connect via usb and on the other side there was…he blinked.

On the other end of the cable on the smaller connector - there was his name. Jungkook. Unmistakably his. When Jin spotted Jungkook’s name written on the charger, he gasped, whining about how if he had known that there was a customized section, he would have already put his name on everything he owned from chamoe products. His laptop. His phone. His chargers. Jimin only laughed at his boss, turning to continue to clean the counters but not without pulling Jin away from Jungkook so he could look at his package alone for a moment. He had a feeling that it meant a little more, with the way Jungkook’s cheeks were blushing.

Jungkook’s heart fluttered - or the butterflies must have found a way to get all the way from his stomach to his chest. Before he even saw the little note he knew that it must be Tae who send this to him. He hadn’t showed his charger to a lot of people and especially not lately. But how on earth had Tae managed to get this? He took the simple folded white sheet out from under the chargers and unfolded it.

A sudden loud high-pitched gasp from Jin made Jimin and Jungkook turn around simultaneously. “Oh god, oh no, that’s him…it’s him,” Jin murmured anxiously, “Don’t tell me you fucked up his coffee and that’s why you brought him a second one?” Jimin came back around the counter and stared at Jin, furrowing his brows not sure what his boss was referring to.

“That’s Mr. Kim Taehyung, the Kim Taehyung,” Jin hissed under his breath, before showing off a beautiful smile to said man, before turning back to his employee, “He’s rich, influential and he could behead us if our coffee isn’t exactly how he ordered it!”

“What .. what are you talking...?” Jungkook cocked his head to the side when Jin started to freak out. He turned towards the counter to look for an old important looking man, but as soon as his eyes found Tae a smile bloomed on his face and everything else was forgotten. Whoever that Kim person was he couldn’t be half as interesting as Tae who had made the effort of getting him a customized Iron man charger...from Chamoe electronics...which was owned by the Kim heir...who apparently was sitting on the counter if he believed Jin’s rambling. Jungkook’s face fell when it clicked, “No way!”

“Oh no, he asked for a second one,” A smile pulled at Jimin’s lips as he looked over to Jungkook and Jin followed his gaze, both now staring at Jungkook. Jimin with a cocky knowing expression all while Jin wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. Only when he saw the charger in Jungkook’s hand, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Jungkook turned towards Jimin eyes wide and expression somewhere between disbelief and wariness. “That night...when that guy ordered a matcha latte at the end of your shift...and you said you were intimidated...did you mean you were intimidated because he was so good looking or...?” Jimin only chuckled at Jungkook’s question and then shook his head, “No…because I knew Jin would kill me if he heard that I fucked up an order for Kim Taehyung.” He took a step closer to Jungkook and patted his shoulder in a reassuring manner, “I don’t know what exactly you put into his coffee…but I think he took a liking in you. He can’t stop looking over here.”

Jin was hastily looking over to where Taehyung sat and then back to Jungkook. “Go!” Jin exclaimed out of a sudden and waved his hands in the air, motioning for Jungkook to walk over to where Tae sat, “You can’t let him wait!”

“But...but I can’t just walk over there now that…,” Before he could even end his sentence he felt hands at his back pushing him forwards so that he stumbled towards the counter pretty ungracefully. He had no idea if it had been Jin or Jimin who pushed him (he had been too occupied with staring at Tae) but he promised himself to get revenge on them both.

“H.. Hi, Tae...Mister Kim?” He greeted the other awkwardly, not really sure how to behave now that he knew how important it was for Jin that he didn’t make any mistakes. “Thank you for the present. It’s…,” He bit his bottom lips again out of nervousness although he had worried it plump and red already, “I really liked it.” A small tell tale smile gave away how much exactly.  

“Mr. Kim?” Taehyung looked up at the cute barista, “Please, I’m barely older than you. Just call me Tae.” He saw how nervous Jungkook was, the eyes of his coworkers burning holes in his back. Taehyung winked at them, before returning his attention back to Jungkook. Since the younger wasn’t making any move to sit down, he stood up. “I’m sorry,” He rubbed his neck awkwardly, “I mean…that I didn’t tell you who I was…I just… I didn’t want you to act differently around me and it was just a nice change of events that you didn’t recognize me right away. Since…since that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He took a step closer to Jungkook, very much aware that now even the customers around were staring.

Jungkook finally looked up, insecure and completely out of his depth. “It’s .. it’s okay,” Finally a lot of things made a little more sense. He gasped when he realized that it also explained how Tae had managed to get the security man on their side. “You knew about the VIP area! You just played along to... to…,” He blushed deeply. Tae could have used countless situations to embarrass him if that’s what he had been after. But from what Tae was telling him it rather looked as if he had played the fool simply to be with him. Jungkook played with the hem of his apron. “You could probably buy the whole VIP area if you wanted. And instead you ran around with me, passing the time with soda and sunrise.”

“I could buy the whole airport if I wanted to,” He joked but quickly put his soft demeanor back in place as he took Jungkook’s hand, “It was way more fun to spend the night with you. I really mean it… VIP areas can be quite boring if you’re all by yourself and everyone is afraid to talk to you.” He let his thumb caress over Jungkook’s wrist. He had missed this boy so much. The small contact felt so intimate it had Jungkook shudder.

Feeling weird to still stand in the middle of the coffee bar, a cheeky smile appeared on Taehyung’s lips as an idea crossed his mind. “What do you think about getting out of here for a while? I don’t really like the way these people are looking at us,” Taehyung chuckled and motioned over to an older pair who was pointing at him and then at their newspaper. “Do you trust me?” Taehyung asked, not really expecting an answer, but pulling Jungkook along and towards the counter. “Sir, do you mind if you give Jungkook off for the rest of the day?” Taehyung asked Jungkook’s boss politely right away. Jungkook half opened his mouth to apologize on Taehyung's half and tell Jin that of course he would work because he couldn’t just force his colleagues to work for him like that but Jin agreed before he could do that - and even added to Jimin, “Was about time someone got him out. I was afraid his days would consist of video games and coffee for the rest of his life.” Jungkook gave him an offended pout and crossed his arms in front of his chest (deciding to thank them later for covering his shift and maybe share his customized chargers with them. Just maybe). Then he let Taehyung take him away.

Taehyung thanked him and smiled widely at Jungkook, before he abruptly came to a halt again, not far from the coffee shop. He turned to the other, chuckling at himself, “I’m sorry, I totally forgot my manners…I was just so happy to see you here again and that…and that you still…like me, I guess.” He cleared his throat before putting out his hand for Jungkook to shake, “I’m Kim Taehyung, twenty-five, I’m the heir of chamoe electronics, a capricorn and I love sweetened soda and recently I’ve been really into caramel flavored espressos.” Jungkook burst out laughing at that official greeting. “Better late than never,” He contered and shook Tae’s hand. The look Tae gave him in the little pause that followed made him realize that he was expected to do the same. “Oh, uhm...my name is Jeon Jungkook, twenty-three, the king of video games, Virgo, I drink coffee only if it’s really necessary although I’m a barista and lately I’m really into kissing sweet guys during sunrise. Or sunsets. Or any time really, as long as they are you.”

Taehyung couldn’t hide the wide grin on his face, whispering a sweet ‘me, too’ before wrapping his arm around Jungkook’s waist to pull him in. “I’m still not sure if you put something into my coffee, but if you did…don’t stop, because I really like this feeling,” Taehyung whispered onto Jungkook’s lips before pressing them together in a sensual kiss. He could hear the squeal of the boss and a cup breaking, followed by a laugh but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to kiss Jungkook. His other hand found its way up to his cheek, deepening the kiss. Jungkook opened his lips willingly to let Taehyung in. Anything else around them was forgotten the second Taehyung had pulled him into his embrace. Although they were right at an airport, the epitome of travel and being far away from everything familiar he felt like he had found what everyone was looking for. Within a person called Kim Taehyung he had found home.

A/N: We tried to write a short story and set ourselves the limit of 10k words…well we wrote 11k but it’s still close, lmao. We hope you liked it! We’re already working on two new stories and ‘Through the veil’ isn’t finished yet so you'll have quite a few things to look forward too :3 Anyways…Please leave us a comment on how you liked this little fluffy story!  I LOVE YOU GUYS!

[softmoxymuffin]

“Learning Experience”

forgot to upload this on tumblr but had uploaded it on ao3 i dont know either not a lot of people read my fics on tumblr or the whole censorship thing is affecting my smut more than it really should have but either way here’s chapter 6

Chapter 1: Check Please

Chapter 2: Airplanes and Automobiles

Chapter 3: Tellin’ the Folks

Chapter 4: Hot Cocoa and Surprise Hugs

Chapter 5: Breakfast Sandwiches

Chapter 6: Learning Experience

Chapter 7: Keeping up Defenses

Chapter 8: Confessions in the Bitter Cold

Breakfast was a success. Though Dean wouldn’t call what he did cooking, the Rollins family and especially Seth were absolutely thankful for it. He had prepared some eggs 3 ways; sunny side up, scrambled, and poached. He fried up some bacon and a couple of breakfast sausages. Dean had separated the bread; some he had left plain, some toasted, and a couple he had drenched and turned to French toast. While Dean had done that, Seth had prepared everything else that didn’t require heating up. He had a fresh batch of coffee going. He filled a pitcher full of orange juice. He got the fruit that Dean had been able to buy and cut them up.

Once they were done they had made a decent spread on the kitchen island. It wasn’t until everyone had loaded their individual plates when Brandon, Seth’s older brother, mentioned this reminded him of the taco station their dad would prepare for them as kids. Everything just laid out for everyone else to come and assemble what they wanted. Apart from breakfast his mom and dad would make for them, Seth could easily admit this was one of the best breakfast’s he’d ever.

“This was wonderful Dean,” Holly had spoken while eating her slices of French toast with honey and berries. “Thank you.”

“Neh, don’t mention it.” The blond had replied before taking a sip of his coffee, Seth suspecting the mug was their to hide the blush forming on his cheeks.

“No, really Dean.” Hector who had stood up to grab another cup of coffee, had stopped to put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “My family and I really appreciate it. It’s been a while since we’ve had everyone under one roof again. And as fun as taking care of these little monsters can be, it was really thoughtful of you to offer us your help. So, thank you.”

Seth’s stepdad Hector was a kind man. It was easily seen in his demeanor. Ever since Seth’s own father walked out on them, Hector had been the man of the house and had taken him and Brandon in his arms like they were his own kids. Though, the whole ordeal had caused Seth to go through a couple of difficult teen years it wasn’t until after all that when he realized how blessed he was to have his stepdad and his mom stuck by him through it all.

Being surrounded by his family, reminded of everything he’d gone through. Now to have Dean, a member of chosen family, be a part of it all and see not only his stepdad but his whole family welcome him so easily, Seth felt his heart full and happy. Whatever the circumstances were, no matter how bad it could be, Seth was glad Dean had chosen to come to him. Seth was glad his family seems to have chosen Dean as much as Seth already had.

After breakfast, Holly and Dd had insisted to do the cleaning after everything Dean and Seth had already done. Hector had plans to clean up the garage and shovel the driveway. Seth and Dean had volunteered to help, but Hector had insisted that he and Brandon were more than capable of finishing the job, much to Brandon’s dismay. Hector had reminded Seth of how much he had wanted to check up on his wrestling school and should take the chance to do so now.

“They’d really appreciate seeing you again.” Hector had said. “They haven’t seen you since November. Think it’s time for a visit.”

“They’re still there? I mean, hadn’t they gone off for the holiday?” Dean had asked.

“Well, most of them have.” Holly had answered with a sad sigh as she put dishes away. “But some of our kids have difficult home lives. Let’s just say they’d much rather stay than go home.”

Before Seth could ask about that, Dean had made a sad sigh of his own and agreed. “I totally get that.”

Now, Seth rudely reminded how he was still clueless about what was going on with Dean. He was tempted to ask, but knew the timing was not right. Instead, he had turned to his friend and asked.

“You wanna come check the place out?” he asked with an excited smile.

“Me?” Dean sounding more confused than he really should have.

“Yeah you,” he repeated. “The kids’ll love it. I mean it’s a wrestling school. It’s basically like you’re coming in as a guest lecturer.” He lightheartedly joked.

The thought made Dean smile but still felt the need to ask “You sure about that? I had never been any good at school.”

“I’m positive.” Seth insisted. “Those kids will shit themselves when they find out you’re there. Plus, they’d actually learn something valuable.” Seth smiled. Then both wrestlers went to their respective rooms to get ready.

It had been a couple of weeks since Seth had gone to “Black and Brave”. He did his best to keep up to date with the place and made sure he had a good grasp on everything going on. But with all the travelling and shows, it can be pretty difficult to run a school so far away from it all. He was grateful he had the chance to do so now. Then to bring Dean along would be such a great opportunity for the kids. Apart from that, he thought maybe the experience would also be a good for Dean. Would be a good distraction from whatever he was going through. It would put him in his element and have other see that too is just a bonus.

By the time Seth was ready, he had gone downstairs. His mom had insisted he take some of the leftovers from breakfast for their lunch with the kids at the school. Seth took the sandwiches and had gone down to warm up his car only to find his friend already there and seemed to have been checking the trunk.

“What you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Dean said innocently the way kid does when he’d done something behind your back.

“Ok,” Seth knew better, but he was willing to see this through.

“What’s that?” Dean asked motioning at the Tupperware he was holding.

“Lunch stuff.” Seth had imitated Dean’s earlier answer but added “Mom wanted us to bring some leftover sandwiches for the kids at the school.”

“Sweet,” Dean had said before he climbed in the passenger seat and took the sandwiches from the other man to place them on his lap.

The drive to the school was made both feel familiar. Seth behind the wheels with Dean shotgun. Dean had asked a couple of questions about the place before getting there, just wanting to orient himself about the school; How many kids they got? Less then 20 maybe even less now during the holidays. How old are they? They ranged from 16 to 23. How far along are they? Some are there for the fun of it, less than a handful seem to be really in for it in the long haul, while most are more or less curious about the whole thing wanting to learn more. Seth couldn’t really think of anything deeply important to tell the other man, and just reassured him that he’ll be great. He honestly thinks the kids will just be thrilled to have another wrestler there to teach them something new.

He had parked right outside the building. The place was a converted warehouse. It had reminded Dean of the FCW headquarters before he and Seth had joined the main roster. Seth hadn’t noticed the resemblance until now, maybe it was comforting to have someplace for other’s start similar to where he started. Both men had gotten out of the car, Dean had handed Seth the Tupperware. Seth was making his way towards the building. Once he had gotten to the door to open it for his friend he had realized rather than follow him Dean had gone behind the car to open the trunk.

“What’s going on?” Seth asked again, fearing the worst.

“Nothing, just head inside and do a little introduction or something.” He had answered without really answering. Seth had looked at him suspiciously but was only shooed away by the other man who was still trying to get the trunk opened.

Whatever Dean was up to, Seth hope to god almighty it wasn’t anything too bad.

He walked into the school and was met with warm welcome. He could see that less than half of the kids were here, but again knowing it was the holidays he was not surprised. He had asked around updates on how everyone was going. Mostly have been keeping up to date on their workouts and practices. They were good kids. Seth wouldn’t have given them a chance if he suspected any different. He had asked how the living quarters were and made sure everything was doing well. Other than a few of them complaining that others were not pulling their weight on the chores, no real problem seemed to have arose in his absence.

He had gotten them to settle down and grab a chair each. He had them sit in semi-circle next to the ring where he had stood to speak to them.

“Ok, first of all; I’m glad to see each and every one of you. I can see a lot of familiar faces, and for whatever reason you may have I’m glad you guys have chosen to stick around. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but I’m back and I’m glad to say that brought a guest you guys are going to be excited to meet.”

And as if rehearsed cue, the door to the school had been kicked open. There stood a silhouette of a man tall and broad shouldered carrying a heavy load in his arms. He strutted his way in making absolutely no eye contact. When he was a good five feet away from the ring he had bent forward and threw what he had held in his hand hard enough that it rolled to a stop between Seth and the kids, all of whom paled at the sight of the thing.

“Hi kids,” Dean greeted as he now stood in front of him. His smile a mile long and his eyes sparkling with mischief. “My name is Dean Ambrose, and I’m here to teach you the many ways to wrestle using barbed wires.” Then casually pointed to the giant coil of thorny metal in front of them.

Everybody held their breath. The students in question might have just had, as Seth predicted earlier, shat themselves. Seth couldn’t blame them.

“Dean no!” Seth exclaimed with horrified worry.

“What?” Dean asked incredulously. “It’s just the basics.”

Seth looked at the students wanting to give them a reassuring look, but was just as worried as they were. He thought one of them was going to pass out. The another started breathing heavily, as Seth felt the need to ask himself if any one of them had asthma or something.

After a very tense silence in the gym, it had finally broke with a chuckle. A little laugh that slowly transformed into a deep and uncontrolled cackle. Dean was laughing so hard he had to grab a hold of the ring to keep himself from falling.

In that moment, Seth wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch him or kick him. He should have known Dean was just joking. He really shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was.

“Hahahaha Ambrose very funny!” Seth had said sarcastically.

“You should have seen your faces.” Dean had tried to reply between laughs, as he wiped the tears in his eyes. “You turned paler than Sheamus’ ass.”

Once it was abundantly clear that Dean was in fact joking, you could see the collective sigh of relief that fell over the rest of the students. A couple even found the humor in it enough to laugh at their sorry state, but all were just relieved barbed wire was not going anywhere near them in any sort of way.

To seemingly prove this, Dean had bent down and grabbed the coil to heft it back into his arms exactly like he had done when he came in and began to carry it out of the way to against a far side wall.

“Anyway, sorry about the lil scare I gave you. Was just joking, but Seth did invite me of help.” With a giant clap and a big smile he asked the group of 8-9 teens “So, who’s ready to wrestle.?”

For the next couple of hours Dean and Seth had ran the student through basic warm up and passes. Made sure each and every one of them were ready to give show them their best. Seth had called them to pair up and plan a little showcase of what they had been working on since he last saw them. He thought the best way for Dean to be able to help the kids was to first get to see them work and build from there. It was such a welcome not only to have a fresh pair of eyes on his students, but one’s he has such respect for.

Dean had always been an incredible wrestler and performer. It was rare to really have both, and crucial for success in the industry they were in. If you were just a fighter then you should go ahead and move to boxing of MMA. If you were just a performer than go for being an actor or Rockstar. But Dean was both, what was great about him was that Seth believed that wrestling really was what Dean loved. This wasn’t some stupid stepping stone towards something grander like a career being a movie star or pop icon. Dean was really into it for being into it, being a genuine fan and wanting to be apart of something he had always admired growing up. It was something he had always admired about Dean. It was one of the things they had shared.

After the rounds between the students, and a few helpful tips given to each of them. The two were then egged on to put a show of their own. Though it was only for 9 teens in a warehouse, Dean and Seth were more than enthusiastic about showing them how they were. He was sure many of his students have seen them fight before; all on tv and many during house shows in Davenport. But to fight in a gym like this, to fight just for the sake of fighting he had felt like showing them something they hadn’t seen before.

“What you say baby?” he teased the blond.

“I say bring it pretty boy.” Dean replied with a giant smile on his face.

They both charged at the same time. Arms in and out of grappling. Heads tucked and body rolls avoiding each other’s hits. The occasional bounce off the ropes for distance. This was a fight for fun. No pressure for an audience or upper management. Not having to have a script in mind. It was just pure and that’s how Dean and Seth wrestled best.

Though he had met him years prior through mutual friends and being in the same companies, but at different times, their first real match really didn’t happen until they both reached FCW down in Tampa around 2011. He can still remember that day when Joey Mercury unknowingly re-introduced him to Dean Ambrose.

*flashback*

“So what you got planned now you’re here?” Seth asked after their short small talk.

“Oh that’s easy,” he answered. “I’m gonna challenge you for that championship you have.”

Taken aback by how brazen the newcomer was Seth couldn’t help but ask “You sure about that?”

Dean had only shrugged and gave the other man his killer smile and answered. “A far as I can see, you’re the only one worth fighting around here.” He answered then walked away towards his locker.

Seth was instantly intrigued by him, and a little more than annoyed. No matter what was going to happen, he was sure it was going to be interesting when it involved Dean Ambrose.

But what he had thought would just be a gimmick to make a big splash into the developmental pool, was quickly proven wrong once Dean actually approached him before their match to talk strategy. Though he had been bold enough to challenge him outright, he was not the type to just pull crap off in the middle of the ring, at least not if he can help it. He wanted to see if Seth had any ideas on how to make their match a little more exciting. They had quickly traded ideas here and there about what to do and when.

“You a flyer right?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Seth answered side-eying the other man.

“Got any tricks I gotta be prepared for?” he asked.

“No, I don’t do that stuff as much here.” He explained.

“Why the fuck not?” the blond asked.

“Have had a couple of accidents already. The space between the ring and the barriers is barely five feet, makes jumping out the ring risk the audience. Plus couple of the other guys have dropped me before. Mercury has advised against it unless we’d worked on it before.” He answered as he did his pre-match stretches.

There was a pause between them as they made their respective preparations for their match. It wasn’t until they had less than five minutes left for their entrance when Dean had added.

“You should do it. Fly out the ring, it would be awesome.” He said, which made the younger man chuckle but clearly not agree with him. “I’d catch you.”

Seth looked at Dean in the eye. He had seemed pretty sure of himself, but he’s pretty sure that’s just his default mode. Seth was still unsure.

“Listen, I know we haven’t ever been the ring together before but I can promise you I ain’t like one of the numbskulls.” Dean looked at Seth sternly, sounding more serious than he ever has. “I’m not gonna drop you.”

Those were his last words before he had gone and made his entrance in the FCW ring, leaving Seth to make a split second decision before he made his own entrance. Dean was right, he and Seth have never been in the ring together. He had figured that was the main reason why they had given Dean the ok to jump right into the championship pool so quickly. Indie fans were excited to see Jon Moxley and Tyler Black finally face off. It was that reminder that Dean basically came from where Seth had come from himself. Dean was right, he wasn’t like the numbskulls NFL rejects who’s botched matches before. Dean more than capable of doing exactly what he said he’d do. With a deep breath, Seth finally made a decision and made his own entrance.

It was at the end of their first fight in FCW when Seth knew for certain Dean was exactly who he said he was, and then some. He was good. There was no question about it. Seth hadn’t really even doubted it knowing where he’d come from. What really stood out for him was though they had never fought each other before, their first FCW fight was the smoothest match Seth had fought in a long time. It just flowed so easily. Where Seth would move one way, Dean was right there to counter, which Seth would do so in return. It felt like they’d been fighting for forever. At one point when Dean was outside the ring, Seth had taken the plunge and flew between the ropes on towards the other man. Just like Dean had said he would, he grabbed him in mid-air then safely got both of them on the ground. It was awesome. He and Dean just seemed to click.

After years of being on the road together, fighting together, fighting each other, that chemistry just seemed to grow between them. Which made their current fighting in Black and Brave just be a constant move and response between the two men. Smiles on their faces and aches in their bodies, it was clear to anyone and everyone who were watching them that they were having more than fun. Neither had even realized they had been fighting for a good 30 minutes already, and it had only ended when Dean had an exhausted Seth on his back and reminded the other man it was probably lunch time.

They had all regrouped around the snack table by the side of the gym. The kids had gone to their common kitchen and grabbed water for everyone. They sat and ate their sandwiches while in companionable chatter.

“Seth,” Alex, one of the teens spoke. “Tell Mrs. Rollins thanks for the sandwiches. They’re really good.”

“Actually,” Seth had slung his arm around Dean’s shoulder. “Dean had actually prepared them.”

The surprised looks on their faces seemed funny to Seth but a little insulting to Dean “Don’t worry, it’s not like I put razor blades in them.” Which had gotten more than one of them suspiciously looking between the bread they were holding.

“Don’t worry… I was there when he made them.” Seth joked. “They’re safe.”

They had continued to eat their sandwiches. Everyone in the group making small talk and goofing around. When it came time to clean up, one of the students had spoken up.

“Can I ask a question?” he asked.

“Sure, Jesse what’s on your mind?” Seth asked the younger man with dark curls.

“How do you, like, make up your character?” he asked, his eyes shyly darting more towards Dean.

“Well, that’s a little advance for this stage Jes,” Seth tried to change the topic.

“No, I know.” He had nodded. “I’m just curious…” he clearly wanted to say something but was having a hard time doing so. “I’ve been a fan of yours since Moxley.” He finally admitted.

“Have you?” Dean asked a little more than surprised. “How old are you kid?”

“19,” he admitted again.

“You must have been 10 the last time I was Moxley,” Dean pointed out. “You were not old enough to have seen any of my old stuff.”

“My brother showed them to me, when I was a kid.” He explained. “He did it to scare me at first, which I kinda did, but looking at them now. You were… insane.”

That had made the two superstars chuckle. Seth remembered the first time he had met Dean all those years ago. They had met at a party of a common friend of theirs. Someone they had both worked with at different times and at different companies. It was just by chance they were performing in a town nearby.

Seth had walked in with his buddies and got introduced to Dean and his coworkers. They didn’t really hang out that night, preferring to stick to their own circle of friends. It was only when one of Dean’s coworkers had brought out a camera and told Dean to bring out Moxley for them. An impromptu promo in the middle of a party where the guy was already more than a couple of drinks in. Seth couldn’t help but want to watch the trainwreck he assumed it was going to be. Seth thought there was no way this was going to end well. The man in question had just stood behind the kitchen counter gave himself a slight slap on the face and motioned for the camera guy to go.

Seth was so wrong. Yes, Dean was more than a little drunk. Yes, he had looked ridiculous with douchy shaded on indoors in the middle of the night. Yes, this seemed like a dumb idea. But Dean made it all seem to work. Right in front of his eyes, he saw the man transform from Dean to Jon Moxley. He had heard about him; people threw around words like crazy, and unhinged, and unpredictable. It wasn’t until you saw it up close when you realized what they were talking about. They were right. Dean as Jon Moxley was that and more.

“Thanks kid,” Dean had only smiled and took another sip of his water.

“I mean, I don’t mean to pry. I know you’re a pretty private guy…” he spoke more today than Seth has heard him all year. “But like, how’d you get to sound like that? Like any of the stuff you said like true?”

All eyes were now turned towards Dean. The students seemed to have been on this weird combination of excitement and also a bit of fear, not really knowing how the older man would respond.

“I mean, yeah.” Dean answered and put down his bottle of water. “Some of it was true. I mean if you’re asking how it started that way, that’s basically it. You start by telling the truth.” His answer only seemed to have made the students more confused. “It all comes from a certain truth you believe. I mean you don’t have to divulge each and every little thing about you. But what you do go out there and share better be something you believe in, coz when you don’t they’ll see right through you.”

“The first character I had was like a varsity blues football player with some other guy I don’t remember. It really didn’t mean anything to me, coz it wasn’t me. I was trying to act like a big dog knowing shit I didn’t know and claiming accomplishments that weren’t mine and you know what happened?” he asked. “They chewed me up and spat me out.”

“It wasn’t until I guess about your age when I started to kinda see something a little closer to home. Like the varsity blue guy was popular, athletic, top tiered… everything I didn’t really feel like I was.” He spoke slowly and carefully like Seth could see him pick his memories out from his past. To be honest, he hadn’t heard Dean open up like this in a while.

“The truth was, or at least what I had grown up to be the truth was more or less the opposite. I wasn’t the popular kid, I was the pariah. I wasn’t really athletic, other than wrestling, I didn’t really give a shit about my body other than taking care of it so I could wrestle. I wasn’t top tiered, I wasn’t even on the damn cake. I below that. I was a gutter rat. Just white trash street urchin bum. No one really thought more of me. Being successful in anything, much less professional wrestling, was the furthest thing anyone would have ever thought of me to do.”

Though the man spoke straight and clearly, Seth was trying to spot any sort of clue to how he was really feeling about telling these kids about all of this. Like Jesse had mentioned, Dean was very private. He really wanted to make sure his friend wasn’t feeling pressured to speak like this.

“There was a point I wanted to bury all that, and maybe the varsity blue guy would have been able to do that, but it didn’t. Instead of trying to become something I just really was not, I started to curve towards being exactly who everyone thought I should be and go beyond that. Like if they were gonna think I was just some white trash piece of shit, then let them.”

Seth heart ached. He knew Dean’s earlier character was based a little bit on the reality that was Dean’s childhood, but even he was never sure what was true and what was not. He had never really tried to ask. Hearing his friend open up so casually about something so heartbreaking was troubling. He was tempted to stop but seeing the kids almost just as affected as he was, and seeing that Dean was not stopping himself. Seth had decided to let the other man speak till he was ready to stop.

“Like, did I grow up poor? Was my mom a whore? Did I sell drugs to survive living on the streets? Whether or not anyone knew the true answers to any of these questions was irrelevant. The point was those were stuff that was expected of me the way I was and how I had come to be… People basically fucking looked down on me like I was something they had stepped on…” his voice wavering on sad at the end but he composed himself before he added “And that was ok.”

“How is any of that ok?” Jesse asked in disbelief.

Dean had sat up straight, looking up at the boy who sat across from him, then gave him a big and genuine smile before answering “Coz I was gonna prove them all wrong.”

Seth was right. Bringing Dean here was a good idea, and his kids were learning something valuable. But apart from that, Seth was learning something valuable too. Seth always thought he was lucky to have Dean the way their friendship was. He realized luck had nothing to do with it. Dean fought to get here, to get this far. Seth was realizing how blessed he was with Dean, and he refuses to ever forget that.

[locitarose]

I’ve officially started rewriting that HP AU and Leonard’s barely even gotten to Gringotts and the word count on this is already more than half of the entire original series so I’d say it’s definitely more detailed. And because I like posting sneak peeks at stuff, here’s a bit of what’s been written so far:

           While most boys would probably shy away from holding their mother’s hand, Leonard didn’t mind. He had been worrying about her and Lisa since she’d convinced his dad that Leonard needed to go to Hogwarts.

           He wasn’t worried about the fact that Lewis had said nothing other than “good riddance” and “at least I’m not paying for that crap”. No, Leonard worried about what Lewis would do when he realized that his mom had taken sixty pounds out of the account so that Leonard could get extra things if he wanted. (Books, he thought, might be his best bet. Books might not be perfect but it’d give him a place to start at the very least.)

            “Mom, we don’t have to convert all—“

            “We do,” she said, interrupting him with a smile as she pushed Lisa’s stroller. They weren’t far from the area that Professor McGonagall had said they’d find The Leaky Cauldron. “I want you to do well at this school, Leo. That means learning as much as you can before you get there. If that means your father gets a little upset, well, then he gets a little upset. I only took out what I deposited from some of my side jobs anyway.”

            Which was even worse, Leonard thought. Mom needed that money. Just in case.

            “Mom—“

            “Leonard Snart, that’s enough.” Her expression softened and she briefly let go of him to run her hand over his hair—what little he let remain at least. Her son had taken to keeping his hair cropped very close to his head two years ago. “I won’t hear any more arguments from you on this. We can afford this much and you need it. That’s final.”

            Leonard stared at her for a few moments and then nodded. “Okay,” he said eventually. His hand slipped back into hers, remembering that Professor McGonagall had said that to see the pub they would go through, his mom would have to be touching him though they’d be fine once they were in Diagon Alley.

            It wasn’t even ten minutes later before Leonard tugged on his mom’s hand. “There,” he said, fighting down the feeling of giddiness that wanted to come over him. As excited as he was, he also knew that he needed to be careful. He had no idea what this new world was like or whether the people were decent or not.

            He’d learned a long time ago that while most people might not be abusive like his dad, they were definitely blind to the abuse. Or they just didn’t care.

            He still hadn’t decided which was worse.

            “Oh,” his mom breathed as she took in the grubby looking pub between the book shop and the record shop. She watched as people walked by as if it didn’t even exist and smiled slightly. “Well, let’s go in.”

            The inside wasn’t very crowded. There were a few people at tables here and there though it wasn’t exactly easy to see inside with how dark it was. There were candles lit throughout the room along with a few lanterns giving off just enough light that a person wouldn’t have to strain their eyes to read anything. Leonard wondered why they didn’t just use lamps but decided against asking just yet. He paused as he caught a glimpse of a newspaper called The Daily Prophet and noticed the picture on the front was moving.

            He glanced away before the person reading it noticed him watching and allowed his mom to tug him towards the bar as she carefully maneuvered Lisa’s stroller between the tables.      

            “Excuse me,” Natalie said once they reached the bar, “but would you happen to be Tom?”

            The balding man blinked at the sound of an American accent before smiling. “That I would, miss! How can I help you today?”

            She smiled. “Professor McGonagall said you’d be able to help us get into Diagon Alley. My son is going into his first year.”

            “Is he now? I’d have thought Ilvermorny with your accent,” he said. Off of Natalie’s confused look, he added, “Ilvermorny is the magic school in America.”

            She nodded in understanding. “We moved here a little over a year ago due to my husband’s work,” she said.

            “Aye, that would explain it,” Tom said. “Come along, let me show you how to get in the alley.” He motioned for them to follow him and led them through the bar and out into a small courtyard with brick walls. There was nothing but a trash can (dustbin, Leonard reminded himself) and a few weeds. He smiled down at Leonard and pulled out his wand. “Now pay attention to this, lad. Once you get your wand, you’ll be able to enter the alley with it. You’ll always use the wall that the dustbin is in front of and count from the top of the dustbin.” He pointed at the bricks. “Three up and two across and then tap three times. You’ll do the same thing on the other side to come back.” As he tapped the brick a third time, he moved to the side. “Welcome to Diagon Alley, folks.”

            Leonard watched, unable to hide his amazement as the brick Tom had tapped quivered and then a small hole appeared in the middle and grew wider, turning into a large archway that led to a cobbled street. Leonard followed its path with his eyes, taking in the way it twisted and turned until it was out of sight and let out a breath. The alley was packed with people, some in colorful robes and others in Muggle clothing like he and his mom were. He felt something loosen inside him.

            It was real.

            Tom smiled at them. “Follow the path all the way to the end. You’ll see a large white building. That’s Gringotts.”

            “Thank you, Tom,” Natalie said absently, staring at the alley with just as much amazement as Leonard. They moved forward and behind them they heard the brick shifting, glancing back to see that the archway had become a solid brick wall again. Leonard allowed himself a grin and turned back, noticing the way his mom was smiling down at him.

            They made their way slowly down the path, taking in the different shops. There were cauldrons—Leonard couldn’t believe they used actual cauldrons—piled high outside the nearest shop.

            “Mum, Dad, look! There’s a new Nimbus,” a boy with messy black hair and glasses practically shouted as he ran by.

            “James, get back here,” his mother called. She frowned at a man that Leonard assumed was her husband. “He gets this from you.”

            “Of course, dear,” the man said with a smirk as he began to pull her in the direction of the shop the boy was standing in front of. “Now come on, there’s a new Nimbus!”

            “I’m only going so that you don’t walk out of there with two new brooms, Monty. Honestly, there’s still Christmas and his birthday to think of and he can’t even take a broom this year.”

            “We can still look, Mia, my love.”

            She sighed. “Fine. But we’re going to the apothecary afterwards. I’m nearly out of asphodel.”

            As they moved passed them, Leonard looked over to the right and took in the sights of all the shops. A place that had to be the apothecary the woman from before had mentioned had a barrel of bat spleens outside. He wrinkled his nose a bit at the smell coming from the shop as they passed. Another was selling robes while the sound of soft hooting could be heard coming from Eeylops Owl Emporium. Another shop had telescopes and a bunch of other instruments that Leonard couldn’t identify. Flourish and Blotts had stacks of books outside around the entrance and the store itself was two stories high. A stationary shop had parchment and quills, across from that was a shop that sold trunks. Leonard thought that’d be a good place to start. At least they’d have a place to put everything they’d need to buy.

            Finally, they reached a sparkling white building with bronze doors that towered over the shops. Leonard fought to keep the surprise as he saw the guard at the door, remembering that Professor McGonagall had told them that goblins ran the bank and it was never a good idea to cross them. As the goblin bowed, Leonard nodded in reply. He wasn’t sure if he was even supposed to acknowledge the goblin but it couldn’t hurt.

            Leonard paused as they reached a second set of doors though these ones were silver and had a poem of sorts engraved on them.

 Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn,

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

            Leonard paused as Natalie entered the bank, moving off to the side so that he could read the words again. He briefly considered telling his father about this bank just what would happen when he got caught. He dismissed the thought almost as quickly as he’d had it. While Lewis had stopped taking him on jobs due to all the cameras that London had, he was sure that his father would make an exception so that he could use his wizard son to try and rob a wizard bank and Leonard wasn’t about to get busted for his father’s crimes.

            Besides, if Lewis got arrested, it’d leave his mom in a bind. She’d have to try and find a full-time job just to support the three of them and that would mean having to find someone to watch Lisa during the year while he was at school.

            So, as tempted as Leonard was to set Lewis up, he wouldn’t do it. But it was nice to imagine.

            “Trying isn’t worth whatever the goblins would do to you.”

            Leonard turned to find a kid with dark hair watching him, not even bothering to hide his curiosity. He tilted his head.

            “I wasn’t considering it for myself.”

            “Then you must really hate whoever you were considering it for,” the kid said.

            Leonard paused. “Yeah,” he said, not bothering to explain further.

            The kid shrugged. “Long as it’s not me, I don’t care. I’m Mick Rory.”

            Leonard studied him for a few moments and then nodded. “Leonard Snart.”

            They stared at each other for another few moments and then, as if they’d reached some sort of unspoken agreement, headed inside together. A pair of goblins bowed at them as they went through the doors and entered a marble hall. There were hundreds of goblins sitting on high stools behind a long counter. More doors than Leonard had ever seen led off the hall and even more goblins were leading people in and out of those.

            “My parents are already inside but I got distracted by the brooms,” Mick said, scanning the room for his parents. “Ha! There they are.”

            “Leonard!”

            Leonard glanced over to find his mom coming towards him. “Hi, Mom,” he said.

            “Hi, Mom, he says,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Don’t wander off.” She focused on Mick. “Sorry. Hello.”

            “Hi,” Mick said brightly. “Sorry, I distracted him.”

            Leonard fought not to show his surprise at the blatant lie.

            His mom smiled. “Well, I suppose I can’t be mad if he was making a friend. I’m Natalie Snart, Leonard’s mom.”

            “I’m Michael Rory but everyone calls me Mick,” Mick told her. “I sort of got distracted by the brooms instead of coming in here with my parents.”

            “I’m sure we can find them.”

            Mick nodded. “I know which lines they’ll go to.” He paused. “Do you need to convert pounds?”

            “Yes,” she said, not mentioning that they’d need to talk to a goblin about fund that helped students pay for Hogwarts as well.

            “That’s the lines furthest over. If you want to open a vault for Leonard, you can ask one of the goblins over there about it too. It takes a bit but I bet my parents wouldn’t mind waiting for you guys.”

            Natalie blinked in surprise. “If they’re okay with it, then we’d love to join you.”

            “I’ll ask then find you,” Mick said. He glanced at Leonard and grinned before moving off towards a group of lines not too far from where they were standing.

            “He seems nice,” his mom said as they headed towards the lines that Mick had indicated before.

            Leonard nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, thinking of the way Mick had lied to his mom about being the reason Leonard had fallen behind. “He does.”

[madamepantouflard]

the first girl - a bughead fanfic

A/U obviously. 

When I say that she was the greatest,

I mean that she resembled a circus.

She was not brightly colored,

Nor was she composed

Of three rings, but

Under a tent in the middle of

A starlit field

On a summer night,

You could see her

In just a t-shirt

And forget how unhappy

The elephants were.

-Rob Macdonald

The windows are down in the car she has temporarily stolen from her mother and Betty is finally starting to feel good, at ease, for the first time in months. She has Polly at her side, who is staring dreamily out the window with a small smile on her face. Her hand resting protectively over her stomach. And there is Jughead, in the back seat, looking grimly out the window his face set in its usual solemn, serious manner.

As Betty cruises down I-5 heading south she marvels at the state of events that have unfolded that has led them all here. There is no doubt in her mind that everything could have fallen apart. Her mother could have found them out, Cheryl could have let something slip, even Sherriff Keller could have snooped and discovered their plot. But now there is nothing standing in their way to get Polly the freedom she so desperately deserves.

“Are you still sure about this Polly?” Betty asks, interrupting the tranquil peace that has taken over the car. The sounds of cars whizzing by on the highway is the only noise between them.

Polly grins widely before grasping onto Betty’s shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze.

“More than ever. I can’t thank you enough Betty for making this all happen. I’d be so lost without you.”

Betty smiles in relief, her sister’s approval the only solace she needs to feel at peace with her decision to lie to everybody and sneak behind their backs. She has an unborn niece or nephew she has to look out for, it is not just her and her sister against the world anymore.

Betty turns her attention back to the road, they are somewhere in Oregon. More than halfway to their journey and the afternoon sun beats down on them.

“You know I’d do whatever it takes to make sure the both of you are okay. I can’t wait to meet my little nephew or niece.”

Polly laughs, the sound twinkles in the small space of the car, “I’ve told you time and time again. It’s going to be a boy, I can feel it. Mother’s intuition.”

In the rearview mirror Betty can see Jughead smirking to himself, wanting to say something snarky but holding back. Betty assumes he probably wants to bet on it, put her intuition to good use.

“Nothing’s set in stone, Pol. Could be a little red-haired girl. Or blonde girl.”

Polly sighs a little before she stares out the window again, “So long as the baby is healthy, I’ll be happy. I just wish Jason could have met his child,”

Betty smiles sadly before the clicking sound of the turn signal fills the car.

“I know, Polly.”

It’s been a long road for Betty, trying to figure out how to keep Polly and the baby safe. Her mother and father are of no use, and Polly had been dead set on having the support of the Blossom family behind her, until Cheryl had revealed they had their own nefarious intentions all along that didn’t have Polly in the picture at all. But at the very least there was money there, and that was where Cheryl came in.

Cheryl hadn’t been a fan of Polly or Betty, that wasn’t a secret, but she was her brother’s biggest champion, and knowing that Polly was pregnant with his child had put a white flag on any and all past issues. With only Polly, Cheryl, Betty and Jughead in on the secret they had put together a plan, however haphazard it might have been it was their only option with their respective parents proving to be more Manson family than Norman Rockwell.

With Polly’s advancing pregnancy the time was running out to secure Polly somewhere safe. But in the meantime they all had to play dumb, going along with both what the Blossom family wanted and the Cooper’s in order to save face and buy them all time without anyone sneaking looks over their shoulders.

It had been a long excommunicated member of the family that Jason had told her they could trust. Years ago she had been a cousin to Mrs. Blossom, but one way or another the two had lost contact, the former no longer fitting into the diamond’s and socialite lifestyle that had followed soon after her advantageous marriage to Clifford Blossom. They lived in California, near Yreka, and had a small farm. Jason had told her it was the only place they could go to start their new lives, where they could live for free and raise the baby while they tried to figure out the next step of their lives. But now Polly was one less person in the plan, and time was running out.

Cheryl had stowed money away, small amounts at a time, not enough to grab the attention of her parents. She knew where they kept stashes of money, and if she was lucky, they’d be drunk enough from a gala or charity function and she’d be able to grab more than the usual amount. Cheryl had bemoaned more than a few times that it wasn’t long after breakfast that her mother reached for the whiskey tumbler, and Betty found herself sympathizing for the girl who had put on such a hard front. She supposed that all of their lives were fractured in one way or another.

But Cheryl had proven her loyalty, and in the span of two months, just in time for Polly’s seventh month mark, Cheryl had managed to amass just over two thousand dollars. And by then they all knew there was no more waiting, it had to happen now.

And so on the quiet Saturday morning, long before her parents would ever wake up, Betty crept quietly down the stairs and stole the keys to her mother’s car, leaving a note behind that said she’d be back the following day and that she could call the cops if she wanted but it was sure to look bad on the Cooper family name, one daughter pregnant out of wedlock and the other resorting to theft and skipping town. It hadn’t been her smartest idea, to blackmail her mother, but it needed to be done for Polly. If her parents weren’t going to step up to the plate and save Polly, Betty would do it on her own.

But she didn’t need to do it on her own. Jughead had been there for her the whole time, stalwart and trusty he was as always her greatest ally and companion. There was no shortage of drama going on in his life, he still had FP to worry about, and was still crashing temporarily at the Archie’s. He’d moved out of Archie’s room and into the basement, it had been the first time in a long time that he had an entire room to call his own.

But in spite of everything being Betty’s neighbor also proved to be useful, on the nights when they both weren’t too tired and too stressed to play at being normal teenagers Jughead found himself scaling the ladder into Betty’s bedroom to keep her up for an entirely different reason. She loved hearing his muted laughs and whispers under the covers of her comforter, the two of them sneaking kisses and hiding groans into the heated skin of their necks. Hands that were usually stationary had become adventurous and roaming and Betty could never get over the feel of his hands on the bare skin of her back.

But time was never on their side, and more often than not before things could get too heated a door would open or she’d hear her mother shifting around downstairs and she’d send Jughead home before the fury of Alice Cooper could set upon them.

Finding Jughead’s eyes in the rearview mirror she sees him smile lightly at her. It is one of their private looks, one they can share when they know that no one is watching.

“We’re almost there.” Polly says, sitting up straighter in her seat.

It is nearing mid-afternoon, and Betty sees the mountains open up in front of her.

By the time Betty pulls into the long, winding driveway she begins to feel the dread pool in the pit of her stomach. She knows that this was the intent the entire time, to get Polly to safety, get Polly away from the cloying, baby-snatching hands of her parents and the Blossoms.

But now that the moment is finally here, Betty isn’t sure if she is able to let go of the sister she has fought so hard to protect.

The blue house sits perkily in the background and Betty puts the car in park. Polly slips out of the car, holding her large stomach protectively as Jughead moves to grab her suitcase from the trunk.

“Hi there!” A woman shouts, emerging from the house. Polly waves and moves towards her. She is a kind-looking woman, perhaps in her late forties, with streaks of white peppered gracefully in her red hair.

She looks eerily similar to Penelope Blossom, but without the evil step-mother vibe.

Staring up at the two women embracing Betty feels Jughead move beside her. His hand comes up and gently presses against her shoulder and she looks over at him.

He knows she is trying hard to be brave, but the fear is shining bright in her eyes and he wants to tell her it’s okay to feel scared and sad when saying goodbye to a person you love. God only knows he has done it before.

But all she does is lean against him briefly before trudging up to the house.

The woman, whose name Betty learns is Cecilia, gives them a tour of the house and shows them where Polly will stay. It’s a beautiful home, filled with natural light, and there is a garden in the backyard. Her room is large and there is already a crib and a layette all laid out.

“Isn’t it wonderful here Betty?” Polly asks, relief evident on her face and Betty smiles genuinely at her. Happy that her sister is happy.

“It is. Cecilia seems like a nice woman, I’m glad that she can help you. I wish I could do more.”

“Hey!” Polly interrupts, grabbing onto her hands tightly, “I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you. I wouldn’t. You’ve saved our lives Betty Cooper. You’re the best sister a girl could have.”

A few tears slip from Betty’s eyes as she pulls Polly to her, hugging her close, careful of the bump in between them. She presses her face into Polly’s shoulder and dreads the inevitable goodbye she knows is coming.

Betty pulls back, “You’ll call if you need anything right?”

Polly nods, tears running freely down her face, “Of course. I’ll call you even if I don’t need anything. I can’t thank you enough Betty, what you did, what you’re doing for us.”

Shaking her head lightly, Betty blinks away the tears that threaten to fall, trying to put on a brave face for her sister, “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, Pol, whatever you guys need. Listen, though, if you’re gonna call, do it at Archie’s house, okay? I already asked him, he said it was fine. I just don’t know how safe it’s gonna be to call the house for the next little while.”

Nodding solemnly, Polly grabs Betty’s hands in between her own, “Are you gonna be okay? What about mom and dad-”

Betty cut her off, “Don’t worry about that, I’ll manage, I always do. There’s nothing they can do now to scare me. Though I’m sure they’ll try.”

The two girls manage a light-hearted laugh at that, both knowing their mother’s habits when it comes to trying to control the Cooper girls.

Inevitably, it is time to say goodbye and she and Jughead have a long drive back before they face the firing squad.

“I love you.” Polly said.

Smiling sadly Betty hugs her close one last time.

“I love you too. Always.”

She let go of her sister and watches Jughead step up next and hug her goodbye.

Polly whispers something into Jughead’s ear before he nods and lets her go, telling her to be well and call if she needs anything.

Grabbing her hand he pulls her away and Betty looks over her shoulder and waves goodbye one last time to Polly.

Standing near the car at the end of the driveway Betty tries not to feel sad as Jughead embraces her, his arms providing a solid comforting weight as he wraps them around her waist. Tucking her face in and breathing in the scent of his neck Betty lets loose a few tears.

Pressing his cheek to the top of her head Jughead runs his hands up and down her back in soothing strokes, letting her take a much needed break from keeping things together.

“Are you alright?” He asks tentatively.

Pulling back and drying her eyes Betty stared up into his eyes, smiling lightly at him.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just hard to say goodbye.”

Nodding solemnly Jughead cradles her head between his hands, “It’s not goodbye forever Betty. Just temporarily.”

His eyes shine with concern for her and once again Betty feels the wind knocked out of her at the man in front of her and his seemingly endless reserve of patience and kindness. She can think of no one else she would rather have at her side, and she knows that he would follow her to the end of the world and back again. The same as she would for him.

There is no denying she loves him. Will perhaps love him forever if he’ll let her.

Betty can only blink away the tears that pop up again for an altogether different reason and she leans up on her toes and presses her lips against his. They are soft and pliant against hers, content to let the kiss remain chaste as she grips his lean shoulders.

“Thank you, Jughead. For being here, with me. I don’t think I could have done this without you.”

His smile is soft as he pushes a lock of hair behind her ear.

“You could have, Betty. You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

It is her solid belief that his unwavering faith in her is the real reason she is able to remain as strong as she is. She is unshakable and unstoppable so long as he is at her side.

“Come on.” He murmurs. “It’s getting late, we should hit the road. Want me to drive?” Closing her eyes briefly, Betty nods and hands him the keys.

There is something primal and comforting about watching Jughead drive down the highway in the late afternoon sun. He has pushed up the sleeves of his sweater and drives confidently with one hand resting at the top of the wheel.

His forearms are tanned and strong and Betty finds herself casting quick glances at them from her position in the passenger seat.

The radio plays a tune she doesn’t recognize and his fingers tap out a rhythm against the steering wheel and Betty realizes she doesn’t want to go home. Not just yet.

They haven’t been on the road long, they still have a good seven hours to go before they reach Riverdale, and Betty wants to delay their homecoming for as long as she is able.

She told her mother she would return the car on Sunday, and it is only Saturday afternoon.

The buzzing of her phone startles Betty out of her reverie and she pulls out her phone only to see her mother’s name emblazoned on her phone once again.

She sees Jughead out of the corner of her eyes cast a dark glance in her direction.

“Is it the wraith?”

He asks, and Betty can’t help herself and lets loose an airy chuckle.

“Yeah.” She mutters, “I suppose I should submit to the inevitable.”

Letting loose a dark sigh she answers the phone.

“Hello Mother.”

“Elizabeth Cooper!” The voice screams on the other end and Betty grimaces and holds the phone away from her ear. She hears Jughead sigh beside her and reach for her hand, lacing their fingers together. The feel of his hand sure and firm in hers is all the courage that Betty needs.

“-Where do you think you get off, young lady! Stealing my car! Taking your sister! Where have you taken her Betty? Tell me! Where have you taken her?”

Betty looks out the window at the beautiful California landscape in front of her and watches the sky start to turn pink at the edges.

“I’m not going to tell you that Mom. You have to know I’m not going to tell you that. Not until you and everyone else can see that Polly and her baby are not pawns for you to use in whatever sick and twisted game you’re playing.”

Alice Cooper’s heavy breathing is all she knows for a beat until her mother’s voice is back on the line, malicious and cruel.

“You think you know what you are doing but you are a child, Betty. You have no idea what’s actually going on, you can’t play pretend in a game meant for adults! This isn’t some fucking fantasy!”

Her words are heavy and Betty knows they are meant to sting, but she knows in her heart of hearts that her mother is wrong. She is not a child, she grew up the second she found out her parent’s had kept her pregnant sister locked up in an institution and made her wear a coat of lies and pretend it was the truth.

But Betty doesn’t want to negotiate the truth anymore with Alice Cooper, she will take her punishment and weather the storm. Nothing else needs to be said.

“I’ll have the car back tomorrow Mom. We can talk then.”

And she hangs up the phone.

Jughead squeezes her hand and Betty looks over at him, his brow furrowed and face dark.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I’m okay.” Betty nods, “I wonder how long I’ll be grounded for. Although she might go full Rapunzel and lock me in a tower. It’s a good thing my hair is blonde.”

He smirks next to her and his face no longer looks troubled and grim. He wears that look too often these days, he has his own burdens to bear and Betty feels guilty for making him shoulder her own as well.

“Hair’s not long enough for me to climb up though.”

Shrugging lightly Betty laughs.

“Guess we’ll just have to keep using the ladder.”

They drive for a few more hours before their hunger compels them to pull off the highway and find the nearest diner and park the car. It doesn’t have the charm and nostalgia of Pop Tate’s but it’s open and contains a hot meal and they both decide it will have to suffice.

He sits next to her in the booth instead of across from her and Betty leans against his shoulder, feeling sluggish and sleepy, as though she were moving underwater.

Her mind has been consumed with thoughts for months of getting Polly to California, getting her and the baby to safety. There have been many nearly sleepless nights and days driven by coffee and granola bars and barely enough energy to function all to get where they are now.

Betty feels a special kind of weightless. She knows there will be endless fights waiting for her once she gets home but for now she is happy and tired and grateful all at once.

“What can I get you kids?”

Looking up from the menu she hasn’t really been studying Betty leans more of her weight on Jughead, prompting him to throw his arm behind her on top of the leather of the booth. It makes her feel safe and warm, the comforting smell of his soap and sheepskin coat enveloping her.

“I’ll have a burger and fries, and a coke. Betts?”

Betty shakes her head to clear her thoughts and stares up at the aging waitress with a kind smile.

“I’ll just have a BLT, thanks.”

The waitress writes down their orders and disappears with a scurry and Jughead turns his attention to Betty. His eyes rove over her face, as if checking for marks and Betty grabs onto the front of his coat and plays with the buttons there.

He doesn’t ask her anything, and she doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence. They are both content to let their eyes do the talking.

His hand comes up to cup her face and Betty leans in, feeling buoyed by his touch.

The light smile she gives him must tell him everything he needs to know as he smiles back at her and leans down to kiss her. It is just a press of his lips against hers, but it makes her heart race all the same. When she feels his tongue on her bottom lip she doesn’t hesitate to open up to him, slipping her hand up to the back of his neck and playing with the fine hairs she finds there.

It is only when they hear the sound of a throat clearing that they pull away and smile guiltily up at the waitress holding their food. She only smiles at them, mutters something about ‘young love’ before she leaves them in peace.

Betty glances at him slyly before they both tuck into their food, both of them ravenous after the stressful day’s events.

When they are both done eating he tosses his napkin on the plate and turns to her.

“We should get going, it’s still a long drive back.” He suggests and Betty reaches out and places her hand on his elbow to get him to look at her.

“It’s late, Juggie. We’re both tired. There’s a motel just up the road. Why don’t we just stay there for the night?”

She can see the shock and surprise on his face at her suggestion, it makes her cheeks flush.

“I mean -” He stutters and Betty finds herself grinning at him, Jughead, Riverdale’s resident writer, at a loss for words.

“-yeah, well, it’s just that I don’t think legally two sixteen year olds can just rent a room. We’re in California, not the backwoods of Arkansas.”

Betty lifts a shoulder and tilts her head in the way that he has come to associate with her having a few tricks up her sleeve.

Opening her purse she pulls out her wallet and hands him the license she has stowed inside.

“Polly gave it to me for safekeeping. Didn’t want anyone to stumble upon it, just in case. She’s eighteen.”

Eyebrows flashing upwards Jughead hands her back the license.

“Alright, then, let’s go.”

The parking lot of the motel they pull into looks as though it has been around since the invention of sliced bread and Betty wonders if the situation they’ve gotten themselves into is more Hitchcock or Kubrick but decides not to dwell on it. There is a ‘Vacancy’ sign lit up and that is all that matters to Betty.

She knows that Jughead is capable of driving back to Riverdale until the wee hours of the morning but her desires are selfish, and she wants to indulge in the fantasy that it is just the two of them for a bit while longer. While she can still ride her high of having Polly in the place she wanted to be.

Betty feels her heart race as they enter the lobby of the motel, the lights flickering above her revealing a bored looking man behind the wooden counter.

“Hi. We need a room for two, please. Just for the night.”

The middle-aged man barely blinks as he places a slip of paper in front of her and hands her a pen. Jughead is silent at her side but keeps his facial expression carefully concealed.

Quickly jotting down her information along with the license plate number Betty hands the sheet back and takes the keys from the man’s outstretched hand.

“It’s forty dollars for the night. Check-out is at eleven. You’re in room number eleven.”

Before she can make a move for her purse Jughead is placing the money on the counter and grabbing her hand and pulling her away.

“If we get murdered tonight, it’s all your fault Betty Cooper.”

The room is threadbare, but thankfully clean, Betty notes. A simple double bed is in the middle of the room and a drawer with a TV on top sits on the opposite side.

Placing her purse on the ground Betty watches Jughead awkwardly survey the room before turning around the face her and it hits her that this is the first time they’ve ever been truly alone together.

They’ve had moments with each other at school or in her room, while out for walks, or in Pop Tate’s but there’s always been the possibility of someone barging in or watching them.

But now they are truly in the middle of nowhere with no one around but them. They have, for the first time, the luxury of their own private space.

The thought sends both a thrill of excitement and fear through Betty, and she senses the same thing in Jughead.

Betty is the first to break the silence.

“I’m gonna take a shower, do you need the bathroom?”

He shakes his head before he sits down on the bed and kicks off his shoes.

“No, I’m good. It’s all yours.”

The hot water feels good on her tense muscles as Betty steps beneath the steady stream of the shower. The water pressure is surprisingly strong for a shady motel and she sighs in relief. She can hear the click of the TV turning on in the room beside her and she thinks about Jughead.

If someone had told her a year ago that she would leave her girlish fantasies of dating Archie Andrews behind in the dust in favor of his brooding best friend Jughead Jones she would have thought they were crazy. But he was here with her, and he had stood by her, sleuthing with her, acting in her defense while Archie Andrews worried about the high school talent show.

And things between them lately had been changing, even more than before. What had started off as an innocent romance had become filled with heady gazes and sexual tension. Rubbing the soap all over her body Betty feels her nerves spark at the simple touch before she turns off the shower and steps out.

She hasn’t brought pajamas with her, the intention had been to drop off Polly and drive straight back. She has no choice but to dry off and put her clothes from the day back on. But the shower has relaxed her, she feels more alert and refreshed.

Emerging from the bathroom and finger combing through the tangles in her hair she finds Jughead in a similar position from when she left him. Perched on the edge of the bed with his hands propped up behind him watching the TV his eyes quickly flash to hers.

The air between them is heavy and Betty feels it all at once. But she has nothing to hide from this man who has given her so many pieces of light in her highly fragmented life. It is not wrong to want him, to want to be with him.

They both have a chance at a sliver of happiness, of feeling complete. She has thought it many times before, that her desires are selfish. But not this, this she just wants.

She wants.

Pushing himself off the bed Jughead moves slowly to stand in front of her, his hand pushing through her damp hair and she sighs at the contact, closing her eyes briefly before opening them and staring up into his eyes.

He swallows thickly, “Betty.” He whispers, and it is so similar to the sound of his voice before their first kiss that she wonders briefly if she is stuck inside a memory.

He wants too. She can tell.

Closing the distance between them Betty places her hands on his chest and kisses him, the air vanishing from her lungs at the contact. Cupping her head and angling her against his mouth they both open to each other. She hears Jughead moan as their tongues tangle and the firm pressure of his full lips vibrate against hers and Betty swears she is in heaven at the taste of him.

They press tightly together until there is no space between them and Jughead drops his hands from her hair and runs them down the course of her back before coming to rest on her backside. Whining softly in the back of her throat Betty feels him dig his hands into the firm flesh he finds there.

It feels impossibly good and Betty wants more. He has miles and miles of skin that she has never touched or explored, the planes of his chest are firm under her hands and she wants to dig her nails in, try and get at his heart.

Gripping the flannel in front of her, Betty begins to slip the buttons through the holes before she is sliding her hands up to his shoulders and forcing the shirt off his shoulders. Breaking his grip on her he allows her to discard it on the ground. But it isn’t enough.

Breaking the kiss Betty looks up and grips the bottom of his t-shirt and looks up into his eyes for permission. Nodding slightly, Betty lifts the shirt and Jughead helps her remove it before tossing it across the room, his beanie falling off in the process.

She doesn’t think she has ever seen him like this before, looking so open and vulnerable with his hair tousled and head empty of his signature beanie. His chest is strong and broad. There is a dark trail of hair underneath his bellybutton and her fingers ache to follow it.

Placing her hands on his narrow waist Betty moves close and presses her lips against his chest, over his heart.

His hands come up from his sides and grips her neck. Trailing her lips up across his collarbones, up his neck, and under his chin she feels him breathing heavily against her.

Leaning down and pressing his forehead against hers Betty stops to breathe in the same air as him.

“I love you.”

The words tumble from his lips like a prayer, and when she pulls back, even though she can see the nervous vulnerability in his eyes she knows he means it.

“I love you, Jughead. So much.”

Betty sees his eyes flash with something dark before he is pulling into his arms and slanting his lips over hers in a desperate, passionate pursuit. He is stealing the breath away from her and she doesn’t ask for him to give it back.

Grabbing the hem of her shirt Jughead lifts it over her head. She has not put her bra back on after her shower and she stands before him completely bare from the waist up.

He lets loose a shaky sigh as he looks at her. With one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her stomach he brings their lips together again and Betty opens up her mouth to him again as he trails his hand up to her breast.

Her heart stutters in her chest and she feels a twinge in her groin when his hand fully envelops her breast. They both moan into each other’s mouth as he tests the weight of her in his palm. Her back arches against him and pushes herself more fully into his hand.

She can feel him, against her hip, and her heart races as she feels the moisture gather in between her legs.

It is all so new, she has no idea how to be touched or how to touch, all she knows is that she wants to touch him and be touched by him. So she lets herself be guided by intuition.

Her hands are roaming the broad length of his back while he places open-mouthed kisses on her neck, sucking marks onto the skin there when his hands move down to the button on her jeans.

Her hands pause on his back as he breathes into the heat of her neck and the question lingers between them.

He pulls away slowly and looks into her eyes before he lets out a sardonic chuckle. The heat between them dissipating for a moment.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Sliding her hands into his hair she lets her nails scratch against his scalp in a soothing motion before she grins at him.

“Me neither. But I like it. I want you to keep going, if you do too. We can figure it out together.”

He nods once, his face serious, before he unbuttons her jeans and pulls down the zipper. The sound filling the space of the quiet room. Betty’s chest heaves as she helps him out of her jeans. He stares at the long length of her legs and the modest dark blue bikini cut of her underwear before he steps closer to her, placing his hands on her hips.

“You’re so beautiful.” He mutters, and Betty feels her heart race.

Betty gathers her courage and unbuttons his jeans, looking up at him as he swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing as she unzips his jeans. Her hands brush against his erection and he groans against her temple, hands grabbing onto her ass as he pulls the bottom half of their bodies together.

The fire that Betty feels spreading through her body intensifies as she pulls Jughead down to her and attaches her lips to his in a frenzied manner, unable to stop touching him, unable to get enough of his skin against her as their torsos meet for the first time.

They are both unable to prevent the downright sinister noises that escapes their lips at the feel of their bodies connecting. Betty can only wrap her arms around his muscular back and let him walk her back towards the bed.

When she feels the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed Betty disentangles herself from his loving grip and sits down on the bed and pushes herself back. She keeps her eyes on him the entire time, she enjoys watching the dark, lustful look in his eyes blossom and bloom.

She likes knowing that she is responsible for it.

Jughead’s knee comes up on the bed and he is chasing after her. She lies back against the bed and enjoys the feel of his long limbs tangling with hers. Somehow, in spite of the lack of physical activity, he is all sinew and strength.

Her legs instinctively fall open and he settles himself between them. Her legs tangle with his and she can feel his erection pressed against her. He has one forearm on the bed, propping himself up against her while the other comes up to cup her cheek.

His voice is deep and strained when he speaks.

“Are you sure Betty?”

She knows that they are both turned on right now, there is no getting around the desire she feels pooling in her lower stomach. But there is also fear too, she can’t deny that. But Betty knows that if she asked him, he would stop. He wouldn’t be mad, or bitter. They would put on their clothes and cuddle up and he would still love her and want whatever she wanted and vice versa.

She wants to take this step with him. After everything they’ve been through together. She wants him to be her first.

“I’m sure about you, Jughead.”

He releases a shaky breath, like it is everything he needs to hear before he leans down and presses them together. Betty lets out a groan at the feeling of his weight on top of her. Her mouth slants against his and their tongues duel and dance deliciously. He can’t help himself as he grinds them together, his hips moving against hers, his hand moving down against her backside, pressing her firmly against him.

It’s a move that has Betty seeing stars, as she pulls away from his lips and groans against the heat of his neck. Her hips move against him, pushing up as he angles himself down and he grunts against her collarbone where he is sucking marks onto her skin.

She’s never felt this with him before, the chaotic structure of their lives prevents them from it. Her parents, schoolwork, his living with Archie. They are all obstacles to their being together. But now that they are able, she finds she is wholly selfish, wanting to keep them like this forever.

His hand drifts from her backside to her hip and Betty leans into the touch. She combs her fingers through his hair as he lifts his head in question, asking for permission. Betty begins to pant as she closes her eyes and nods vigorously against him.

It is all the answer he needs as he slips his fingers underneath the elastic of her underwear. His fingers move past her curls until they stop at the wetness gathered between her thighs.

Letting out a throaty moan at the feeling of his fingers on her Betty’s fingers tighten in Jughead’s hair, tugging at the raven strands.

She hears him let out an uncharacteristic curse at the slick feeling of her, knowing he caused it, before he drags his fingers up and circle around her most sensitive spot.

Betty cannot help herself and lets out a strangled moan before her hips begin to move on their own.

“Juggie.” She murmurs, unable to believe the sensations running through her body. It is enough to make her nerves feel like they have been set on fire. Moving her hands from his hair to his back Betty grabs on for dear life as his fingers bring her closer and closer to a precipice she wants to jump off of.

Jughead cannot believe the image in front of him, chest heaving, eyes shut and head thrown back against the pillow Betty is an image of lust and passion and she is coming apart because of him. He cannot ignore her siren song and lowers his head against her chest, taking one dark pink nipple into his mouth and suckling.

He groans around her nipple when she sucks in a startled gasp at the sensation and digs her nails into the skin of his back. His fingers draw tighter and tighter circles against her until she is panting and whining and making desperate noises into his ear. It is nearly enough to drive him mad.

When he moves to pay attention to the other neglected nipple and sucks on the darkened areola he lets his teeth graze over it and it’s then that Betty makes a high keening noise in the back of her throat. Her thighs clench over his hand as she draws in a breath and her head falls back against the pillow.

Pulling his head back up he stares at her in amazement as she pants, her eyes half-open, looking at him, a sleepy smile playing around her lips.

He licks his dry lips and she pulls him into a soft kiss, sighing into his mouth.

He pulls back and stares down at her.

“Was it good?”

Letting out a breathy chuckle Betty pulls him down on top of her.

“Yeah. It was really good. You sure it’s your first time Forsythe?”

He furrows his brow at her use of his name before shaking his head.

“You know I’d tell you if it wasn’t.”

Betty’s eyes soften as she regards him.

“I know you would Jug. I know you.”

Jughead can feel his heart start beating faster as he looks down at her. The first girl he’s ever loved, the only girl he hopes to ever love.

The air shifts again from something lighter to one charged with sexual tension. Jughead begins to pant slightly as he stares down at her lips and brings them together once more. Moaning into his mouth Betty’s legs crawl up from beside him, feeling his erection pressed against her inner thigh. In a bold move she brings her hand down to his black briefs and passes her hand along the front of him, feeling him twitch and a moan get caught in the back of Jughead’s throat.

Slipping her hand beneath the elastic band she grips him in her hand and starts a tentative movement up and down. Panting heavily against her lips Jughead is unable to kiss her as she makes his eyes blur.

She can feel him, thick and long, and licks her lips at the thought of him hard and moaning because of her.

But she suddenly feels him pull back and sit back up on his haunches.

“-Is something wrong?” She asks, worried she has pushed him too much. But he only shakes his head and leans down to grip her underwear in his hands.

“Can I take this off?” His eyes are wild with lust and Betty leans back and lifts her hips in response, helping him remove the offending garment.

Naked and completely exposed Jughead stares at her as if she is something precious, something rare. He removes his own briefs and Betty stares at him for the first time, starting at the dark happy trail and moving down to the perfect pink length of him.

“Come ‘ere.” She murmurs and Jughead is happy to comply, fitting himself in between her legs for the first time without clothing. The pair groan at the contact and Betty wraps her arms around him tighter. Legs spreading wider to accommodate him Betty cannot believe the heavenly feel of him pressed against her slickness.

“Shit.” She hears Jughead say, “I don’t have anything.”

“It’s okay.” Betty is quick to reassure him, “I’m on the pill.”

He nods and lines himself up against her, staring into her eyes he looks for signs of hesitation but only sees her love and lust fuelled eyes staring back at him.

With a groan Jughead pushes into her heavenly heat, her tight walls gripping him and he drops his head to her chest as she inhales heavily. He stills for a moment, allowing her to adjust to him before he picks up his head.

“Are you okay?”

She nods her head before biting her lip and looking up at him. It isn’t particularly painful, just uncomfortable as she adjusts to his size.

She pulls him down into a heated kiss as he groans and pulls out before pushing back in, starting a gentle rhythm. Betty feels him steal her breath away again as the gentle rocking motion fills her with a fire she’s never felt before.

It is just the two of them in that small motel room, and Betty throws her head back against the pillow as Jughead’s motions become more confident. His lips assault her neck with kisses and bites and she knows tomorrow she will be covered in marks from his passionate assault.

His thrusts begin to pick up in tempo and Betty can feel the moans pouring from her, he is strong and sure inside of her and Betty is certain that she can never be without him. Not ever. Not with the way he looks at her as his hips angle and thrust particularly deep. Not when he whispers his affection and devotion into her ear as she grips his shoulders and trembles.

“Oh God, Jughead. Please.” She is desperate now, so close to the edge of something terrifying and profound and it is just out of her reach. It should be wrong to feel this good with the man she loves.

“I-I love you. So much.” He grits out in response, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. They are both close to the edge.

“What do you need?” He asks, his lips barely touching hers.

“I don’t know.” Betty mumbles, her head shaking back and forth as her chests brushes against his and she sighs, throwing her head back against the pillow at the onslaught of pleasure it brings her.

“Touch me, please. Please.” She begs.

Jughead can’t take his eyes off of her as she shakes and moans beneath him. She is a goddess in her own right. He grips the back of her neck with one hand while the other snakes between them. Touching her breasts he squeezes and fondles them before dropping his lips and sucking the tender flesh into his mouth, his hips continue to piston into her wet heat and the sounds she makes are so mouth-wateringly sinful he groans around the areola in between his lips.

But he needs to look at her, he picks up his head as his hand seeks out the bundle of nerves above where they are connected and draws tight circles around them like before and he can sense the change in her.

“Look at me.” He demands, anxious to see her eyes, to know that she is there with him.

Her face looks as though she is in pain even though he knows she is far from it. Her brow furrowed and her mouth open she is wanton. Her cries gaining in volume.

With one last deep thrust she is falling apart around him, he feels her clench around him and he cries out her name as their orgasm pushes them both over the edge of oblivion.

Dropping onto her chest he hears her shaky breath and lingering moans as she comes down from her high. Her hands sneak into his hair and she pushes back the sweaty locks from his forehead before kissing it.

Eyes closed tight he tries to catch his breath, still feeling as though he is floating.

It would be very easy for him to fall asleep like this but he worries that he is crushing her, and so he pulls out of her and collapses on the bed next to her.

She is quick to pull herself into his arms and he wraps them around her as she sprawls out against his chest.

“That was…” Betty starts, still out of breath.

“Amazing. Incredible. Mind-blowing. Sublime.” He supplies with a lazy grin on his face.

Pressing her face into his chest he feels the vibrations of her giggles and turns to kiss her forehead.

Lifting her head he stares down at her. He is not sure what she sees in him, he is a bit of a disaster if he’s honest with himself. But she helps him remember who he is, and who he wants to be. And he does the same for her. Or at the very least he tries to.

His face is serious and Betty lifts a hand to smoothe out the furrow in between his brows.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

He shakes his head, the same way she had done to him outside of his father’s trailer when they went to confront FP about Jason’s involvement in the Serpent’s drug ring.

“I love you, Betty Cooper. I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.”

Her eyes mist over as she leans up and presses her lips against his, taking his bottom lip in between hers gently.

“I love you too. Please, don’t ever let me go, okay?”

He nods and gathers her closer in his arms. He knows he never will. If someone has to go, he knows it will have to be her. He is incapable of making that decision. She will always be the light to his darkness, even when she can’t be the light.

Betty pulls him impossibly closer as she begins to drift off to sleep. Tomorrow they will wake up and begin the long drive back to Riverdale. Back to the judgment of their parents, and the Sheriff. Back to the town filled with dilemma and drama and endless accusations. It is almost an insufferable place to be, and she knows it won’t be easy.

But so long as she has him by her side, she knows they are capable of overcoming anything.

[rpf-bat]

Send You Roses When They Think You Need To Smile

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary:  Sequel to Someone Buy Me Roses (x). Request fic for @thedarkarrow. “I saw your post about desolation row!gerard making puns and can you actually write that I would be so happy”. 

Gerard had promised you he would buy all your roses. But, you were still surprised when, two days later, he showed up in front of the shop in a fast-looking black car.

“I wanted to ride my motorcycle, but I needed the trunk space to fit all these damn flowers,” the punk shrugged in greeting.

“You have a motorcycle?” you asked, still in disbelief that he’d actually kept his word. He was a riot-starting bad boy with a warrant. To be honest, you’d half expected to never see him again.

“Yeah, I’d love to take you for a ride sometime,” Gerard grinned, taking a drag on his cigarette as he hoisted the last flower arrangement into the back of the vehicle.

“Any other flowers you’d like to take off my hands?” you asked, happy to be seeing the last of your rose bouquets. They’d been on the shelf so long that they were starting to wilt.

“Well,” Gerard smirked, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “I would like to de-flower you.”

You blushed and looked away, asking yourself if he had seriously just said that.

“Sorry,” Gerard shrugged. “What can I say? I like to plant some seed now and then, too.”

“Um…..” You had no idea how to respond to Gerard’s brazen double entendres. You were half sure he made them just to watch your face go redder than your roses.

“Anyway, here’s your money for these,” Gerard said, handing you a stack of bills. You felt relieved as you counted the dollars in your palm. Now you could make rent on time for sure, even if you didn’t sell another arrangement for the rest of the month.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.

“Don’t thank me,” Gerard grinned. “Just hold up on your end of the bargain – I still want that date.”

“N-now?” you stammered uncertainly.

“Hell yeah, now,” Gerard nodded. “Get in the car, Y/N.”

With some trepidation, you climbed into the passenger’s seat. Gerard got in beside you, turned the ignition, and began to drive. Black Flag’s Slip It In blared from his car stereo.

“Where are we going?” you asked nervously.

“It’s a surprise,” Gerard winked. “But, I promise you’ll like it, sugar.”

You heart pounded, but you found it was with more excitement than anxiety. Truthfully, despite your shyness, you’d been looking forward to the date Gerard had promised you.

“So, do you grow all these flowers yourself?” Gerard asked conversationally as he floored the gas pedal. He seemed to get his kicks by driving recklessly fast.

“Yeah, I do, in my garden at home,” you nodded. “You could plant one with me sometime, if you want.”

“Oh, I’d like to plant one…..on you,” Gerard purred, and grabbed you by the back of the neck, pulling you in for a hot, unexpected kiss.

Your mouth instinctually opened when you gaped in shock, and Gerard opportunistically took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. You didn’t fight it. When you overcame your surprise, you found yourself growing warm with lust, and returned his kiss eagerly.

“Keep kissing me like that,” Gerard said, pulling away, panting, “and I won’t be able to keep my eyes on the road.”

“S-sorry,” you squeaked. Had you really just done that?!

“Don’t be,” Gerard licked his lips. “That was good.”

You turned away and looked out the window, ashamed by your own forwardness.  Normally, you were too nervous to ever make a move like that. But, Gerard seemed to bring a certain ferocity out in you. Perhaps it wouldn’t kill you to be a little braver.

“So….how’s business going?” Gerard asked, after a long moment of awkward silence.

“Not great,” you confessed. “I mean, people do come into the shop, but I’m too awkward to really upsell my flowers to them the way I should, so, then they kind of just….leave.”

“Fuckers,” Gerard frowned with a sympathetic look.

“I try to make the arrangements look really nice on the shelf, so people will want to buy them, even if I’m quiet,” you explained. “But, sometimes it’s hard to make the stems stand up properly.”

“You always make my stem stand up just fine,” Gerard winked.

Your face reddened again. Gerard was shameless!

“We’re here,” he chuckled, seemingly amused by your embarrassment. You opened your car door and stepped into the parking lot of a dirty-looking dive bar.

“This is the place?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s cooler on the inside than you’d think,” Gerard said, taking you by the hand. “C’mon.”

“Gee!” the heavily tattooed bartender greeted as you entered the room. “Where you been? We ain’t seen you round here in a while!”

“Hiding from the fuzz, mostly,” Gerard admitted. “Listen, can you get my girl here a rose martini?”

“Comin’ up,” the bartender nodded.

“It’s like a regular martini,” Gerard explained. “But, they put a little bit of rosewater and crème de cacao in it. Figured it would suit a flower girl like you.”

“Are we just here to drink?” you wondered, frowning.

“Hell no,” Gerard shook his head. “There’s this kickass punk band playing here tonight that I really wanted to show you.”

“Oh, cool,” you said, interested. You still remembered the look on Gerard’s face when he’d discovered a Misfits album in the backroom of your flower shop. He hadn’t expected to share this hobby with you.

“Yeah, the band’s really talented,” Gerard continued, handing you your drink. “I hear the singer’s got a nice ass.”

“Wait, what?” you blinked. The bartender tapped you on the shoulder to ask you if you’d like a napkin, and when you turned around, Gerard was gone.

Where did he go? you wondered. Did he have to use the bathroom, or something?

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to the stage at the back of the bar. The owner of the dive stood at the mic, tapping it as he prepared to make an announcement.

“Our first band of the night is about to start their set!” he announced. “Let’s give it up for My Chemical Romance!”

The curtain went up, and there was Gerard, a microphone cord wrapped around his wrist. Four men in leather jackets stood all around him, and began to shred out punk riffs that had you on your feet in an instant.

“This little number goes out to Y/N!” Gerard shouted at the crowd. “Hopefully this impresses her enough that she’ll leave her petals on my bedroom floor tonight.”  

You blushed at the suggestive shout-out, but still found yourself listening intently as Gerard began to sing:

They're selling postcards of the hanging, they're painting the passports brown

The beauty parlor is filled with sailors, the circus is in town

Here comes the blind commissioner, they've got him in a trance

One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker, the other is in his pants

And the riot squad they're restless, they need somewhere to go

As Lady and I look out tonight, from Desolation Row

You had to admit, Gerard’s singing voice was amazing. And your jaw dropped what you noticed what he wore on his head as he sang his heart out. It was the flower crown you’d made for him the night you met, the one with the carnations and the zinnias.

He actually wore it, you thought, touched.

“If you like my new headgear,” Gerard called out to the bar patrons, “Y/N over here’ll make one for you. Hit her up after the show!”

He tossed a handful of your business cards into the air, raining them down on the dancing punks in the audience.  Half the kids at the show tonight just seemed confused by this.

But, maybe at least one of them will get curious enough to come by the shop, you thought hopefully. It was really sweet of Gerard to go out of his way to promote you like that. Despite the lascivious way he spoke, you were starting to think his crush on you was serious.

You swayed happily where you stood as you listened to Gerard finish his song:

Cinderella, she seems so easy

"It takes one to know one," she smiles

And puts her hands in her back pockets

Bette Davis style

And in comes Romeo, he's moaning,

"You belong to Me I Believe."

And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend

You'd better leave."

And the only sound that's left

After the ambulances go

Is Cinderella sweeping up

On Desolation Row.