#but I didn’t wear it today! I’m wearing a floor length black cape!

[benevolentbucky]

I’ve unintentionally worn a call the midwife costume today according to every single older patron I’ve talked to

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello!! Do you think you could do a part 2 of my request? An maybe a lil bit of angst with fluff where the reader comes to the mansion crying because someone hurt them?( Maybe techno or dream? Possibly jack manifold? 👀) Hopefully that's ok I just love the way you write it's so good plus it makes my day whever I read :D hopefully your day or evening is going good

<3

imhereforfan-fic : Omg can you do another yandere tubbo x reader x yandere ranboo romantic relationship please? Maybe where they get kidnapped by the dream team? Oh and adding on to my request can it also have some cuddling towards the end haha I’m touch starved and crap lol but can it a full length fic Okay okay okay. So. I'm so damn happy people loved this fic and I got two requests that I can easily add together. I hope neither of you minds too much having your requests mixed together ^^ I deadass wanna cry from how many positive reviews I've received from Too Sweet. ALSO. I'm a little wary of making romantic fics for characters Ranboo and Tubbo so I'm gonna play with the platonic marriage, just making it really fluffy and affectionate. PS: THIS ISNT AS FLUFFY AS I WANTED IT TO BE SOOOO OOOOPS. AAAAND. TOMMY ONLY TOOK ONE OF DREAM'S LIVES IN THE FINAL DISC WAR

LIKELY TO HAVE MANY ERRORS DUE TO BAD WIFI AND LACK OF SLEEP TW: Knives (+injuries that come from knives), kidnapping, taking of canon lives, Dream being power-hungry, minor panic attack, referenced strangulation.

Part One

Too Sweet (For This World) Yandere!C!Ranboo x F!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo Part 2

A few months had passed since you had moved into the mansion and some... How ended up involved in Ranboo and Tubbo's marriage, as well as being Michael's mother. At first, you were quite unsure about being a wife or a mother, but you saw how happy you had made the three boys and realized how happy they made you in return. In the beginning, neither of them wanted you leaving the mansion much without either of them, but then Ranboo started to notice small and minor declines in your physical and mental health. This caused him to panic and study your symptoms for a few days straight, to the point where you didn't see him once and you were genuinely scared he had lost his canon lives to the point where you kept checking your right wrist constantly for the message confirming Ranboo's death. But thankfully you never got it. When he had figured out what was causing your health to be less than absolutely perfect, he had spoken to Tubbo about letting you out of your room more often and getting you the sunlight you needed. It took a little bit to convince him, but once the goat hybrid learned that you could, or even would, become a lot sicker, he decided to allow you to go outside without them, as long as you stayed within Snowchester. You met a man the first few days you were out, who wore white glasses with blue and red lenses, and a headset with a mic, although he ran away from you the second you introduced yourself as Ranboo and Tubbo's (platonic) wife. Foolish had quickly become your friend around the same time though, which caused Tubbo and Ranboo to be a little unsure because of how he made you laugh and smile, but they noticed how you always kept him at arm's length with friendship and almost physically. Sure you didn't mind too much when he gave you a friendly side hug or pat on the head etc, but you were never really the one to initiate the contact unless you had to. Thankfully he didn't mind your awkwardness around strangers, trust issues, or lack of social exposure, so Ranboo and Tubbo didn't have to threaten a literal god. After saying goodbye to Michael for the day and putting him down for his nap, you got dressed into something more appropriate for travelling the snowy lands that Tubbo owned. Ranboo had to go to a Syndicate meeting, and Tubbo was working more on some buildings around Snowchester, saying something about prepping things to attack Dream who apparently escaped from prison? Not sure could've been rumoured or could be true? You had no clue honestly. You trusted Ranboo and Tubbo to protect you. The crackling of a few pine branches caused you to lift your eyes from the icy water below to turn your head. Walking out of the bushes were three men and one woman, pushing their way through the branches decorated with freshly fallen snow. One of the men was your crown-wearing platonic husband, although dressed up in an outfit you had never seen before, although not too far off from his normal get-up. Ranboo had a long black cape with golden edges and a high collar, held up together by a golden chain. His vest was now a deep royal purple with an eye of ender pin clasped on his tie, and his pants were half purple half black with golden designs sewn in. Beside him was a short female with shoulder-length pink hair and nicely done dark purple and black makeup. Her outfit consisted of a thick and warm lavender sweater with dark purple pants. On her hip was an enchanted netherite sword with a diamond-encrusted handle. You were quick to recognize her as Niki Nihachu, the baker who had lived in L'Manberg, but you hadn't heard much of her since the Pogtopia war. Off to the side, was a man you recognized easily as you had only seen him a few days ago when Ranboo invited him to see Michael, Philza Minecraft. His outfit wasn't too different from what he used to wear when he was a resident in the country, except for the black and gold cape and a black mask covering the bottom of his face. Then... The sight of the final male was the one to make you visibly react. A tall and buff male with a golden encrusted netherite

chest plate and a velvet red cape with gold accents as well. There was a rather majestic crown on top of his long braided pink hair and his dark eyes were narrowed behind a set of cracked glasses... His gaze pointing directly at you. Technoblade. Giving a shaky gasp, you stood up from your spot on the edge of the dock and turned to face the visitors. "Where's Tubbo," Techno growled softly, watching as you visibly trembled under his gaze. "Techno, mate. You're scarin' the hell outta her." Phil put his hand on his middle son's shoulder before stepping in front of him, blocking him from your gaze. "Hey, (Y/n), can you tell us where Tubbo is? We just have to ask him some things." "I'm here." An almost unfamiliar voice came from beside you before a hand was placed on your shoulder. When you looked over, you saw the goat hybrid with the coldest look you had seen him wear yet. "(Y/n), please, head into the mansion." Without another glance at the piglin hybrid, you quickly scurried towards the wooden mansion, faintly hearing the worried buzzing noises of your enderman husband in the distance before you slammed the large door shut. You almost ran towards your's or Michael's room in the basement, but then realized if any of them saw you heading down there, Michael's safety could be compromised. So, you quietly sat down in the living room and curled up on the couch, trying to keep your breathing stable as you fought to keep your mind off of the fact that the man who had almost killed you was standing a few feet outside the door of your home. You pinched your eyes shut and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying your best to simulate the hugs you would usually receive from your platonic husbands after a nightmare or a panic attack. ".../n)." "../n)!" "...(Y/n)!" With a terrified gasp, you flung your arms above your head to shield yourself from any oncoming attacker but only felt a gentle touch on your knee. It took a few seconds to muster up your courage, but you slowly brought your arms down and opened your eyes to come face to face with Tubbo, who immediately sat beside you and wrapped his arms around your shaking frame. After an hour or so with your face buried into Tubbo's shoulder, you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, causing you to look up and see Ranboo burying his face into your hair, "I'm so sorry... So sorry... I didn't think they would come to Snowchester..." You murmured a small, "it's okay," to him as you sat up a bit to return the hug for a few moments. Tubbo got up, murmuring something about going to get you a snack and a glass of water, knowing you must've been hungry or thirsty from panicking. After a few moments, Ranboo let go of you and briefly explained that Phil had given him some potions to help Michael adapt to the overworld, and he needed to give them to him. He rested his forehead against yours affectionately for a few seconds before turning towards the bookshelf and walking down the set of hidden stairs after opening the secret door. Once he shut it, you shuddered and rubbed your arms to get rid of the cold chill that had suddenly washed over you. Frowning slightly, you looked around for the source of the sudden cold, only to freeze as you saw the door cracked open, allowing the snow and cold wind to slip in. Ranboo wouldn't have left the door open... "Sorry kid." A deep and growly voice came from behind you, causing you to spin around and come face to face with Technoblade. The tall tusked male watched your expression go from confusion to horror in less than seconds, "It's nothing personal. Really. I just got a favour to pay off." A scream of terror escaped your lips before everything went black. "Hey, Michael!" Ranboo crouched down to greet the small zombie piglin child as he held a few potions of varying colours in his long arms, he set them and a thermos filled with a hot drink down on the table. "I got some new drinks for you to try today! Philza made them a little extra sweeter than last time." The small child squealed and made small tippy tap noises with his

hooves against the quartz flooring before he sat on the chair. He watched as his tall father sorted through the bottles carefully before uncorking one of the light red ones. Before he could pick up the small pipette, there was an almost unearthly shriek that came from the top of the stairs. "(Y/n)!" Ranboo screamed, unintentionally startling Michael, but that wasn't his main concern as he sprinted out the door then teleporting up the stairs and pushing the bookshelf door with his sword drawn and gleaming with enchantments. In his peripheral vision, he saw Tubbo dash out of the kitchen with his axe drawn and bloodlust in his eyes. Glancing around, the only thing the two men spotted was moonlight and snow spilling through the open door. Tubbo ran out without a second thought and screamed your name at the top of his lungs as he spun around, searching for any sort of sign that would give away your location. Ranboo decided to start looking around the mansion, even though part of him grasped that you wouldn't have screamed without reason. "She's gone..." Tubbo whispered, standing in the doorway, the moonlight creating a dark shadow over his wide eyes. "Footprints are leading to and away from the house, but they disappear on the docks..." Ranboo stayed still, a violent growling noise bubbling up in his throat before escaping past his lips as both his eyes turned purple. He threw his head back and took a breath to scream all his anger out, but froze upon hearing sad whimpering. He turned his head and saw Michael standing at the top of the hidden stairs, whimpering and shaking quite violently. There was part of Ranboo that refused to move, but his brain seemed to flick onto autopilot as he walked over to the child and picked him up. "Sorry... Michael... Something happened..." "Mama?" "...Mama... Won't be home for a while..." "Wake up!" A voice growled before something sharply came in contact with your cheek, shaking you awake. Your eyes shot open and came into contact with... A smiley face? "Aha... Sleeping Beauty graces us with her gaze. It's about damn time." A harsh grip landed on your jaw, making you realize there was a dull throbbing pain in your head. "Huh... Dre... Dream..?" You whispered, barely recognizing the white mask that helped destroy your home and turn it into nothing but a crater. "W-What?" His mask was lifted up enough to the point where you could see his mouth curved up into a sadistic smile. "You, my darling pawn, are just the piece I needed to make life easier for me... I just need to raise the stakes enough for them to be... Well... Stakes. I'm sure you understand." You went to move your hand to slap the gloved hand away from your face, only to give a small whine of pain as you felt a tight pinching on your wrists, making you realize that they were shackled together and likely chained to a wall. "What are you talking about you psychop- Ah!" He tightened his grip on your face to the point where you knew there would eventually be dark bruising. "I don't think you're in a position to be calling the king any names, pawn." Screams and shrieks of pain bounced off of the blank stone walls as the two people standing outside of the door put their heads down with their eyes closed. "You still sure he's doing the right thing, George? Are you still sure... He's the good guy in this story?" "You know better than to question him, Nick." "Don't call me that."

(Y/n) (L/n) was slain by Dream using Nightmare. Life: 2/3 (Y/n) (L/n) suffocated while trying to fend off Dream. Life: 1/3

"He just took two of an innocent woman's three lives. Just to use her as a hostage to make Tubbo hand over the nukes and to force Ranboo to follow his orders... He's a stranger, George. This isn't Dream anymore... Don't be stupid." Sapnap lowered his right arm that he read the messages off of and looked in the direction of his former best friend. The screams of agony were almost haunting as they echoed through Snowchester as silence fell down upon the entire Dream SMP. Shock slipped through the veins of everyone who read the message that appeared on their right wrists. - "I'm gonna kill him..." "I'm going to activate the nukes..." - "Techno... What did you do." "I owed him a favour. What he does after that is none of my business." - "...Isn't that Tubbo and Ranboo's wife?" "Yeah... She was my friend..." - "Tubbo's definitely not happy about this..." - "Ah... Atta girl..." Dream murmured in a mock soothing voice as he gently dragged his knife threateningly along your cheek. "Y'know... You would look better... With a smile." He leaned closer to you, the drawn-on eyes of his mask staring into your dull and tear-filled eyes as a stinging pain came from the corner of your lips. "Sh, sh, Relax... They're just shallow cuts, they won't even leave a scar. I'm not a monster." Time had passed quickly, but also excruciatingly slowly. You had no clue how long you had been down here, or how long you had been dead in between respawns. Dream just didn't seem to be leaving you alone. "Now..." He flipped the switchblade closed and threw it in his pocket before tremours shook the earth below and around you. "What the fUCK?!" He growled deeply before the door slammed open. "How did they even find this place!?" The door was blown off its hinges with a loud bang, causing Dream to duck out of the way of the flying piece of scrap. Light flooded into the room as you shut your eyes tightly, your ears ringing from the explosion. Once your eyes got a little bit adjusted, you opened them and saw five figures in the newly widened doorway. "Let's just say... It was an anonymous tip." "Sapnap?! You dare betray me?!" The black-haired male fell silent as he turned around and walked out, putting his hand on the shoulder of the tallest silhouette in the doorway as he walked by. Once you got completely used to the new light, you began to recognize the figures. Tommy, Tubbo, Foolish, and Ranboo. Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo immediately ran forward and started a barrage of attacks on the masked psychopath while Foolish ran over and began to work on the chains binding you to the chair. After getting them off of you, he silently picked you up as you turned your head to look at the blond, brunet and monochrome boys. Dream's mask got knocked off and was thrown across the room as he was pinned below a growling Ranboo, whose skin looked almost purely black from your angle. Tommy was off to the side, rummaging through Dream's equipment, he already got his revenge when Dream was put into prison, this was Ranboo and Tubbo's revenge now.

"̷̛̲̪͝Ỳ̵̧̖͒̉o̸̟̔̆û̶̩̟̍͊'̸̧̺̎̉ṟ̷̰͘ế̴͍̰̎ ̶̤͆̎̒g̶̭̋̇o̸͍̐͑i̸̼̟̾ņ̷͊̈́̈́ĝ̷̰̤̈́ ̵̘̉t̵͖͠ȯ̸͎ ̴͎̐̈́r̸̰͙̾̑͝e̸͚͌͑g̴̛̗̦͑ř̷̳̳̱e̵̲̿̕ṫ̶̨͓͗ ̷̢͊E̷̬̪͒͊͂V̷̟̒͝Ë̸̜R̷͐̄̏ͅ ̶̲̟̤͗͋t̴̝̎o̵̖̐ư̴̞̾̇c̶̡̙̐h̵̹̜̣̒͂̂į̴̙̤͠n̴̤̼̻̅̚ǧ̵̹̙̌͜ ̵̥̞̏m̶̱̳̦͗̌y̴̱̮͒̒̄ ̶̮̈͑͆f̸͉̽̄à̵̹͠m̵͕̓̅͋í̸͇̩͔̿l̷̰̫̳͗͑y̸̡͌̊́.̶͓̇͝"̸̡͆ ("You're going to regret EVER touching my family.") Ranboo hissed lowly before he and Tubbo began applying weight to the sword pressed against the speedrunner's chest. You shut your eyes tightly for a moment before you felt a bottle press into your hands, causing you to re-open your eyes to see Foolish trying to hand you a healing potion. You eagerly took a small sip from it, feeling the small slices on your cheeks form back together and the pain from the bruises around your neck vanishing completely.

Dream was slain by Ranboo and Tubbo using Ranord

There was a clattering noise before two sets of footsteps running in your direction. Slowly tilting your head in their direction, you saw Tubbo with dark bags under his eyes and Ranboo with plenty more scars on his cheeks from tears. You were pulled from Foolish's arms and brought down to sitting on Tubbo's and Ranboo's laps, their arms completely wrapped around you. The goat hybrid was nuzzled under your chin while the enderman's face was buried in your hair. "We should have come sooner..." "We shouldn't have even left you alone in the mansion..." "I'm sorry... I should have never left the manor..."

[marauderundercover]

Day 6: Party

WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE 

Continuation of days two and three

Marinette grins at her reflection in the mirror. The costume was perfect- close enough to the original that you could tell who she was, but also with her own touch so that she didn’t hate looking at the costume. She’d even curled her hair slightly. The knock at the front door makes her squeal in excitement, knowing exactly who it is. 

“Cass!” She cheers, opening the door and grinning widely at her best friend. Sure, Cass didn’t talk a lot (she was like Luka in that way), but she always seemed to know when Marinette needed help out of her own head. And she was eternally grateful for that. She was even more grateful that Cass had agreed to do a duo costume with her since Jason apparently didn’t want to dress up. He was ‘too old’ or something. Well, Marinette wanted to have fun and wear a damn costume. 

“The suit is amazing! I’m not sure the cowl I made will be good enough for it.” Marinette says worriedly, examining the stitches on Cass’ costume. “Where’d you say you got this?” She asks, frowning. It was definitely higher quality than the Halloween store downtown. Cass just smiles, the one that basically says ‘not telling’. Mari just grins, used to it by now. She passes the cowl to Cass and grabs her own domino mask, sliding it on. Posing next to Cass in the full length mirror, Marinette takes a picture and sends it to the group chat that Jason had recently added her to. Dropping her phone into her purse and grabbing her keys, she turns to Cass. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

“Ready.” Cass says. Marinette grins. Look out, Gotham, Batman and Robin are out on the town. 

---

Dick squeals as the picture comes through on the groupchat. He was beyond relieved that Jagged had scheduled his Halloween party two weeks before the actual holiday. It meant that he, and the rest of his brothers, could actually go instead of being on the extra patrols they always had to schedule around the holiday. Grinning, he opens twitter. 

@flyingrayson

Look at my little sisters! Aren’t they the cutest?! #halloween #Waynefam #jaggedstone

[image description: One girl stands with a hand on her hip, dressed in what is obviously a spin on a Robin costume, including: a domino mask, black tights, dark red tunic with a Robin logo, gold belt, knee high emerald boots, and a dual sided cape black on the outside and gold on the inside. Another girl stands next to her with her arms crossed over her chest, dressed in what is obviously a Batman costume, including: black catsuit, yellow utility belt, black cape, and a redesigned black cowl.]

---

Marinette pecks Jason’s cheek and grins. 

“What, not a Robin fan?” She asks teasingly at his frown. He huffs. 

“Not really. More of a...Red Hood guy.” He says, and she snorts. 

“Of course you’d like the one with guns.” She says, shaking her head with a smile. “His costume is actually probably one of my favorites. Well, besides the whole helmet thing.” Jason grins, pulling her in and giving her a sweet kiss before he glances behind her and groans. 

“My brothers just walked in.” He says and she smiles. 

“Go say hi, I’ve gotta go ask Uncle Jagged a question really quick. I’ll be right back and Cass and I can show your brothers our awesome costumes in person.” She says, pecking his cheek before walking away. She looks around for Jagged, but frowns when she doesn’t see him in the main room. Pulling out her phone, she sends him a quick text asking where he is. 

In the garden with Fang!!!!!!!

She shakes her head fondly. Of course he skipped out on his own party to spend time with his crocodile. Smiling, she heads out to the garden to try and get to him. She’d wanted to see if the man planned on being in the US around Thanksgiving. Bruce had already invited her (probably to get Jason to show up) and said she could invite any of her family as well. Since her parents and superhero partner were both dead and her grandparents didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving, she decided she’d really love Jagged and Penny to come instead. As she walks outside, she’s shocked that Fang doesn’t immediately run up to her. 

“Uncle Jagged?” She calls, frowning. Where was he? And why was it so dark out here? Fang was scared of the dark. Jagged never would have brought him outside without more lights on, he was too protective of him. She tenses when she notices a slumped figure next to the bench Jagged had put in the gardens for when she visits. It was one of her favorite places to sit and design. 

“Hello?” She calls, watching the figure for any movement. Seeing none, she steps closer and her stomach drops. Immediately she runs over and checks her Uncle for a pulse. She sighs in relief when she feels it, but the gash on his head is worrisome. How-

“Hello, Birdie!” An amused voice rings behind her, making her blood run cold. She whirls around and manages to catch a glimpse of the man’s pale face before a thick piece of metal flies at her head and the world goes black. 

---

“Jaybird! Where’s Mari and Cass? They’re blowing up on twitter, even MDC liked my tweet!” Dick says happily, making Jason scowl. 

“Did you seriously post my girlfriend all over your twitter?” He asks grumpily. Dick nods. 

“Oh yeah. Her and Cass looked too cute to keep it to ourselves. Where are they anyway?” Dick asks, scanning the room. 

“M said she needed to go talk to her Uncle about something. Personally, I think she was just avoiding you guys. You all crowd her every time you see her.” Jason reprimands, crossing his arms. Replacement rolls his eyes. 

“It’s ‘cause she’s so much cooler than you. And she’s not an asshole like you are.” He says. 

“Something’s wrong.” Cass says, suddenly appearing at Jason’s side. He jumps slightly, but then frowns at her. 

“What?” He asks, surprised to see the deep scowl form on her face. 

“Don’t know.” She huffs. 

“Well if Cassandra believes that something is wrong, we should investigate.” Damian says, looking relieved that he wouldn’t be asked to socialize with anyone. A startled scream from outside makes the five vigilantes tense before running towards the noise. Jason curses when he realizes it’s Penny Rolling, Jagged Stone’s….something. She’s kneeling by a slumped figure, shaking it until a groan escapes it. Jason feels his blood run cold when the figure’s hair catches the light. It’s Jagged. Then where-

“Where’s she? Where’s she at?” Jagged slurs out, blinking wildly. 

“Who?” Penny asks, gently holding the man’s face. Jason frowns at the gash. 

“M. He wanted ‘er.” He says, and though the man is looking around crazily and slurring his words, Jason can tell he’s completely serious. And M-

“Do you mean Marinette?” Jason asks, stepping forward. Jagged frowns, but nods. 

“Crazy clown.” He adds before turning and throwing up in the grass. Jason growls and turns on his heel, ready to go hunt the damned clown down. Out of everyone in this damned city that he could’ve targeted, why did he choose her?

“Jason, wait.” Dick says, grabbing his wrist. “We need to have a plan. Come on. You can’t just go out like this.” He reminds him lowly, Jason’s eyes narrow but he follows anyway. Might as well use the good tools. That fucking clown won’t make it to morning. 

---

Ice cold water falls over her and Marinette sits up, gasping in shock at the sudden temperature change. 

“Little cold, Birdie?” A voice asks before walking around and standing in front of her- a huge smile on his face and a thick piece of metal in his hands.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Marinette says, trying not to let her voice shake. This was the villain. The one she never wanted to meet. The one that gave her boyfriend nightmares that he couldn’t explain to her. And now she was alone with him. 

“If you’re sure, we could have some...fun before Batsy arrives.” He laughs. 

“Why would Batman show up?” She asks. “You do realize this is just a Halloween costume, right?” She flinches as the piece of metal- a crowbar, she thinks shakily- stops inches in front of her face.

“How stupid do you think I am? Of course it’s a costume. A costume posted by one Dick Grayson. You’re a Wayne, somehow. And Batsy always shows up when a Wayne is involved.” Joker says, his twisted grin making her sick to her stomach. 

“I’m not a Wayne! Batman isn’t going to come for me.” She argues, cursing her decision to not wear her earrings today. Some days were harder than others, especially leaving in a mask. Even if the mask was a costume. Every time she tried to put on her earrings today, she shook and started to panic. Granted, it was probably for the best. Because she would definitely be tempted to transform and she did not want to give Joker that kind of knowledge. 

“Wayne or not, one of the bats will come. You have friends in very high places, Birdie.” Joker tuts, twirling the crowbar in his hand. She flinches as it nears her face, making Joker laugh. “If I wanted to hit you, I would.” He says. She doesn’t even have time to figure out what he means because her shoulder explodes in pain. The pain is blinding and she wants to scream but no sound will come out of her mouth as she gasps for breath. 

“That’s no good. A silent bird is a dead bird. So sing, Birdie.” Joker demands, and he aims slightly lower this time, shattering her left arm. And she screams. The pain tearing at her throat nothing compared to the pain in her arm, her shoulder. She sobs, the shaking making the pain worse, but she was unable to stop. It hurt. 

“S-stop!” She manages to yell, nearly biting her tongue when Joker grabs her chin and forces her to look up at him. 

“Hmm. You’re right! The internet should definitely see this.” He laughs, pulling a phone out. She shakes her head, flinching as he whacks the crowbar against the floor near her chair. He points the phone at her, and she knows he’s recording. The bastard. 

“Hello Gotham! Look at this little Birdie. I’m afraid she flew too far, and now we have to clip her wings.” He says, sighing as if he’s actually apologetic. He sets his phone up on the table and stalks over to her before turning and waving at the camera. She watches him move the crowbar around warily, her breathing shaky. God, she hoped Jason wasn’t watching this. Hoped he was somewhere safe, not trying to go do something stupid. She winces as Joker acts like he’s about to hit her, only to stop before the crowbar actually connects with her good arm.

“I told you, I’d only hit you if I wanted to.” He chuckles. 

“Go to hell.” She spits out, ignoring the voice in her head (that sounded suspiciously like Tikki) telling her to shut up. To not antagonize the crazy man with the crowbar. 

“Gladly.” He says with a grin, rearing back and swinging the crowbar out to hit her in the ribs. Her scream echoes around the room and she has no time to catch her breath before he’s attacking her ribs again. Tears stream down her face, but she can’t scream, she can’t even catch her breath. I’m going to die, she thinks, and the thought is terrifying. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to live. 

---

“Do we have a fucking location or am I about to go shoot up every goddamned warehouse in this city?” Jason growls as he zips through the streets on his bike. He knew Babs and Alfred were back at the cave, watching the livestream and working to locate Marinette. And even though he couldn’t see the video, the audio playing through the comms was enough to make his stomach churn. 

He didn’t give one singular fuck what Bruce said. He was going to kill that goddamned clown the minute he saw him. 

---

Marinette glares at the Joker, barely able to keep her head up. For some unknown reason, he’d decided to use his fists on her face instead of the crowbar. Not that she was complaining. She wouldn’t have survived multiple hits to the head. Not with the force he had. She watches him, and she knows he’s saying something, but she can’t tell what it is. She’s too tired, too hurt, to care what he’s saying anyway. Unless it’s some magical cure to stop her from feeling like she’s broken into a million pieces, she doesn’t want to hear it. 

Eyes wandering behind him, she’s relieved when she notices the costumed figure. The cowl, the cape- Batman did come. How strange. Though, she had assumed that Joker was live streaming. So that could definitely explain that one. Deciding she was out of immediate danger, she lets her eyes droop shut, reveling in the darkness that surrounds her. She let’s it stay, and she can feel things slipping away, some of the pain lessening. It’s nice, until someone is poking her and talking much too close to her. She lets out a whine as the person forces her eyes open. 

“‘m tired.” She mumbles, wincing at the pain that comes with breathing, with talking. 

“I know, kid, god I know. Just keep your eyes open.” A voice says. She blinks, the blue marks on the suit in front of her helping her to identify the vigilante. 

“Couldn’t fight.” She spits out, tears springing to her eyes as her attempt at conversation makes her chest ache. 

“But you’re fighting now, you’re staying awake. You’re doing such a good job, I’m proud of you. Stay awake kiddo.” Nightwing says quietly. She vaguely feels the ropes slide off her wrists and ankles. Fighting to stay sitting up, because slumping will hurt more than she’s willing to allow, she sighs. 

“Jason’s gonna worry.” She mumbles, and Nightwing hums. 

“Ambulance is almost here, kid, just stay awake.” He says instead of asking about Jason. She hopes Jason is okay. Hopes he isn’t mad at himself for letting her go talk to Jagged alone. Suddenly, sirens are close and she lets the world finally slip away.

---

The pain is the first thing that clues her in. She isn’t dead. Which is a relief. But the way her entire body aches, is not a relief. Forcing her eyes open, she sighs at Jason’s slumped form in a chair next to her bed. She wished she knew how long she’d been in the hospital so she could scold him. Because he was still wearing the outfit he had on at the party. Which meant he hadn’t given himself a break. Just as she’s trying to decide how to ask the nurses for pain medicine, Jason’s eyes open. 

“Marinette!” He gasps, starting to lunge forward, then stopping himself. “I thought, god, M, I thought-”

“‘m okay.” She says softly, and he frowns. 

“Okay? You were nearly beaten to death with a goddamned crowbar. You’re not okay.” He argues. She sighs. 

“I’m alive, and I’m with you. I’m okay.” She insists, wincing. He looks like he still wants to argue, but stops himself. He scoots closer and holds her hand, kissing the back of it softly. 

“I’ll never leave you.” He promises. She smiles softly, before falling back asleep, finally safe.

Tag list:  @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess 

[darksidechick823]

Queen Anointed

This will be a continuation of the Queen Anna AU from 2020’s Hansanna for the Holidays and serves as a lead-in for an upcoming multi-chapter piece.

Summary: Anna struggles with her emotions on the day of her Coronation, and longs for both the happiness from a time long gone and the companionship from a prince residing so far away.

“Beautiful. Simply Beautiful.” Gerda said with a soft smile as she gently adjusted the draping of Anna’s cape.

Anna could only stare blankly at her own reflection in the large floor-length mirror in her bedroom. This was a day she had been dreading. The day she was formally crowned Queen of Arendelle.

“It’s Coronation Day!!!”

“For the first time in forever, nothing’s in my waaaaaaaaaaay!”

An echoed memory of her eighteen-year-old self, giggling and bountiful of energy lingered in her mind. If only she could go back to that day, to the time when she felt most alive . Of course, if she did that, then there wouldn’t be a reason for today’s festivities in the first place.

Festivities… she sighed. The kingdom and our allies are rejoicing. I wish I were, too… but I’m not.

She had of course prepared for the day. All of the planning had to cross her desk at some point for final approvals, and the better part of the week held rehearsal after rehearsal to make sure everything went smoothly. After what happened during the previous coronation, the advisors and council members were prepared to do anything and everything to make sure there would be no mishaps. Not that there really could be. No one else had the power to create obscene weather disasters with the flick of a wrist.

The chapel bells pulled Anna from her thoughts, and her gaze suddenly went towards the window. Inside, she could feel her heart begin to thump a little harder in her chest. It was almost time to head downstairs.

“What do you think, Your Majesty?” Gerda asked, smiling into the mirror.

Anna let her eyes travel over herself once more. This was the first time she had worn so much regalia and jewelry all at once. There was a diamond bracelet adorning her right wrist, a shimmering broach attached to the center ruffle on her bodice, and a pair of diamond and emerald drop earrings hanging from her lobes. A vibrant eggplant-purple sash with gold trim crossed over her torso, its shade complimenting perfectly with the dark green gown she wore. It was beautiful but heavy-- the heaviest dress she had ever worn in her life. The stiffer outer fabric gave away to a pleated, paler green underskirt that shared gold crocus rosemaling along the bottom hemline. All of that seemed to be weighed down by the incredibly heavy cape draped over her shoulders. Around her neck sat a black ribbon choker with a gold crocus medallion in the center. Much of it was recycled from the original necklace she wore three years prior-- a part of her that still represented her youth and innocence. She made sure to include it.

Her eyes finally settled on her face, and she let out a sigh. Her hairstyle was not one she would have selected for herself, but it’s what Elsa wore to hers, and how her mother used to arrange her own hair. It was a style fitting the Queen of Arendelle, and for continuity’s sake, Anna forced her own locks into its intricate weave. It made her feel more connected to her lost family. Perhaps in a strange, spiritual way, it would channel some strength for her to get through the day.

“I… I feel smothered….” Anna admitted softly. “Elsa didn’t wear nearly this much.”

“Only for the ceremony,” Gerda said, “you can remove the heavy cape for the ball later tonight.”

That’s still hours away… Anna groaned quietly, but her moment to protest was interrupted by a swift knock at her bedroom door.

“Your Majesty ,” Kai’s voice sounded from the corridor, “ It’s time .”

Anna took a deep breath and took one last, long look in the mirror before gathering her skirts and slowly turning around towards the door. Gerda remained just behind her, making sure to gather up the cape so it wasn’t tripped upon. With every step she took down the castle corridors, she could feel her heart thumping harder in her chest.

I bet Elsa felt just like this… actually, she probably felt worse, with the whole magical suppression thing going on. Opening the gates for just one day probably sent her into a panic attack. It’s a wonder she managed to keep her composure for as long as she did.

Just keep calm. Breathe. Focus. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this….

The instant she stepped outside the main doors to the castle, the crowds that had gathered outside erupted into excited cheers. She smiled softly at her subjects and offered a mild wave in return as she descended the few steps to the courtyard and made her way to the chapel.

Just as was rehearsed, she waited in the chapel’s narthex until the doors to the nave would open and signal the start of her processional up towards the altar. However, unlike the calm, composed demeanor she held during so many of the practice runs, today she could barely keep still. Her hands fidgeted at her sides while she waited. They rubbed against the fabrics of her skirts, even shifting so her fingers traced along the diamond bands of her bracelet. They only hurried back to hang loose at her sides when the large wooden doors opened to signal the start of the service. No longer alone and now visible to her visiting attendants, Anna made sure to keep her head held high. Above all else, she had to at least look strong, poised and confident. The music began and the congregation all rose to their feet and glanced back towards the entrance, towards her , so she took her first steps up the center aisle as the choir began to sing their first hymn of the ceremony.

Queen Anointed Our chosen Daughter With blessed crown of gold

Anna walked slowly to keep her steps in time with the singing. As she approached the head of the room, her eyes immediately focused on the far end of the altar where she would soon be positioned, then shifted to one particular spot off to the side. If she stared hard enough, she could almost envision her younger self standing proud with a beaming smile on her face, watching and waiting as Elsa walked the same path that she did today. But there was no one there now. The platform was devoid of family members or close friends for support.

Northern glory Our golden sister The heirs to kings of old

Let us bless this sacred heart Sing praise and to bring to light Your power

An ornate chair was positioned at the center of the altar where she would sit until it was time to take the official oaths as queen. When she made it up the small steps onto the platform, she moved to carefully turn around and stand in front of it to face the congregation while the choir finished their hymn.

Noble Queen of our northern lands We are in your hands….

There was a brief period of silence in the chapel once the music ended. Her eyes remained unfocused and straight ahead as she could see chapel staff close the large doors. Once the bells stopped their ringing, she took her seat, and the congregation lowered back into their pews. Her hands remained clasped and as still as possible in her lap as the bishop came forward to stand before a podium set up near the base of the steps.

Anna recognized the bishop’s opening sermon from the one he recited during Elsa’s coronation. It was just as long and drawn out as she remembered the first time, and she tried her best to keep her focus on the holy man and not let her eyes stray elsewhere. And she was never more thankful that when organizing the program there were choir breaks in between most of the speaking to break up some of the monotonous droning. However, it didn’t dawn on her until after the third hymn that Elsa’s service was severely abbreviated. It seemed that by this point, her sister was already crowned and heading back into the castle. She was starting to regret letting her advisors talk her into a larger service. She understood the symbolic importance of each part of the coronation, but was starting to get the impression that all of the additional pomp and circumstance was to make up for what Elsa had forcibly removed from her own ceremony entirely… and perhaps to make a show that this queen and her reign would be a bit more traditional than the last.

Finally, it was time for the crowning. Anna rose from her seat and moved to stand at the front of the platform as the bishop approached with the velvet pillow containing the sacred royal scepter and orb. She reached down to gently take hold of them and then straightened up as tall as she could. Another priest approached behind the bishop with a second pillow, this one containing her crown. It was much larger and more ornate than Elsa’s--adorned with diamonds and emeralds with a repeating crocus pattern around the entire curvature. With the headpiece in his hands held high above her head, the bishop stood behind her and began uttering the old nordic prayer that Anna recognized from her sister’s ceremony.

Anna swallowed nervously through the blessing as she tightened her grip on the jewels in her hands, and for the first time since the service began, allowed her eyes to scan about the full chapel. So many calm smiles stared back at her. She recognized some-- King Argus of Vallacia, Prince Oscar and his mother, Queen Helene of Rheland, King Frederick and Queen Charlotte of the Southern Isles, along with countless others that she’s met in the last few months, most of them from the New Year’s reception hosted by the Southern Isles so many months ago. Their silent support was a small comfort, though it did little to soften the rapid heart thumping in her chest.

It was all too soon. Barely four years since Elsa stood in this place, held the sacred relics, stared out at a very similar crowd. That young queen was nervous then, too, but for entirely different reasons. A fear of the unknown, of change, and most of all, of exposure. Not even Anna standing proudly beside her could lessen the amount of anxiety smothering the entire ceremony. Elsa stood with her back to the audience and kept her gaze mostly towards the floor. She couldn’t even face the priest anointing her. Nothing but stress from the moment she stepped into the chapel.

Anna’s nerves were of a different nature. As the second born, the spare , she spent a good portion of her life playing second fiddle, being compared to Elsa in many ways. Everything from behavior to poise to even manner of speech was scrutinized. Everyone, especially her courtiers, wanted her to be better, to be more proper, more reserved, like her sister was. The last thing she desired here, now, was for the people near and far to think that she was going to have the same attitude towards the coronation as Elsa. She made sure to position herself facing her audience for the entire ceremony. It made her feel more vulnerable while trying to hide her array of emotions, but it seemed more important that she truly be seen by her subjects and visiting nobles for who and what she was.

Suddenly, she felt the weight of the crown pressed into her hair as the bishop’s voice suddenly boomed much louder than before and spoke the final words of the invocation.

“...Sem hon heldr inum helgum eignum ok krýnd í þessum helga stað ek té fram fyrir yðr...Queen Anna of Arendelle!"

~***~

Anna was mistaken when she thought that the formal ceremonial service that morning would be the hardest part of the day to get through. Now that the Coronation Ball was in full swing, she was feeling a lot more emotional than expected. Too many memories of a time gone by flooded to the surface. Kai’s formal presentation brought her to stand at her raised throne at the head of the decorated ballroom. She knew being alone at formal functions was something she would have to get used to, but it didn’t make gazing out at the crowds of partygoers any easier.

Once the first dance of the evening began, she retreated back to her throne and sat down. In between the swishing of tailcoat tails and full skirts moving about the floor, she could almost see the very spot where Duke Spencer of Weselton pulled her into some outrageous dance— if one could even call it a dance. The tiny man seemed to hop about and step on her toes more than actually steer her about on the dance floor. If she thought about it hard enough, she could almost feel a phantom pain across her feet from the ordeal.

If only he wasn’t such a jerk, Anna mused, he could have been invited to my Coronation, too… and I could have gotten some entertainment watching him prance about like some chicken-or-a-donkey-or whatnot with some other unsuspecting girl.

Peeling her eyes away from her guests, she decided to glance down at her gown instead, and as she fidgeted and adjusted the way her long train was draped around her feet, she was suddenly reminded of something and someone else, at an inconvenient time when her younger self managed to trip over her own skirts like a clumsy fool. That brief moment of embarrassment turned her evening into a whirlwind romance that only seemed to be possible coming from fairy tales and novels.

“Glad I caught you….”

His smooth voice echoed in her mind and she let out a sigh as her fingers stroked the pale green pleats of her skirt. The shade reminded her of eyes that never left hers for hours on end. Those eyes were the most beautiful and vibrant that she had ever seen. Oh how she wished they were here to gaze upon her now… or so the man’s strong arms could lead her into a dance or two. That would certainly brighten her spirits. If only he were here.

Hans…

His presence would make all of her worries, all of her insecurities vanish in an instant. She missed having someone to talk to. Someone to laugh and tease with. General Mattias made for a nice confidant and right-hand-man since their return from the Enchanted Forest, but even he was still a subordinate in the castle, just like Gerda and Kai. The one thing she missed about her recent holiday in the Isles was that everyone there, even the princes she didn’t care to associate with, were equals with her.

Well, as equal as a slew of princes and a queen could ever be.

But with Hans, there were no ranks. Just two people. Two friends. Two...whatever they were.

I wonder what he’s up to… she mused, if he’s hiding away in his rooms reading books or painting a new masterpiece--

“Glad I caught you!”

Her eyes immediately jumped back towards the crowd and searched the room for the source of the voice. The too familiar phrase made her heart race, and she had to take a few deep breaths to remind herself that the speaker was in fact not Prince Hans, and that her former fiancé was not the only man allowed to utter such a common saying. Off to the side, she noticed King Alastor of Malengrad waving enthusiastically to one of the ambassadors of Maldonia, and the two gentlemen moved over to the side of the ballroom for a chat. She let out a frustrated sigh. No matter how much she tried, she could not shake off her visions of a dashing, handsome prince saving an awkward, clumsy princess from falling most disgracefully in the middle of the ballroom.  If she focused hard enough, she could almost make out the path they took through their waltz around the room to the velvet curtains they hid behind.

Anna closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, and for a moment, she could almost hear the echoing sounds of her old laughter and babbling apologies for knocking Hans in the face. It was a noise she hadn’t heard in a long time. She missed that sound, and the aura of pure joy that the mere act brought. After so many months of mourning and burying herself in regal duties, she desperately wanted to feel alive again. She thought this event would be of some help, but instead, all she could dwell on were her memories. And since this ball wasn’t enough to get her excited, she would have to seek out her thrills somewhere else.

Once the waltz ended, she rose from her throne and tried her best to discreetly make her way across the ballroom to the large exit doors. When Kai tried to approach, she merely waved him off. “I just need some air. I’ll be right back,” she told him with a slightly-forced smile, and slipped through the entrance before he could get a reply in.

With the doors now closed behind her, she leaned against the flat surface and took in a deep breath. She wouldn’t be able to sneak away for too long… not like Elsa’s party. She and Hans were gone for hours; long enough for her to give him a proper tour of the castle and surrounding kingdom highlights. By the time they returned to the party, the hour was nearing midnight. But then, she wasn’t the main attraction that night, the woman that held everyone’s eye. She was just the princess. The spare. No one cared what she did or where she went. Anna held suspicions that Elsa and the other advisors present probably didn’t even notice her absence… only her return, because that’s when everything fell apart.

I think I’ll be lucky to get maybe twenty minutes to myself… she sighed to herself as she took off down the lit corridors. As she rounded a corner and gathered her skirts to set up a short flight of stairs, she could hear the Ball’s music growing softer until she couldn’t hear it at all.

There was a set of double doors coming up on the left, and when she approached, she hesitated before pushing them open. It was an empty, connecting corridor. Anna bit her lip and swallowed hard as she glanced down towards the floor. Her hands grasped onto her skirts and gently lifted them up so she could even see her dainty feet. After some careful kicking, she managed to get her heeled shoes off and moved to the side and out of the way. Her heart started to thump in her chest at the mere thought of what she was about to do, and her hands grabbed at more of her skirts to hike them almost to her knees. One foot then moved out in front of the other without actually lifting off the floor. Her stockings slid with ease on the polished wood floor, and she then made a few more steps just to test how far she felt comfortable going across the hall. One of her foot movements caught on the back train of her dress and she instantly flailed her arms out to regain her balance.

“ I’m beginning to realize that I like having someone to hold steady… ”

“Well then… I guess you must really like me…”

“I’m beginning to realize that, too…”

The memory made her sigh, and it took a few moments for her to right herself. This wasn’t nearly as exciting as she hoped it would be. How could it when her preferred sliding partner was stuck on an island so far away?

“Your Majesty?”

A puzzled voice behind her made her freeze, and she slowly glanced behind her to see General Mattias peering in through the doorway. Her cheeks instantly flushed with embarrassment at being caught like this, though at least it was only Mattias and not one of the guards patrolling the corridors.

“Are you alright?” He asked, stepping further into the room. His eyes shifted from her abandoned shoes on his end of the hall to her position several meters away.

“I.. um… yes.” Anna cleared her throat. “I just needed to get away for a few minutes.”

“I see…” He said slowly.

“Kai sent you to find me, didn’t he? He didn’t seem at all pleased that I was sneaking away in the first place.”

“He did.”

Anna couldn’t resist letting her shoulders slump just a little. It was too soon to return to the party. She slowly walked back to her shoes and slipped her feet back into them. “I don’t want to face them all… not yet.”

Mattias tilted his head slightly to one side and stroked his chin. “I could… forget I saw you for a little while longer?” He proposed, “if that is your wish, Ma’am.”

A small smile started to show across her features. “It is.”

“And where will I find you later?” He asked, “when the time comes to retrieve you properly?”

Anna shook her head. “If I tell you, that would take the fun out of finding me, wouldn’t it?” She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Thank you, General.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Without another word, she hurried out through the other end of the corridor and purposefully crossed over to a different wing of the castle and to a particular balcony overlooking a small portion of the gardens. She perched herself on the balustrade and gazed out at the florals below. The trickling sound of the water fountain in the center of the area also got her attention. It was a nice change to see the water flowing again. It had of course been shut off during the harsh winter months, but even before then, it was always Elsa’s signature to have the water frozen upwards in elaborate displays. The gentle movement was always something that she found rather soothing. As a child, she spent many days outside with her mother by those fountains, sometimes teasing and splashing each other, other times she was alone, watching with awe as the ducks and their ducklings played about in the water.

The pleasant memory brought a smile to her face, but in the end it was short lived. The trickling water also started to remind her of the waterfall where Prince Hans proposed to her. A sigh escaped her lips and her shoulders slumped forward. It seemed that everything this evening was reminding her of Hans, and now she was really starting to miss him.

“Wait, wait… you have how many—?”

“Twelve older brothers. And three of them pretended that I was invisible. Literally. For two years.”

Anna snorted to herself as she vividly remembered every little detail and conversation shared back then. And since her recent visit to the Southern Isles, she could easily imagine which brothers gave Hans the cold shoulder. He offered her a modest three, but in reality she could peg at least four or five to be the guilty ones.

Jerks. All of them… she sighed softly. I hope they’re not giving him too much of a hard time back home. It’s no secret that he would rather be anywhere but there. If circumstances were different, he’d have been the first one invited to my coronation.

Or… maybe he wouldn’t even have needed an invite at all! I suppose if Elsa didn’t freak out and freeze everything, then Hans and I would probably have been married by now. Maybe… maybe we’d even be living together in the Southern Isles instead. I would’ve been the light in his life that made living amongst his brothers actually bearable.

Of course, if I was living with Hans all this time, then Elsa would probably not have woken the spirits of the Enchanted Forest. She would still be alive, hidden safely away in this castle with the gates locked up tight.

And I wouldn’t have to be Queen….

Her eyes lowered to her lap as she reflected on the months since returning home from her winter holiday. So much of her time was spent sitting in with her advisors going over everything from the daily agendas to matters of foreign affairs. It was like a double-edged sword at times. One one hand, she was truly thankful for all of their assistance, at least in the beginning. Ruling the kingdom was not something she and Elsa had equal training on, and the few short times she deputized in her sister’s absence were nothing compared to the stress brought on by full-time duties. But on the other hand, her advisors still treated her like a naïve child and oftentimes preferred to take care of everything for her and contend with merely having her sign off on the final documents. That’s not what she wanted. She had to have confidence in herself to do what was right for the kingdom, and in order to learn best, she had to do things herself. Thank goodness that she had General Mattias sit in on so many of those sessions. At least he always looked out for her, and his voice often registered to her councilmen when hers could not.

How was it so easy for Elsa to garner their respect? Was it her magic? Or did she just have that natural commanding presence?

… Of course she did. Elsa had everything.

Even Hans had it, and he was only in charge for a few days! If these stuffy old men listened to him, a stranger , why won’t they listen to me?

“It seems I’ve found you again, Your Majesty.”

Anna jumped at the sound and glanced at the balcony doors. General Mattias was back and standing at attention in the doorway. That was not nearly enough time for her. Her shoulders slumped further as she let out a disappointed sigh, “You’re too efficient, General. How did you know I was out here?”

“This is where you always go to hide.” He replied and stepped over towards her. “And every time I find you here, you are always looking quite pensive.”

“Mmm.” She nodded and glanced straight out past the castle wall to the distant city square all lit up for the evening.

“You don’t seem too thrilled about rejoining the party.” Mattias said.

Anna shrugged, “I think the formality of the ceremony really took its toll on me. You know, the symbolic weight of it all…. I’m officially Queen now. And I guess I keep thinking about Elsa and what it may have been like for her when she was crowned. I can’t help but notice how our days felt very different to me. Elsa’s big day was like the highlight of my life. I finally got to see the gates reopen and meet all of these new people. There was music and just… life back in the castle again. It was like magic, especially after thirteen years of being shut in all the time. I remember being so excited to burst through the castle walls and see the city again.” She sighed softly. “I even fell in love that night.”

“The Southern Isles prince?”

She nodded. “Hans and I didn’t stick around for the whole party. I showed him some of the kingdom,” she let out a quiet giggle, “though it felt like we were really exploring this place for the first time, together. It seemed more special that way.” She gestured out towards the mountain rock face. “That waterfall over there is where he proposed to me. Those hours I spent with him… that moment when he got on his knee… I think that was the happiest that I’d ever been.”

Mattias nodded pensively and glanced out to where she had pointed. If he concentrated enough, he could almost hear the roaring of the falls. When he turned back towards his queen, his eyes immediately softened. Hans Westergaard was not a subject that was frequently spoken about. He remembered the man’s name being mentioned back in the Enchanted Forest during Olaf’s skit-like rendition of the royal sisters' life story, but that gave him a rather negative impression of the man. The tales of heartbreak and betrayal didn’t sit well with him in the slightest. However, the Christmas trip to the Southern Isles seemed to turn his preconceived notions about the youngest prince upside down. Anna spent a great deal of her time with her former fiancé, and as he kept a watchful eye from afar, he couldn’t help but notice that she seemed quite content in the man’s presence. Those were some of the only times that she even bothered to smile during her stay.

“You miss him…” He said after a brief pause, “don’t you.”

Anna sighed and slowly nodded her head. “Terribly. He was such a great comfort to me… and probably the oldest and only friend that I have left from before…” she hesitated for a moment, not really wanting to mention it out loud, “...before Elsa’s death. I wish he could have come, but I know it’s for the best that he remained away. My advisors don’t like him after what he did during the last coronation, regardless of circumstances or reasoning behind it--”

“--Your courtiers are nothing but overgrown stuffed shirts in fancy suits. They know nothing about matters of the heart.” Mattias replied.

Anna pressed her lips into a thin line and glanced at him. “But you do?”

“Well…” he let out a small chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood, “I do have a heart…”

“Yes, you do. And a good one, at that.”

“Still,” He cleared his throat in an attempt to stay on topic, “Do you think you would be enjoying the evening more if the prince were here?”

“Oh yes.” Anna said adamantly. “We’d be spending every moment together. I’d never have left the ballroom. O-or even if I did, the two of us would probably be sitting out here, and I’d be shoving krumkake in his face.”

That got a good laugh out of Mattias. “What??”

She shrugged lightly, “it’s just something that we did before, a little joke between the two of us.” After a brief period of silence, she added much softer, “there really hasn’t been much of that around, lately. Jokes and excitement, I mean. I really was trying to look forward to today.  To music and dancing… seeing old friends and making new allies…” a sigh escaped her, “to liveliness in the castle again, just like all of the splendor and wonder that happened before. Before the plans came out, my coronation seemed like something out of a dream… something to end what felt like the second most depressing period of my life. But the last two weeks of official planning and preparation only reminded me that everything I enjoyed back then, everyone whom I loved and shared so many memories with are gone. How could I possibly be happy when I’m all alone?”

“But you’re not alone, Ma’am.” Mattias said and placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder. “I'm here for you. You have citizens who love and support you. It is true, you have been dealt a terrible hand as of late, but your strength and resolve have seen you through the absolute worst of your trials thus far. You have such an immensely loving heart that I have never seen before in a leader. Your ascension to the throne will bring Arendelle into a new, more prosperous age.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “That is, of course, what the joy of your coronation is all about:  the rise of a beautiful young woman who is not afraid to step up and do what is right and just, not merely what is expected.”

“...the next right thing…” Anna murmured so quietly that Mattias could barely hear it.

“Yes.” He nodded. “And I feel that regardless if he attended or not, Prince Hans would not want you to dwell on the past and on what was, on what no longer could be, but to revel and enjoy a day meant to honor and celebrate you, and to look forward to a bright and hopeful future not only for the kingdom, but for yourself, too. You deserve that, and so much more.”

“I wish it were that simple…”

“It can be.” He replied. “You said so yourself… you want to be happy, yes?”

She nodded.

“Then make the ultimate decision to be happy. You had your mourning period. Now it’s time to treasure your memories and let them encourage you to move on. We’ve done all that we can. Now, the change can only come from you.”

“Say goodbye to the pain of the past. We don’t have to feel it anymore…”

A timid half-smile started to form across her features as her thumb flicked away a stray tear from her eyes that threatened to fall. He was right, of course, and it sometimes unnerved her how well he could read her. Mattias seemed to channel the very energy of her and Hans’ last moments together. Perhaps it really was time to honor the promise she made to her prince during her visit. Focusing on the negative everywhere was what caused her to become miserable about her coronation in the first place. And she really was tired of feeling so depressed. For her sake and for his... It was finally time for her to live in the present. “Why General…” she said coyly, “when did you get so wise?”

“Oh you know… after thirty-four years in an enchanted forest…” He teased as he reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small handkerchief to hand to her. “What do you say? Shall I escort you back to enjoy the remainder of your celebrations? The night is still young…”

Anna dabbed her eyes. “I... I think I’d like that.” She said and gently hopped off the ledge and smoothened out her skirts. “And...perhaps you’d like to be my first dance partner of the evening?”

Mattias offered her a sweeping bow before offering his arm. “It would be my honor, Your Majesty.” They made several steps back into the castle before he added, “but I should warn you… I can’t dance.”

Anna giggled and smiled up at him. It felt like the first truly genuine smile she’d shown all day. “That’s okay. Just promise me you’ll stay by my side.”

“Always.”

Her smile grew wider and she squeezed his arm as they returned to the ballroom. Mattias wasn’t Hans, but that was alright. He was her friend, and tonight, that was enough.

[solohux]

Hey, prompts are still open! And I just got this quick idea. Hux is a house fox, domesticated and rather pampered. Kylo, on the other hand, is as feral as feral can be but he just loves to stare at Hux from the forest line. The, rather red, fox loves to sit on the window sill and sun bathe and just love to watch this feral black fox from his pillowed sill. Hux is never let out but when his owner leaves one day, nothing is stopping Hux from meeting his beloved admirer.

Of course, one meeting leads to two, then three...and then a few pups, much to the owners chagrin.

what is meant to be a drabble has turned into 1.8k. enjoy!

Armitage has been waiting for this day for a while now. His owners, are having a overnight date night tonight, leaving the pampered pet fox alone in their countryside mansion for the day, free to do whatever he wants without their gaze.

Today, Armitage is going to see the black fox. A neko like Armitage, the fox has long, dark hair and two furry ears that sit atop his head, and bushy black tail with a white tip. He appeared last summer on the very edge of the forest that backs onto the Hux’s family home, staring up at the window where Armitage spends most of his day. The windowsill of one of the mansion’s many studies—on the second floor—gives Armitage a grand view of the woodland and beyond, and he loves nothing more than lying in his heated bed amongst a plethora of plump pillows and napping the day away. He’d spotted movement in the garden below one early morning and looked down to find a handsome black fox

So feral and rugged, Armitage had fallen in love almost immediately. He’s never even met another fox like him before, though neighbours had brought their excitable puppy—Poe—around for a visit one day and Armitage had screamed bloody murder at the pup. He didn’t like others in his territory but nothing unwanted had stirred in him when he set his eyes on the black fox in the garden, watching him prowl around before going back to the forest.

The black fox has been back to visit Armitage and stare up at him every day ever since.

The day has finally arrived that Armitage can sneak out without repercussions. Madame is fussing over him as she usually does, stroking through his soft, copper-coloured hair and making sure the red bow around his neck is still as perfect as it should be. Armitage almost purrs at her touch, always loving how much his owner spoils him.

“Honey, we have to go,” Sir says, tapping his foot at the door. “The car is waiting.”

“I just hate leaving him,” Madame says, fixing his blankets and pillows to make sure that her pet is comfy.

“He’ll be fine. It’s only for one night.”

“We’ve left you plenty of food, dear Armie,” she says, combing her fingers down his spin and to his fluffy tail. “And we’ve even left the television on the cooking channel.”

“Darling, please. Let’s go.”

“Yes, yes. Coming.” Madame stands up, smiling down at Armitage with her bright red, lipstick-covered lips. “Be good, Armie. We’ll see you soon.”

Armitage merely gives his tail a bit of a wag as they leave the room, though he listens carefully for them grabbing their suitcase and going out of the door. As quickly as he can, Armitage kicks off his covers and dashes to the front bedroom, peeking out from behind the safety of the blinds to see Madame and Sir climbing into their taxi and being driven away down the long, cobbled path to the front gate.

They’re finally gone. Armitage breathes a sigh of relief. The house feels much bigger with just him in it, free to wander around without the worry that he’ll disturb Sir’s work and be punished for it before Madame can find out, but he hasn’t time to dwell on things. His admirer is, no doubt, already waiting for him on the border to the forest.

But before Armitage can dash out of the door, he looks down at himself. Currently, he’s wearing nothing but the thick, red ribbon around his neck—tied in a bow but looking more like a collar—and a pair of skimpy red shorts. Madame has an array of clothes for her pretty pet all in the wardrobe in Armitage’s own bedroom so he goes there and begins looking through the clothes, wondering what would look best to impress his admirer for their first meeting. The black fox is always bare-chested and barefoot but wears knee-length black leggings and a long, black cape that looks like it could be made from the fur of his prey—or perhaps, another neko who dared go against him—so it’s unlikely that the fox would be too concerned with Armitage’s outfit.

But still. He wants to look nice for, what he considers to be, a first date.

Leaving his red shorts on, Armitage adorns a simple white shirt—one that’s a little short around the middle to reveal a classy amount of his soft belly—and a white hooded cloak, one that has a long slit up the back to allow his tail to be free. He may be a little chilly but he feels good in this outfit, showing off his pale skin in all of the right places. He slips on a pair of his diamante-encrusted slippers and heads downstairs, ignoring the platters of food that Madame has left out for him. There’s only one thing he wants right now and it isn’t that kind of meal. He’s hungry for something else.

Armitage quickly finds the key to the back door and he’s out onto the porch in the cool September air without hesitation, though gets overwhelmed after he takes his first breath of fresh, outdoor air in a long while. He’s a solely indoor fox, a neko bred for humans to adopt and keep as their pets. He has never known anything other than his warm windowsill, never even felt the grass beneath his toes—but by the looks of the dampness that covers the grass on the edge of the porch where he stands, he doesn’t want to feel it and he’s more concerned with his pretty shoes getting ruined.

But the very moment that Armitage looks up and finds the black fox staring at him from across the way, everything else becomes irrelevant.

Armitage’s first step onto the outside ground is met with disinterest as he walks across the Hux’s perfect back garden, through the back gate and out into the so-called wilderness; the patch of unowned land between the Hux’s mansion and the forest.

The black fox looks as handsome as ever, though as he gets closer to him, Armitage can see a scar that runs across his face, one that looks like 3 parallel claw marks that cascades over one eye and down his cheek. A battle wound, Armitage assumes. He finds himself shivering at the thought of the black fox being feral.

Armitage, in his white cloak, stands opposite the black fox and flags his tail in a sign of friendliness. From the safety of his windowsill, Armitage hadn’t quite realised just how much wider the other fox’s physique was compared to his own. He’s very broad-shouldered, but it only makes his cape and his stature look more regal, like a forest king.

“Hello,” Armitage speaks in his native fox-tongue, hoping that the black fox speaks the same language as him. His hopes of that are seemingly slashed in half when the other fox cocks his head at him and begins to close the gap between them with small steps, his dark gaze examining every inch of Armitage’s body as he moves closer.

Could Armitage have been wrong all this time? Is this fox about to claw him and sling him over his shoulder to be tonight’s meal? How naïve of him to think that a handsome, feral fox could possibly—

But the black fox drops to his knees very suddenly and bows his head as he reaches out for Armitage’s hand, taking it and placing a very gentle kiss on his knuckles.

“Taa’mia risaan,” the fox says, his voice deep and perfect.

But Armitage hasn’t a clue what he’s said, “I-I’m sorry?”

The black fox looks up, his dark hair falling around his face, “It’s forest-speak for ‘you are beautiful’. Very beautiful.”

Armitage feels himself blushing. “Thank you. You’re handsome yourself, Mr…”

“Ren,” the fox stands up, still holding onto Armitage’s hand and gives it another kiss. “Kylo Ren. I am Master and Leader of these woods.”

“I’m Armitage.”

“I’ve never seen a fox like you before,” Kylo says, sniffing the air a little. “Those humans. They stole you?”

“No,” Armitage shakes his head, looking back up to the house. He can see his windowsill from here, so close but so far at the same time. “Those people are my owners. They keep me warm and feed me and buy me things.”

“Red foxes have not been in these woods for centuries. I did not know they still existed but you captivated me the moment I saw you through the glass.” Kylo leans in to Armitage, clearly unaware of personal space so the closeness makes Armitage widen his eyes. “Your hair. It’s like a crown of copper.”

“Master Ren—”

“Kylo.”

“Kylo. I only have a limited time away before my owners are back and I must be back inside before then,” Armitage explains. “I want to know everything about you. And more.”

Armitage can’t help it. He turns around and lifts his tail up, revealing his perfectly peachy ass in his tight, red shorts. He half expects the fox to begin howling like a wolf at the sight but he doesn’t though he begins breathing deeply, his hot breath on Armitage’s neck just as the latter feels teeth begin to scrape against his skin. He almost melts back against Kylo’s chest.

“Your cape,” Kylo says quietly. “It is getting dirty.”

Before Armitage can complain about the change of topic, he’s swept up into Kylo’s strong arms as though he weighs nothing. Armitage can barely contain his glee.

“I suppose you have a den in these woods, Kylo,” Armitage says, raising an eyebrow and wrapping his arms around his admirer’s neck.

“I do, my pretty red thing,” he replies, carrying his new mate into the forest, “But forgive me for wanting to bring you some dinner first. For a pampered pet, you are much too thin.”

“Careful, Kylo. I can leap out of your arms and go straight back home.”

“Oh, Armitage,” Kylo growls, making Armitage smile and sending shivers across the red fox’s skin in excitement. “I’d like to see you try.”

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 30

Ignoring an Injury

Ao3

For @fidothefinch, I really hope you don't mind how fluffy this one got.... This one gave me a lot of feelings about Dick and Damian.

Summary: Damian get's injured on patrol, and out of fear of being sent away, he says nothing.

-o-o-o-o-

The Batmobile came screeching to a halt inside the cave, and Damian did not waste a single second jumping out of the car and stalking to the changing rooms; his cape carefully placed over his shoulders and his hood pulled up to make it seem that he’s as grumpy as he looks.

He’s not grumpy. Not right now. But Grayson doesn’t need to know that. Damian just needs him to believe it for the moment.

“Damian, you did good out there,” Grayson calls, but Damian ignores him, biting the inside of his mouth. He’s sure if he turns around, he’ll see Grayson wearing a hurt face beneath his pulled down Batman cowl. Damian doesn’t care.

He shoves himself past the butler who’s holding two steaming cups of calming tea, something he normally looks forward to at the end of a patrol, but right now must be ignored. The second he vanishes into the changing rooms, he releases a shaky breath and locks the door behind him. He waits until Grayson begins to whisper worries to the butler, things about how he thought Damian was in a good mood tonight and sometimes he’s not sure how to read Damian...

Which is fine. Damian doesn’t be read tonight.

It makes it easier to shrug off his cape and look at his side, where his red tunic is stained a darker shade of the same color. He brings his fingers to his side and pokes his fingers through the hole in the fabric, wincing at how the stab wound in his stomach smarts angrily and dribbles a few streams of blood down towards his pelvis.

He winces and brings his hands away, wiping his gloves off on his tunic. Stupid. Pathetic. Reckless. Rash. He’s normally better than this. The thought that this wound was delivered by a druggie made his toes curl in shame. He was only trying to take the drugs away. He didn’t see the small switch blade until it was in his stomach.

It’s a good thing it hasn’t hit anything important. Damian can tell.

He’s learned to be able to tell from a young age.

He exhales as quietly as he can through his nose before looking around the changing room for his clothes. Thankfully, the change of clothes are all loose fitting and warm. Sweats, a long sleeved shirt, and a hoodie that he slips over his head with minimal breaks in between to force himself to ignore the pain in his side. 

He takes a deep breath, fixes his clothes, then stuffs his Robin tunic under his baggy sweater. 

It presses against his wound, which hurts, but it will be hidden so he can retreat upstairs with minimal questions. .

With a final, encouraging inhale, Damain exits the changing booth and makes a bee-line towards the manor stairs. Grayson seems to be inside his own changing room, and the Butler is simply standing by the computer giving Damian his normal narrowed eyes.

He’s not stopped leaving the cave, and he’s not stopped in his fast walk through the manor. He keeps his breaths even and he forces himself to ignore the stretching of his abdomin as he rushes upstairs. Eventually, he finds himself in his room, biting his lips to push through the pain. He locks his door behind him then kneels down by his bead to pull loose a single floorboard. He pulls out a small first aid kit filled with things he’s slowly stolen from the medical room in the cave over the few months he’s been here and then settles down on the floor. He slips off the hoodie and the shirt before digging through the first aid kit, bringing out a curved needle already attached to a long length of thread.

His stitches are perfect. When he wraps bandages around his belly, they’re perfect as well. It doesn’t take long at all before he’s stuffing the kit back under his bed and wiping specks of blood from the floor. As he’s forcing himself to breathe through slipping on his shirt, he hears a pair of footsteps approach outside his door.

Ignoring how badly his stomach aches, he runs to the door, unlocks it, then jumps into his bed. The door opens when he settles with the comforter over his head, his back towards the door and his face turned at the wall.

He recognizes Grayson’s breathing. Damian bites his lip raw until he hears a sigh and the door closes once again.

Damian then immediately goes boneless under his bed covers. With a single hand placed against his side, Damian closes his eyes, and meditates until he forces his aching body to fall asleep.

-o-o-o-o-

Ignoring the stab wound in his side for the entirety of the next day is a difficult feat to do. Luckily, Damian manages. It’s a weekend day, and Grayson has unavoidable meetings with Lucius Fox and the rest of the Wayne Enterprises board. So really, as long as Damian stays out of the way of the butler and doesn’t make any sudden movements, Damian will be fine. He’s even managed to sneak into the medicine cabinet and take some painkillers without anyone catching him.

Really, the closest he got to anyone finding out was just in the morning when Grayson wrapped him in a goodbye hug. Damian barely contained his flinch but redirected it into simply struggling out of the embrace. Grayson gave him a concerned look, but didn’t ask, perhaps just chalking it up Damian simply not wanting to be touched today. 

Not that Damian ever wants to be touched... especially if that touching is as useless as a hug.

By the time the sun is beginning to set and Grayson returns home haggard and wearing deep, black bags under his eyes, Damian has almost hyped himself up enough to not dread patrol.

It takes all of his strength to hide his relief when Grayson mentions being too tired to patrol tonight. Damian pretends to argue, and then retires to bed.

He sags against his bedroom door when it clicks behind him. His stomach still hurts badly, but at least he will not be forced to jump around and pretend everything is normal tonight, so he won't reopen his stitches. Besides… he hasn’t had time to clean and fix his tunic yet. He takes a few deep breaths, then wobbles over to his bed to once again pull out the first aid kit. He brings it to the bathroom his bedroom is connected to and then stands in the mirror as he slowly works his shirt up and off his sore body. His bandages... do not look good. There’s a weird stain where his wound is.

Apprehension settles in his gut as he slowly begins to unwind the bandages.

Soon enough, he’s staring in the mirror at his wound. The stitches look irritated, and his skin looks red. Near the sewed up seam of his wound, there’s little beads of almost transparent yellow liquid. 

Infection. How... how has that happened? He’s been careful today...

He looks at the festering stab wound and bites his lip, trying to remember what to do if you ever get an infected wound such as this.

It would be helpful if he could sneak down to the cave and grab some of that ointment the butler likes to use... except Grayson has an alarm on the grandfather clock, and the second Damian goes down there without permission Grayson will know. 

He can’t let Grayson know... Damian isn’t weak. He can’t let Grayson see his foolish mistake of an injury. 

He turns on the tap and wets his fingers, he then runs the water over the wound until he’s about to blink out tears from the pain. He pats the wound dry with a clean towel, then takes a deep breath and wraps his wound once again before he slips the shirt back over his head with close to laborious effort. Once he exits the bathroom and he’s close to crawling into bed, there's a soft knocking on his bedroom door. He sighs, wipes his cheeks to make sure no tears have fallen, then straightens his posture.

He opens the door to find Grayson standing sheepishly on the other side. 

“What is it?” Damian inquires with disinterest. Perhaps if he acts not in the mood for conversation, Grayson will leave sooner. 

Grayson smiles, and Damian glares. “Hey, kiddo,” Grayson greets, his voice deeper than what it normally is. He’s exhausted, Damian can tell. Not that Damian cares... “Alfred was just telling me that he was cleaning the uniforms, and your tunic’s missing. Any idea where it could have gone?”

Damian makes sure to keep his face straight. “Perhaps the servant just misplaced it.”

Grayson’s eyebrows lower slightly. “Dames...”

“I’m tired, Grayson. I do not know where the butler has misplaced my tunic, but I expect it to be found soon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to bed.”

Grayson opens his mouth to perhaps argue, but Damian doesn’t allow him to. He shuts the door, locks it, takes a deep breath and then stumbles like a dead man to his bed. He can almost imagine Grayson standing outside his door, a worried frown on his young face, fist lifted to knock on the barrier separating them.

However, he can also imagine Grayson sighing and shaking his head; lowering his fist and walking away.

Damian doesn’t get much sleep that night. In fact, by the time he finally falls into something that can be mistaken as sleep, the last set of numbers he remembers being illuminated on his phone’s screen is 03:46. When he wakes up, it reads 05:23, and Damian feels like he’s tussled with the embodiment of death itself while he was in the laughable excuse of slumber.

His body is hot. Too hot. His brain is woozy and when he just barely manages to stumble to the bathroom, he finds his wound looking more awful than ever. He frowns, tries to wipe more water on it, but stops when the pain becomes too great. He just barely manages to rewrap the wound and crawl back into his bed.

It’s Sunday. Perhaps Grayson and the butler will leave him alone today and not notice.

A few hours pass, and his door ultimately has a fist politely knocking for entrance. Damain thinks that if he ignores it and pretends to be asleep, the intruder will just go away. Unfortunately, his hopes are squandered when the door opens anyway, and Grayson’s soft voice calls his name.

“Damian? You up?”

Damian bites his lip, glad that he’s at least facing the wall again.

He listens to the footsteps that trek across his floor, and he resists a flinch when a hand falls on his shoulder. 

“Dami, hey,” Grayson coos, like a worried hen. Damian scowls then opens his eyes before Grayson can begin shaking him. 

“What is it?” He demands, turning to glare at Grayson.

Grayson’s eyes widen, and Damian realizes his mistake too late. 

“Woah, kid,” Grayson breathes, and Damian can’t help but flinch when Grayson wraps his hand around Damian’s forehead.

There’s a scowl on Grayson’s face when he feels how warm his temperature must be. So, instead of dealing with Grayson’s worry, he smacks his hand away and shifts so his back is towards him. His entire stomach protests at the movement, but he has hope that he can get out of this without Grayson realizing anything. 

“Tt, I’m fine.”

“Oh no you’re not,” Grayson argues, and Damian immediately knows his hopes and plans are out the window. “You obviously have a fever... Are you feeling sick? Throw up? Diarrhea?”

Damian frowns. Then sighs. He might as well just rip the metaphorical bandaid off. “My tunic is under the bed,” he mumbles.

He listens as Grayson stills, then bends down to search under the bed. By the time Grayson comes back up, Damian is biting his lip so hard he’s afraid he might chew through the flesh. 

He can tell the exact moment Grayson finds the bloody hole in his uniform. He gasps harshly and... fearfully. Next thing Damian knows, he’s weakly struggling as Grayson rips off the comforter and tugs Damian up so he’s sitting. Fingers lift up his shirt and ghost over the bandages. 

“‘m sorry,” Damian mumbles as Grayson looks up at him with an intense worry in his eyes. It’s so odd that that look is directed at Damian. No one has ever looked at him like that before. No one ever cares about Damian that much. He swallows, feeling guilty and scared. “I think it’s infected... please don’t send me away...”

And that worry turns into shock. “Send you away? Why would you think I’d send you away?”

Damian goes to bite his lip again, but a hand curls gently under his chin and coaxes Damian to look Grayson in the eyes. 

Damian can feel those traitorous tears forming again. He takes a deep breath. “Because I’m weak. I got hit... Robin shouldn’t be weak... you shouldn’t have to worry about me getting hurt-“

And then the world blurs as Grayson tugs Damian forward into a tight embrace. It hurts Damian’s stomach. Badly. But he wraps his arms around Grayson before he can even think about how pathetic that is. Grayson’s arms are just so warm, and strong, and safe, that he can’t help it. He can’t help but feel at home in them.

Damian never quite feels at home anywhere else. 

“You don’t have to be strong, Dami,” Grayson whispers. “You can tell me when you’re hurt or scared or just feeling a little unwell. I will never send you away. Never.”

Damian chews the inside of his cheek before he nods his head. He believes Grayson. Grayson has never lied to him before. “Are you mad?”

“Just worried,” Grayson assures, “which is why I’m taking you to Leslie, and you’re gonna promise to never hide an injury from me again.”

“... okay.” 

“Good.” Grayson tightens his embrace and Damian lets out a shaky sigh. A single tear leaves his eye, but he wipes it away in Grayson’s shirt. 

Next thing Damian knows, he’s leaving Leslie Thompkins’ medical clinic already feeling a little better. Grayson has a paper in his hands for a prescription of antibiotics, and a plan to head to the nearest Walgreens and then the nearest restaurant that makes acceptable ice cream shakes.

By the time they head back to the manor, Damian is practically asleep on his feet. But Grayson doesn’t let him retreat to his bed just yet. Instead, he scoops Damian up into his arms and carries him to the living room where he turns on the TV and inserts a colorful looking disk that must have some sort of sort of childish Disney or Pixar film loaded onto it.

Once Grayson grabs a blanket and collapses into the sofa, Damian knows he will be helpless but to stay here in Grayson’s arms to suffer a movie beneath his level.

“This... is the story of how I died...” the movie begins, the animated screen zooming in slowly on a tree with a wanted poster on it. 

Damian sighs, then allows himself to curl into Grayson’s side. The movie begins, and admittedly it isn’t awful even if the singing is cheesy. Grayson’s arms squeeze him gently in a one armed hug, and Damian surrenders himself to a night of cuddles and Disney’s Tangled. 

He doesn’t know why he was worried. 

He falls asleep in Grayson’s arms, feeling safer and more wanted than ever

[goldenforrestt]

Lost In Time

Requested by @tranquility-or-chaos

Pairing: Geralt x Modern!Reader

Summary: You own an antique shop. One day, a customer comes in with a wolf medallion that puts your life in the hands of time. While back in time, you run into a strange white-haired man with a matching medallion. 

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This was a really fun request but I had no idea how to end it, so I hope you guys like what I did! Also, this was only semi-edited because my beta reader is on vacation, so my apologies for any spelling mistakes!

No warnings for this one!

❦

You ran an antique shop, which you inherited from your father. He was old and could no longer run it, so he bestowed it into you. You happily took the shop, as you basically grew up in it. It was a simple little shop, old red brick with big windows in front and cozy inside. It wasn’t too big, but it was more than enough for the myriad of small antiques that lined the shelves.

❦

It was about noon when one of your regular customers walked in.

“Hey!” You greeted happily.

“Hello Y/n! I’ve got something for you today!”

“Oh?” You questioned.

“Yes, one of my distant relatives died and we cleaned out her house today. Her children let me have some of her stuff.” They explained, gently putting the box of antiquities on the cashier counter.

You looked inside the box. It was mostly worthless brooches and random jewelry, but there were some small treasures. One thing that caught your eye was a large metal medallion. It was a brute-looking chain with a circular wolf charm that seemed large for such a small chain, but it managed to hang elegantly. You picked it up, the medallion sending shivers through your fingers as you examined it.

Strange, you thought. It didn’t have a maker’s signature anywhere, Not even a few scratches to indicate ‘hey!! Someone made this and they want you to know they made it!’ Nothing. Just blank.

You added the medallion to the small pile of items you had decided to buy from your friend, putting it down gently on top of the cashier counter.

“I knew you were going to go for that one!” Said the customer excitedly.

“So,” you asked, “how much for what I’ve picked?”

“Oh, you can have it for free. We’re friends, after all.” They gratuitously offered.

You thanked them, and they were on their way.

❦

It was closing time, so you walked up to the door and flipped the ‘Open!’ sign over. You came back over to where the items you had picked out earlier were still stashed, putting some on the shelves of your store and leaving others on the counter for your personal collection. You were going to move the wolf medallion to a case that was apart of your collection, but the moment you picked it up, a burning sensation ran through your hands, causing you to drop it. It fell to the ground with a soft clang

What the hell? You thought.

You bent to pick it up, but ended up doubling over in pain. It felt like a molten stock was prodding your brain. In your last moments of consciousness, you reached for the medallion.

❦

You did not have a single clue where or when you were. With a disorientingly bright flash of green light, everything you had once been familiar with was gone, replaced with some sort of forest.

You looked around frantically, thankfully the medallion was still in your hand.

What the heck am I wearing? You thought, noticing your clothing had taken a rather… Interesting change.

Instead of your usual casual attire you wore to work, you were now wearing a black overdress with tight, full-length sleeves and a white hooded cape that only went to your mid-back. Your shoes were surprisingly comfortable black leather shoes that fit well. You put the medallion on and tucked into your dress for safe keeping.

You continued to frantically search the new forest setting until your frantic searching led you right into a horse.

“Oh! Sorry” You said as you bumped into the horse, the force of it pushing you to the ground.

Before you could get up, a strong force pulls you off the forest floor and pushed you against the tree the horse was tied to, a knife suddenly on your neck.

“Trying to steal my horse, thief?” The man asked.

The man was gorgeous. Beautiful white hair and a jawline to die for. What pulled you out of your beauty-induced trance was the man’s pendant. It was the same as your medallion, right down to the smallest details.

“Y-you’re the medallion man.” You choked out, words hard to form with a knife pressed to your throat. Great going, y/n. That makes no sense. 

You struggled in his grip, shifting in a way so that the medallion came untucked from your dress and into his vision.

He dropped the knife and unhanded you immediately.

“You- no, you can’t be,” The man trailed off, then asked, “How did you get that?”

“Inheritance.” Was your simple response.

“Impossible,” He took his dagger out again, “Where did you really get it?” His deep voice asked once more.

“The previous owner died.” 

He looked confused for a moment. He sighed, then untied his horse.

“Wait-” you said frantically, “Where are you going?”

“To find work.” Was all he said.

“Wait,” you repeated, “Let me go with you. I have nowhere else to go.”

“Really? You must have some home to return to.”

“I-” you started, but you didn’t know how to tell him. How exactly do I tell someone that I’m not from their time? Now I wish I watched more time travel movies, You thought. 

You continued, “I’ve no memory of how I got here. Please, help me.” You pleaded.

The man sighed.

“Fine, you may come with me, but I’m dropping you off at the closest village. Maybe someone there knows you.”

“Thank you!” You said.

❦

The two of you arrived at the village a few hours later. He led you to a tavern and started asking around. When nobody said they knew you, he sat back down at your table next to the wall.

“So…” You pondered.

“You can stay with me tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll continue searching.”

Thank God, you thought, I don’t have to spend my first night in god knows where on the forest floor. 

The room of the lodge he booked was cozy, a wooden interior with a large bed. Only one large bed.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” He announced the moment you walked into the room.

It was night now, and you two went to sleep in your respectful places.

Hours passed, and you couldn’t sleep. You noticed he was probably having the same problem, constantly tossing and turning.

“Having trouble sleeping?” You asked playfully.

“That’s an understatement.” He responded.

You chuckled.

“Thanks for saving me and all, but I never got your name.” You requested.

“Geralt of Rivia.”

“That’s a nice name. Oh, I’m y/n of Smorgasbord.” 

Smorgasbord was a type of Scandinavian buffet, you just needed a name. 

“Smorgasbord? I’ve never heard of that place.”

“Oh, it’s uh… East of here. Really far away.” Nice save, you thought.

Soon you two were having a full conversation. Sure, it was mostly you going on about things you had to slightly lie about to make it fit the time and Geralt mostly nodding, but he also made a few verbal additions.

“So, Smorgasbord,” he asked, “where exactly is that?”

“The future.” Was all you said before you could stop yourself.

You could tell he was giving you a confused look, even in the darkness.

“What?” He asked, bafflement lacing his tone.

“Uh, yep- the future. That’s how I ended up in the forest, lost as hell.” You explained.

“You’re crazy.” He stated.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“How do you think I got your medallion?” You retaliated.

Geralt’s blood ran cold at this.

Maybe you were some sort of sorceress from the future, he thought.

“So that’s why I feel drawn to you.” He said after a few moments of silence.

“What?” It was your turn to be confused.

“The medallion reacts to sources of magic and other such things. It must want you here for a reason.” He explained.

So that’s how I got here you now understood.

“We will continue this conversation on the Morning.” Geralt announced groggily.

❦

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains and onto your face, gently waking you from your sleep. You sat up and stretched, letting a yawn escape your mouth. Getting out of bed, you noticed a note at your bedside.

I left to tack up Roach. Meet me outside. -Geralt. was all it read. Thankfully, you learned Roach’s name when you smacked right into them, or else you’d be very confused.

You put on your shoes and headed outside, immediately seeing Geralt outside the entrance of the lodge.

“We’re leaving so soon?” You ask.

“Yes,” Geralt stated, “We’re visiting a sorceress.”

That confused you. They must have magic here, you thought. 

Soon enough, you had arrived at a lavish castle. Geralt led you through the many guards and into the lower level, where a woman in a blue dress with curly black hair was working on some of what you assumed was magical stuff.

“Geralt. Long time no see!” Said the sorceress, not stopping her work. 

“Triss, same to you,” Geralt greeted.

“I’ve got a problem,” he gestured to you, “They got sent back in time by my medallion.” Geralt explained.

The sorceress, now known as Triss, turned around and studied you with a quizzical look.

“Such things aren’t unheard of, but toying with time is no easy feat,” said Triss.

“Do you think you can get her back?” He asked.

Triss took a moment to think, then nodded.

“Do you know what brought you here?” She questioned.

“The medallion.” You handed it to her.

She took it from your hand a gently examined it. Then proceeded to quickly scan through some pages in one of her books. After a few minutes, she gave it back.

“If it got you here, it can take you back,” Triss announced.

Suddenly, you fell to the ground, the same molten stick feeling prodding your brain once more. Before you knew it, you were back in your antique shop, wearing the attire you left in.

❦

One moment you were there, the next you were just gone.

Needless to say, Geralt was furious he was unable to say goodbye.

“Is there any way I can reach her?” He asked Triss.

“Possibly,” she responded, “since the medallion is what connected her to you, you can possibly wish her a goodbye through it’s magic.”

Geralt nodded. He knew what he had to do.

❦

One thing had changed since you were suddenly thrust back home. The medallion now had an engraving on the back.

I will always be with you. -Geralt of Rivia

[returningwriter]

Suiting Up for Her

Part 1: By Her Side Part 2: At Her Place Part 3: At Her Work Part 4: There For Her

Kara puts on a special suit for Lena p.s. I have no idea why I wrote this!

Kara studied herself in the full-length mirror. This felt good, strange but also very good. Despite what people thought, mostly Alex and her friends, she wasn’t as oblivious as they all probably thought she was when it came to women. In fact, she had noticed and remembered quite well how Lena had looked at her that day the CEO had marched into the CatCo offices with an armful of red roses to stake her claim. And since she'd deduced that Lena liked seeing her in a man’s shirt and a jacket it was only fair that she'd indulge her girlfriend’s desire in that regard further. Thus, calling in a favor or two, she’d ordered a new suit to be tailored for her. Not a super-suit, but a real suit.

Buttoning up the blue waistcoat of her newly acquired three-piece suit she grinned at her reflection. It was of the same blue color as her Supergirl suit in fact and that was by design. Lena would love this and hopefully be suitably shocked. Fixing the red tie which she’d picked out because matched the color of her cape, she adjusted the knot. When it had come to tying the actual knot, YouTube had been a big help and she decided that she might write an article about it later.

Taking her hair and pulling it up into a tight bun, she then fixed the golden cufflinks that adorned her pressed white shirt. With her hair done up and cufflinks ermm cufflinked she looked at herself from the front and the side smoothing the shirt and vest down over her breasts. The pulled-up hairstyle looked good she decided and putting on her thin-framed glasses she took a deep breath. What she was planning to do would be a first for her, and she didn’t want to mess it up.

“Miss Luthor, I’m here to pick you up for our date,” she said, practicing sounding more like Supergirl while being Kara Danvers.

“Hi, I’m here to take you out,” she said, testing out another version of the line, and tried making her voice a little bit deeper.

“Lena, would you come with me please?” she asked in an even deeper voice but then broke down into giggles.

Shaking her head, she pulled on the dark blue jacket that completed the look and buttoned one of the buttons before deciding against it. Leaving the jacket open, she carefully folded up the matching red pocket square and stuffed it into the breast pocket of the jacket. After a bit of a fight with the crimson piece of silk, she finally got it the way the YouTube tutorial had said it should be.

“No big deal, picking up Lena in a suit that’s all,” she reminded herself and sat down on the bed. A bed she’d shared with the green-eyed genius on three occasions already and the sheets still smelled of Lena’s perfume and other aromas. Blushing at the thoughts the smells aroused she cursed her stupid super senses.

Pulling on a pair of dark brown shoes over her red socks, she laced them up tightly and began giving them a good polish because she wanted to look her very best for Lena today. The raven-haired CEO had been so good to her over the past few weeks and even though they were Facebook-Official now, which had freaked Alex out, she felt like she owed the woman a grand gesture.

Finishing polishing up the shoes she grinned at the memory of Alex showing up at her apartment the morning after she and Lena had made things official. In Alex’s defense, her sister couldn’t possibly have known that Lena would be standing in the kitchen in only an old worn and stretched out Midvale High t-shirt and with one sock on and to Lena’s credit she wasn’t fazed at all when Alex had pulled a gun on her. Speaking of stretched out t-shirts. Oh yeah she loved that her girlfriend was busty!

Her calling from the bedroom for the raven-haired beauty to get her fine behind back into bed because she wanted seconds. That had in Alex’s words scarred her for life and no amount of good whiskey, graciously provided by Lena, could erase that memory from her sister’s mind.

“I can do this, I’m Supergirl, I can do this,” she said to herself in the mirror and adjusting her belt she grabbed the car keys from the nightstand.

The car she'd be driving was J’onn’s car, which she managed to fast-talk her space-dad into letting her borrow for today. Since she couldn’t very well fly and carry Lena while wearing a three-piece suit. Picking up a single red-rose, picked from a garden in France and carefully flown across the Atlantic, she checked herself in the mirror one more time. Satisfied that she was sufficiently suited-up, she drove to L-Corp with butterflies in her stomach.

Parking outside the L-Corp building she fixed her glasses in the rearview mirror and steadied herself one last time. Time to be bold Danvers, time to be bolder than you’ve ever been in your life! She thought to herself and got out of the car drawing the attention of a few passers-by.

The elevator ride felt like it took forever but the secretary smiled at her and waved her inside. When she stepped into Lena’s office, the mind-numbingly pretty CEO was hard at work, with her hair up in a messy late afternoon bun and those stunning emerald eyes focused squarely on her laptop. Holding out the rose she cleared her throat and pushed her glasses up on her nose before she spoke.

“Come here often?” she asked and instantly wondered to herself why that was the first thing to come out of her mouth.

“I think you could say I live…” Lena replied with a smile, but the words died on those red lips when the pale-skinned and raven-haired beauty looked up at her. “...here,” the stunned CEO finished.

“Well I think…” she started off sounding too much like Kara Danvers but then she stopped herself and tried again.

“Good thing I'm here then, I’m here to take you out to dinner,” she declared while sounding as firm and in command as she could muster under Lena’s piercing green-eyed gaze as she held out the red rose trying not to shake.

Lena in response, looked her up and down like she was a snack. The woman’s green eyes were appreciative of the blue suit she could tell but that unyielding gaze made her stand up straighter. Come to think of it, probably the only thing straight in that office right then and there was her posture.

“Is that so?” Lena asked playfully and pushed herself back from her desk.

With the CEO of her heart uncrossing her smooth legs, she could see that the woman, she'd somehow lucked into dating, was wearing a form-hugging black pencil skirt with a white blouse open at the collar and a matching black vest.

“Yes, and no ifs or buts about it,” she replied but struggled not to grin and then not to drool at what Lena did next.

“Feeling forceful this afternoon, are we?” the raven-haired CEO asked while undoing the messy bun holding her hair up and shaking all that lustrous, soft, and dark hair free.

“Yes, now close that laptop and get into my car already,” she playfully ordered the green-eyed genius. Who responded by sauntering up to her and plucking the rose from her hand.

“Or what? You’ll pick me up and carry me over your shoulder downstairs past all my employees like I've been a bad girl?” Lena teased her back and put one hand on her arm while raising her eyebrow suggestively.

“Don’t tempt me,” she countered the woman's teasing and flexed her bicep under that gentle touch. This was too much fun but it was also making her feel hot under the collar. Oh and she finally got what that saying meant!

“What if I like tempting you?” the green-eyed temptress asked innocently and brought the ruby red rose up to her cute nose for added effect.

“Then I’d say be careful, or you'll get what's coming to you,” she replied, purposefully lowering her voice an octave and letting her hands fall on those shapely hips.

“Oh darling, we both know that you...” Lena started teasing her again but she had no intention of allowing the brilliant and beautiful woman to finish what she'd started saying.

Leaning down she captured those wonderfully red lips in mid-sentence and thoroughly kissed the girl of her dreams while pulling her in closer. The rose dropped to the floor and she could feel those pale hands pawing at the front of her suit and then with a content sigh, Lena let her win. Running her fingers through all that soft dark hair she growled and Lena whimpered into the kiss. Pulling away only when the raven-haired beauty had been kissed to within an inch of her life and was left sufficiently breathless, she flashed her own version of a cocky grin.

“As I said, we’re going out. So close that laptop and get in my car... now,” she repeated herself and the reaction from Lena fried what few functioning brain-cells she might have had left in her head after that kiss.

“As you wish, daddy,” the green-eyed goddess replied demurely and breathlessly as she batted those long and dark eyelashes up at her.

Lena glided back over to her desk with a sway to her hips that was hard to ignore. She closed the lid on her laptop while making damn sure to bend over suggestively as she did so. Then turning back around the stunning woman walked back up to her with that same hypnotizing wiggle to her snake-like hips and fixed her tie with those soft and pale fingers while humming. Finally, the CEO of her heart adjusted her glasses and wiped away the smudges of red lipstick from the corners of her mouth before flashing her a smirk.

“I love the suit by the way,” her girl purred and brushed her hands down the front of the blue waistcoat then pulling away right before her fingertips reached the belt.

“I thought you might like it,” she replied, now feeling very cocky and offered Lena her arm which the still grinning woman took with an uncharacteristic giggle. She had no illusions about this, however, Lena would always be the boss, but being in charge every now and again felt nice too.

[justheretobreakthings]

Kings Over Aces - Chapter 1

(Next Chapter)

Word Count: 3,176 Read on AO3

Story Summary:

The Voltron Coalition has an alliance in the works with the resource-rich planet of Yuipra, and it’s the paladins’ job to keep on the king’s good side while the deal is made. That shouldn’t shouldn’t be too great a challenge; after all, they’ve courted plenty of planets before for the sake of alliances.

Unfortunately, things are made much more complicated when the king takes a special interest in Keith.

Fic content warnings for attempted rape/non-con.

“Keith, for the heavens’ sake, elbows off the table.”

“Hm?”

In the seat beside him, Allura sighed and tapped at the aforementioned elbow, which Keith had been resting on the tablecloth as he idly drummed one of his spoons against the edge of his plate. “Oh,” he whispered, “Sorry.”

“Honestly,” Allura said with a shake of her head. “How many dinners is Voltron going to have to get through before you finally start remembering your table etiquette?”

“Pretty sure it differs from planet to planet,” Keith pointed out.

“There are certain constants that are nigh universal at an elegant dinner. This is one. And while we’re on the subject, that spoon of yours - ”

“Right, right,” Keith muttered, dropping the spoon with a clatter that echoed loudly enough in the spacious dining hall to send all eyes on the banquet table in his direction and make him wince. “Just bored.”

“Yeah, speaking of etiquette,” Lance spoke up from across the table, “Isn’t it sort of improper to keep guests waiting this long for dinner? I’m hungry.”

“Lance,” Allura said through gritted teeth. “Don’t complain.” She gestured with a flick of her head toward further down the table, where the gathered Yuipran nobles were seated, chatting idly amongst themselves. “We’re trying to make a good impression.”

“They’re not listening,” Lance said.

“You don’t know that. Besides, their king was probably simply delayed over some administrative matter or something of the sort. I’m sure the meal will begin soon.”

Keith let out a weary breath before reaching past his plate to take a sip from his water, the only refreshment the guests had been given to tide them over before the meal proper started. He was really starting to get tired of this king.

Yuipra would be a great addition to the coalition, he knew. They were the central power of a massive and flourishing planet system, and they had vast supplies of food, construction materials, and military power to spare. Coran had told them that Yuipra had had a strong alliance with Altea thousands of years before, and the planet had only grown more prosperous in the time since last he’d been around.

Of course, that had been ten thousand years ago, and the alliance had long since dissolved, so now they were tasked with reviving it, generations of rulers later and without Altea around to be part of the deal. Still, Allura and Coran assured the team that the planet’s interests and their shared history would tempt them toward the Voltron coalition.

Originally, they had intended to hash out an alliance over a diplomatic meeting, but somehow along the lines it was established that the current Yuipran king was interested in something a bit more showy. So, a particularly elaborate airshow had been arranged, followed by a parade and a meet-and-greet with various members of the kingdom’s nobility, none of which the king himself had been present for, and now was this extravagant banquet.

Needless to say, the paladins were all more than worn out with festivities by this point, and they just wanted to eat.

“Keith, you’re slouching,” Allura hissed, and Keith sat up straight with a scowl.

“Pidge is slouching too,” he pointed out, and Pidge glared at Keith across the table as she adjusted her own posture. “How come you’re not getting onto her about her table manners?”

“Pidge, don’t stick out your tongue,” Allura said as Pidge did just that. “And because she wasn’t slouching as badly as you were. Besides, as the black paladin, you’re the de facto leader of Voltron right now. The first impression you make is the one that matters most.”

Keith sighed and let his eyes roam down the table toward Shiro, who was sitting patiently, quietly, hands laid neatly on his lap as he waited for the king to arrive. Allura would have had no reason to worry about him making a good first impression if he were still leading Voltron.

Reason number ten thousand why Shiro should be piloting Black, not Keith, he thought sourly to himself. But that was an argument they’d already had a few dozen times over with no change.

“Keith.”

Keith whipped his head around to snap at Allura, but realized quickly why she had whispered his name. The others were all standing up from their seats. He hastened to join, glancing toward the end of the hall where the doors had opened and the king was finally making his entrance.

And quite the entrance it was. The doors, each reaching nearly to the ceiling of the banquet hall that was easily three stories tall, had been thrown wide open, and the king entered flanked by three guards on either side of him, each in gold-plated armor polished to a gleam. The king himself was dressed even more gaudily, complete with a bejeweled crown and a very plush cape that one guard held in his hands to keep from trailing on the floor. The lining of his formal gown was just as well-decorated, and the sleek, shoulder-length cut of his dark hair left no strand out of place.

The Yuiprans were humanoid in form, if a half foot taller and with limbs just disproportionately long enough to be uncanny at a first glance. It shouldn’t have made for particularly graceful movement, but the king’s walk was practically a glide as he made his way to the head of the table and smiled at the assembled guests, slightly pointed teeth beaming alabaster white against the smooth, somewhat silvery Yuipran skin. Keith noticed that the king was surprisingly young-looking, not sharing the wrinkles and age spots borne by most of the other nobles at the banquet.

“Not bad at all,” he heard Lance mutter, and he glanced across the table toward the other paladin, who met his eyes with a raised brow and a smirk, before frowning curiously back up at the king. He supposed, objectively, that the man was good-looking, in an overly polished sort of way. Allura shushed Lance before he could say any more, although it was unnecessary, as the king was reaching his seat just feet away from the paladins, and even Lance wasn’t foolish enough to gossip about the king’s appearance this close to him.

“His majesty, King Olren of Yuipra,” one of the guards beside him announced in a booming voice that Keith was surprised didn’t blow out his eardrum.

“Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, honored guests,” the king said, still with that broad smile. “I thank you all for your presence this evening, and for your patience. I trust that you have all enjoyed today’s entertainment, provided to you by the legendary paladins of Voltron.” He began clapping, and the other nobles quickly joined in the polite applause before he continued, “Depending on how this evening goes, this may be their first appearance of many. Our kingdom is on the verge of an historic alliance with the Voltron coalition, in defiance of the tyrannical Galra empire.” He led another round of applause, and Keith fidgeted in his stance. He just wanted to eat.

And as if reading his mind, the king continued, “But of course, that is a matter for later in the evening. I have kept you waiting for long enough. May I present to you, your dinner.”

The king clapped again, and for a moment Keith was worried that he was going to waste their time with yet another ovation, but fortunately this one seemed to be a cue for the servers to enter the banquet hall through the front entrance, bearing carts piled high with dishes whose scents had Keith’s mouth watering.

The food was passed out efficiently, and within a minute all the dishes were arranged along the table and the guests had begun digging in and passing the foods around to help themselves to servings. Olren waited until the servers had begun clearing out before taking his own seat, and the instant he did, one of his guards picked up the plate in front of him and moved down the table to start filling it.

“I do sincerely apologize for my tardiness,” Olren said, nodding to another guard who grabbed a jug from the table and started filling his goblet. “I’m afraid personal matters came up that required my attention, and following that, there seemed to be some delays in preparations for this feasts. I hope you do not think poorly of me for it.”

“Not at all,” Allura said, plastering a smile on her face. “The food looks excellent, your majesty.”

“And tastes even better,” he said. “The cooks do so spoil us at these events. Not, of course, that I would ever have it any other way,” he added with a little laugh.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Keith muttered, glancing at his oversized crown.

“Come again?” the king said.

Keith held back a wince as Allura kicked his foot beneath the table. “Keith here was just commenting on your lovely ensemble,” she said.

“Ah, yeah,” Keith agreed. “It’s, uh, very nice. Shiny.”

“Well, thank you,” Olren said, his smile broadening as he reached up to pat the crown. “You know, this is in fact the same crown that has been passed down along the family line since our old alliance with Alfor. Of course, some work has been done on it over the centuries. It’s a great deal more elaborate than it once was.”

“Doesn’t it get, like, heavy?” Keith asked.

“I suppose it would were I not accustomed to wearing it. Besides, a bit of a sore neck is a small price to pay for regality, is it not? Finery is not just for looking pretty, it is a display of our planet’s prosperity.”

Keith shrugged. “I dunno. I figure what a planet does is a lot more important than what they have.”

He was kicked again under the table as Allura hastily said, “Not that we don’t see the value in your prosperity. After all, we are in need of your resources.” She emphasized the last bit with a glance toward Keith. “I assure you, we don’t mean to criticize you for ostentation or - ”

“Really, think nothing of it,” Olren said. “I think we all feel at times that all the decorative baubles can feel a bit silly. Wouldn’t give up my favorite gems for the world, but I’m open to debate on their merit.” He laughed. “Come now, princess, mustn’t be so tense. If anything, I admire your paladin’s candor. It’s all too lacking in court at times.”

“Well, you really can’t count on Keith’s opinion for fashion and decorations and stuff anyhow,” Lance spoke up. “Keeps his whole room pretty much bare and refuses to participate in makeover nights. Me, though, I’ve always had an eye for aesthetic.”

“Do you, now?” said Olren.

“Oh yeah. I can appreciate a truly beautiful outfit, you see. And let’s talk about this gorgeous dining hall, right? I have a bit of a flair for interior design myself.”

“All you do is stick selfies all over your wall,” Keith said. “How is that interior design?”

Lance scowled. “Hey, you don’t get to have opinions on anything related to things looking nice. I swear,” he added to Olren. “This guy’s morning routine consists of two ticks with a comb and nothing else.”

“Well, there’s something to be said for natural beauty,” Olren said, casting Keith a grin and a quick wink. The latter furrowed his brow.

“Speaking of natural beauty,” Allura said, leaning between the two of them, for which Keith was grateful - the Yuiprans seemed to blink only half as much as humans, and Olren’s stare was beginning to get a little weird - “We flew past some absolutely gorgeous forests en route to your capital. How do you manage to maintain the natural landscape so near to a hub of industry?”

Olren beamed at her and quickly flew into an explanation, and Keith let his mind drift as he methodically moved food from plate to mouth. He let his eyes wander along the table to check on the other paladins. Hunk seemed to be focused entirely on the food, despite a noblewoman at his side tapping his shoulder as she spoke to him. Keith had to admire Hunk’s resilience; he himself would have slapped her hand away after a couple of ticks of that annoyance. Pidge had a group of nobles enthralled by whatever story she was telling, and although she was just far enough down the table that Keith couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, the way she talked with her hands - occasionally sending a bit of food flying off her spoon - meant she was enthusiastic about the topic, whatever it was. Electronics or physics, were Keith’s guesses. She could infodump on either for hours on end without pausing to catch her breath.

Shiro was deep in his own conversation too, with a couple of nobles across the table, although he was much more subdued than Pidge. Keith couldn’t imagine that Shiro was exactly having the time of his life here either. At events like this where the goal was coalition recruitment, he and Allura usually took on the bulk of discussing specs and logistics with their potential allies, and although Shiro didn’t make a big deal out of anything, Keith could remember how much moaning and groaning Shiro had done on those occasions where he’d been roped into attending fundraisers for the Garrison. This can’t have been very different.

After a minute or so of Keith idly watching him, Shiro finally glanced his way, and Keith made a show of yawning, expecting Shiro to perhaps give him a little smile and subtle eye roll, something to say, Yes, this is boring, we’ll all complain together once we’re back at the ship. Instead, though, Shiro just quirked a brow and tapped at the crook of his flesh arm with his metal arm.

Keith tilted his head, and Shiro just tapped again. “What?” Keith mouthed.

“Elbows,” Shiro mouthed back.

Oh. Right. He quickly took his elbows off the table; he hadn’t even realized he’d moved them. He turned to mouth an apology, but Shiro had already returned to his conversation. With a little huff, Keith jabbed his fork back into his food.

For a while, he managed to let the conversations drift around him, while his focus stayed on the meal. It was slow going, as the meat was much chewier than he would have liked - the Yuiprans definitely made good use of their sharp teeth. His attention was only pulled away when he overheard Allura say his name. “Hm?” he said, turning to her and hastily trying to swallow his bite of food.

“She wasn’t calling you, Mullet,” Lance said. “We’re just talking about weapon specialties, she said you use a sword.”

“Oh,” said Keith. “Yeah.”

“So you two both specialize in fairly close-range combat then, yes?” Olren said, eyes moving between Allura and Keith. “I must say, I’ve no end of admiration for those who are able to engage in such a thing. Yuipra’s own military has only small numbers of infantry soldiers, but I can only imagine the bravery required to go headfirst into battle that way.”

“Well, it’s not like ranged combat isn’t intense in its own way,” Lance said. “Much harder to know where your enemy’s next strike is coming from. And riflery, that takes a lot of discipline and patience to master, especially in the heat of battle.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Olren said as Lance paused to reach for his drink. He smirked before continuing, “Perhaps it just comes down more to the fact that - if I may be so bold as to say so - I quite respect a man who can so deftly handle his sword.”

Lance let out a little squawk that turned into a coughing fit, some of his drink spilling out over the edge of his glass. Keith raised a brow at him, but Olren plowed on. “Have you any other specializations, Keith? It is Keith, yes?”

“Yeah, Keith,” he said, turning back to Olren. “Uh, nah, mostly just blades. We’ve all got a good handle on aerial combat by now too, though.”

“Ah, yes, I caught some of your earlier show,” Olren said. “You’re all quite talented pilots.”

“Thanks,” Lance said, leaning back into the conversation. His voice held the slightest rasp left over from his coughing fit. “Don’t like to brag, but we’ve gotten pretty rave reviews. Think I’ve heard the word ‘miraculous’ tossed around a bit.”

“I’m not sure I recall hearing that word precisely,” Allura said. “But I must agree. The Lions are nothing short of a miracle of engineering.”

“Well, okay, but I was actually talking about my flying.”

Keith settled back into his seat, happy to let Allura and Lance take over the conversation again, even if, as the meal progressed, the king did try to pull Keith back into it a few times with questions aimed at him specifically. He managed to never trip over words, and Allura never sent him the disapproving glance that meant he’d accidentally said something rude, so all in all, he figured he could write the evening off as a success.

Of course, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still a relief when the meal finally drew to an end and the servers began clearing the dishes away, the guests beginning to make their goodbyes.

“A pity we could not continue further,” Olren sighed amidst the sounds of chairs scraping along the floor as people began leaving their seats. “It feels to me that this meal has passed us by in mere ticks.”

“Uh-huh,” Keith said, as a courtesy only; to him, these events - feasts and banquets and all the other social obligations to which the paladins were constantly dragged - always seemed to last an eternity. He was more than ready to flop into bed and sleep off the meal.

“Well, I’ve no doubt we can find time soon to pick up our fascinating discussions,” Olren said. “For the time being, I bid you all a good night. I and my establishment will be in touch shortly to go over further details about your coalition efforts.”

“We look forward to it, your majesty,” Allura said with a quick bob of her head.

With a final smile and bow, Olren began his exit, gliding around the table toward a side entrance that two guards held open for him. As he passed behind the seats, Keith felt a sudden tickle at his neck, a chill as what he could swear were fingertips brushed playfully over the skin. He whirled around in his seat, and Olren met his eyes, casting him a smirk and coyly waving his fingers at him before turning around and striding to the door.

“Keith?” Keith turned as Allura prodded lightly at his arm. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. He rolled his shoulders and pushed his chair in before joining the others in their exit, trying to ignore the strange prickling in his spine.

[deaky-disco-queen]

Stained With Love - Breaky Week Day 6

A/N: Prompt: Stage Wear. I can’t stop genderbending and I’m sorry. I just wanted to write some crushing lesbians. 

Can also be read on AO3. 

+++

“You’re staring.” 

Johanna flinched and swirled around, coming face to face with Crystal who was leaning against a wall behind her. He was grinning, obviously amused by having caught her and came over to her to wrap his arm around her shoulders. 

    “I’m not staring.” She denied weakly, letting him pull her into a side-hug. 

    “Of course not, Deaky.” 

She playfully swatted at him but wrapped her arm around his waist before bringing her attention back to the stage. They were just hanging out backstage because technically, neither of them were needed yet and they had nothing to do other than watching the actors rehearse. And in Johanna’s case, one actress in particular: Brianna. 

Johanna’s little crush on Brianna had started a few months after she had joined their group. At first, she hadn’t really paid her much mind. Johanna didn’t really hang out with any of the actors except for Roger and Freddie but when they started hanging out with Brianna, Johanna happened to spend some time with her too. Brianna proved to be incredibly smart and witty and just fun to be around and- of course- Johanna developed a crush on her. Especially since she really appreciated the effort of the tech crew. All it needed for her to get a crush on someone was a pretty woman thanking her for her work and telling her she did a great job. It was kind of pathetic. 

It didn’t help that Brianna was an amazing actress, too. She had a great stage presence. She didn’t demand all the attention like Freddie did as soon as he stepped on stage but she drew Johanna- and many others if she believed some of the reviews of their plays- in with her movements and voice. And what a voice she had. Johanna didn’t know a lot about singing except the things she gathered from being around Freddie and Roger but she didn’t need to know much to know that Brianna had a great voice. 

She watched Brianna walk across the stage, wearing a pair of sweats and a loose, long-sleeved shirt that kept slipping off her shoulder while she read her lines off the script to Roger. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun with several strands framing her face and she kept brushing them behind her ear without success. 

    “You’re such a disaster.” Crystal teased her gently and she scoffed. 

    “Shut up. It’s not like she likes me back. She’s probably straight anyway.”

Crystal sighed and pulled her tighter against his side, squeezing her shoulder gently.

“You’re an idiot.” 

Johanna scoffed again and rolled her eyes at him just to get distracted when Brianna really got into her monologue. She was gesturing wildly with one hand and Johanna fell a little bit more in love with her as she strutted across the stage, her face a mask of concentration. 

She looked beautiful. Johanna sighed wistfully.

    “Do you think Roger’s ass looks good in those pants?” 

Johanna pulled a face, barely suppressing a disgusted sound and pushed Crystal away. He started laughing, shoulders shaking and pressed one hand over his mouth to not make any noise. 

    “You’re gross! That’s Roger. Don’t talk about his ass to me! I don’t want to hear it!” 

    “Oh, but it’s a pert little bum! Very nice and firm, too! Don’t you just want to pinch it? Or give it a nice smack? He likes it, believe me.” 

Johanna gagged silently, glaring daggers at her friend. 

    “I don’t want to hear about your bedroom adventures! Shut up! Oh my god! Shut up! Shut up! Shut uuuup!” 

They were both laughing, their faces red from holding back any too loud noises. Miami, their stage manager, still shot them a glare and they quickly abandoned their position to hide in the control room where nobody could judge them and they wouldn’t disturb anyone anymore. 

    “I seriously need you to never talk about your sex life with me ever again.” Johanna said, still grinning. “I do not want to think about you banging anyone and especially not Roger.” 

Crystal gently knocked their shoulders together. 

    “I won’t if you at least try to flirt with Brianna.” 

Johanna snorted and punched him lightly in the shoulder. Crystal groaned exaggeratedly, putting one hand to his chest like an old lady clutching her precious pearly and slumped in his chair, tongue hanging out of his mouth. 

    “Oh god! You got me! The pain!” 

    “God, shut up!” She laughed. 

He pushed her playfully and ruffled her hair, much to her disdain. She only rolled her eyes at him before sighing and leaning against him. 

    “Flirt with her.” Crystal said. 

    “Tell Rog you want to be more than a occasional fuck.” 

They started laughing then, giggling helplessly. It was ridiculous, really, and they were aware of it. 

+++

Johanna groaned and stretched her legs, wincing when her knees cracked loudly. She cursed quietly and wiped her hands on her pants, observing her work. The speaker had stopped working properly during practice today and she had needed all day to fix it. It was tedious but she liked her work anyway. 

She packed her tools up and massaged her shoulders, trying to get the pain out of her tense muscles before lifting the speaker up and carrying it back so she could set it back up where it belonged. 

    “Do you need a hand?” 

Johanna jumped and cursed, almost dropping the speaker just to have Brianna rush towards her and grab it to help her. 

    “Sorry! I didn’t meant to scare you.” 

    “It’s fine! I just didn’t expect anyone to be still here.” 

Brianna helped her carrying the speaker to the stage despite her- admittedly weak- protests and even offered to help her set it up but Johanna declined politely. She really didn’t want to bother her too much. 

    “What are you still doing here, anyway?” She asked, then grimaced. “Sorry, that sounded rude, didn’t it?”

    “No, you’re fine. It is kind of late, isn’t it? But, uh, Freddie gave me a couple of costumes to try on and- I got tired of it. It’s kind of boring if you just try on clothes on your own, you know?” 

Johanna shrugged, not really understanding it but not wanting come off as uninterested. Brianna didn’t seem to think so because she kept on talking while she installed the speaker again. It was nice, not having to work on her own and having someone to talk to. She usually hadn’t because all the other sound techs were busy somewhere else and Crystal was busy somewhere because there was always something wrong with the lights. There was always something wrong with something so once the tech crew got involved with the play, there wasn’t much time to talk anyway because everyone was busy somewhere else. 

    “Do you want to see my outfits?” Brianna asked, not looking directly at her. 

    “Yeah, of course. I’d love to.” 

Brianna smiled then, wide and sincerely and waited patiently until Johanna was finished before bringing her into the girl’s dressing room. Johanna had never been in there since she wasn’t really needed in there ever. It wasn’t anything special, just rows of mirrors and vanities, some sinks and lockers. Make-up and other things were scattered across the tables but Johanna was quickly distracted by Brianna pulling out a clothing rack.

    “Don’t tell Phoebe I brought them in here, I am supposed to leave it in the costume room but I don’t like changing in there.” 

    “I won’t tell.” Johanna promised and they shared a small smile. 

She let herself fall into one of the chairs while Brianna went through her clothes. It had to be Brianna’s spot because there was a picture of her with what she assumed were her parents and a couple of others, including one of Brianna bent over a guitar, focused on playing the instrument. 

    “You play the guitar?” Johanna asked. 

    “Hm? Oh, yeah, I built it with my dad when I was a sixteen. How does this look?” 

Johanna as about to say something but was caught off guard by Brianna wearing a white pair of pants with a black and white striped shirt with a white cape. The pants were skin tight and showed off her legs nicely. 

    “Oh.” Johanna said softly, taking her in. “You look beautiful.” 

Brianna blushed, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She looked almost shy, not posing or anything like Freddie would and not bragging or making any suggestive comments like Roger would. 

    “You think so?”

Johanna nodded, suddenly feeling shy, too. Brianna was almost beaming and it was very endearing and cute. 

    “Do you want to see my favorite one?” 

    “Of course I do!” 

She didn’t dare to look in Brianna’s direction as she got changed. She didn’t want to come off as creepy or anything and be accused of being a pervert. It had happened before. Also, she really didn’t want to give her crush any more fuel by knowing how Brianna looked partially undressed. She was already hopelessly pining, she didn’t need to lust after her, too. 

    “Okay, ready!” 

Brianna looked ethereal. She wore black velvet pants and a white shirt with wide, wing like sleeves. She did a little turn, her arms spread out. She came to a halt with a giggle, looking incredibly pleased with herself but in a humble and shy kind of way. 

“You look like an angel.” Johanna whispered. 

Her blush deepened and she chuckled, looking a little bit embarrassed but happy at the same time. Johanna felt her own cheeks heat up. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I mean it.” 

Brianna bit her lip and looked at her through her hair, angling her head to side. She opened her mouth, then closed it again just to open it again. 

    “I- uh, do you- I have one more to show you if you want to.” 

Johanna nodded again.

    “Show me, I want to see it.”

The next outfit consisted of a floor-length dark blue skirt with a low-cut top that left her sternum exposed and she was incredibly ashamed of it but her eyes were drawn to the slight swell of her breasts before snapping back up to her face again. 

    “It’s not my favorite but I like the skirt. It’s flowy and very comfortable.” 

    “You look great.” Johanna assured her. 

Brianna changed back into her normal clothes and Johanna didn’t really know what she was supposed to do know. 

    “Do you maybe want to go and grab something to eat? I’m here with my car and… could drive us somewhere? If you want to.” 

    “Yes!” Johanna said, then cleared her throat, afraid to sound too eager. “Yeah, I’d love to.” 

Brianna smiled and Johanna couldn’t help but return it, her heart fluttering in her chest.

[spiffyb]

Ferdinand’s Phantom

He stood on the deck, looking out at the gulf islands scattered with cedar trees and tiny, colourful cottages, which seemed diminutive at this distance. They looked like doll houses. Ferdinand was lucky to have made his four o’clock ferry reservation, although now he began to have second thoughts about leaving his car – a jaguar E-type – unattended on the vehicle deck. But this was Canada. Suddenly a pod of around thirty killer whales burst into view. Ferdinand froze in place, staring at the orcas open-mouthed, and forgot all about his jaguar.

Finally, Ferdinand arrived. It was a resplendent chateau, surrounded by cedar trees and decorated with creeping emerald vines, which resembled a network of veins. In the garden roses grew: blood red, white, silver and gold. He parked outside, marched to the door, and knocked firmly three times. It was answered by a young girl of about thirteen, who turned scarlet as soon as he spoke to her and muttered something inaudible before scurrying away like a frightened animal. Not long afterwards, Alexa Ashworth descended the spiral staircase, carrying herself erect and flashing a set of blinding white teeth that matched her white-blonde hair. ‘Oh, Ferdie!’ They kissed each other on each cheek, the way people do in France. ‘How are you, Ferdinand? How was that awful ferry?’

           ‘Fine,’ he replied, ‘Better than flying.’ Alexa glanced past him at the forest-green jag outside. Pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows, she nodded approvingly. She looked back at Ferdinand and smiled, gesturing to an armchair. Taking a seat opposite, she rang a small silver bell on a tray. A young girl in a black and white maid’s costume, with mouse brown hair, walked swiftly into the room.

           ‘Mary, two vodka martinis, please.’ Ferdinand started to lift his right hand, but hesitantly placed it back on his lap, while Mary flitted off. ‘Are you excited for the party tonight? I’m afraid you’ve arrived rather early. No one will be here until at least seven o’clock.’ Ferdinand gazed out the window at the chinks of yellow light sneaking through red-and-gold maple leaves; it was still only October, and Vancouver Island was far enough south that it was light at this hour. He said he might take a walk, and left his drink with the servant girl, who was all too pleased for the chance to dispose of the untouched cocktail. Alexa’s makeup artist was due to arrive any minute, so she pranced upstairs, while Ferdinand went to inspect the grounds. The estate covered twenty hectares, and the gardens required constant upkeep. Ferdinand caught sight of himself reflected in the still waters of a lily pond. He’d been much younger when he first met Mrs Ashworth. At forty-five, his curly brown hair began to sprout a few greys and worry-lines creased his forehead. Though he was still handsome; his eyes were the colour of the lily pads and his cheek bones were prominent on his lightly tanned, perfectly symmetrical visage. He thought he’d better go inside and get ready for the party, which he was suddenly in the mood for.

The household staff busied themselves decorating the mansion, while Ferdinand went to the spare room to dress up as Dracula. He hoped it was original enough. Who was he kidding? His costume screamed indifference. It didn’t matter what people thought, though. It was entirely ridiculous for a serious psychiatrist to disguise himself as a demon and participate in Hallowe’en, which was really about children and candy.

Donning fake fangs, fake blood and a midnight cape, the doctor opened the golden door knob and strode with feigned confidence into the party. Alexa was wearing a floor-length porcelain-white gown and a crown of flowers freshly picked from the garden on her head. She held a bouquet of Parma Violet peonies in between her two full breasts, which were at least fifty percent on show. She was nearly the image of a blushing bride, were it not for the trail of red running from her left breast to the train of her dress and her rather horrifying makeup. And she actually paid for that. ‘Hello, Dracula.’

‘What are you supposed to be?’ Ferdinand enquired.

‘A zombie bride, obviously.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Oh, look. The entertainment has arrived.’ Ferdinand spun around to regard the latest arrival. ‘Lucy, hi.’

‘Hey,’ Lucy grimaced. She wore a pointy purple hat, a long violet gown with belled sleeves, and pointy black shoes. You couldn’t tell if she were bald, because she was wearing the hat. ‘You look…nice.’

‘Oh, yeah? You do know this is a Hallowe’en party, right?’ When no one laughed, she added: ‘Lucy came as herself!’

‘Actually, I came as you.’ The whole room erupted into laughter and the bride’s face waxed red as magma.

Pockets of partygoers prattled animatedly, as Ferdinand poured himself a red plastic cup full of punch. He poured one for Lucy, smiling at her.

‘Cheers,’ she said, ‘To a fabulous fête.’

‘Are you Métis?’ Lucy rolled her eyes and laughed. He shouldn’t have asked that.

‘Yeah.’

‘Hi, hi.’ Alexa waved, waltzing over. ‘Is everybody having a good time? Mm… punch.’ Ferdinand wondered how much she’d had.

‘I think I’ll go out for some fresh air,’ Ferdinand suggested, swaying slightly as he stumbled towards the door. Alexa darted in front of him, lifting the train of her dress.

‘Why don’t I join you, Mr Vampire?’ Ferdinand shrugged by way of reply and removed his fangs. The doorway was barricaded by Harry Potter, Darth Vader and a ghost. Alexa and Ferdinand eventually got past them. Ferdinand lit a cigarette, and Alexa snatched one, holding it in her mouth for him to light. He asked how and, for that matter, where Richard was. The normally loquacious Mrs Ashworth replied tersely that her husband was fine, that he would be late as usual.

‘Oh, it is so cold.’ Alexa huddled herself up against Ferdinand, looking up into his green eyes. He put his arm around her shoulder and led her back inside, where Darth Vader started playing Shostakovich on the violin. ‘Dance with me, Ferdie.’ He placed his arm tentatively on her waist, as he led her around the dance floor. It was a sort of Viennese Waltz. If an octopus tried to do a Viennese Waltz. Spinning around in that ballroom, Ferdinand started to feel dizzier than he was already, and Alexa looked different somehow. Almost like it wasn’t Alexa at all. She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his, and he held her head in his hands, kissing her back furiously. Her lips were so soft, like those of a twenty-one-year-old. For a moment, nothing happened. The fiddler kept fiddling, the drinkers kept drinking, the dancers kept dancing. Suddenly, Ferdinand was brought back to the present, to a sober realisation of what he had done. He opened his eyes, and in his peripheral vision he saw a sobbing bride scrambling up the staircase. In front of him stood a laughing witch, albeit a rather pretty one.

‘Have we met before?’ he asked.

‘Lucy Wilson-Knight,’ she replied, ‘And you’re the famous Dr Ferdinand Faber.’

‘Oh goodness, Lucy. Forgive me, I’m afraid I’m rather drunk.’

‘Yeah, we did tequila shots earlier.’ Did he? ‘You probably won’t remember this in the morning.’ But Alexa probably would.

Before long, the sun started to rise. Ferdinand took off his cape and walked down the garden steps to the beach. He looked out at the water, kicked his shoes off, and threw himself into the sea. Yesterday, he’d seen killer whales in that water. Today, he didn’t care. At least here there were no witches or werewolves, no vampires or undead brides. Yesterday, he faced his demons. No, he didn’t believe in that nonsense: his subconscious desires. For a minute he had really wanted to kiss Mrs Ashworth, but today he was very glad he hadn’t.

[renwyck]

A Haircut

The morning light filtered into Aislynne's room bedroom, a haze of dust sparkling like fireflies in the rays of the sun. While it was starting to get cooler during the night, the dawn brought with it a warmth -- a promise for a brighter day.

Once more his attention turned to the mirror, Renwyck's gaze pouring over his reflection. With a furrowed brow, the warrior shook his head. "Hey Lynne? Can I ask for a favor?" As if he hadn't asked enough of her already...

Singing in the kitchen as she always seemed to be doing this time Aislynne was going through her stores. There were pies cooling in the windowsill, meant for a trip to the orphanage later that day - something she made a habit of whenever she was in any city. But it would be a while before she headed there and she had other things to work on over the next few days.

Her books were scattered on the table along with papers and colored inks and a single pencil. There were jars and pouches of powders and dried herbs, leaves and flowers and strange things that were probably best left unidentified.

Her song was soft but bright, not loud enough or jaunty enough for her not to hear Renwyck when he called out. "If you're going to ask me to me face!"

Renwyck chuckled, neglecting to put on a shirt before walking down to the kitchen. He showed up in the doorway wearing nothing but his usual leather pants. Even his feet were bare. "So, uh..." he spoke in an attempt to get Aislynne's attention.

She was just leaning over the table checking some of the notes in her books when he appeared. She lifted her head and then ber brows and slowly straightened, hands on her hips. "I can't make you a shirt that fast," she teased. She was doing a good, forceful job of ignoring that scar. She had more than one of her own after all. But what she really wanted to do was run up and hug him. She grinned instead and waited expectantly for him to say what it was he really wanted.

He ran his fingers through his long, black hair as a tinge of pink washed over his cheeks. "I was wondering if you'd... ah... cut my hair?" It was the first time he really felt a desire to return to normal -- assuming he could even remember what 'normal' felt like.

Aislynne's smile warmed  and she gave him a nod. "There's a little basket in the bathroom. If you go grab it for me we'll get started." That was where the good scissors were, the comb and brushes and things.

While he did that she drug out a stool and moved some of her things away from the area. Then she paused and called out: "Bring a big towel, please!"

After a brief search for the requested items, the warrior paused, glancing in another mirror. It wasn't him. At least, not who he used to be. And certainly not who he wanted to be. Renwyck slung a towel over his shoulder before scooping up the basket to return to Aislynne.

Aislynne was just pouring tea when he returned. She patted the stool for him to sit while she took a drink. Then taking the basket she picked out what she would need before sidling around to pin the towel around his shoulders like a cape. She smiled at him then while picking up the scissors. "The way it used to be or something new? I saw a gnome with a pink mohawk the other day . . . "

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not being adventurous. Just want to get back to..." Renwyck's words trailed off. There was a pause, a pensive look in his eyes.

There was no going back. Not to the way things were at any rate. No matter how hard he tried, Darkshire would still be lost. His comrades would still have betrayed him. Safrona would still be gone.

No. There was no going back. Only looking forward.

"The way it used to be," he finally answered, a part of himself silently mourning the past.

She watched him too closely to ever miss those things. So she tucked the scissors into her belt and stepped close enough to take his face in her hands. He might have been sad but her smile was warm, even adoring before she kissed his forehead.

When she let go her fingers found the ends of his long hair and she gave a gentle tug on each side. "Ok," she said, slipping behind him. "But I think you would look very interesting with a mohawk."

With that she moved behind him and gave another playful tug to his hair before she started combing it out. After a moment she spoke: "Oh, try those cookies, they're fudge. It's a new recipe and I need to know if they're any good before I take any to the kids."

Renwyck seemed to ease slightly at her touch, the warrior closing his eyes contentedly as she worked the comb through his hair. But the prospect of fudge cookies quickly garnered his undivided attention. He swiped a cookie from the plate, munching greedily.

Aislynne didn't expect much talking while he ate anything chocolatey so she hummed quietly as she started cutting on his hair and watched those dark locks fall to the floor.  "I've got more in the oven," she said finally, "different kind though. Not all of the kids like chocolate. I think."

She smiled a little then. "Don't worry, I'm not taking them all. Mostly they get the pies."

After the cookie was fully and ravenously devoured, Renwyck couldn't help but grin. "Oh, good. So I don't have to lie and say 'they don't taste good, but I wouldn't want them to go to waste, so you can leave them with me.'"

"Oh, and I absolutely would have believed that." She tapped him on the head with her comb and grinned. Then she paused for a moment so she could try a cookie herself. She wrinkled her nose up in thought then put the treat down in favor of her tea. "It's maybe a bit much chocolate for me but the chewiness is good. "

And then she was back to his hair. It was coming along nicely so far. "My Gran used to make these really buttery oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips instead of raisins. But sometimes she'd use cinnamon or honey butter and put it in bits of caramel instead of chocolate. You'd like those I think. I need to try making them sometime. I don't know why I never have."

Renwyck couldn't help but laugh before stealing the remainder of her cookie. He gave a murmur of contentment while licking every last crumb from his fingertips.

"You won't be happy until I'm fat," he said with a playfulness in his tone. Reaching behind him, he waited until after she snipped a lock of hair to poke her in the ribs.

If she'd been paying attention she probably would have grabbed his finger. As it was she was taking a look at her handiwork thus far and ended up flinching away in a fit of giggles. "If you aren't nice to me I will leave you with only half of your head done!"

The length of it was all gone by then, however. He didn't have his style back yet but it was well on it's way. She poked him back and then took a step away to make sure he wasn't going to try again. "And I'll be happy as long as you're happy. It doesn’t matter to me if you're bigger or smaller! I would, however, like you to keep both of your ears so you might want to stop poking me."

"I dunno. Some women really like battle scars. I'll just say I lost an ear wrestling a wild boar with my bare hands to protect a crowd of Stormwind orphans." Sheathing his poking-finger for the moment, Renwyck placed his hands on his lap.

Aislynne giggled quietly. "You're terrible, you know that? But . . . I was always proud of my own scars so you may be right. At least a little bit." She was quiet for a few minutes after that, clipping away at his hair. "You are going to have to wash up after this. The towel helps but only so much. I'm almost ready to do your neck. And no mohawk." She gave out the heaviest, most exaggerated sigh she could muster as if she'd really wanted to see him that way.

"I've been called many things in my lifetime, but 'terrible'..." Renwyck started, his grin broadening. "Okay, yeah. 'Terrible' probably makes a top ten."

Aislynne just grinned, too focused on her work for much else just then. She didn't chop his ears off and his hair, when she was done, was exactly the way it was when she met him.  She walked around him in a slow circle just to make sure and with a satisfied smile and nod she stuffed another cookie in his hand and went to get a washcloth so she could shave his neck. "Now, we're not piercing your ears or anything? You're sure?" she called out from the bathroom. "Once I get going I like to keep going!"

He laughed before indulging in yet another cookie. "Do you think I should keep a bit of a beard?" He scratched his fingers through the scraggly whiskers, finding a few stray cookie crumbs. "A much shorter beard?" He added a quick addendum.

"Well, what we do is shorten it up and see. And if you don't like it we keep going," she said as she walked back in with a steaming washcloth that she draped carefully around his neck. "Ok, you get to sit for a minute while I get the last cookies out."

He closed his eyes, the heat from the washcloth relaxing his entire frame. "Fair enough," he murmured, allowing his mind to drift. It was typical for his thoughts to go instantly to Safrona. The sense of calm shattered, his heart sinking to his stomach. Suddenly he regretted eating so many cookies.

Swallowing roughly, he forced his eyes back open to focus on Aislynne. Though the frown he had been wearing faded, but the tension in his creased forehead remained.

It was only a couple of minutes before she had the cookies out and cooling. But it was long enough to alter his mood; she could see that. She arched a brow and though she moved behind him once more to take care of his neck her hands found his temples first and rubbed there gently before carefully smoothing their way across his brow. She lowered herself enough to rest her chin atop his head. "You're still going to be beautiful all wrinkly but let’s not make that happen today, okay?" she asked quietly before moving to kiss the top of his head as she did whenever she could actually reach it.

Her hands moved to his shoulders and she rubbed there for a moment too, letting that warm cloth do its job a moment longer before she finally removed it and picked up the razor. And as a rather absent afterthought she added: "Think about puppies."

"Mm," he hummed softly, for once not allowing Aislynne's words to soothe him. Regardless of her tender affections, he couldn't help but feel the gnawing pain working its way to his chest. He sighed softly as he closed his eyes.

"I don't want to be alone, Lynne," the simple admission was soft and melancholy.

She put the cloth right back on his neck when those words came and pressed it there carefully with her hand. She did her best to contain a quiet sigh. "I don't either," she replied so softly it was barely audible. She blinked away the stinging in her eyes and then she did sigh. "I want to say that it gets easier but . . . " She took a breath.

"I know having me around isn't enough , I wish it was and I'm sorry that it's not but I did mean it when I said I wouldn't leave you alone. Not until you do find someone who- Who is enough."

The most wavering little sigh fell from her lips and she was glad she was behind him because he didn't know how close this all was to her too ; knowing was the very last thing he needed. She bit her lip hard and waited so her voice wouldn't break. "I hope having me around is better than nothing."  She frowned so hard. "But eventually when I'm getting in the way . . . well, I'll do my best not to."

She took another deep breath, she was getting off track. "You won't be alone forever. That's not the kind of life you're meant for. I know it."

He had been blind -- so focused on his own torment that he had neglected to see something that was right in front of him. Her words helped him see. Closing his eyes, Renwyck bowed his head, wishing that he could be ignorant a while longer. But it was too late.

Any words of reassurance or solace escaped him, buried by the mountain of guilt that overcame him. One more person to injure. One more person to lose. It was a blow to the stomach, and one he couldn't endure. She had saved him. So many times, she had saved him by offering comfort and hope when he was standing on the precipice of oblivion. It was her hand that had pulled him back.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," came the broken apology, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached for the cloth at his neck, pulling it from his skin to place on the table before him. His eyes opened as he rose from his chair. "I should go..."

He didn't get to rise all of the way before her hands were on his shoulders to stop him. "Sit down." She wasn't asking. "SIt down, please." Only with that "please" was there a hint of pleading and for that one word she sounded on the verge of tears as she had been all along. But she took a breath and quelled them all.

"What good would that do either of us? You feel better when I'm around, I know you do, even if it's not perfect. And I am better when you're around."

She gave such a heavy, wavering sigh and moved around where she could face him; no hiding the hurt or the sorrow in her eyes or in the crease of her brow. "I was alone before you. The way that you've been feeling? I had that. I had that for almost five years before I met you in Duskwood. Five years of that."

"I know what it's like to lose a home, a city, a kingdom. I have lost every single thing, every single person who ever mattered to me.  I lost a war, I lost my freedom. I watched my father slit his own throat to keep from turning worgen. And then I lost my-" She took a breath. No. Not that one, not now.  "I lost everything and I threw myself into war until they said I was losing too much, that I wasn't feeling enough and they told me to go. And I was so lost. But I found you. And you . . . made me better. You did."

There were tears in her eyes at that point; she did not try to hide them though they did not fall yet. Her gaze turned in the direction of Duskwood, her voice weakened. "When that night happened . . . "

"After I healed up I went to the Broken Shores, I went to Argus because I had nothing. Again. And I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to fight, I'm so tired of war, but maybe a demon could finally kill me."

Her eyes went so wide and she slapped her hands over her mouth; she'd never said that before, not even to herself. Oh, she'd known what she was doing but she'd never admitted it until now. Because she was angry and she was scared and she spun around so he couldn't see her anymore.

This time she wouldn't keep him from rising to his feet. He felt everything in her... the pain, the loss, the search for an escape. He felt it all in her because he had felt it in himself. "Lynne," he whispered her name as he reached for her, resting his hands atop her shoulders.

Her heart beat an uncomfortable, erratic rhythm against her chest and she shuddered with all the things she was still containing when his hands found her shoulders. It took her a long moment of pressing her hands so hard against her mouth before she finally, slowly, lowered them. One found his where it rested on her shoulder and she did her best to curl her fingers around his. " What good is it if we both feel like that apart?"

Her voice was so broken, so beat down that she took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out in some hope that it might give back a little strength.  She didn't want to lay all of this on him, it wasn't fair and she knew it, but she needed him as much as he needed her, maybe more. So she turned to face him, still trying to blink away the tears that kept coming. She couldn't say the words while she was looking at him but she could bury herself against his chest. "Please don't push me away."

He held her close, wrapping his arms tightly around her body. Closing his eyes, he rested his head atop hers, his cheek pressed against her hair. His heart ached to see the pain she had been fighting through, all the while wearing a smile for his sake. So many days he had leaned on her like a crutch at the same time she needed one of her own.

I'm sorry Lynne. I'm so sorry...

His arms held her even closer to his body, as if he was making up for all the times when he wasn't there for her. "I made the mistake of abandoning the woman who owns my heart. I'm not going to abandon you too, Lynne..."

For that moment at least she felt safe and not so alone  as she usually felt. Her arms were tucked between them at first as if she were really trying to hide but when he didn't pull away they made their way around him. She relaxed a little after that; still upset though less tense. But she was afraid of how much she'd said when she never wanted to say any of it at all and she really didn't know what to do.

His words had her brow furrowing up. She'd had suspicions of course but what could she say now? Nothing. Her fingers pressed carefully into his back in response so he would know that she heard him, that she was listening. "I'm sorry," she said finally because she was sorry for everything he was dealing with and for adding her own issues to that. All she could do was hold onto him tighter.

"Don't be," he whispered against her hair before placing a kiss on the top of her head. With a heavy sigh, he ran a soothing hand against her upper back. "I'm here... I'm not going anywhere..."

It was a while that she kept him that way thinking that maybe they could both use the time and the closeness. But eventually she calmed enough, relaxed enough to be embarrassed. She gave him one last, tight hug, pressed herself into his chest as if she didn't want to let go but then she did pull away from him just enough to lean back and look up at him. "We should finish your hair," she said quietly, offering up an embarrassed little smile.

[ RP between @aislynnemara and myself. Thank you for reading! ]

[b0blegum]

Why Am I Here? [five]

Author: b0blegum

Pairing: Patient!Shin Hoseok x Psychiatrist!Reader

Rating: R

Genre: Psychiathriller (and a lot of smutty romance too)

CHAPTER: PROLOGUE | ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN | EIGHT | NINE | TEN

Status: ON GOING

TRAILER

!! I AM ALSO POSTING THIS ON WATTPAD JIC I GOT NO ACCESS TO TUMBLR ANYMORE !! (i live in a country where tumblr is blocked)

Summary

He was once an excellent doctor. An excellent psychiatrist. Everyone loved him. He was nice, kind, always care for each other, he even got the look. We can say… he was the whole package. But his glorious days ended in just one night. The night he woke up as a patient in the asylum where he worked, with no memory of why he is there or what he has done.

You shoved your phone back into down your coat pocket and tied your hair into a ponytail as you headed west.

Just as you were re-reading the observation report, you heard the door being closed and a steps coming closer in fast pace.

"(Y/n)!" You were called. It was Minhyuk.

"Oh, hi, Minhyuk." You looked at your side to find the guy already walking side to side. "Just finished with your patient?" You asked, seeing him in his coat and keeping his pen into the chest pocket.

"Yeah. She is getting a lot better." He nodded, happily. "You're going for a session?"

You smiled as an answer.

"Seriously? He just knocked you down and you're already back on track? Have you even recovered?" Minhyuk's forehead wrinkled.

"I'm fine. I'm totally fine, Minhyuk." You reassured. "The doctor said everything's fine with me."

"Really, (y/n). If i was you, i'd stopped working here and would find somewhere else to work. It's better for my health than dealing with him." Minhyuk rolled his eyes as both of you stopped near the door.

You tilted your head as you recognize something similar as to what you vaguely heard when you were on the bed.

"Minhyuk," you asked in a whisper. "How long have you been working here again?"

"Six years, why?"

"Six. Alright, that's enough to at least know the surface of the deep secret," you whispered to yourself.

"Sorry?"

"Uh- no, i... i think i might want to talk to you, just the two of us." You said carefully, looking at the guards from the edge of your eye.

"You're... scaring me, (y/n). What is it about?"

"Later, Minhyuk. Alright? I now have a session to attend." You smiled, keeping yourself mysterious from Minhyuk who was left confused.

You walked and walked until you were face to face with none other than Hyunwoo. You gave him a slight smile and mouthed him evening as a sign for him to put on the password to Hoseok's room.

The door clicked open and you pushed it in one go to reveal the quiet, pathetic room of himself. The strong scent hit your nose, once again.

He must've been taking something.

"Evening, Mr. Shin." You greeted as you laid down his progress report on the desk. He didn't budge at all, but you know he's awake, seeing how his toes curled inwards.

"Why are you still here?" He finally said words.

"I work here, so why wouldn't i be here?" You walked towards his bed.

"You should've left. I hit you the other day." He said, along with you tracing down the scar on your lower jaw.

"It's alright." You lied, but it won't help if you said the truth. "How are you today, Hoseok?"

Quiet.

"Alright. I'll wait until you're ready to talk. So take your time." You smiled as you walked back to your chair, sat yourself down and crossed your legs.

He won't budge. He kept lying on his bed, curled like a shrimp facing the empty wall. As usual, his wrists were cuffed and so were his ankles. What's different was he weren't wearing a gown today, instead he wore a white track suit, not the best, but it does look comfortable to wear.

The turtleneck wrapped his neck, might be as well as warming it. The length of the sleeves were a bit short and so were the pants, but well, you can't expect wearing what you want if you're in an institution, can you? The edge of the top was curled up, revealing a bit of his back.

Your eyes squinted as you saw reddened lines paralleled to each other on his lower back. You sat up and walked closer. He might noticed you were walking from the sound of your heels tapping the concrete ground, but he still stayed still.

Carefully, you traced around the red marks and accidentally your fingers shifted quite a lot the fabric of his top, revealing more of his back.

More marks were seen. Fresh red marks. Your mouth went open and your eyes widened before you gulped down your saliva from shock. Some of the marks were dried, but some still had a bit of blood on.

"Hoseok?" You called his name, in a whispered, don't know whether you want an explanation of this or just calling his name, telling him that you've seen just enough.

"I told you, you know nothing." He finally spoke.

"Who did this to you? Is there more?" You carefully flipped him and was even more shock as you seen a purple bruise on his abdominal area. "Hoseok, please tell me what are these?"

The boy smiled and closed his eyes. "You're the one who are shocked at this sights. I'm surprised."

You looked at him in disbelief. "What are you saying? Of course i am and not only me, anyone who sees this would act the same."

"No, they wouldn't." He scoffed. "They would even add more pain."

"Add... what? No, Hoseok,"

"They see me as an animal. They see me as a punchbag. They see me as something disgusting. I was mad at them at first, but i got used to it now."

"What are you talking about— hold on, let me call the nurse. You need some medication for those brui—"

"Trust me, you don't want to call the nurse." He stopped you from rushingly walking towards the door. "They're together."

You turned around and slowly got what he was trying to say.

He coughed as he tried to got up. "I don't know why they are doing this to me, but they really want me to admit that i killed people and until i say the thing they want me to say, they will keep torturing me."

"Our session is done for today, Hoseok." You grabbed his report and walked out. "I will talk to Mrs. Lincoln." You slammed the door.

"You're fucked up if you do that, (y/n)."

———

Mrs. Lincoln room was locked and no one had seen her since yesterday. You decided to wait in front of her office for an hour, but it was all for nothing. She didn't show up.

You

Minhyuk, where are you?

You typed on your phone and hit the send button right away.

Minhyuk, Lee

Home. Why?

You

It's about the thing earlier.Can i come to your apartment?

He didn't reply for five minutes.

Minhyuk, Lee

Sure.

Here's my address: 322, Sowol-ro

You rushed off the building to catch the last train to Minhyuk's neighborhood. It won't take long, approximately 20 minutes by train and connected 5 minutes by bus.

The thoughts of Shin Hoseok was clouding in your mind, as well as the vague conversations you heard behind the curtain as you laid on the clinic the other day.

Something must be up. Something must've happened behind the closed door and i could be their new toy.

The bus stopped right in front of the four story housing, which if you were right, one of the apartment is Minhyuk's.

You walked to the front door and passed a woman in black cape about to enter a shiny sedan with a man in uniform helping her to open the door for her. She wore a hat, but you could see a bit of her neatly styled hair underneath.

As you stopped at the front door, your eyes scanned all the doorbells, looking for the one with Minhyuk's name on the sticker and as soon as you found it, you hit the button right away.

"Come on up. Third floor, left." Minhyuk said over the speaker. You did as you were told.

The apartment was quite nice. It smelled nice, including the elevator and the corridor of his floor.

Once again, you ring his doorbell, but he opened it in no time.

"Come on in." Minhyuk smiled, greeted you in just his lounge outfit. A t-shirt and a short with a pair of home slippers on. "Just make yourself at home." He said as he grabbed a file from the table and took it with him as he entered to one of the door.

His house was not that tidy, but it was fine for a young man living alone.

"What do you want? Water? Soda?" He asked as he already made his way to the fridge.

"Anything's fine, really." You smiled.

Minhyuk was back with two cans of soda on his hand and later he handed you one as he bumped himself on the couch.

"So, what is it about?" He asked, opening his can.

"The institution." You curled your lips. Trying as careful as you could as you mention the object. You know too well that you're still a stranger of this place and Minhyuk had work a lot longer than you, so you tried to be as careful as you could.

"What about it?" He gulped down his soda. "You don't like working there?" He crossed his leg in a manly way.

"No, not that." You shook your head. "It's... i think something's is going on. Something... horrible."

"Horrible? (Y/n), what are you saying?" Minhyuk laughed.

"Minhyuk, i'm serious!" You looked offended. "When i was at the clinic, i heard... two person talking about... me and... Hoseok. One of them called Hoseok an animal and—"

"(Y/n), hey. You were under medication at that time, you might misheard what they were saying." Minhyuk leaned closer to you. "And if– if what you heard is true, well, i heard that a lot, Hoseok is called an animal."

"Minhyuk," you looked at him. "But they tortured him."

"Torture? Oh— i think i know what you meant." Minhyuk rolled his eyes. "That guy sure know how to flip a story." He sighed.

"Flip a story?"

"Were you talking about the taser marks?"

"And the bruises, yes."

"Right." Minhyuk leaned back. "You know how he knocked you down that day, right? And he sometimes attack the guards also and..." Minhyuk pulled up his shirt to reveal some of his thin abs, but there is something he actually want you to see.

"A... scar?" You asked, trying to guess what that pinky mark was.

"He stabbed me." Minhyuk pulled down his shirt. "With a shard."

"Stab you?" You whispered.

"This is why he is being treated at night. He can harm other people. I am a total stranger to him, but he attacked me anyway." Minhyuk explained.

"But... but he felt guilty about knocking me down," You said, cut by Minhyuk's scoffed.

"What if he's putting on a mask?

"A mask?"

"Come on. He act like he's guilty just to buy your sympathy." Minhyuk put down his can. "(Y/n), you're smart. I happened to read your CV and i know you're one of the best in this field." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Don't let that guy fool you. I know he has some plans and i don't want you to be used as his toy." He continued in a lower voice.

You looked down, digesting his words of advice. What Minhyuk said kind of make sense. You saw him that night and it's possible if they did it because he caused something and if he really is a psychopath, you know too damn well that he could do anything just to make his plans work. Including using you as his toy and deceiving you.

"Well, uh..."

"(Y/n), it's getting late. I think it's better for you to go home." Minhyuk stood up and his his hands into his shorts pocket.

You glanced over your watch and yes, it's almost 11 at night. "Yes, it's getting late." You stood up and walked with him to the door. "Minhyuk, thank you so much." You smiled as you turned around to meet the guy's eyes.

"No problem. If you have something that bothers you, don't hesitate to tell me. I'm all ears for you, (y/n)." He smiled, sending you off.

The door's closed and you made your way home with the thoughts of whatever possible scenarios in that institution played in your mind.

Minhyuk turned around as he brushed back his blonde hair, revealing his forehead for a bit before the bangs covered it in one second.

"That beast." He scoffed.

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[poison-basil]

Part 10: Without You - Chapter 3/3

Waking up with concussion was not on Temperance’s list of things to do today. Waking up, face to floor, in some creepy cell wasn’t either. Groaning as she moved to sit up, hand to her forehead to try and lessen the pain there.

Looking around all Temperance could make out was a wall length glass door, but that only lead to darkness, not able to make out anything else on the other side. There was nothing in the cell either.

She felt a sudden sense of relief when she noticed that she was still wearing her gear, checking the pouches to make sure everything was still there. Her mind began running through what had happened.

‘Drones’, quickly she started to pat herself down, checking for injuries, just a few contusions and cuts, nothing that was too concerning. Dragging herself up off the floor, she slowly made her way over to pane of glass, using a batarang Temperance throws it, testing for traps on the window.

Temperance frowns as it hits and just falls to the floor, nothing, not even a scratch. Wondering closer to it she puts her hand against the glass. Looking into the darkness she can make out what could be doors to other cells. “Hello!” Temperance bangs on the glass, “Is anyone there?!”

No one answers, not that she expected anyone to, sighing she moves to the furthest wall, puts her back to it and slowly sinks down to the floor.

‘They’ll come for me.’

--

“Miss Drake,” Temperance stares at the darkened figure before her, hands to the glass as she snarls.  “What a pleasure to have you join us.” There is barely anything about him that Temperance can make out. The light from the entrance that he came through making it impossible to see details, her eyes not completely used to it.

“Why?” She bangs a fist against the window, “Why am I here?” Her eyes are trained on him as he stands there. “The missiles were primed. I -- I can remember them hitting me,” she gestures to herself, “Am I.. Am I dead?”

“To those that loved you, yes you certainly are.”

“Oh,” Temperance staggers back from the window. She logically knew that she couldn’t be dead, but after sitting in this cell, in the dark and alone with her own thoughts for the past few days according to her wrist computer. “Tell me where I am.”

“You were re-connecting threads that could not be re-connected. You’re so loved, so deeply intertwined. It became crucial that we take you off the field.” Temperance feels a shiver go down her back as he talks, “And that’s where you are, Temperance. Off the field.”

Before she can ask anything else he sweeps out of the room, the door closed taking with it the light and once again Temperance was swallowed into the darkness.

--

Temperance sat in her cell, gear and tools surrounding her as she tinkered with her gadgets, to her left, her gauntlett is sat projecting an image slideshow, going through images she kept on their.

She found out quickly that she didn’t need any of the usual amenities, something about this cell made them unnecessary, not that she was going to complain, the thought of going to the toilet or showering in this glass case made her skin crawl.

Temperance’s sense of time was off - It was always dark and the only thing keeping her ton track was her mini computer.

The slide changing caught her eye, looking over she sees that it’s a picture of Dick and Damian cuddled up on the sofa. Temperance remembers taking this, catching them just after she finished patrol, it was their night off and Dick wanted a movie night with Damian.

Something about this makes feels like she is torturing herself with ghosts she cannot talk to. Though the little bit of joy that she gets out of it is worth it, reminding herself that she needs to keep going and find a way back, it’s not like she could leave Dick alone forever.

She tried not to think about him too much, the thought that he was alone and thought she was dead. There was no way that they thought she could of survived that fight. She hoped they at least tried. The thought that they wouldn’t even try for her, after all the effort that she put in for looking for Bruce.  

Scrunching her eyes shut she took a steadying breath. There was no point in dwelling on it, she was going to get herself out of this mess. The plan was going to work, it had to… ‘We’ll all be together again.’

--

Temperance was out and running, she had to get away from here. Mr. Oz was planning something and she wasn’t about to let that happen.

It has been a month since she had been captured. She had to make it back to Gotham. Something was going to happen, she just didn’t quite know what.

She was going home…

--

Alfred wasn’t sure what to make of this vigilante in front of him. There was something familiar about her cadence of her voice was familiar, but the suit was something he had never seen before.

Alfred reaches for a pair of sheers as the masked intruder moves. He relaxes slightly when he notes that she is going to remove her cowl. When it reveals a face beneath he thought he would not see again Alfred drops the sheers and brings his hands to his mouth.

“Hey Alfred, it’s me. It’s Temperance.” There is a sweet smile on her aged face.

“Oh, my child,” He can feel his eyes start to sting, “My dear child. What has happened to you?”

She rushes he and envelopes him into a tight hold, one that speaks of loneliness and loss. She squeezes his old bones and Alfred cannot stop himself from hugging her back. His sweet Temperance is here.

“Your… Temp is ok. She’s with Bruce. I’m from a few decades further down the road.” Alfred listens to her sweet tone. He cannot help but feel lighter in knowing that Temperance will surely live into the future and though he has no proof, there is something about this woman in front of him that makes him feel as though she would never lie to him.

Looking up at her, he now notices the nuances of the suit that she is wearing. The pointy eared cowl, the long black cape and yellow utility belt. There is something decidedly Batman about it. Alfred cannot help but pity her.

“I...I never thought it would be you. I never thought that you would have to bear the weight of the cowl.” He heart hurts for her. He knew that out of all of Batman’s proteges she was the closest in personality, but he knew she never wanted it. The fact that it has fell to her nonetheless is saddening.

A sad smile crosses her face as she goes to pull the cowl back on, “Me neither Alfred. Me neither.”

He watches as she turns to look outside the greenhouse. She speaks again her voice hesitant. “I...I needed to ask you something.”

He can see her fists clenching a sign that she’s nervous, “Yes?”

Her mouth is twisted, as though it hurts to get the words out. “If there were something I could do… something that would free me from ever having to become this… something terrible. Really terrible.” Alfred watches as she turns her head towards him, “Should I do it?”

Alfred reaches for her, “Miss Temperance… What are you going to do?” His voice trembles, he wants to help her, but he feels that even though she is asking, there is nothing he can do.

“I think I can answer that for you!” The sudden shout makes them both turn to see Dick, Jason and Damian at the ready standing behind them.

--

Getting the call and lowdown from Bruce to make it back to the manor as soon as possible made him feel on edge. Alfred was alone and in possible danger. There was immeasurable joy when B mentioned that Temperance was alive.

The downer though is that an older Temperance was running around with a vendetta. The idea of it was laughable, Temperance, the bad guy? Unthinkable. But as he sits perched on the roof of greenhouse with Jason and Damian, he cannot take his eyes of the figure in the batsuit talking with Alfred. 

Some of the tension leaves him, this Temperance would never hurt Alfred, you could read in her body language that there was no danger for the moment, he kept a hand on his escrima sticks, just in case.

It hurts him deep to find out that the mantle fell into her hands. ‘Why? Why didn’t I take it up again? Jason even? What about Damian?’

Jason places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze. “Come on ‘Wing, you gotta concentrate,” Jason whispers to him, “We can’t go easy on ‘er just cuz she’s Tempie from the future.”

Giving him a nod, Dick prepares to jump, “Go.” He says before just silently jumps and lands behind Temperance.

As the others land Dick listens to the conversation between Alfred and Temp. “If there were something I could do… something that would free me from ever having to become this… something terrible. Really terrible.” Dick has to force himself not to move or bring attention to them, “Should I do it?”

“Miss Temperance… What are you going to do?” Part of Dick wanted to wait and hear her reply, see what it was that she had planned, but that was interrupted but a shout from his left.

“I think I can answer that for you!” Jason’s sudden interruption brings everyone's attention to them.

Dick felt as though he should join in, the banter slips from his tongue like silk, “She’s going to go back to when she belongs.” There was nothing else they could do.

Damian ends their entrance with his own quip, “And we’re here to make sure she doesn’t get lost along the way.” Dick feels proud that Damian didn’t threaten to maim or cause her injury.

Dick can see the sadness about Temperance’s mouth as she looks at them, can feel her eyes linger as she assess him. She cocks her hip and place’s a hand on it, and there is a slow smile forming as she takes them all in.

“Hey guys,” Her voice has become like smooth honey, rather than the sweet sugar that he remembers. “Hey Dick,” There’s something sharp in her tone as she says his name. “It’s been a while.”

‘A while?’ Dick gives a tiny nod and stays silent.

She tilts her head and continues on, “You’re all so young,” Her tone sinister as she utters her next words, “And so stupid.”

Dick watches as she reaches into her utility belt and pulls out her collapsed bow staff. “I used to be so afraid of measuring up to each of you,” She flicks it out to it’s full length, “You were always stronger than me… each in different ways,” Dick feels is heart sink further the more he hears, “But you never measured up where it counts. I’ve been fighting training programs based on each of you in your prime for nearly fifteen years.” She swings the bow with a practiced ease, readying her stance and Dick lowers into his, knowing that the other two will follow his lead. “You lost the battle the second you decided to engage me.”

Dick see’s her turn towards Alfred and hears Jason cock his guns. Tension is running high and if she even moves slightly in the wrong way towards Alfred there will be hell to pay. Just as they are about to launch they hear her talk, “Alfred. Now would be a good time to run.” She cracks her neck as she turns her attention back to them. “I need to work out a few chips on my shoulder.”

Dick would grin if this wasn’t such a grim situation, he was going to have to fight Tempie, this is the first time he has seen her since her death, even though he knows it’s not his Temperance, it’s still hard to think about hurting her, but he knows it’s got to be done.

Without warning she is running and jumping at them, her bow is a blur of motion as she swings it at them aiming for weaknesses in their suits and deflecting hits. Her movements are sharper and more controlled than ever.

He see’s Jason unload a clip on Temperance - though nothing its her directly, since she already swished her cape up to deflect them, rebrounding them around the green house making it so they have to dodge them.

Damian thinking her distracted moves silently behind her, only to be swept off his feet by her staff. She leaps just out of range before charging back in. This time she is savage in her blows upon them.

Dick only knows she has attacked him after the pain has blossomed in his side and he goes down quick from the unexpected pain. Jason's helmet is her next casualty, as she’s about to go for a crippling blow on Jay they floor gives out below them.

Dick is not prepared for this and lands with a smack on the cave floor, Jason and Damian doing the same. It’s unfair to watch as Temperance floats into her landing, cape billowing behind her.

Dick see’s Alfred rush over to help him and as he is about to give his thanks all words are caught in his throat as he sees Temperance, his Temperance, stand before him and berate her future self, a lot of what is said between them is lost on Dick.

Though Dick knew she was back, seeing it was different. She was was breathing, talking and living in the same space that he was. All outside drama muffled by the utter relief running through him.

He cannot help but stare at this utterly perfect being in front of him. She was here! Dick knew he should be paying attention to the evil Batman Temperance, but he couldn’t and there was enough people here to make up for his lapse in attention to the ongoing fight, since Temperance has literally just walked back into his life!

Dick suddenly zones back in on what's going on around him when he sees everyone turn towards the Batcomputer. Temperance’s future self has perched on the console. He look’s to his side and sees Jason lean towards B, “Bruce, what the hell did you start building?”

Batlady has a smug look on her face as she says, “Here, let me show you. Activate.”

Dick takes a step back as the screens behind her all turn red and a computerised voice follows, “Brother Eye is now online.”

‘What the heck is happening.’

--

The day after they sent her future self back to her time Temperance set herself up in her nest at the old Gotham theater. Catching up on what had happened since she had been gone. There was the usual villains in and out of Arkham, a few gangs trying to rise up in her turf only to be snuffed out by Hood.

From what she could tell the only thing that looked truly out of the ordinary was Ra’s kidnapping Dick, she would have to ask him about that later, if Ra’s didn’t come to see her first.

During the whole thing with her evil self Dick hadn’t said a single thing to her, not that there was a good point to sit and have a chat, she thought that he would at least try. Jason made sure to give her a hug when he could, even Damian in his own special way let her know he was happy that she was alive.

With a sigh Temperance set about doing some more digging into the cases that she left behind, there was no point going around in circles thinking about Dick, she would find him tomorrow and ask what was going on.

It was nice to see that they had most of what she left behind tied up - but there were stragglers that had yet to be solved giving Temperance  something to concentrate on for the night.

Hours later Temperance pushed away from her computer, stretching she turned to look out the window, ‘Huh, what time is it?’ Checking her phone she saw that it was much later than she originally thought. 04:00 blared up at her. ‘Damn’, not in the mood to go to bed just yet, Temperance made her way to the living room.

Switching on the TV and picking up her tablet she then made her way over to the couch. Flicking through various articles on twitter to see what was going on in the social scene in Gotham.

Temperance always found it fun when she saw one of the Wayne boys in an article, usually blowing out of proportion what was actually happening. A story posted about Damian came to mind, making her giggle as she scrolled through. Suddenly all her good humor vanished as she started down at a picture taken of Dick and some woman at a Cafe, in a nicer part of Gotham.

She didn’t want to look anymore, quickly turning off her tablet she flung it to the other end of the sofa. Turning her attention to the TV she grabbed the remote and put it straight the the movie channel, hoping that would distract her.

Her stomach was churning, thinking about Dick’s happy grin and sweet eyes as he gazed at the woman in the photo. How could she of been so foolish not to think of this? Dick was attractive and fun, of course there were going to be other women lining up to be with him now that she was gone.

She couldn’t expect him to morn her forever ‘I thought it would be more than a month though!’ Temperance could feel her eyes growing hot as she thought about it. Pulling the blanket from off the back of the couch Temperance snuggles into it.

Staring at the screen she furiously rubbed at her eyes daming the tears as they fell. All she wanted now was a tub of ice-cream and some chick flicks.

‘It makes sense,’ she thought to herself, ‘this is probably why he has hasn’t come to talk to me.’

Sniffling she settled in, bringing her knees up to wrap her around, laying her chin on her knees she gives all her attention to the movie. She must of drifted off, since the next thing she knows is there’s a draft coming from the window and someone climbing through it.

“Hello?” She calls out, no energy left to lift herself to see over the sofa.

She hears the window click shut before she gets a reply, “Hey Tempy...” His voice is low and rough, it’s the first time she has heard him say her name since she came back. Her name sounds good coming from him, It always has.

‘No,’ Temperance thinks, trying to sink further into the cushions. Hoping that he doesn’t know where she is, ‘It can’t be.’

Before she can do anything Dick is rounding the sofa and looking down at her. He’s still in his full Nightwing gear, ‘Must’ve just finished his patrol.’ He looks good, standing there in the dark bathed in the blue light coming from the TV.

All words are caught in her throat as she stares up at him. Her mouth moving silently trying to force herself to say something, to him.

“Sorry Tee,” He whispers, quickly kneeling at her side, he brings up a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, “Didn’t mean to wake you.” His smile is sweet, it takes all of Temperance’s will not to lean into the touch.

“Why--” Her voice is scratchy from sleep, “Why are you here?” She asks, trying to keep her voice as even as possible.

“Oh, uh, ya know, passing through,” He grins at his own joke, but quickly sobers as he carries on, “I just… I needed to make sure you were here, ya know?” His voice slightly trembles at the end.

She brings her hand up to grab his and gives it a tight squeeze, “I’m here Dicky,” raising her other hand she reaches for his domino needing to see his eyes, she pulls at the side lightly and slowly pulls the mask away. Her breathing stops for just a moment on seeing his vibrant blue eyes. “I’m here.”

“I know, it just feels too good to be true,” Pulling their joint hands to his mouth he places a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “God, it’s only been a month, but it feels like years since the last time I saw you…”

“It’s ok, but I’m here now and that’s all that matters, right?” She tugs her hand back quickly and moves to sit up, so allow Dick to take the seat next to her on the couch.

“Yeah,” Dick takes the seat and shuffles close to her, like he doesn’t want there to be any distance between them, “Yeah, you’re right, you’re always right.” The settle into a silence that makes Temperance a little uncomfortable.

Hoping to get rid of the quiet she turns to Dick, “Well, I don’t mean to sound rude but... “ Temperance tucks her hair behind her ear, nervous to about what she is about to ask.  “Are you staying?”

“‘Corse I am!” Is his instant reply, she frowns slightly, “I thought I’d crash on the couch, but you seem to be occupying it.” She watches as his eyes crinkle and his smile brightens at his dig.

“I was watching a film when I fell asleep, let me just get up and--”

Quickly raising his hands in surrender he replies, “No no, I wanna talk to you some more,” He leans more into her space and puts his arm along the back of the couch, boxing her in, “If thats ok with you?”

“Oh, um…” The smell of Dick’s cologne is overwhelming with him so close she forgot how much she loved his sent, leather, sweat and something sweet. There was something comforting about it that she’d never understand, “Sure.”

“Great. Let me go get changed,” Hopping off the sofa, he made his way to her bedroom. As he got to room he quickly called back to her, “I’ll be right back.”

With him gone she quickly puts away the blanket and turns off the TV, with the room now completely dark she calls out, “Light’s 60%.” Just as she is about to sit back down Dick comes bounding out of her room.

“Hey I was just going to make some coff--” Suddenly all his movements stop as he stares at her, his eyes suddenly serious. “Temp, have you been crying?”

“No!” Temperance rubs at her eyes,“No, just… allergies?” She might as well try.

She watches as Dick just shakes her, slowly making his way back over to her, “Temp, come on, I know what it looks like when you’ve been crying.”

“I,” How did she explain that she cried because she couldn’t stand the thought that he’d moved on? “Just thinking about some stuff, that’s all, no biggie, I’m over it now.” She tries to brush it off, but she can can tell that he doesn’t believe her.

“Temperance.”

This time she shakes her head and holds up a hand to stop him from coming closer, “Just leave it Dick…”

He reaches out but doesn’t move any more towards her, “I can’t, you’ve only just got back, what happened?”

“Nothing I--” She didn’t have time to stop herself before she looked at the tablet and Dick’s eyes followed hers.

“Is it something on the tablet?”

Quickly looking back at Dick she shouts, “No!” Silently she curses herself ‘smooth, he wasn’t going to think anything was wrong now.’ She moves to grab the tablet but Dicks quicker.

“Ah ha!” He lifts it up and turns it on, his face suddenly sours and he turns the tablet screen towards her, “Unlock it Tee.”

“No, it’s stupid, it doesn’t mean anything.” She pushes the tablet away.

He huffs at her putting the tablet down and take a step towards her, “It obviously does, to make you this upset…”

“I’m not, not anymore,” She turns her head to look away from him, “It’s silly.”

“Just, show me,” He takes another step towards her as she takes one back, “I want to help you…”

The back of her legs hit the coffee table as she tries to move away, “I don’t need help, I just need time.” Time to herself, time to grieve. Just time!

She turns to leave when she hears him speak, “Time for what?”

The sincerity in his tone hurt to hear, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to her, pretending like everything is normal. “To get used to you having a girlfriend!”

She feels a sense of satisfaction at seeing Dick take a step back away from her, “I get that it’s been a month, but do you need to get used to being around me again?”

‘Is he playing dumb? Does he think he can get away with playing the idiot?’ Frustration builds up in her veins, “Not me.”

“Not you?” His face is honest in its confusion and it starts to make Temperance doubt herself, “Who are you talking about?”

Temperance walks away towards the kitchen and says her next words without looking back at him, “That girl you took to the cafe?”

“Cafe? Tempy, I have no idea what you’re talking abou--” Temperance feels her heart stop for a second, ‘So there was anot--’, before she can finish the thought, Dick interrupts her. “Oh, oh Tempy, no, this isn’t what you think it is,” His voice is thick with desperation, “This was for a case.”

Temperance turns to look at Dick over her shoulder, “Case?”

“Yeah, I had to get close to some mob boss’s daughter,” She watches as Dick waves his hands as though trying to explain through gesture, “I was her type, so it was just, you know, the best plan at the time.”

“Case…” That made sense, why didn’t she think of that? “Sorry I just, I saw it and jumped to conclusions, sorry…” Temperance continues to move towards the kitchen, going to make coffee.

Dick is following not too far behind her now, “It’s ok, Temp, I know it’s been hard for you, it couldn’t of been easy to see that…”

“I just, you haven’t spoken to me since I got back and,” She takes a breath as she reaches for the coffee, “And in my head it just made sense that you might of moved on, ya know?” She had to talk about it - the stress of knowing what was going to happen building up more and more as she talks to Dick, “You thought I was dead and… and with the things that my future self was telling me about, it all just mounted up together…”

Dick is quickly closing the gap between them and puts his hands on her arms, rubbing them soothingly, he turns her to face him once she has the coffee going, “Wait hold on, what did she tell you?”

“About the future and what happens to everyone…” She swallows around the lump in her throat, “Why I take up the cowl…” She stops herself before she says more. ‘How fucked up the future is.’

“Do I die?”

She shakes her head, “No, nothing like that, rather the opposite…”

Dick tilts his head in confusion, “The opposite?”

“Well, you live in Bludhaven with your family…” It sucks to know that he eventually moves on and finds someone else, but she cannot think of someone else who deserves that more.

“What family?” Dick stands their completely dumb, not at all following the conversation.

“I don’t know all the details but, she said that you took up the mantel after Bruce, but you got,” Temperance waffles her hand back and forth, “I don’t know, fed up with it?” She shrugs her shoulders in an effort to look indifferent about her next words. “And moved away with your family, which obviously wasn’t me, since I was the one who took it up.”

“Without you.” Dick cannot comprehend that, a future without Temperance, “There’s no way…”

“Dick, I don’t know what you want me to say. She told me about all of you guys and none of it was good!” Temperance’s tone is near hysterical, “She said there was nothing that can be done about it!”

Gripping her more forcefully, he shakes her a little, “Calm down Temp!”

“Calm down?” She tries to move away, but his hold on her is firm, “What's there to be calm about? You’re going to leave me, I’m going to become some gun crazy batman,”

Dick tries to interrupt her, “Now wait a --”

She surges on, if she stopped now, she might not get to say it, “Jason gets totally fucked up and Damian is back with the league!” Stops to catch her breath for a second, “There’s no way I can be calm.”

“Look I know this is tough on you,” Dick quickly dips to press a kiss to Temperance’s forehead, “I know she told you some things about the future, but you know more than anyone that the future isn’t set in stone. We’ll get through this, I promise.”

Temperance couldn’t see how Dick could be so positive in this situation. “I...I don’t know what to do Dick,” Her thoughts are suddenly filled with premonitions of her running through Gotham and putting criminals down, “I cannot become that!”

“I know and I’ll help, we’ll get Jason and Damian to help. You have to come to the cave and tell us everything you know, so we can best prevent it. But know this Tee, I love you and nothing is going to change that.” She lets Dick’s voice lull her as she listens to him describe how they are going to deal with everything and even though it won’t stop nagging at her she feels herself relaxing.

Sighing as she leans into Dick’s chest, she stays there for a moment before whispering back, “I love you too.”

His arms go around her, embracing her making Temperance feel the warmest and safest she has in a while, “Now come on, it’s been a long night and I would like to go to bed and snuggle with you and tomorrow we can deal with this.” Temperance can feel Dick’s voice rumble in his chest as he speaks.

She doesn’t want to move right now, “But I --”

“Nope,” Dick pops the p, stopping Temperance from talking, while still hugging he starts to waddle them towards the bedroom, “Tomorrow Temperance, just rest for now, I’ve missed you…”

Resigned to her fate she follows along with little stumbles here are there caused by the awkward position they are in, “I missed you too Dicky.”

That night she slept the best she had in a month.

thank you for reading, I hope you guys liked this instalment! Sorry for all the grammar mistakes! :(

[cursivescrawl]

Transition

Rating: G Category: Elementals Summary: Bellamy was always a boy.  It just took him eleven years to catch on.

Bellamy pulled on a plaid button-up sweater over the tee-shirt, stepped in front of his mirror, and looked at himself.

He frowned.  He pulled back his long wheat-colored hair, yanking it away from his face, and turned, examining his body.  No.  This didn't work, the cut and color of the shirt was still too feminine.

He let his hair fall back down around his face and sighed, staring at himself again.  Then he turned back to his dresser and resumed rummaging.

Jeans, too slim and tight.  Several tee-shirts with sparkles or flowers or lace.  Black leggings. More jeans.  A training bra.

A dress.

He pulled out the dress, held it up to the light.  It wasn't fancy or anything.  Just simple gray-washed-white, probably a hand-me-down from one of the other Winds.

He looked across at the mirror again.  His face was rounder than he would have liked, his arms muscled enough from drawing his bow but those telltale soft parts still showing up, slimming his shoulders, softening his waist.

He folded the dress neatly and put it on his bed.  Then he began pulling out more clothing.

The leggings – too slim, too tight, too feminine.

Every tee-shirt that wasn't just a plain solid color, and some that were pink or purple.

Two skirts.  The training bra.  Jeans meant to fit to his legs, the shirt he was wearing, jeggings.  His conviction grew along with the pile on his bed as he discarded clothes, not bothering to fold them anymore, just pulling them out and tossing them on the bed and looking in the mirror and grimacing at his girl's face.

The only clothes remaining in his dresser were a few shirts he'd gotten at free events (the kind that nobody bothers to order two separate cuts for), a pair of khaki cargo pants someone had given him as a joke, and socks.  He pulled the cargo pants on and selected a shirt that proclaimed, U of A YOUNG GYMNAST 2010.

He looked at himself and pulled his hair back once more.  Then he swapped out the shirt for another one, irregular patterns of lime-green tie-dye squiggled across the white fabric.

It clashed with his hair, but he didn't care.

He turned around and stared at the clothes on his bed.

Part of him wanted to throw them out the window, let them rain down into the backyard, but he knew he'd just have to pick them up later when the other Winds yelled at him.  Part of him wanted to ask Clare for a flame and watch the cloth burn.

But that would be a waste, he realized guiltily after a moment of fantasy.  Possibly it was Eliana's thoughts intruding on his at that moment, making him see reason.

She was just outside his door.

“Come in,” Bellamy called, and, ignoring the pile of clothes for now, turned to examine himself in the mirror again.

Eliana entered silently.  She did most things silently, these days. Tucking a silver strand of hair behind her ear, she walked over to Bellamy and extended a pale hand.

You ready​? she asked silently.

Bellamy stared at himself.  Then he took a deep breath, exhaled it, nodded, and turned to his teammate.

“How do I look?”

She stepped back with annoyance flashing through the contract and looked him up and down.  Like yourself.

“Like a guy or a girl?”

Yourself. Another, stronger undercurrent of annoyance came with the word. That's not the best question to ask a teammate.  You're Bellamy.

“Helpful,” Bellamy grumbled.  At Eliana's silent apology, he squeezed her shoulder, then walked out into the dorm hallway.

“Hey, Andrea!  How do I look?”

Andrea turned and gave him a hard look.  Then she grinned.

“You're getting your hair cut today, aren't you?  'Grats, Bell. You look the part.”

Eliana made it very clear that she didn't like anyone calling him 'Bell'.  Bellamy gave her condescension and amusement

“Thanks.”  He winked at Andrea.

“Don't give me that!”  She laughed, flicked air just strongly enough to make him stumble back, and disappeared into her room. Bellamy's heart lifted.  He turned to Eliana, unsuccessful at stopping his grin.

“Right, you said you know the place?”

She nodded and offered a picture through the connection.  It was an alley, detailed enough in its location, beside a major intersection and behind a tall renter's building.

“Right,” repeated Bellamy, and drew an arrow from his quiver to be a focal point.  The air in the hallway shifted, twisted, lifted his hair and played with his clothes.  He raised his hand and waved to Eliana.

“Follow me through the connection?

She nodded.  Then the wind ley line swept him away.

The salon was inside a “beauty mall,” a collection of one-room salons in which different specialists rented out different shops.  Eliana led him to the top of the stairs, and then to the third door along the hallway.

It was open.  Bellamy saw a cutting chair, a shampoo station, prints of Paris on the walls.  A TV mounted across from the door bounced the Pandora logo around its screen, and soft Taylor Swift played from a speaker on a counter otherwise filled with hair dye boxes and leave-in conditioner bottles.  The stylist was bent over her phone with her back to the two Elementals.

Eliana nudged Bellamy.  He cleared his throat.  The stylist looked up, then put her phone down and jumped to her feet.

“You're late.”  She addressed the comment to Eliana, who took her notepad from her jacket pocket and flipped to a clean page.

SORRY, she printed in block letters, and then showed the pad to the stylist before continuing.  TRAFFIC.

You speak, she told Bellamy, folding the pad back up and putting it away.  Bellamy cleared his throat again and tried to sound masculine.

“Um. I'm Bellamy,” he said.  “Silver told me she booked an appointment...?”

“Yes.” The stylist beckoned them in and glanced again at Eliana.  “We're not doing you today, Silver?”

Eliana shook her head and pointed to Bellamy.  Then she deliberately crossed over to the waiting chairs, sat herself down, picked up one of the trashy magazines scattered out for browsing pleasure, and hid her face inside one.

“Um,” said Bellamy.

Eliana prodded him through the connection.  Clare and Aly set their swords aside, starting cool-down stretches at Aly's insistence, watching Bellamy.

“So- uh.  I want to cut my hair off.”

The stylist reached for his hair.  Bellamy twisted his head to give her easier access.  In the mirror, he watched her run the strands through his hair, then close her middle and index fingers across it at chin-length.

“To here?”

“No.” Bellamy hesitantly reached for her hand and moved it up.  “I was thinking – here.  Like a boy's.”

The stylist met his eyes, askance, in the mirror.  Then she turned to Eliana.

“Silver, you didn't tell me she was going to-”

“He,” said Bellamy.  It felt like his throat was closing up around the word.  Without looking, he knew Eliana had lowered the magazine and was giving the stylist a hard stare.

An awkward few seconds ensued.

“Oh,” said the stylist finally.  Her cheekbones were dusted with red now, and she didn't look Bellamy in the eye as she examined his hair.  “I see.  I can do that.  Just the cut, no color?”

“Yes, please,” said Bellamy, and let himself be led over to the hair-washing station.

The stylist clearly knew what she was doing.  Eliana had reassured him of as much.  Her own hair was incredibly fragile, after what the Winters had done to it – done to her – and this woman was the only one she'd found who'd managed to cut her hair without making it just break off.  Bellamy tried to relax as she rinsed the fragrant shampoo from his hair and helped him rise, clipped one of those salon robes around his shoulders, and settled him in the cutting chair.

“Just to be certain,” she said, and reached for a style book, flipping to a section of men's haircuts.  “Which do you like best?”

Bellamy glanced through them, trying to figure out what would make his face look most masculine.  He finally pointed out a swept-back style, parted on the side.

“That?”

The stylist looked at it, nodded, and took the style book from Bellamy, propping it up on a convenient stand.  Then she reached for a pair of scissors.

Bellamy looked at himself in the mirror until the stylist brought the blades to his hair.  Then he closed his eyes, hearing the first soft snip at his chin.

Wimp, said Clare.  Aly kicked her, a swift pain in Bellamy's shin.

Eliana reached for them, a silent, wordless offer to share her vision.

Bellamy felt Clare and Aly take her up on that.  He distanced himself from the connection.  He didn't want to see his hair falling to the floor in strands and snips, didn't want to make himself nervous by watching.  He focused on his breathing.

Wind in, wind out, air filling his lungs and his veins.  Inhale.  Exhale.

The soft whirr of a buzz-clipper, the unfamiliar sensation of it gliding across the nape of his neck.

Inhale. Exhale.

Minutes passed.  A hair dryer started, ruffling light weight on his scalp. The airflow was soothing.  Bellamy could follow the wind's path into the dryer, through the heating coils, and out through the fan, evaporating water from his hair.

“Alright,” said the stylist finally.  The dryer shut off.  Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“Does it look good?” he asked Eliana aloud.

“I think it does,” said the stylist.

It looks perfect, said Clare, still watching from Eliana's perspective.  Eliana and Aly's approval washed over him.

More confident, Bellamy opened his eyes.

He couldn't look away once he did.  He stared, turned his head, stood, ran his fingers through newly-short strands.  The stylist unclipped the cape, letting his garish lime-green tee-shirt show again.

The boy meeting Bellamy's eyes in the mirror the mirror actually looked like a boy.  He looked like what Bellamy imagined he should look like.  Short hair highlighted his cheekbones, his jaw.  Bellamy turned his face and felt at the back of his neck.  Soft, almost curly hair sprang under his fingertips.

He laughed, then clapped his hand over his mouth as the emotion threatened to spring tears of relief to his eyes.  Men don't cry. Men don't cry, men don't cry, if you want to be a man-

“Is it that bad?” asked the stylist.  Bellamy shook his head, not trusting himself to speak, staring at this wonderful stranger in the mirror.

Idiot, laughed Clare, happy for his happiness.

Eliana's pencil scratched.  Bellamy saw, in the mirror, the stylist turn around, knew from Eliana's thoughts that she was clarifying his emotion.  He didn't care.  He kept touching his face, his hair, the new part in it.

He was him, as ridiculous as Aly thought that sounded.

“It's perfect,” he managed, and tore his eyes from his reflection long enough to thank the stylist.  Eliana examined him silently.

She nodded approval.

You look like you, she repeated.

Aly laughed.  Clare's amused, excited thoughts roughly translated to get over here right now so I can see you!

Bellamy's power automatically tried to obey the directive from his leader, trying to pull him into the connection and to her side.  He stopped himself.

“Thank you,” he said.  “Really, thank you.  How much-?”

The stylist named her price, and Eliana paid cash from their team's monthly stipend.  Then they were out the door, and the wind was ruffling Bellamy's hair, and he tipped his head back and laughed, giddy, and his teammates all grinned at the thrill he felt.

I'll go with you to pick out new clothes next week, promised Aly, and Bellamy saw that while he'd been waiting in the stylist's chair, she'd taken the feminine clothes he'd discarded and put them in the laundry for whatever Elemental might need a spare outfit.

Right, Bellamy responded cheerfully, and he slowed to savor catching his reflection in the side mirror of a parked car.  Eliana tugged him along with impatience underscoring the connection.

Reminder, said Clare, once we're all done ooh-ing and aah-ing over Bellamy, we've got to discuss our newest briefing.

Aly started to respond.  For the moment, Bellamy brushed her aside, and called up a little breeze to play among the leaves on the trees. He listened to the quiet susurrus underneath the rumble of cars turning onto one street or another, felt the breeze playing in his hair.

His hair, his clothes, his breeze.

He realized his teammates had fallen silent in the connection. Somewhat guiltily, he tuned back in.  Yeah?

It had been a while since any of them had felt him this happy.  They weren't quick enough at erasing the thought from their minds before Bellamy saw it.

Guys!

It's true, said Clare, without a hint of defensiveness or shame.  There was plenty of embarrassment coming from Aly to make up for it.  Now, c'mon.

Eliana flowed through the connection to obey, vanishing from Bellamy's side and pressing against his mind for a second before he felt her re-appear next to Aly.  Bellamy closed his eyes and followed.

The soft wind dissipated as the Wind boy vanished from the street.

[onlyjihoons]

eunoia; p.j.h

request:  Hello! Can I request for a Balloonman! (idk someone who sells balloons)park jihoon where you usually get balloons for your bf(ex) and he suddenly gives you a balloon when he sees you in the park crying(bec of ex) and occassionally when you visit the park (bec ur an outside person) he gives you balloons with notes in it? and it signifies how closer you're getting to each other? Sorry for the long request and thank you in advamce!

a/n; i had an idea for this and i have to write it as soon as i can in case i lose motivation... so ye, i hope you like it^^thank you xuan @hwinkinghwi and jas @perkwoojin for helping me out too:))

requests are open// masterlist

starting line: “even when you’re crying i still find you beautiful”

synopsis: not all heroes wear capes, neither do all psychologists wear a doctors’ jacket.

warnings: uhh none i guess

genre: fluff/ slight angst

length: | a paragraph | drabble length | a short story | your average essay of less than 10,000 words | a fic too long but too short for a part 2|

Ever since you started your senior year in high school, you found yourself frequenting the park near your home more often than ever. 

Not because the teachers were slowly getting on your nerves, not because your classmates were a bunch of immature animals.

But that was exactly why you wanted to go to the park to take a breather after surviving a day in the zoo.

You would always beg your mother to bring you to the park when you were younger, being the only child in the family with no siblings to play with. She would reluctantly comply, only on days she felt willing. 

You lived in the outskirts of the city, but not quite far from town, thanks to the accessible transport infrastructure your country has. You were privilleged to have a choice of the sea or city, you loved both nonetheless.

The park you frequented was at the seaside, but there was no beach, as the sand only reaches out one to two metres away from the sea. Railings were implemented to prevent people from entering, and bicycle tracks were built for cyclists to cycle on. There was even a playground, and a swing set, which served as your spot on evenings when you went to the park. 

You would spot a boy, around your age, every other day you went to the park. He always had a Crumpler messenger slung on his shoulder, and inside was filled with balloons. Around 5pm every Tuesday and Friday, he would pump air into the balloons with his trusty hand pumper, and twist them into shapes and animals, then giving them to children. Sometimes, he would just bring a bunch of helium balloons to give out, and that was it. He didn’t accept any form of payment from the parents, as he would always politely shake his head and reject their money with a cute smile. 

His fashion sense was peculiar though, one day he appeared in a all-pink outfit, another he would be wearing a chilli-red cardigan over a black and white stripped shirt. You didn’t dislike it, neither did you preach it. You just shrugged it off as part of his job as a “balloon boy”.

You have to admit though, balloon boy was strikingly cute, with big eyes that gleamed galaxies and lips so soft that would melt under your touch. He had a really nice smile too, as his eyes would crinkle into crescents whenever he does. 

You have always wanted to say hi to balloon boy, but you have never mustered up the courage to do so. Sometimes you would be staring at him so intently that he would notice and look your way, as your head turned to a random direction to hide your growing blush.

One day, you decided not to pussy out and actually confront him to make friends. Well not really, as you never left your spot on the swing set.

As balloon boy gave out his last balloon, he turned your way and noticed you staring at him. He smiled at you, as you beckoned him to sit on the empty seat beside you. He pointed to himself, as you nodded. He slowly made his way to the seat beside you, as you tried to calm your pulsating heart.

“I thought you had always wanted to be alone so I didn’t join you every time i see you here.” balloon boy confessed, with a deep voice you were not expecting.

“I just wanted some company today,” You shot him a genuine smile, “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Jihoon.” the boy started to lean back to build up momentum, then pushing off.

“How long have you been giving balloons every Tuesday and Friday?”

“Not very long, probably as long as you frequent here.” Jihoon commented, “What about you? Why are you here?”

“Well,” you began, “senior year has been stressful, and here is the only place where there is peace.”

“Shouldn’t a senior class be quiet and peaceful?” Jihoon frowned, “My class is awfully quiet and peaceful because everyone started studying for the entrance exams at the beginning of the year.”

“Not mine, at least,” you scoffed, “the boys in my class are a bunch of wild animals and the girls are too busy gossiping about each other.”

“They must be good at studies then,”

You burst out laughing, almost falling off the swing in the process of calming yourself down. Jihoon widened his eyes, helping you stop the swing.

“What’s so funny?” Jihoon looked a little hurt.

“They’re good at being snakes,” You clutched your stomach, “yeah, its true to a certain extent that they get good grades, but not that good either.”

“Ah I see...”Jihoon nodded in understanding.

A comfortable silence waved between the both of you, as Jihoon suddenly sat up straighter to face you, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” Your smile faltered, “yes, I do.”

“Usually people light up at the mention of their boyfriend or girlfriend, but you don’t,” Jihoon pointed out, which surprised you, “is there something going on?”

“Uhm...”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jihoon apologised, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s alright,” you shook your head, “i’ve been wanting to talk about it to someone but i don’t even trust my friends...”

“If you don’t mind, I can be your listening ear.” Jihoon smiled, “We’re from different schools anyway, and I have nothing to gain too.”

You felt strangely relieved, telling someone you had just met about your relationship woes, “Okay.”

“So, what’s wrong?”

“My boyfriend and I have been together for about 2 months,” You began, “I’ve been really happy and he’s really sweet, like picking me up from class, getting ice cream together and celebrating our monthsaries at really nice places. But...”

“But?”

“He has just been distant recently, I’m just really concerned.” You sighed. “Maybe I’m just over-thinking but i think he wants to break up.”

Jihoon’s eyes softened, as his hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, “I think you should tell him about it.”

“But...”

“No buts,” Jihoon’s hands gripped your limp shoulders, “You have to tell him about it, its better to know now then get hurt later.”

A tear escaped your eye, as you nodded and gave Jihoon a weak smile, “I will.”

“Jinyoung...” You wrenched your hands nervously, “Do you love me?”

Jinyoung frowned as he took his hands in yours, “Of course I love you, Y/N, you’re my girlfriend.”

Your hands flinched slightly at his touch, as you slowly removed your hands, “Tell me the truth, Jinyoung. You’ve been really distant nowadays, what’s wrong?”

Jinyoung sighed, then raking his fingers through his hair, “Y/N, I really don’t want to break it to you but...”

“What are you trying to tell me now? Are you cheating on me?” unshed tears brimmed your eyes, soon falling one by one.

“No, it’s just...”

“Just what, Jinyoung?”

“I like Kyulkyung noona.”

“What...Kyulkyung unnie?” At this point of time you have lost all sense of rationality, “I thought you got over her.”

“i tried getting over her... but I can’t.” Jinyoung confessed, “Look,Y/N, you’re not a rebound I swear--”

“I’m totally not a rebound, but I am a doormat for you to trample on.” You wiped your tears away with the sleeve of your hoodie, “But thank you for the past 2 months. It has been great. See you around school, Jinyoung.”

You stood up, the chair scraping on the wooden floor or the cafe. You left the place where you had your first date, red-eyed and heart broken.

You found yourself crying again, and calling Jihoon.

“Hello?”

“J-Jihoon,” You sniffed, “We broke up.”

“What--why?”

“He still has feelings for his ex-crush, oh, crush. And he probably used me as a rebound to get over her.”

“Y/N, are you free right now?”

“I am, why?” You tightened the hoodie on your head, not wanting people to see you crying.

“Meet me at the park in an hour.”

“Okay but--”Before you could ask Jihoon why, he hung up. 

You shrugged, then boarding the bus near the cafe that would bring you to the park.

You sat on the swing, swinging as high as you could to get rid of the sour feeling in your heart. However, you still found yourself crying, as your legs gave up on creating the momentum and swung lazily on the seat. 

You leaned against the metal chains of the seat, tears flowing down your cheeks like a waterfall. You didn’t even know why you were crying, and you didn’t know what to do to stop it.

Just then, Jihoon ran to you, panting, with one of his hands resting on his knees and the other holding four helium balloons.

“Is that why you told me to come here for?” You laughed humourlessly, with no trace of feelings left in your voice.

“Lowkey, yes,” Jihoon shot you one of his smiles, which sent your heart racing, “and here,”

Jihoon handed you a toothpick, as he then bent down to your eye level, “Pop these balloons one by one.”

“Isn’t that a waste?” You smiled weakly, “You must’ve spent so much time doing these.”

Jihoon shook his head, “Just do it, it’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

You popped the first blue balloon, and a small piece of paper landed on your lap. You unfolded it, and it had a little message inside.

“The first time I saw you, I was shy.”

You smiled, as you popped the next green balloon.

“I wanted to be friends with you, but I’m afraid.”

Next, you popped the purple balloon.

“I love it when I catch you looking at me, and you’re my favourite daydream.”

“What’s this...” You hid your face in your hands, shy from Jihoon’s words.

“You still have one last balloon left,” Jihoon pried your hands out of your face, “and this message is slightly longer.”

As you popped the last pink balloon, a bigger slip of paper fell onto your lap.

“I then realised, I wanted to give you my world, my everything. You don’t deserve someone who doesn’t appreciate you. Forget him. In fact, you’re kinda actually on my mind all this while.”

You looked up, Jihoon was holding your hand in his, with one knee on the floor, “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

You shyly nodded, as your now-boyfriend engulfed you in a hug you would never want to pull away from.