#ending it in the middle of chapter 34 is wild

[averagemrfox]

Gonna be so real the finale would’ve been so much more satisfying if they got to the end of chp 34 where Turbo Granny says this

And then shuffle around the order things play out and hard cut to this moment from the beginning of chapter 34 where the rest of the Kitos show up at Jiji’s house just after they find the sealed up room

[ladylooch]

Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 34

A/N: Another time jump! Also, I still love the smut in this chapter. Also, the moment in their bedroom together before the game. That's the good stuff 🤌🏻

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, dreaming big dreams as a wild fan ☠️

Minnesota Wild head to their first ever Stanley Cup Final Berth. Fiala scores twice in Game 3 win over Bruins. See You In St. Paul: Wild force Game 7 against Boston.

The kids and I are playing in the back yard while Kevin takes his pre-game nap. This will be the last one of the season. Tonight, is game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final at the Xcel Energy Center. I watch as Luca rushes next to Lacey at the portable water table. He sweetly shows his little sister how to scoop the water with the buckets. Lacey giggles excitedly as Luca dumps the water back into the table, making the water splash onto her face.

“Is that fun, baby?” I ask her, smiling at her big grin.

To anyone looking into our backyard, we look like a normal family enjoying a warm summer day. However, we are anything but that. Tonight is the biggest game of our family’s hockey life. The series against the Boston Bruins has been a battle from the first puck drop. Both teams are evenly matched across the board and every mistake must be capitalized on. The Wild have switched off wins each game so far this series. To say it has been stressful to watch would be an understatement. Kevin has handled the series well. He’s playing some of his best hockey and he has certainly been the most electric I’ve ever seen him in his career. Truthfully, I think it helps to have the kids around for a distraction from the seriousness of it all.

My phone begins to buzz in my hand and I look down, seeing Lauren Hartman’s name flash on my screen.

“Hi!” I answer.

“Oh my god. Tell me you’re as antsy as me about this game.” She groans.

“Definitely.” I confirm with her. “Kevin is taking his nap right now and I have no idea how he is able to sleep. I don’t think I’ve slept well since the series has started.”

“Ryan is too! Meanwhile, I’m resisting the urge to do tequila shots in the middle of the day.”

“Hey, it might help.”

“Probably except with my luck I’d end up passing out through the game. What are you wearing tonight? I’m struggling with what will bring the most luck.”

“Not sure yet, but probably something that goes with our jackets for the playoffs.” Each playoff season, the WAGS order a few articles of new swag to wear to support the team. This year, we picked a black leather jacket with the last name and number stitched on the back in forest green. Sparkly jewels line the outline of the stitching to make the lettering pop.

“Oh! Good call… Now I just have to figure out jeans and shoes….”

I look over at Luca and Lacey, noticing immediately at how tired they both are. Lacey is getting whiney and Luca is rubbing at his eyes more and more with each passing minute. I know if I don’t get them out of their suits and into bed soon, a meltdown will be imminent.

“Laur, I gotta go. Kids are hitting their limits. I’ll see you tonight though!” I click the end button and stand, walking towards the kids. “I see some tired babies.” I murmur, kneeling between them.

“I want to nap with daddy.” Luca tells me with a pout. He’s a little old to be napping, but with the late night we have, it’s necessary for him to at least rest.

“Not today, baby.” I smooth his dark locks from his forehead and give him a soft smooch. “Daddy needs to sleep well for the game tonight. I bet he will snuggle with you tomorrow to make up for it.” I nuzzle my nose into his neck before swinging Lacey up into my arms. She settles into me immediately. Her wet hair tickles my face as I reach for Luca’s hand, leading both of them into the kitchen to dry off.

When I enter our bedroom after putting both Luca and Lacey in their rooms, Kevin is up. He is moving quietly around our bedroom, putting on his tie, then his suit pants. He seems lost in thought, so I’m not sure if he even notices that I’m here with him.

“You look great.” I tell him. His head snaps to me quickly, confirming he had no idea I was with him. He tilts one side of his mouth into a quick smile.

“Thanks,” He says simply, moving around me to the bathroom. He grabs his hair gel and rubs it between his hands before he rushes his fingers through his hair. My lips tilt into a smile at how damn good he looks. How lucky am I?

“How are you doing?” I ask. Normally, I wouldn’t press much but the butterflies are dive bombing the walls of my stomach right now and it feels harder to avoid it than face it head on.

“Fine.” He responds, grabbing his cologne and spraying a few spritzes onto his body. He washes his hands quickly, then fixes a stray tendril of his hair that keeps trying to dip back to his forehead.

“At least you can shave your face tomorrow.” I say, trying to break the tension I see in his body. As is customary in the playoffs, the Wild players have all been growing facial hair since the beginning of the post-season. Whether it really brings them luck is up for debate. But hockey players are knowingly superstitious, so it’s best not to bring up the validity of the tradition.

“Yeah, that will be nice.” He murmurs as our eyes meet in the mirror.

Silence consumes our room as he adjusts his tie and tugs the ends of his dress shirt down towards his wrists. All of his shirts and suits are custom made to fit him perfectly. There is something about watching him get ready for games that always makes my heart flutter in response. I step towards him and wrap my arms around him, resting my head against his back. He places his hands on the bathroom counter and we stay like that for several moments. I struggle with coming up with words to say to him. I’m so nervous I could puke. I can’t imagine how he feels right now.

“Luca said to tell you good luck.” I finally say, breaking the silence and glancing at him in the mirror. Kevin smiles in response.

“I love that kid.” Kevin tells me, turning so he is holding me to his chest. “My favorite son, for sure.” He jokes with me, kissing my lips softly before stepping out of the bathroom.

I watch as he puts his shoes on and his cuff links before he pulls his suit jacket over his broad shoulders. I walk over to him as he buttons the jacket. He turns to me and I reach for him, smoothing his jacket down anxiously. He hands me his tie clip and I secure it to his dress shirt perfectly in the center.

“I think you’re ready now.” I whisper. I bite my lip as I feel the tears pinching at my eyes. This moment. Everything he has worked for. I’m overcome with the emotions of it all coming to a crescendo tonight. What if they win? What if they don’t? I gulp back the lump in my throat and push a happy grin onto my face.

“I have to go.” Kevin advises me. His eyes search my face but I’m not sure what he is looking for.

“Yeah, okay.” I step to the side so he can walk around me to grab his watch. He comes back to me and gives me a soft, sweet kiss. He rests his forehead against mine as our eyes stay closed. “Good luck.” There are so many more words I want to say, but I know now isn’t the time.

“I’ll see you after.” He tells me, giving my hand a squeeze before he begins to leave. The reality settles between us that the next time we see each other, the game will be over. He may or may not be a Stanley Cup Champion.

“Kev.” I call to him just as he steps into the door frame of our bedroom.

“Yeah babe?”

“No matter what happens tonight… we love you.” Kevin, who is still working on strapping his watch to his wrist, stills. His brown eyes melt and he sighs, walking back over to where I’m standing. He gathers me into his arms and breathes in deeply while we hug. I squeeze him one last time before we part.

“I love you.” He says simply before he walks out of the bedroom and into the greatest moment of his career. _ _ _

Overtime in Game 7 with the Stanley Cup in the building has got to be the most intense anxiety I’ve ever experienced. Yet, here we are. After 60 minutes of battle, the score couldn’t be decided and the game needs extra minutes to determine this years’ champion.

I watch intently as the Bruins cycle the puck in the Wild zone. I feel antsy watching, knowing that if the puck doesn’t get out soon, this likely won’t end well for our tired defensemen. Kevin is on the ice; his positioning is perfect defending at the point. I watch as the Bruins defenseman winds up for a slap shot and it hits Kevin’s shin pads, bounding back into the neutral zone. The biggest mistake- one that defensemen will see when he closes his eyes for the remainder of his career.

“Kev!” I gasp, watching as Kevin flies forward towards the puck. The Bruins defenseman has reacted, but too slow. Soon, it’s just Kevin and the goalie as he darts down the ice on an obvious break away. “Kev.” I say again quietly, almost begging.

Everything seems to slow. I put my hand to my chest and hold my breath watching as he locks eyes on the net. The arena is buzzing with excitement as he moves the puck off the boards and heads closer to the center. He stick handles once more to change the angle at the last minute. He flicks his wrists and snipes the puck into the top, left hand corner of the net. My heart lurches into my throat as I watch the white twine snap in response to the puck.

“Yes!” I scream as the horn blares and the fans roar. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” I jump up and down, reaching for Laura as we both celebrate. The noise in the arena is deafening as everyone yells in disbelief and celebration. I pull away from her and turn, watching as the Wild bench clears rushing to Kevin. Helmets, gloves, and sticks litter the entire ice as they pile together in the corner. Kevin disappears from view while sobs clutch my chest in suffocating heaves. He did it.

“Mama!” Luca yells from behind me, his eyes wide and his face scrunched up in response to the noise.

“It’s okay baby!” I say to him. “I know it’s loud. Daddy won!” I kneel down and hold him tight, trying to gasp for air around the incredible excitement and overwhelm for Kevin. My lips press to Luca’s cheeks and he buries his face into my side as I stand again.

“The Minnesota Wild are your Stanley Cup Champions!” The announcer yells as confetti falls into the general seating area. I laugh in response, tilting my head back and feeling the paper settle into my hair. Kevin just won the Stanley Cup. He is finally a Stanley Cup Champion.

“Everything is okay.” I say to Luca again. I turn and see Laura holding Lacey who is watching with wide eyes like her brother. I turn back to the rink and point down to the ice where Kevin is still being mobbed. “Let’s look for daddy.” I tell Luca as I pull him onto my hip. He’s gotten so big it’s hard to hold him up here, but he needs the comfort. It’s so loud. I’m grateful for the baby headphones both of the kids are wearing. Eventually, the Wild players pull apart from one pile and focus on giving hugs all around. I see Kevin and Luca points excitedly. “Wave, bubba!” I tell him as Kevin looks our way. He searches for us and when he finds us his eyes brighten and his smile somehow gets even wider.

“Woo!!” I yell to him, bouncing with Luca who puts his hands in the air. I blow him a kiss as tears fill my eyes and stream down my face. Everything he has ever worked for has lead to this moment. I can barely breathe with the pride I have for him. The long-time Minnesota sports fan in me also can’t quite believe what just happened.

Quickly, the red carpet is rolled onto the ice and the Stanley Cup makes it’s long awaited arrival onto the Xcel Energy Center ice to the roaring applause of the State of Hockey. I beam with pride as I watch Kevin clap his hands and yell along with the fans. Ryan Hartman wraps him into a tight hug again and they both laugh. It’s a hug filled with history- from Nashville to Minnesota to Stanley Cup champions. I glance down the row at Lauren and we grin at each other. Then, a round of boos greet the commissioner as he begins his introduction.

Matt Boldy comes in next, joining the hug until Ryan breaks away. Matt and Kevin embrace. The hug is tight, clasping each other like the brothers they have turned into. Matt changed our lives on and off the ice. I can’t imagine not having him here to celebrate this with.

“Uncle Matty.” Luca points excitedly at me.

“Yeah, baby. Uncle Matty and daddy.” I press my nose into his hair, hiding my large grin. Matt says something to Kevin, who points in our direction. Matt’s eyes lock on me and I give him a fist pump.

“Proud of you!” I mouth to him. His boyish grin fills as he waves in acknowledgement.

“Joel Ericksson Ek, it is my honor to present to you the Stanley Cup.” Joel skates forward and after a moment to pause for pictures, he grabs it in both hands and lifts it high into the sky. The crowd roars and I sob happily in response watching it all unfold. This moment of greatness not just for our family but for this entire state. I yell and cheer holding Luca to me as he buries his face in my shoulder again. I rub his back soothingly, watching as Joel skates his lap. When he is done, he sets his eyes on Kevin and I know it’s his turn next.

My husband grips the edges in both hands and thrusts it above his head while laughing through a wide smile. His excited yelp is drowned out by the sound of the fans. Tears fall down my face as we yells back to him in response. I bite my quivering lip as he skates closer to us, giddy in response to seeing us cheer for him. He brings it to his lips and kisses it before skating back towards his teammates. Laura snaps away pictures of her brother and then turns the camera on me to capture my teary mess of a face.

“Congratulations! This is yours too.” She tells me confidently. “All the sacrifices we have all had to make for this. It’s ours.” She nods at me and I agree.

The countless hours his parents spent driving him places. The terror and hopefulness of allowing their teenage son to move to a different country to find competition that challenged him. A sister who continuously understood that Kevin’s games came first. A wife and mother who rocked both her kids to sleep alone while her husband was out on a 14 day road trip. All the nights I fell asleep gripping his pillow, wishing it was him. Laura is right; this is ours.

Soon, team representatives are next to our section, ushering us up the stairs and down the elevators so we can join our boys on the ice. Kevin’s parents and Laura help with the kids.

“I’ll take him.” Jan, says, grabbing Luca from my arms as he was beginning to fall asleep on me. “You go to him first.” He nods at me as we step out of the elevator. I look at Renata who nods her head in agreement. I give them a small smile as we are directed down the tunnel.

Stepping carefully, we reach the ice and I search for Kevin. He’s across the rink from us laughing and skating away from Kaprizov who is dumping water all over him. Kirill laughs as he empties the bottle all over Kevin’s head. Kevin spits out the water onto the ice and runs his hands through his hair, shaking the excess water off. His eyes lift to the tunnel. When he sees me, I feel like the only person in this entire world.

I don’t even think about the slippery surface of the ice, or the fans, or the media, or honestly, our kids. I just run to him. He meets me in the middle and catches me effortlessly. I wrap myself around him and immediately begin shaking at the excitement of being in his arms. He smells absolutely awful and he’s wet and now I’m wet and I don’t care about any of it. All that matters is the feeling of his body connected with mine.

“Baby! I am so, so, so, so, SO proud of you.” I squeal to him joyfully, pulling back and looking at his face. “My Stanley Cup Champion.” I wrinkle my nose cutely at him, placing my lips hungrily on his. He skates slightly backwards as our lips nip and tug at each other greedily. I can hear the click of a camera and I don’t know who it is or where this picture is going. I’m too wrapped up in Kevin to care.

“I love you.” Kevin says to me as I slide down from his arms. My boots hit the ice and he reaches down again and kisses me. His lips are greedy, sucking up every ounce that I’m giving him. “So fucking much, Samantha Fiala.” My name comes out of his mouth in a breathless whisper. The sound of my full name sets my body on fire and I want all of him instantly. After all these years, he knows my tells. He chuckles in recognition. “Later.” He kisses my nose and wraps an arm around my body, turning towards where our family is coming towards us. “I see our final baby in the very near future.” He squeezes my side as his mom approaches for a hug. I don’t get the chance to agree with him, but I do. A Stanley Cup baby is a pretty good story.

The celebration continues on the ice, then into the locker room and the family lounge. We laugh and cry and share stories of the successes and struggles to get here. After midnight, the players start to confirm plans of going out in downtown to continue the celebration at an upscale rooftop bar. Despite the exhaustion I feel, Kevin and I agree to join the group. We can sleep in a few days when the excitement dies down. I look over at our sleeping kids on the couch and know we need to get them home to bed before we meet up with the rest of the team.

“We have some sleepy babies, mama.” Kevin murmurs to me as he grabs Luca and I grab Lacey.

Laura comes home with us and offers to stay with our kids for the night while we go out to celebrate. I rush up the stairs and into our closet, shrugging off my black Fiala jacket and looking at the available outfit options. What does one wear to a Stanley Cup celebration?

“Wir sind bald draußen.” I hear Kevin say to Laura as he walks into our master bedroom. I hear the soft click of the door and Kevin appears in the doorway.

“I’m not sure what to wea- Oh!” I exclaim as Kevin grabs me, lifting me off the ground and roughly sets me on the dresser in our closet. “Right here, huh?” I say breathlessly as he kisses down my neck. His hands are unruly and greedy on my body. I moan in response to his lips and eagerness.

“Laura is upstairs. Try to be quiet.” He advises me, tugging at my shirt. Our lips part briefly as he lifts it over my head. He is back to my lips for a moment before his mouth trails down my chest. He buries his face in my breasts and grinds his hips into me. He is warm and hard and my inner core clenches in response.

“Mmm, Kev..” I whisper as he tugs at the button on my jeans. I grab the belt on his suit pants and pull it apart. It takes mere seconds before his erection is at my entrance. When he feels how wet I am, he pushes in quickly and I lose myself in the feeling of him. He pauses there for a moment, watching my face for the stitch of pain to turn into pleasure. He slowly slides an inch out and then thrusts right back in. The dresser shakes from the movement of our bodies. I moan desperately in response and he grins down at me.

“Holy fuck, you feel so damn good, baby.” He growls as he begins to move quickly. “The entire time we were on the ice, I wanted to bend you over and fuck you against the boards.” He pounds into me in a steady, hard rhythm and I’m gone within moments. Something about when he gets like this- horny, needy, and just the right amount of rough- has me crashing fast every time. Kevin pulls me into his arms and walks us into our bedroom. When we get on the bed, he begins to move again, slower, almost painfully slow. I wrap my legs around him to hold him close to me. He brushes a loose strand away from my face, leaning down and kissing my lips tenderly. “ I love you, babe.” He places feather light kisses along my cheeks, then sucks lightly on my neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I murmur. He slows his pumps to a stop and I pout in response.

“For everything. This wouldn’t have happened without you. I wouldn’t be this version of me if I didn’t have you. I’m so lucky. The life we have… that you’ve given to us…”

“I think you had more to do with this than you’re giving yourself credit for.” I laugh, squeezing my muscles around him. He groans in response and dips his head in pleasure.

“Maybe.” He finally admits, “But I’m a Stanley Cup Champion because of you, Sam. Your support, sacrifice, and unconditional love brought our family here.” He is looking at me through serious brown eyes and I swallow hard in response. “We always said three. I want to complete our family now.” He whispers as he begins to pump into me faster. The rhythm is delicious and I can feel my second orgasm building within me.

“Me too.” I respond. “A Stanley Cup baby.”

“I know we shouldn’t pick favorites, but come on, it won’t even be close.” My chest heaves with loud laughter.

He begins to move faster inside of me again, cutting off my laugh with a breathy moan. His hands go to my breasts and his thumbs slowly circle my nipples. I arch my back into his waiting palms in response. I tilt my knees closer to my chest to allow him deeper. There it is. Our groans fill the room. He strokes that marvelous spot inside of me. My skin breaks out in goosebumps in acknowledgement. Kevin reaches down and places his lips over mine to catch the deep, primal wail coming out of my mouth. He pumps hard twice more before his hips jerk awkwardly as he finishes inside of me. Our mouths break apart after he comes as we both gasp for air from the highest of highs.

“That should do it.” He laughs, pulling out. I giggle in response, shoving away the dark cloud of our last attempts to conceive.

“I feel pregnant already.” I joke to him.

I know this one will be different.

Five weeks later, after multiple Stanley Cup Celebrations, a parade down West 7th, and not nearly enough sleep, I smile down at the pregnancy test confirming what I already knew. Pregnant. I walk out of the bathroom where Kevin is coloring at the kid’s table with our older two babies. He perks up when he sees me walk into the room. A wide grin breaks onto his lips when he takes in the look on my face. He stands up and dances over to me, gripping my hips and kissing me tenderly.

“Our Stanley Cup baby.” I giggle when we pull apart.

“So lucky.” He whispers to me, resting his forehead against mine.

Our little family is almost complete.

[songofthesibyl]

Grotesque

A few weeks ago I got a request to write the scene of Feyre’s arrival Under the Mountain (chapter 34 of A Court of Thorns and Roses) from Tamlin’s POV:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51222193

It was becoming tiresome. At a distance, everything flashed, blended together. Already. He had done his work well, he was safely inside. He imagined the sun on his back, curled up as a dog before a fire, the smell of warm earth and roses. Light rippling on the surface of a starlit pool. He smiled—inside still, always—he could see it in the play of light and shadow, how she had used color to show the glassy surface, and the silver, and the entirety of the spectrum that was held within. Limitless possibilities, wishes granted, happiness unending. An eternity of freedom, immortality of impression. Long after he was gone, he thought, her paintings would endure. Perhaps some future High Lord would find them. Or, after ages, when Prythian was finally ruined, and wild, every Court like the Middle, through walls of blackened, twisted bramble, a curious human would bravely venture inside, and come across his gallery, and know the works that had been done by human hands. Perhaps a descendant, or—not so far. A son, a daughter. Perhaps she had found Isaac waiting, and over time, as the glamour faded, her feelings would deepen, and she would find some measure of happiness. She had painted Isaac in a manner that did not belie pain, or fear. Maybe he would come, and find them, and save them from destruction. He would take the painting of the glen, for its beauty, and the one of the two of them—but perhaps. Perhaps he would leave her painting of the winter woods behind. Such a painful time, surely she would not want it. And it, and she, would endure somehow, until the end of time. When this mountain crumbled on top of them. Just as his mask would endure, while he rotted underneath. 

He had never been so close to Rhysand, for almost five hundred years, as he had in the days since had been here. It was disarming at first, however much he did not resemble the male he had known so long ago, who had shown him such kindness that both now sorely regretted. He had earned a certain freedom here, enough to go abroad, if only in her service, to torment and murder. The price paid, for getting close to an enemy. And he wore his mask well, yet it was thinning, and in their closeness he could begin to see what lay underneath. He had noticed before, in his manor. How sallow his skin had become, a hollowness around the eyes. A wasting sickness, like the one that affected humans—he was being consumed by this place. If he were allowed to show his wings, if he were inclined to, he imagined they would be tearing at intervals. He wondering if he would still be able to fly.

If he himself could. If he would be able to sport fangs, and claws again. If Rhysand, in almost fifty years, had not found one moment in which to release his talons and slit Amarantha’s throat. He felt Rhysand’s power at his manor, too—felt it here, greater than his own. And yet nothing. He almost wanted to listen to Lucien now, and make one great last stand as Summer, Winter, and Day. It would be suicide, though, with no plan, no one willing to stand with him. Rhysand, or anyone else. And so instead, for the past few days since being brought Under the Mountain, he had sat. And been contented to be numb, and distant. But it was already blending together, the screams of torment further and further away, himself deeper. And he looked at Rhysand’s skin, his eyes, and bemoaned it happening to him. But it was already happening. He could not endure it otherwise.  And he was already tired of Amarantha’s sadistic smile, the endless parade of depravity and pain. And Clare still on the wall, rotting. And how relieved he was that it was not Feyre. And what that made of him. It was already happening. 

It would happen again. Suddenly, everything in his body seized up, every animal that had made its shelter in him squawked and howled and roared, a beating of wings and a baring of teeth. He had expected another boring night at Amarantha’s side, of blankly watching soulless revels, listening to jarring, dissonant music. Rhysand’s fawning and preening. He had imagined himself becoming him and thought it was his worst fate, only a few days in. And he had prepared for it, and now, as the possibility ebbed away forever, he desired it back. Let him be hidden, let him be taken piece by piece, let him rot away under his mask. But not this. Anything but this. 

He silenced the menagerie inside himself, thought that Amarantha’s monsters must have gone back, and found something of Feyre’s to taunt him with, now that he had disappointed Amarantha by not giving her any sport with Clare. A tunic, her Solstice dress, something from her room. Or perhaps they had gone and taken her paintings, knowing which ones had been done by human hands, seeing their place of honor on his walls. Now, they would go beside Amarantha’s self-proclaimed work of art, that she would, that they would now all see daily. And Feyre’s paintings hung beside. That was it. It was not her. She had not been found. They had not realized. Rhysand had not told them. The human being brought before them was one of the poor, misguided Children of the Blessed—Amarantha had taken so many of them over the years. It was awful, and terrible, and he was already sick of it. But it was not her. He did not see her. She was not here.

The animals stilled at his command. The boredom he had felt weigh on him only a moment before, now affected. He was not as good at the performance as Rhysand. But he thought he might turn into him now, instead of in weeks, months, years. Be convincing. Let nothing show, of what was underneath. He had made his peace. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Feyre was not supposed to be here. 

“What’s this?” Amarantha said, unimpressed, uninterested. Feyre looked to him. He felt her, everywhere, her scent penetrated every part of him that he had taken such pains to lock away. But he stared at nothing, listening to Amarantha and her Attor speak, and not hearing. And Feyre’s eyes, and his feet unmoving. She was so close he could almost touch her. He wondered who had shown her the way here.

She rose to her feet, terror in her bones, as there should have been, but resolve, and defiance in her eyes. He caught a glimpse of Clare behind her.

“I’ve come to claim the one I love.” A steady, but quiet voice. She looked at him again. A shudder went through him, just as his heart filled. It was all over now.

“Oh?” He saw Amarantha lean forward out of the corner of his eyes. A predator, leaning in before it pounced on its prey. There was a quick calculation if he could rip her head off before she realized.

He couldn’t. 

“I’ve come to claim Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court.”

An intake of breath, silence in the hall. Amarantha laughed, and looked at him. Looking, they were all looking at him. He had so disappointed her with Clare. She would get nothing now.

It took a moment of her insulting him on his taste in women before she realized. He sensed the pleasure in her, delight naked on her face, in her voice. He wanted to recoil from it. 

“Oh, you are delicious. You let me torture that innocent girl to keep this one safe? You lovely thing! You actually made a human worm love you. Marvelous.” 

She clapped in her delight, and the sound echoing through the room shook him, and he faltered, turning away from her. It had seemed so long ago. But Clare was still there, looking down on all of them, waiting.

“Let him go.” Feyre’s voice began to waver. 

Another laugh stilled him again, and he righted himself. She would see. See what he had already become here. What she had forfeited her life for.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t destroy you where you stand, human.”

“You tricked him. He is bound unfairly.”

Amarantha continued savoring each word, drawing it out—but eventually, she pointed to the spot on the wall, and Feyre turned, and looked. And his crime was laid bare.

“Perhaps I should have listened when she said she’d never seen Tamlin before. Or when she insisted she’d never killed a faerie, never hunted a day in her life. Though her screaming was delightful. I haven’t heard such lovely music in ages. I should thank you for giving Rhysand her name instead of yours.”

Feyre stood still in horror, until the Attor turned her back around to face them.

“Come now, precious. What have you to say to that?”

Feyre’s eyes went to him for a moment. He willed her. Yes. You see now what I am. What I have become, so soon in your absence. Now run. Even as he knew it was pointless, he pleaded, he begged her. Run.

“Do you still wish to claim someone who would do that to an innocent?” Amarantha went on.

Feyre turned from him. “Yes. Yes, I do.” Fight remaining in her voice. For him.

“Well, Tamlin,” he wanted to flinch as Amarantha put a claiming hand on his arm. Everything fled, recoiled from her touch. But the animals held him still. “I don’t suppose you ever expected this to occur.”

She indicated Feyre, and he heard a ripple of laughter through the hall that he longed to silence. 

“What do you have to say, High Lord?”

There was a silence then. A waiting. He made himself very, very still. “I’ve never seen her before. Someone must have glamoured her as a joke. Probably Rhysand.”

A desperate attempt, after Clare.

“Oh, that’s not even a halfway decent lie.” She paused for a moment, and he sensed the shift, the realization. And how it would condemn Feyre. “Could it be—could it be that you, despite your words so many years ago, return the human’s feelings? A girl with hate in her heart for our kind has managed to fall in love with a faerie. And a faerie whose father once slaughtered the human masses by my side has actually fallen in love with her too?” She croaked with laughter, and he felt the venom behind it, the salivating of her mouth. “Oh, this is too good—this is too fun.” She lowered her head, and spoke to Jurian. “I suppose if anyone can appreciate the moment, it would be you, Jurian. A pity your human whore on the side never bothered to save you, though.”

He ignored her, looking at Feyre, from within the layers sheltering him. A long howl in the wilderness, alone in winter woods. He saw her pleading, her not understanding, her seeking for some sign. She was alone, and he was the father who sat and did not fight, and shaped wood. He was stone. A grotesque warning her to flee. But she wouldn’t. And he would find out, if the salivating on Amarantha’s tongue would be enough to sustain her, for now. 

“Things have been awfully boring since Clare decided to die on me. Killing you outright, human, would be dull.” His heart strained inside him. “But Fate stirs the Cauldron in strange ways. Perhaps my darling Clare had to die in order for me to have some true amusement with you.” 

He would kill her. He would kill her.

“You came to claim Tamlin? Well, as it happens, I’m bored to tears of his sullen silence. I was worried when he didn’t flinch while I played with darling Clare, when he didn’t even show those lovely claws…But I’ll make a bargain with you, human.”

His hands, his mouth, ached. His throat burned. They wanted to come out, it wanted to come out. 

“You complete three tasks of my choosing—three tasks to prove how deep that human sense of loyalty and love runs, and Tamlin is yours. Just three little challenges to prove your dedication, to prove to me, to darling Jurian, that your kind can indeed love true, and you can have your High Lord.” She turned to him. “Consider it a favor, High Lord—these human dogs can make our kind so lust-blind that we lose all common sense. Better for you to see her true nature now.”

He might have said something about Feyre’s true nature already being shown here, but she spoke instead, drawing Amarantha’s attention back.

“I want his curse broken, too.”

He could see Amarantha’s teeth gleaming even out of the corner of his eye. This attempt from a human to outwit the female who had managed to subdue all seven High Lords—ten, counting those she had murdered. Feyre had spoken to someone—Alis, perhaps—she had an air of confidence, she considered her words carefully in the now deathly-silent hall. The details of the bargain, Amarantha’s addition of a riddle that would free them all immediately if answered correctly. Breaths, all of time, stood still as this human considered—this human girl with no power, no magic, no real sense of what she had stepped into, or what she faced, but for the body behind her, another grotesque, an omen, a promise. There was fear, but a resolute bravery, as one who faces certain death on the battlefield and yet forges ahead all the same. She did not cow, or beg. Instead she stood tall, and faced Amarantha fully. For him. The part of himself he would not yield grew until it filled him, struggling against his bonds, un-glamoured, threatening to break through and fill the darkened space with golden light. But then Feyre looked at him, and it would not burst through, the stone remained intact, and as they bargained, the horror crept back, forcing him back into himself. He felt flush from the strain. Feyre had already revealed her true nature, but Amarantha would only use it to destroy her. He had told her. He had sent her away. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Look at me. Look at my mask. Remember Clare. And do not bind yourself to her killer. 

“If I complete your three tasks or solve your riddle, you’ll do as I request?”

“Of course,” Amarantha replied, her voice calm and even. “Is it agreed?”

No. Don’t do this. He looked at Feyre, the strain overwhelming him, and his eyes widened, a momentary lapse. The stone is supposed to stay a stone, as it warns. But he saw the slight shift in her demeanor. Still the weight of her decision, but it had already been made. If he spoke now, if he moved, it would be nothing but pain for her. But the desire ached in him, as teeth struggling to grow, as claws scraping under skin. Feyre was strong, she was insanely brave, braver than all of them, and he loved her. But she would be bound. To torture, to suffering, to this forsaken place. And he did not want her so, because of him. But if she agreed—there was nothing he, or anyone could do, to undo it.

“Well?”

Feyre looked at him one more time before she said the next word. “Agreed.”

And he was too late. Amarantha snapped her fingers, and it was done.

Magic rippled through the hall, the world. Bound. She was bound now. Perhaps—perhaps it had given her time. If she passed the first two trials. If she could solve the riddle. And, he knew—if she hadn’t agreed, she would be up on the wall now. 

Amarantha settled back on her throne, satisfied. “Give her a greeting worthy of my hall.”

He made himself watch, without flinching. What he had done, what it had all led to. Clare, and Andras, and Lucien dropping at his feet, and frightened sisters and their crippled father stock-still as Feyre faced him full in the eyes.

Get out. Get out and begone.

And he had roared and bellowed in his fury. At Andras. At himself. 

And he was so quiet now. And he was so still. He was her sisters, her father, crouching on the ground in his feebleness. A heart that could not work as it should weighing him to his chair, sinking him into the earth.

And the truth was laid bare before him, before Amarantha, before everyone in the hall. Echoing beyond. The Attor struck her, and she reeled, thrown by its power, right into another one of Amarantha’s monsters, who got the other side. She twisted, and tried to evade them, but a third caught her. She could say what she would, be brave, but she was still human, and would break as a human. That was the lesson. That was Amarantha’s settledness, her confidence. 

Feyre cried out in pain as she was passed between them, blood starting to pour from her nose. And with each blow, the layers that he had curled around himself—so painstakingly, he was so safe and secure within—fur and scale and tail, fell from him, one by one, cowering, afraid, prey. They leaped, and scattered, peeled from his flesh, until only one layer remained, that he struggled with everything he had to keep intact.

Finally, Feyre went silent, and limp, falling to the floor. 

“Ugh. Disgusting. Remove her, and clean the floor. And start the music again, I never told them to stop. You all act as if you had never seen a human before.” Amarantha smiled, looking at Clare up on the wall. 

“Oh, Tamlin,” she said indulgently, not moving her gaze, her voice dripping with pleasure and satisfaction as he watched Feyre’s body being dragged from the hall, her face bloody and bruised. “And here I was worried it would be boring. That I would have to get a little…” She swayed from side to side. “…creative to get you talking. I have waited for so long, and yet now that I have you—“

He tensed. She did not have him yet, and she knew it.

“I had become impatient. When Clare didn’t work.” She laughed as the music swelled. “Oh, but I know why now. You love that one.” She glanced at him, then turned back to Clare. “Don’t try to deny it again. You sent her away. You didn’t just condemn this poor thing, you tried to save that—oh, what’s her name?” Not waiting for an answer from him that she knew would not come. “Never mind. I’ll ask her when she wakes up. I’ll have to have a word with Rhysand, too. Hmm…” She tapped her fingers on her chair. He felt Jurian look at him. Out of hatred, or pity, or both, he could not tell. Suddenly she gripped the chair. In it, he saw with the eye her blindness. Her hatred. That had cost her the war. That had made her bind herself to a human, of her own free will, for centuries. That she bound her fate to now. Her sugary words. Her darlings, and sweets. They hid, but barely, a great malice. And jealousy.

“She looked quite hideous leaving, didn’t she? Not much different from when she arrived, though. You fell in love with that?”

Trying to figure it out. To understand. Life flickered in him, even as he burned with fury. Humans had always been her downfall. Would be now. He knew this, listening to her. She was angry. She was trying to get to him, but he—Feyre—had gotten to her. That in itself was dangerous, though. He knew better now than to antagonize her further. But they had already won. Amarantha had kept Jurian for five hundred years. Now she was keeping Feyre alive.

“You think I spared her? You think she got a reprieve tonight?”

She looked at him again. “You saw how easily she broke. You think what I have in store for her will be easier than what you let Clare endure? You think that’s the last time she’ll scream?”

He said nothing, and looked at Clare. Suddenly he felt Amarantha’s hand on him, grabbing him by his chin and roughly pulling him to her, forcing him to look into her black eyes.

“You sit here, so proud in your defiance. It’s been but a few days. You know what I can do. Just listen for the beating of your heart. I’ll find such delicious ways to torture her. Maybe I’ll ask Rhysand—he’s so good at that sort of thing. How he could make her scream and beg. I don’t even have to ask with him. He’ll gladly do it. And you’ll beg for her to get Clare’s treatment. You’ll wish you had given me her when you had the chance.” She pulled him closer, until they were almost touching, her nails digging in. “That pathetic worm will fail, and suffer, just as all those who get close to you. And after she does, then you’ll be a good pet, and I’ll get this silly little mask off, and taste the flesh waiting for me underneath. By the time this is all over—sweet Tamlin—I’ll have you on your knees.”

She let him go, throwing him back in his seat, and settled back in again, a mask of smug self-satisfaction on her face. 

He reeled, and looked at the floor, a wave of nausea at the thought of Rhysand touching her, at the knowledge of what Amarantha would do if Feyre did not answer her riddle correctly. What she would do before then. He thought of Feyre, away from him, and what she would wake up to, and the hurt already done to her, the suffering already, because of him. His mind spun in desperation of her promised torment, panic rising in him that he fought to still.

He thought of the words Amarantha had used to describe Feyre—worm, dog. Beast. Used as insults. The same that had been used against him. All the accumulated shapes, everything he had ever been and shifted into—all had left him, and now only the Beast was left, under a skin that was not sallow, not rotting underneath, but thinning, thinning. Soon, there’d be nothing left, only this tension so great it would break through the stone surrounding him. 

And then she’d see his lovely claws.

[luxekook]

chapter eight.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 6.5k

⇥ warnings: 18+, lots of cursing, general chaotic energy [more than usual], poly relationship, switch!reader, dom!joon, switch!jin, switch!hobi, sub!yoongi, sub!jk, sub!tae, sub!jimin, jk is a whole cutie, everybody gets their bob ross on, PUNS, pick up lines, smut [thigh kink, noona kink, marking, oral (f receiving), dom/sub themes, daddy kink, mentions of spanking, lots of lap sitting]

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Eight

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 8:38am

I wake to the sound of thunder and groan as my eyes strain to focus on the rain pouring down outside my window. Hastily, I grab for my phone and scroll through my notifications. Yup, my friend Brianna - the president of the Alphites - had emailed to say that Habitat is cancelled for the morning.

What did this mean for my date? Swiping over to the group chat, I quickly type a message to the boys.

Queen (y/n), Worldwide Handsome, and 6 Peasants

8:40am, (y/n): “Yo, dweebs. No volunteering today because of the rain. Looks like our date is cancelled, too…”

I laugh evilly as my phone consequentially blows up with a series of question marks and exclamations. Just as I’m about to put a stop to the madness I’d caused, my phone screen darkens with the telltale chimes of an incoming FaceTime.

Not even bothering to shift out of bed, I swipe to answer. “Hi, Hobi,” I grin at my sunshine who looks a little pouty this morning. The metaphorical rain cloud over his head lessens marginally at my smile.

The puffy, bare-faced boy sighs and runs a hand through his wild hair. Obviously, Hoseok had just woken up, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him.

“(Y/n)? Did you hear me?” Hobi chuckles, bringing my attention back to my phone. “You weren’t serious, right? Our date is still on? We have the whole thing planned! The rain doesn’t even affect it! And—”

“Is that (y/n)?” A cry of uproar sounds from the background on Hobi’s end of the line. A thundering of footsteps commences; and, suddenly, I am faced with seven slivers of faces all crowded together.

“(Y/n)!” Jungkook rips the phone from Hoseok’s grasp and takes off out of the room. The background blurs as he runs. Faintly, I can make out blurry figures giving chase behind him. “(Y/n)! Please still come over. We have everything set up! Saturdays are always full of noona, and I don’t want to break the tradition.”

Letting out a laugh at the fluffy haired boy, I smirk, “First of all, let me just say that I’m glad you don’t subscribe to the whole ‘SaTuRdAyS aRe FoR tHe BoYs’ toxicity. And second of all, you do realize you just gave away the date plans, right?”

“Jungkook!” The shout from what could only be an enraged Seokjin echoes across the connection.

I watch in amusement as the background once again blurs. As the feed refocuses, Jimin’s beaming face greets me, and I roll my eyes at the realization that Jungkook must have tossed him the phone. Probably playing a game of ‘Monkey in the Middle��� with their eldest brother, I assume.

Deciding enough is enough, I retake control of the situation with the tried and true method of the shock factor™. “Hey, I’m naked.”

Silence falls.

Then comes the seven pairs of eyes crowding the screen that I had hoped for.

Disappointed huffs resound from the collective as I cackle, trying my best to ignore their indignant cries.

“Noona’s not even naked!”

“Why, there’s not even a boob to be seen!”

“She’s got us lookin’ like boo-boo the fool, boys…SMH!”

“Jin, did you just say ‘SMH’?” The boy opens his mouth to respond, but I decide there’s no time to discuss acronyms right now. Shaking my own head swiftly, I clear my throat, “No, never mind. Now that I have your attention, I need someone to tell me what the plan is. Am I getting out of bed today? Are we still doing the thing?”

“You can get out of your bed and into mine,” Taehyung’s words barely escape his mouth before he is pushed out of frame by at least four of the others.

“Tae, are you trying to get your name added to my punishment list?” I smirk as two boys in particular gulp, “Jimin and Jin already have the distinct honor. Isn’t that right, boys?”

“You can add my name, noona!” Jungkook gasps out, lunging once again for control of the phone. He is shoved out of the way by Namjoon.

“Oh, my little Kookie,” I laugh, “That would practically be a reward for you.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your own punishment, (y/n),” Namjoon stares me down from the other end of the phone.

“I mean, you can try it,” I shrug, “But I’ll probably either like it or turn it around on you at some point. Just saying…”

“Sounds good to me,” Joon grins, his dimples popping out, “Now get your sweet ass over here so I can spank it.”

“Right now?” I double check the time, “It’s still not even nine fucking AM. What is this going to be? Some sort of all day extravaganza? Y’all better be feeding me.”

“Yah, do you know who I am?” Jin butts in from his small corner of the screen, ”You are in the presence of Worldwide Handsome Chef Extraordinaire Kim Seokjin! Of course you’re going to be well fed - both with my visuals and with food!”

“I have no words,” I say.

Jin forges on, “Speechless, eh? I’m used to it.”

“Could the two of you stop your gross flirting for one second so that we can actually convince (y/n) to come over?”

Yoongi’s scowl appears on screen as he takes control of the phone. Jin can be heard squawking indignantly in the background.

“Gross?” I raise an eyebrow, “That’s not what you were saying when you were teaching me piano.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Taehyung yelps.

“I think so,” Jimin answers darkly.

“Wait, what’s a ‘you feminism’ again?” Jungkook mumbles from somewhere in the room.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon moans, sounding completely done, “(y/n), I am begging you to hang up and call my phone so that I can actually let you in on the plan.”

“Bet,” I say, “I’ll call you in an hour. I’m going back to sleep.”

I hang up, abruptly cutting off their whiny protests. Boys can always wait. Extra sleep, however, must seized at every opportunity.

Sinking back into the bliss of my comfy bed, I smile as I flip my phone over and promptly fall back asleep.

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 11:57am

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n)!”

“(Y/n), for the love of Jared Padalecki, get your ass up!”

Groaning, I wave Luna off with a limp arm, still half asleep. “Go away,” my garbled words prove to be futile as she pulls the covers right off of me.

“Your entourage is here,” Luna hisses, grabbing my ankle and attempting to tug me off the bed.

“My what?” I kick at her hold, “Stop going all horror movie on me!”

“You haven’t seen horror! Horror is waking up to the furious sound of fists pounding at the front door and thinking your dark past of downloading music off of sketchy websites has finally caught up with you! Horror is pulling open the door in just your Harry Potter onesie only to be faced with seven hot and all-too-put-together dudes!”

My brain slowly wraps its away around the meaning of her words. “Oh, fuck.” I launch out of bed, flailing around for my phone.

111 Messages

34 Missed Calls

14 Voicemails

“Good god,” I toss my phone back on my bed and stalk past Luna into the living room where my ‘entourage’ is gathered.

“Okay, what the fuck,” I cross my arms over my chest as I stare down at the seven boys spread out across our second-hand sectional.

“Noona, you’re here!” Jungkook springs up from his seat and tackles me in a hug.

“Where else would I be? I fucking live here,” I mumble into his chest, annoyance slipping away with each breath.

“I told you she just overslept,” Yoongi mutters from the couch, sounding very much like he was dragged here against his will.

“Finally,” I say, pulling away from Jungkook to beam down at Yoongi, “An intellectual. Now, what about the rest of you overreactive imbeciles? Did you just come over so that you could snoop around where I live?”

As I say this, my eyes narrow on Namjoon. The boy is inspecting the teacup I had forgotten to put away last night like it’s a new archaeological find. My words fluster him, and he fumbles with the cup before it falls from his grasp to shatter on the floor.

“I am so sorry!” Namjoon yelps. The rest of the boys look on with disappointment but not surprise.

“That was my great grandmother’s teacup,” I whisper, falling to my knees dramatically.

“Namjoon, your destructive nature has gone too far!” Seokjin yells, scrambling over to me. My face is buried in my hands as my shoulders shake. I can’t hold it any longer.

I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, it’s fine, Joon. I’m kidding. It was just a cup from Target’s clearance section.”

“So evil!” Namjoon whines, “I was so worried!” Shuffling over to the hallway closet, I pull out our dustpan and broom. Walking back, I hand it off to Namjoon before he can attempt to pick up a fragment of the shattered cup.

“Don’t even think about using your bare hands, Joon,” I narrow my eyes at him, “A trip to Urgent Care does not count as a date.”

“Noona,” Taehyung pipes up, “You should join the Acting Club! Did I mention I’m the president?”

“Oh, here we go,” Yoongi scowls, flicking his eyes over to where Seokjin is rapidly turning a concerning shade of red.

Mount Seokjin erupts, “You’re only president on a bullshit technicality! Fifth years can’t be on Exec boards, you swine!”

“Yo, Seokjin, I’m really bummed about that policy, and Imma let you finish. But, let me just say that if y’all don’t leave so I can get ready, I will avoid you for the rest of time.”

Seconds tick by. I frown, “I don’t see movement. Why don’t I see movement?”

“Well,” Jimin hedges, shrinking under my gaze, “We figured you could just come back with us? It would save you a trip?”

The disobedience in this crew would drive me off a cliff. “I guess I was not clear the first time. I am going to drive myself because: 1) I can leave on my own terms and 2) I can leave an overnight bag in the car just in case. Although, that possibility is slipping away by the millisecond.”

“Alright! Time to go!” Jungkook barks, herding the boys towards the door.

As they practically run out the door, Namjoon turns back to me with an arched brow, “No going back to sleep.”

I salute him, “Scout’s honor. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, I’m finally left in peace and quiet.

“Want to explain what that was all about?!” Luna stalks out of her room, “I need the tea!”

A full hour and a half later, I find myself in an eerily empty frat house.

“Y’all really kicked everyone out, huh?” I comment as I peer around each corner of the house. There is not a soul - besides these seven fools - to be seen.

“I mean, there are only three other people that actually live here permanently,” Namjoon counters, ever the diplomatic president, “The rest of the rooms are mainly for guests or if a member needs temporary housing.”

Humming noncommittally, I come to an abrupt halt when the dining room comes into view. All the furniture has been pushed to one side to make room for eight easels and an excessive amount of paint.

“It looks like a Michael’s threw up in here,” I marvel.

“Who is Michael?” Jimin pops up next to me with narrowed eyes. The rest of the boys file in behind him.

“My sugar daddy,” I deadpan, “He’s an artist.”

Namjoon cracks up, while Jimin pouts adorably. “I guess you know what we’re going to do now, baby,” Namjoon says, still chuckling lightly.

“We’re doing DIY Painting with a Twist!” Taehyung yells, “The twist is that there’s no wine. Namjoon said it could get ‘too out of hand’ - whatever that means.”

“What is everyone going to paint?” Hobi asks the room after a brief pause, “I’m going to make something for (y/n)! It’s a surprise.”

“That’s so sweet, Hobi,” I smile at the boy, “Thank you!”

Not a group to be outdone, the boys quickly affirm that they too had been planning to make something for me all along.

Rolling my eyes, I sigh, “Careful, I’m going to get used to y’all spoiling me.”

“Good,” Namjoon nods, “You’re learning.”

“Yes, daddy,” I tease, “Are you going to keep spoiling your good girl?”

“You’re not a good girl,” Yoongi laughs, “You’re a fucking force of nature.”

“Thank you,” I wipe a nonexistent tear from under my eye, “This is why you are currently my favorite.”

“What!”

“Wait, you have a running favorite?”

“How can I get to be your favorite?”

Five minutes later, the room is empty aside from Jungkook and I. The rest of the boys dispersed the moment they decided to make painting a competition for my favor.

“Aren’t you going to hide away, too?” I address the younger boy next to me.

“Why would I go anywhere else when you’re right here?” Jungkook shuffles closer to me, “Besides, I wanted to use a different canvas.”

“Ah, I see,” I nod sagely before pulling my long-sleeved shirt up and over my head.

“Noona!” Jungkook chokes as he takes in my slightly sheer tank top and the black bra that peeks out from underneath, “I meant your wrist!”

“Calm down, Kook,” I laugh, “I can put it back on if you want. I just don’t want to get paint on it.”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously.

He then grabs my arm gently, flipping it over so that the inside of my wrist faces up. His thumb brushes over my erratic pulse and pauses. “Are you nervous, noona?” His wide eyes stare up at me, “You don’t have to let me paint on you.”

“It’s okay, Kookie,” I say, brushing his fallen hair out of his eyes,  “Paint me like one of your French girls.”

The boy’s cheeks bloom a bright red as he flashes me a small smile, “That’s one of my favorite movies.”

My heart swells as the cuteness that is Jeon Jungkook, and I can’t resist teasing him further. “Jungkook,” I whisper, leaning forward, “I would gladly share my door with you to keep you warm.”

“Noona,” He whines, trying to pretend like he wants to get away from me. I would rate his efforts a 1/10 considering his hand is still firmly wrapped around my wrist.

“The iceberg would melt because of how hot you are…” I keep going, arching closer to murmur in his ear, “Just like the Titanic, I would go down on you for hours.”

“Noona!” Jungkook yelps, “Stop playing with me!”

“Fine,” I pout, “But the offer stands.”

“You’re going to kill me…” He mumbles. Dipping his paintbrush into his nearby palette, Jungkook begins to etch the outline of what looks like some sort of flower onto my wrist. The strokes of the brush across my skin make me shiver - something that does not go unnoticed by Jungkook.

His eyes dart to mine, and I feel like crumbling under the weight of the adoration I find within them.

“Kookie,” I glance down, breaking the intensity before it consumed me whole, “What kind of flower is this?”

He mumbles something inaudible.

“What?” My ears strain to pick up the boy who for some reason decided to answer in the language of tiny.

“A tiger flower,” Jungkook turns away to grab a new brush, his hair failing to hide his flushed cheeks. I watch enraptured as he mixes the orange and white shades to get the end result he wants.

Returning to my wrist, he leans down and lightly blows across the drying paint.

“This is unfair,” I mumble as the boy continues to unknowingly seduce me. Or did he know? My eyes narrow as his gaze flicks to mine. Arching a brow, I decide to press him, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the matching tattoo on your forearm, right?”

“N-no,” Jungkook panics, eyes darting this way and that, “That would be Ludacris.”

Did he just— Not the time.

“Mhm,” I hum, ever the skeptic.

Jungkook swallows before once again resorting to tiny speak, “Okay, yes, it does. I’m asking you to love me, noona. Please.”

My breath escapes me in a whoosh as I stare dumbfounded at the pleading boy who once again starts to paint my wrist. Why is such a beautiful human lacking in adoration? Why does he need my affection when he has six other lovers?

“Why?” The question slips past my lips before I can catch it.

“Because,” He continues to paint, “I can see myself loving you for a very long time, and I just want to be loved back for just as long.”

The silence that falls after Jungkook’s admission feels safe and comfortable. His words swirl around my mind. And as he finishes the flower now adorning my wrist, I give him an answer I’m not even sure he had been waiting for. “Jungkook,” I wait until he meets my eyes, “I don’t think I’m in love with you yet. I’m not even sure I know what love is or what it feels like. But I can see myself falling for you. And I do know that there is a place in my heart labeled ‘Jeon Jungkook’, just like there are six other places for the rest of you… Y’all really do take up a lot of space.”

I let out a little laugh as Jungkook’s lips twitch in amusement. I continue, “It scares me sometimes. How I might fall for all of you and get heartbroken seven times over. But, I might also fall for all of you and get seven times the amount of love in return. And so I’m willing to fight for that chance. Besides, what’s life without a little risk?”

Jungkook is quiet for a moment, and then he whispers, “I really like you, (y/n)-noona.”

I lean closer to him. Our noses brush as I whisper back, “I really like you, too, Jungkookie.”

The smile I get in response is blinding, and I can’t resist pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m done!” Taehyung hurtles through the doorway, lugging a giant canvas that definitely had not been in the room earlier, “I call this masterpiece: ‘My Boo’.”

Gaping, I take in the massive canvas full of swirling colors and abstract shapes. It’s honestly overwhelming and a bit dramatic, but that is Taehyung. And I love it.

“It’s so pretty!” I coo, shuffling over to side-hug Tae.

He shyly hangs his head on my shoulder, “You really think so?”

“Yes, baby,” I nod, “Of course I do.”

One by one the other boys return to present me with their art. Seokjin presents a sea of rainbow colored hearts (“Get it? I see hearts when you’re around!”). Hobi shows off his technicolored sunset (“It’s how I feel when I look at you, (y/n)! Hopeful, but at peace.”). Jimin bashfully hands over a painting of two silhouettes dancing (“It’s us.” *blushes profusely*). Yoongi gives me a black canvas with a portion of lighter blue mixed in (“You make my world brighter.”). Finally, Namjoon shuffles over with a succulent plant in a painted flower pot (“I accidentally elbowed a hole through my canvas… This is my favorite plant, for you.”).

The boys also marvel over the flower that Jungkook painted on my wrist while the younger boy beams with pride. One of them mentions ordering pizza for dinner, and the room clears within seconds as the majority flees in search of a menu.

Namjoon is the last to remain, admiring the art etched on my skin. “You know what it means, right?” He murmurs, thumb tentatively brushing across the dried paint.

“He told me,” I nod, focused on the gentle caress of his fingers.

Namjoon lifts my hand to his mouth and places a light kiss. The motion takes me back to the memory of a few weeks ago where he first had performed the action. “I hope you know the sentiment extends to all of us as well.”

“Oh, does it?” I smile, “You might have to mark me to make it believable.”

“Consider it done,” Namjoon says before pulling me closer to him and placing his lips on my neck. What an opportunist, I muse as he bites down gently. His tongue flicks before his lips once again press down on my neck. Namjoon litters my neck with small kisses. I gasp as he suddenly returns to the initial spot and bites down slightly harder, sucking and licking at my neck afterwards.

“Joon,” I breathe out as he pulls back, looking all smug and proud of himself, “I will get you back for this.”

“I look forward to it, baby.” With that, Namjoon laces his fingers through my own and tugs me out of the room towards the ruckus being caused in the kitchen.

One hour later, the eight of us are piled on the massive living room sofa.

“I think I’m pregnant,” Seokjin moans, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “The father is Papa John.”

“I told you not to race to beat Kook to the last slice,” Hobi shakes his head, “No one ever listens in this house.”

“You get me, bro, you get me,” Namjoon extends his fist to Hoseok who fist bumps him.

I survey the room from where I’m perched on Taehyung and Jimin, one leg hitched over one of theirs. “I thought we were going to watch a movie?” I furrow my brows, “Or was that just a ploy to get me to stay longer?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet, “I’ll go get Titanic!”

“No!”

“Please, god, no!”

“Noooo!”

The crestfallen expression that crosses Jungkook’s face tugs at my heartstrings. “Aw, Kook, I really inspired you with my words earlier, huh?” His pouting intensifies as he stalks back over to his end of the couch.

“Never let me watch what I want,” He mumbles. Sensing that this is an often fought battle, I shimmy off of Tae and Jimin and head over towards the youngest.

“How about this,” I reason, “Let the group decide what movie to watch, and I’ll sit with you during it.”

“Promise?” Large brown eyes peer up at me. At my nod, his expression brightens, and he pats his legs excitedly.

Settling down on his thighs, I realize I have made a grave miscalculation.

My thigh-riding kink + Jungkook’s muscular thighs = chaos

As the rest of the boys argue between watching Die Hard or The Hangover, I shift my hips slowly to try to get more comfortable. Jungkook’s swift inhale tells me that my move wasn’t as low-key as I had hoped.

“Noona, stop moving,” He mumbles into my hair, his arms firmly circling my waist.

“Sorry, baby,” I mutter back to him, trying hard to reign in my thirst.

The boys finally decide to watch Die Hard. Minutes tick by as the movie I’ve seen multiple times before plays on the screen. I’m only half paying attention, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook isn’t paying attention at all.

His fingers have shifted under my tank top and are drawing patterns onto the skin of my stomach. “So soft,” He marvels, his words ghosting across the skin of my neck.

The effect the boy has on me is deadly, and I retaliate with one of the only ways I can. I grind my hips slowly down onto his. The heat of his body warms my own, the hardness of his cock becoming more and more apparent underneath me.

“Noona,” Jungkook moans, “You’re so unfair.”

I whisper back, “You started it.”

He scoffs, moving my hair to one side of my neck, and pauses. “Oh, what’s this?”

“Don’t even think—”

His lips descend onto my neck, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Insolent child,” I breathe out, trying to keep my shit together despite finding it so fucking hot that Jungkook’s mouth is where Joon’s had been just over an hour ago.

Keeping my eyes firmly on the screen where John McClane is steadily taking down a whole crime organization singlehandedly, I try in vain not to imagine getting double teamed by Jungkook and Namjoon. By the time the credits roll, my panties are a mess. I can feel Jungkook practically throbbing underneath me from being so hard, and I’m pretty sure my nipples could cut through glass.

“What’d you think, (y/n)?” Hobi beams over at me from the other end of the couch.

I plaster a smile on my face like I hadn’t just been imagining the whole room naked and engaged in NSFW activities. “It was iconic as always!”

The boys seem to happily accept my answer. Well, most of them do. Yoongi is staring at me with a suspicious expression. Damn, that boy is too observant for his own good.

“Well,” I decide to try to regain some semblance of self-control, “Where did I put my keys?”

“WHAT!”

“You can’t leave! It’s only 9pm!”

“You said you would would stay overnight!”

I roll my eyes upwards, at least this provided Jungkook an opportunity to tug a pillow onto his lap. “I’m going to get my bag from the car, you fools.”

The boys let out a collectively sheepish “Ah”.

“I’ll walk you, noona,” Jimin stands, making his way over to my side.

“Trying to butter me up, baby?” I can’t help but ruffle his hair, “Okay, come on.”

Jimin and I make our way to the front door where my keys lie on the entryway table. Grabbing them, I head out into the darkness of the front yard with Jimin trailing after me.

“Will you sit with me for the next movie, noona?” Jimin asks, running a hand through his hair as we trek towards my parked Jeep.

“What’s in it for me?” I joke, unlocking the passenger side door and grabbing my bag. Turning back towards the house, I shut and lock my car behind me.

“Cuddles?” Jimin answers, eyes wide and bottom lip poked out.

“Stop that,” I moan, moving swiftly past him, “Puppy-Dog eyes? That’s so unfair!”

“Is it working?” He races to keep up with me, “I think its working.”

“You’re still on my shit list, Park Jimin,” I whirl around, drop my bag to the ground, and grab the front of his shirt. Moving to a standstill with his lips an inch from mine, I say, “Or did you forget?”

Jimin gulps, his eyes dark, “I didn’t forget. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

I place the lightest kiss to his lips, “Good answer.” With that, I pick my bag back up and waltz back into the house. “Are you coming?” I call at the boy still standing in the middle of the front yard.

“Now I know why Kook says you’re mean,” Jimin shakes his head at me as he regains the will to move.

“You’re a fast learner,” I comment, placing my keys back onto the entryway table. “I’ll sit with you.”

“Yay!” Jimin cheers, “I’ll go tell Taehyungie!”

“What?” I screech after the boy’s departing form, “I didn’t know this was some sort of package deal! Lord give me strength…”

Rifling through my bag to double check I have everything, I notice that I seem to be lacking a sleep shirt. How is it that I could pack three different pairs of socks for one night over but forget a fucking shirt?

“SOS,” I call out, zipping my bag back up. Once again, the sound of stampeding steps is heard before the seven of them appear above me.

“Someone needs to give me their biggest and comfiest t-shirt.”

A brief pause permeates the room before all seven boys dart into action. Left all alone in the entryway, I let out an incredulous laugh at how completely whipped I’m becoming for them.

After a few minutes, I hear them congregating in the hall just up the stairs. Just as I’m about to go investigate, they shuffle down. Namjoon presents me with a pile of what must be a selection of t-shirts from the bunch.

“We all want you to wear our clothes, so we decided to make it fair and just let you pick one without knowing who’s it is,” Seokjin explains.

Looking around the room, I can tell they all think this is a magnificent idea. Meanwhile, I’m baffled why they think I wouldn’t know who’s shirt is who’s just from the style, size, and smell. However, I decide to be a nice girl and play along.

“Okay,” I grab the entire pile along with my bag, “I’ll go change.”

“I’m so excited!” Taehyung bounces up and down, “She’s going to pick mine. I know it!”

“That’s because you gave her your Ce—” As Taehyung tackles Jimin to the floor, I take that as my cue to leave.

Speeding up the steps, I make a beeline for Yoongi’s room, entering and locking the door behind me. My bag is tossed on the bed first followed by the sea of mostly black and white clothing. They know me so well already.

I examine my options:

A white Balenciaga t-shirt with “Europe 2018” embroidered in red over the heart,

A soft pink hoodie by Marques’ Almeida with long black silky drawstrings,

A red and black striped Raf Simons long-sleeved shirt with sewn-on patches,

A Fear of God white t-shirt with the iconic “FG” on the front,

A black Mastermind t-shirt with the brandname and a skull and crossbones emblazoned on it,

A black Celine t-shirt also with the brandname on the front, and

A grey long-sleeved t-shirt by Carhartt with the name in blue along the sleeve.

Making my selection, I shake my head over the careless nature these boys handle their extremely expensive clothing. I am almost certain that Jungkook had given me the only shirt of the bunch that was under $100.

Regardless, I fold the rest of the shirts before stuffing them into my duffle bag. If they all want me to wear their clothes, I will - eventually. Quickly, I change into my sleep shorts, tug on what I assume is Hobi’s shirt, and head out of Yoongi’s room.

Opening the door, I blink as seven expectant faces shine back at me. Six expressions fall as one lights up even more. “You chose mine!” Hoseok cheers, running to engulf me in a hug that sweeps me off my feet, “Oh, you look so cute!”

“Can’t. Breathe.”

“Why’d you leave your stuff in Yoongi-hyung’s room, noona?” Taehyung pouts as the rest of the boys try to pretend like they also aren’t miffed.

“Because I’m going to sleep with him?” I march over to Yoongi and hug him from behind, pressing my lips to his cheek. “Is that okay with you, Yoongs?”

The boy grumbles under my show of affection, but his hands come up to clasp over mine as they circle his waist. “I can live with that, I guess.” The eye roll accompanying his words is so evident even when standing behind him.

“You’ll pay for that, baby boy,” I whisper in his ear before biting gently down on his earlobe, reveling in the cute little squeak that emits from him in response.

“She’s still sitting with me and Tae during the next movie, though!” Jimin - ever the instigator - interjects as the group makes their way back downstairs. Yoongi and I shuffle behind them.

The eight of us decide to watch The Hangover next since that had been the runner-up before. Once again, I’m draped between Jimin and Taehyung. This time, I’m fully placed on Jimin’s lap while my legs are sprawled out across Tae’s thighs.

My legs had barely even settled onto his lap before his hands were on them. This time I don’t even pretend like I’m paying attention to the movie. I’m more entranced by the way Taehyung kneads his way up my legs from my ankles to my calves to the insides of my thighs.

Meanwhile, Jimin is snuggled into me tightly. His face is shoved into the crook of my neck, and I honestly think he might be sound asleep. With each breath, Jimin’s pillowy lips brush my collarbone. I couldn’t tell if this is my own personal heaven or hell.

Looking up, I meet the dark gaze of Min Yoongi once again. Neither of us break eye contact as I try to read the look on his face and his body language.

He is either: 1) pissed off by something I did, 2) turned on by something I did, or 3) all of the above.

My hunch is the third. Testing that theory, I slide my tongue across my bottom lip. Sure enough, his eyes track the motion instantly before returning to mine. Bing-pot.

The movies seems to take way longer than it’s hour and forty-something minutes. I blame the combination of my sexual frustration and the varying degrees of awareness of it from the boys.

As soon as the credits roll, I extract myself from the holds that Jimin and Tae had on me. “I’m tired,” I lie.

“Aw,” Seokjin hurries over to me and sweeps me into a tight hug, “Get some beauty sleep, darling. Because, in the morning, I’m making pancakes!”

I place a swift kiss to his cheek, “Sounds perfect.”

I bid the rest of the boys goodnight with similar affections. Slowly, I make my way over to the stairs, knowing that Yoongi is trailing after me closely.

Making sure to put an extra swing in my hips, I climb up the staircase like I was getting paid to do it. Finally, I enter Yoongi’s room, turn to face the boy it belonged to, and tug him inside.

“What the fuck, Min Yoongi,” I hiss before closing the door behind him and shoving him against it.

“What?”

He has the audacity— I take a calming breath.

“You eye-fuck me throughout the entire movie and ask me ‘what’?” My hands curl into the fabric of his shirt.

A small smile makes its way across Yoongi’s face as my glower intensifies, “You can’t expect me not to think about that after you announce to everyone that you’re sleeping with me.”

“I didn’t mean literally, you buffoon,” I groan, turning away to head towards the bed.

Yoongi grabs my hips, halting me in place. “I know. But that didn’t stop me from thinking about what it would be like with you. What it would be like to be selfish with you.”

“You want to be selfish with me?” I ask softly, “What does that mean?”

“It means that I know that Tae was the first to get your mouth, but I want to be the first to give you mine.”

Yoongi’s words steal the breath from my lungs and the chill from my very soul. I gasp out, “You want to taste me, baby? That’s what you want?”

“More than anything,” Yoongi groans, pushing his hips into mine. “Please, (y/n), I’ll do anything to put my mouth on you.”

I pull away from Yoongi so that I can face him. His pupils are blown out, his hair is messy, and his expression is devastating with its pleading look. After being teased by so many of the others for the whole evening, he looks like my salvation.

“Okay,” I nod, lying down with my legs hanging off the edge of the bed. “Do your worst. No, not the time for that expression. Do your best. Please.”

Chuckling, Yoongi sinks to his knees before me, running his hands up my legs and resting on the hem of my shorts. He sends me an asking look, and I nod. His fingers shake slightly as he pulls off my shorts.

Left in nothing but pair of lacy red boy-briefs, I shiver in anticipation as I feel Yoongi slip a tentative finger underneath the remaining material.

“Fuck,” He groans, sliding his finger up and down my folds, “You’re so fucking wet, baby.”

“Well, do something about it,” I command, moving my hips up so that he might get the hint to take of my underwear. His finger slides out from underneath them and he doesn’t even hesitate before sucking it into his mouth.

“Yoongi,” I hiss, getting more and more impatient.

Yoongi pulls his finger out of his mouth, “Sorry, (y/n), I just want to savor this moment.”

“You can savor my pussy with your mouth,” I say, “Or are you all talk, Min Yo—”

Quicker than I can comprehend, Yoongi slides my panties to the side and licks a stripe up my folds. I moan as he sucks and licks at my pussy like a man possessed.

“Fuck,” I grab his hair and tug him closer, feeling him moan into me.

The build up of tension and frustration from being surrounded by these boys for the entire day has me on the brink of orgasm already.

Yoongi’s mouth closes over my clit, circling it with his tongue and flicking it slowly.

“More, Yoongi,” I demand.

He listens. Still worshipping my clit, Yoongi slips a finger inside me, curling it in such a practiced way I could scream.

He adds a second. Yoongi’s fingers thrust in and out of me as his tongue continues to taste and tease my pussy.

When he hits a certain spot in me, I moan his name, and I swear he growls. Repeatedly, his fingers hit that same spot inside me and I’m panting, trying my hardest not to come. Not yet.

“Harder!” I moan. Again, Yoongi follows like a good boy, his fingers and tongue picking up the pace.

Pausing to pull my legs over his shoulders, Yoongi meets my eyes. The pinkness of his lips glisten with my juices as he sighs, “I think you might be my new favorite meal.”

Before I can even respond, his resumes wrecking me. He fucks me with his fingers, grabbing at my ass with his free hand.

His mouth devours my pussy, wreaking havoc on my clit with every flick of his tongue.

My thighs quake as my battle to hold off coming becomes too much to endure. My back arches as the pleasure builds up with each quick stroke of his tongue and every movement of his fingers.

As if he knows exactly how to ruin me forever, Yoongi sucks on my clit harshly, and I come, my thighs trapping him between them. Despite it all, Yoongi continues to fuck me, lapping up everything like a starving man.

Soon, the overstimulation hits and I relax my thighs. Pulling his hair, I murmur, “Stop.”

Yoongi obeys.

“Come here,” I sit up, extending an arm out to him. He shuffles forward and when he is within reach I launch myself at him. Kissing him fiercely, I taste myself on his tongue.

“That was so good, baby,” I reach my hand up to stroke his flushed cheek. “Do you want me to help you out?”

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head, “I would rather eat you out again.”

“You’re insatiable!” I cry, tugging out of his hold. “We’ll see…”

a/n: this chap got away from meeee AHHHHHH it’s the longest one yet uwu hope u enjoyed! :) also this is v unedited bc i wanted to post asap so keep that in mind hehe

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway​ @cage7241​ @cvbachacbitch @honeyspillings @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang @oii-f-eli-x2 @joonsroses @theevilyouknow @jooniescupcakes @expensive-grl @i-dont-even-know-fck @athletes-of-god​@doingmybestalltheftime @elraee @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh @laced-brds @breeeeh17 @peachyharmoney @rilakoya @chulchuchi @tabula-rasa0 @guccishookv @nomimits7 @i-like-puppy-mg @s-noir @anna-sorel @im-a-space-child @yeontanismypresident @drowning-in-oxygen @team-wang-puppy @lvvegood @anongirl007 @may114 @r-e-d-i-s-h @unatempesta-dipensieri @dragon-rider-with-a-book @blueberrygeniejam @wondrsblog @vi-hoshi @kirbykook @katemwatson @kawaiikpoplover268 @amsteramyy @sami4life @a-feeling-of-euphoria @the-jackals @bubbletae7 @platinum-grenade @bunnyboyenthusiast @brightly-byun @oofmeintheheadpls @sadboibts @lidda @goldenwidow3 @t-mel19 @lmkjimin @psiphidragon @jeon-joker @sathom013 @lustremyg @ggsmashgg @justyouraveragerando @shadowstark @our-little-meow-meow @baby-hobii @mythicalmeep @asifetch7 @kassandravictoria @eltrain80 @briannasthings @bumblekey93 @ohmwreckr @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @softchimmee @kookoo-kachoo @lenuminous @ass-hole-in-one @peaches-422 @spacejooon @sleepyje0n @uxwi @tellmeyoulovemepls @yady24 @lovesick-heart0 @redirect-min @hopetookourvibe @noonaduck  @mini-coop25 @multifandomgirl29 @rhd31 @yoongixvevo @sweetnspicy93 @kuppyjiminie @love-and-other-possibilities @fuckyouandtheboatyoucamein @geminidrawsstuff @livorna @naajix @minjoonhome @subtlepjiminie @mono-kookie @purpleheartsfortae @krystle1990 @jungkooks-nut-is-tasty-in-busan @sky-the-squirrel @jinyounglovebot @vivpurple7 @xcastielbabyangelface @patpus @daydreamingwithbts 

a/n: if u asked to be added to the taglist and u did not get tagged, u might be one of the couple ppl that i couldn’t tag [check ur settings, fam!]

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #5

A/N: That one was tough. I have never written something with so much physical action before, and I had to rewrite a huge chunk of it until I finally felt happy with it. Describing sports is really tough, as it turns out. Also, KC belongs to the wonderful @kc-needs-coffee who lets me to a little cameo once in a while 😊 Enjoy!

 Word Count: ~ 3.100 (oops)

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Chapter 5: Back Home

A persistent rumour among the students was that Professor Binns had altered the clock in his classroom, back when he had been still alive. It was said, he did so to allow him to delve more minutely into every little detail of his subject he wished his students to remember.

If he hadn’t known any better, Orion could have sworn it was true.

He absentmindedly ran his quill through his fingers, trying his best to take in Professor Binns’s droning voice in what was their last class of the day. Orion glanced around the classroom. He estimated about half of the students were daydreaming about the upcoming weekend. The other half was fast asleep.

His gaze wandered out of the window. He could just make out the Quidditch pitch up ahead in the distance. The banners on top of the stands were swaying in a gentle breeze. He could feel it lightly brush his face from where he sat near the open window. It brought with it the pleasant warmth of a late summer afternoon.

Orion shuffled in his seat. He could feel his entire body brim with energy. The restlessness he felt had been bubbling under his skin for the last few days. He was itching to get back on his broomstick and to feel the wind on his face as he sped through the air.

This was what he had missed most during the summer break. When not at Hogwarts, he had no access to a broomstick, let alone people to fly with. Although Orion prided himself on always being grateful for what the universe had chosen to bestow on him, he sometimes he couldn’t help feeling envious of people like Skye. They could practise what they loved to their heart’s content, whenever or wherever they wished to.

He could feel McNully nudging him into his side. “There are only 23 minutes and 35 seconds left to his torment. 30 seconds as we speak,” he whispered.

Orion tore his gaze from the silhouette of the Quidditch pitch and turned to better face him. “Excuse me?”

McNully pointed at his now worse for wear looking quill. “You have been running your hand over this quill fourteen times in the last twenty minutes. In the last 45 minutes you have been staring out of the window seven times, with an average duration of five minutes. You have not been able to play Quidditch for 76 days in a row. And to add a personal note, tapping your foot excessively like that gives off an impatient expression and is rather annoying as well.”

Orion only now noticed his foot was indeed lightly tapping against the leg of table. He stopped.

“Sometimes I find your habit of observing your surroundings as meticulously as you do worrying, my friend.”

McNully shrugged, a carefree grin showing on his face. “What do you expect? I’m a commentator. I observe things and I comment on them. That is what I do.”

Orion had to grin at that. “It is indeed.”

He propped his head onto his hand, staring at the clock mounted above Professor Binns’s head. “I wouldn’t call it impatient, though. More like eager. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

McNully had started doodling onto his parchment, drawing tiny snitches between his notes. “Call it what you want, it doesn’t change what it is.”

Orion contemplated his words. “I agree. The appearance of the shell cannot change the core of things.”

He could see the confusion forming on McNully’s face. “I’m about 34 % sure that is what I said.”

 Only a few hours later, Orion felt himself unable to wipe the grin off his face. He stood in the middle of his beloved Quidditch pitch, the sun warming the back of his yellow robes. The unmistakable smell of grass, wood warmed by the sunlight and broom wax made him feel almost intoxicated.

Most of his team had already taken to the sky. They were getting back into the swing of things, darting around the pitch, doing turns and dives. Even down here, the joy they radiated was contagious. Everyone was wild with excitement to finally be back.

“And here is Parkin with a triple backwards flip. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a move to be watched! But what is this? Parkin is challenged to a race around the pitch by Jameson! Which Chaser can push their Comet’s limits further? There is a 92,4 % chance we are going to find out!”

He stifled a laugh. Of course McNully was here to commentate on their first friendly of the season. Orion hadn’t been the only one antsy to get back to business.

His attention shifted to the group of tense looking students stood in front of him.

Orion had carefully selected a few Hufflepuffs that were known to be skilled flyers. Every one of them had the potential to fill the vacant spot on their House’s team. He had already been thoroughly testing them, before admitting them to a practise with the other players. They had all passed his balancing test. Now it was time for them to prove themselves in action.

When he saw the reserve players arriving on the field, he mounted his broomstick.

“Now, my friends, is the time. The quest to become one of the pillars the building that is the Hufflepuff team is built upon is almost complete for one of you. For our new Beater to be revealed, we will have to see how you fare in a real match situation.”

He raised his arm, calling his teammates down to his side. “We will divide into two teams and play for a bit before switching things up. Good luck to all of you.” He inclined his head towards the contestants, some of them looking positively sick with nerves. “May this division serve to bring us unison.”

He unlocked the trunk resting at his feet and watched first the Snitch and then the Bludgers shoot up into the air. Picking up the Quaffle, he pushed himself off the ground.

“Let’s play.”

 If returning to Hogwarts had him feel like being home, tearing up and down the pitch made Orion feel like he truly belonged here. In contrast to the hectic movements unfolding around him, playing Quidditch granted him unparalleled focus, similar to nothing else. All that mattered was the moment at present, nothing before, nothing after.

He had taken himself back from the game playing out in front of him to better watch the students competing for the open position. Jason Everett, a rather loud and braggy guy, was one of the competitors he had chosen. He was sharing the dorm with Orion and McNully and Orion had never been able to form a real connection with him. To his surprise, however, he was showing great promise.

He decided to take the challenge up a bit. Putting himself on the same team as Lizzie and Skye, he wanted Everett to compete against a full set of Chasers for the second half of the match.

It wasn’t until flying with Skye and Lizzie by his side that he fully realised how much he had missed this. He felt like sheer life was running through his veins.

Although they hadn’t seen each other since the end of last year, it took them only a few manoeuvres to regain the unmatched unison the Hufflepuff team had grown reputed for. They had managed to create a bond between the three of them that didn’t require any words.

He felt this connection especially with Lizzie, allowing them to move almost as one when attacking the opposite goalposts. Throwing the Quaffle back and forth between them, it was no easy feat to stop them from scoring.

With Skye, it was different.

They had played together even longer than he and Lizzie. If there was harmony with her, it was all friction with Skye. The two of them were entertaining completely different beliefs on what Quidditch stood for and how it should be approached. As a result, they regularly clashed, on the pitch and off.

Contrary to what most people would think, the tension between them had never worn him down. Like a static charge, the constant challenge Skye Parkin posed to him acted as an energiser. Discussing strategic matters with her had never failed to give Orion new perspectives outside of his own thinking patterns.

“Here is what we all have been waiting for, my honoured spectators. Now, we are getting serious!” McNully was giving it his all in the commentary box, clearly relishing the first friendly of his not-so-secret favourite team.

“Amari and Parkin are on the hunt for the Quaffle, Jameson’s broken out of formation. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we are about to see the Parkin’s family pinching signature move! Watch this! The Chaser is flanked by Amari and Parkin. This is not looking good, ladies and gentlemen, if I were in possession of that Quaffle I would seriously be worried right now. Oh, and there we have it! Jameson makes expert use of her Comet’s impressive speed and pulls up from underneath her opponent, forcing her to either let go of the Quaffle or her broomstick. Parkin relieves her of the Quaffle, using her broom’s patented Horton-Keitch Braking Charm to drift around, racing to the other side of the pitch, Jameson overtaking her and Amari close by her side.”

Lizzie was diverging from the path he and Skye flew on, preparing to round and get behind the other team’s attacking Chasers, allowing Skye to pass the Quaffle to her at the last moment. They had used this strategy numerous times and it had seldomly failed them.

“Parkin sets herself up to score. Or is she letting Jameson have the advantage? We might never find out as Everett, hot contestant for the vacant Beater position, aims his Bludger directly at Parkin. This might get ugly!”

McNully was right. Everett had hit his Bludger straight towards them. It rushed towards Skye at a fast pace. Orion shouted a warning, but she had already seen it coming. She waited for a moment, dodging the Bludger at the last second before passing the Quaffle on to Lizzie, who made short work of the Keeper.

“And Jameson scores! That’s ten points for her team and an impressive show of flying skills from Parkin if I may add.”

Orion nodded contentedly before turning around and chasing after the Quaffle again. Lizzie and Skye both didn’t seem to have lost their fire. They were in good form.

Despite himself, he liked the potential Everett was showing. He wasn’t nearly the Beater they had lost, but he had foundations they could build upon. When Lizzie had needed to fill in for Bean a seasons ago, he and McNully had made a more than capable Beater out of her in a shorter amount of time.

His mind was taken off his thoughts when he saw a yellow flash dart past him. It was their Seeker Lucy, who had spotted the Snitch hovering just underneath the railing of the Slytherin stand. The other Seeker had seen it as well and both were racing towards it.

“Both Seekers appear to have spotted the Golden Snitch. Catching it would reward their team with additional 150 points. We’re talking the winning catch of this game here! O’Connell utilises the advanced speed of her broom, but Miller has less ground to cover! Both are nearing the Snitch at high speed, if no one slows down, we had better alert Madam Pomfrey. But no, no! O’Connell takes the absolute last out of her broomstick. She secures the Snitch and her team’s victory!”

Orion saw Lucy raise her arm in triumph, the wings of the tiny golden ball beating frantically against her palm.

Everybody was steering their brooms towards the ground, clapping Lucy on the back. Orion landed beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“That was magnificent catch, Lucy, well done.” He turned towards the other players that had gathered around them and raised his voice. “Although Lucy secured the win for her team, all of us have won today. As we were competing against each other, we were competing against ourselves. Overcoming what’s inside us makes us stronger, and lets us grow closer as one team.”

“One team!” everybody shouted what had gradually become their motto, raising their broomsticks up in the air.

Orion turned towards the contestants. “Watching you play, I have been able to gain insight to the path that lies ahead of us. I will contemplate which one of you will get the chance to balance  our team. I will let you know my conclusion when it is time.”

“And that would be when?” Everett asked impatiently.

Orion tilted his head and smiled placidly. “The time has come when the time has come. And the time is not now.”

A mix of confusion and frustration on his face, Everett left them standing and headed for the changing rooms. Orion had seen this look countless times before. New players always needed time to grow accustomed to his ways.

He was already going over the contestants’ performances in his mind when McNully rolled onto the pitch and joined his side.

“Brilliant match! The way I see it, you and Gryffindor are pretty evenly matched this season. I announced them the day before yesterday. If you keep up the form and choose a capable second Beater, that is. I calculated the odds and I would say Jason Everett has the best chance of fitting in, he is fast and has suitable strength. His aim is not the best though, 31,6 % of his Bludgers missed their mark.”

McNully’s eyes lit up. “I know just which one of my playbooks he needs. He will never miss his target again.”

Orion quickly filtered the information his friend had been spewing at him. He was right. Everett was far from ideal, but which player was when they started out fresh? They were like rough diamonds, waiting to be cut and polished until ready to shine.

“Can a Bludger really miss its target, though? Or is it the Beater that misjudges the path the Bludger is meant to be taken?” he mused.

“Whatever it is, I am glad this particular Bludger’s path was not destined to end in Skye’s face.” Lizzie and Skye were approaching them, their brooms resting on their shoulders.

Skye scoffed at her words. “As if it could have hit me. I had things under control. It takes more than that to bring a Parkin down.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “He is no Erika Rath, for sure, but it was good enough for a beginner, I would wager.”

Skye’s face darkened. “Don’t remind me of her. It has been such a beautiful day so far.”

“You will have to deal with her rather sooner than later. Ravenclaw is set as your first match in two months’ time. And from what I have seen so far, their Beaters are still the best Hogwarts has to offer.” McNully’s voice had a dreamy touch to it, making Lizzie chuckle.

“We all know you particularly enjoy watching the Ravenclaw Beaters,” she teased with a sweet voice. “Give KC my love, next time you see her, will you?”

“I have no idea, what you are talking about.” His face was blushing a deep scarlet. “I am merely doing my job and keeping my statistics up to date. I’d better get going now.” McNully turned his wheelchair hastily and rolled off quickly.

Orion was giving the snickering girls by his side a scolding look. “You shouldn’t taunt him like that. Our hearts’ desires are out of our power to control.”

“Calm down, Orion, it’s just a bit of fun. He can take that.”

The sun had slowly started setting, the stands casting their elongated shadows across the field. Skye rubbed her neck. “Come on, Liz, let’s get changed and head back to the castle. I’m starving.”

Lizzie hesitated, glancing at Orion for a second. “Go ahead, I’ll be with you in a second.”

Staring at her friend in wonder, Skye shrugged. “Whatever. Make it quick, I won’t wait too long.”

After Skye had left, Orion and Lizzie were alone on the pitch. He watched her staring back at the castle for a moment, the sunlight catching in her golden-brown hair. She seemingly tried to collect herself. He couldn’t deny being curious about what was on her mind.

He smiled openly. “What can I help you with, Lizzie?”

For an instant, Lizzie seemed to look for a way to word her question. She didn’t look him in the eye.

“Uhm, you are quite good at Herbology, aren’t you?” she mumbled.

He raised his eyebrows. “Being in balance with oneself brings you closer to nature. If you listen closely, the plants can tell you what they need.”

She sighed. “I take that as a ‘yes’.” She ran her fingers over the smooth handle of her broomstick, still not looking at him, her shoulders unusually tense. “Would you mind helping me studying?”

He tried to hide his surprise. “You need a tutor? Professor Sprout regularly fills me in on the academic progress of our team’s members. She never mentioned you struggling.”

“I haven’t so far,” Lizzie replied quickly. “But I had a look at the curriculum for this year. It’s really tough, and I don’t want to mess up my O.W.L.s because of a plant biting my finger off.”

It still struck him as odd, but Lizzie was his friend. He wouldn’t let her down if she sought his help. “I’ll be glad to guide you through your curriculum, as long as you desire my help.”

Finally Lizzie met his eyes, obviously relieved. “Thank you, I appreciate this a lot.” She suddenly seemed to remember something. “Can my friend Rowan come, too?”

His surprise turned into confusion. “Rowan Khanna is struggling with a subject?”

“Well, she is a perfectionist.” Lizzie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. A strand of hair had come out of her ponytail and she impatiently tucked it behind her ear. She was radiating a nervous energy Orion had never seen on her before.

“Of course, bring her. I’ll talk to Professor Sprout about using the greenhouse and let you know the details, is that alright?”

All of a sudden, Lizzie seemed much calmer. She sighed with relief, a smile forming on her face. “Brilliant. See you in the Common Room.”

With that, she spun around and quickly left. Now alone on the pitch, Orion stared after her and wondered what in Godric’s name that had been about.

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 34]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Let’s do this!

Chapter 12

Logan had needed to spend some time performing royal duties today which left Patton and Virgil alone after breakfast. Patton had started out trying to teach Virgil different board games. He’d seemed intrigued at first, but after a few games of checkers seemed to grow bored. Patton had gotten a blank stare when he’d asked if Virgil had any ideas about what to do for fun, so now he was trying to figure out something else they could do. He cast his eyes around at what Logan had in his bedroom.

“How about I read you a book?” he suggested.

 Virgil seemed very intrigued by that idea. “Sure,” he said.

“Okay!” Patton said cheerfully. “He popped to his feet and glanced through the small shelf of fiction books Logan kept in his room. He decided to choose one of the lighter ones that Logan and he had liked to read when they were younger. “This one is called The Never-ending Garden,” Patton said. “It’s about a group of four children and their adventures in a garden. It’s full of magic and adventure and friendship! Is that alright with you?”

“It sounds good,” Virgil answered.

Patton happily walked back over to sit next to him. “It is!” he said.

 First, he showed Virgil the picture on the cover of a wild looking garden with four kids roaming through it. One of the children was in a little red wagon being pulled by another one wearing a fancy hat. One of the others was walking, looking at a map while the last had a wooden sword. After giving Virgil a couple of moments too look at the picture, Patton cracked it open.

“We start with Lydia’s perspective,” Patton said. “She’s one of my favorites!” He pointed to a picture of a girl in a raincoat at the beginning of the chapter and Virgil leaned slightly closer to see. Then, Patton cleared his voice.

 “It had been raining that day,” Patton began, “but Lydia had been so bored that she still begged her father to go out and play when the storm lightened into a sprinkle. He made her change from the yellow dress she had been wearing into the one she often used to help him garden because he knew she was certain to get herself muddy. Her younger brother Marcus asked if he could come too and though part of her wanted to say no because she wanted to explore on her own without her baby brother slowing her down, her father had taught her to be a good big sister, so she agreed to let him come.”

 Patton watched Virgil out of the corner of his eye as he read about Lydia meeting up with the neighbor boy, Al, and the three children started to explore the garden in Lydia’s backyard. Virgil leaned in slightly to look at the pictures and listen to the story intently as the three children traveled deeper and deeper into the garden, but never made it to the back fence. They’d just made it to the part where they heard rustling behind the blackberry bush which Patton knew was the last main character, Melly, when Patton felt the need to adjust his posture a bit. Virgil moved in kind and ended up leaning further into Patton.

 Without even really thinking about it, Patton brought his arm around to touch the top of his head. Virgil flinched the second Patton made content and Patton drew the hand away immediately. “Sorry,” he said with a wince. Patton was a naturally touching person and he’d been having trouble battling his instincts to cuddle everyone and everything while around Virgil, but he knew most touch was not welcome. The poor thing startled every time Patton went to touch him unannounced and even sometimes when he’d said something before doing it.

“I-it’s okay,” Virgil said.

Patton gave him a tight lipped smiled and turned back to the book.

 He stilled a second later when Virgil leaned back in and their shoulders brushed. He blinked over at him. “Oh,” he said softly. “Do… do you want me to touch your hair?”

Virgil curled up into himself a little bit but then nodded.

“Okay,” Patton said. “I’m going to put my arm around you and do that then, okay?” He drew upon his years and years of convincing easily startled cats to allow him to give them pats as he slowly moved his arm back to where it had been before and gently touched the side of his head. He tensed, but didn’t startle this time, and so Patton gently ran his fingers through the hair a couple of times. Eventually, the tension bled out of him and he sort of slumped against Patton’s shoulder. Patton just barely restrained a coo before going back to reading. He continued to stroke the side of Virgil’s hair as he described the gang meeting up with Melly and them being told she was a fairy that lived in the garden.

 He'd only gotten to the part about them finding the wagon when Virgil started to shift a bit uncomfortably, his neck craned in an awkward angle. Patton kept reading as he brought the hand in his hair down to his shoulder and pushed lightly. There was the slightest bit of resistance as Virgil didn’t know what he was trying to do, but then he allowed Patton to move him. Patton leaned back a bit and picked the book up off his lap before continuing to push him down. Virgil did not help at all, seeming confused about what was going on.

 Patton had to poke him around until he was on his back laying across Patton’s lap. He grinned down at the boy who was looking at him in blatant bewilderment and propped the book up on his chest. He held it there with one of his hands and stretched the other out to resume messing with his hair. Virgil relaxed into the new position after a few minutes of reading, eyes shutting as he enjoyed the attention. His eyes would flicker open every time Patton moved to show him a picture, but other than that, he seemed content to not move.

 Eventually, he stopped responding when Patton moved to show him the pictures.

“Are you asleep?” he asked quietly. When he didn’t get a response, he bookmarked the last picture Virgil had responded to, and then continued reading to himself.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door. It was the one he and Logan had decided on to tell the other one that it was just them and not to panic when the door opened. The door opened to Logan a moment later.

He paused, taking in the sight of the assassin sprawled across Patton’s lap like a sleepy kitten. He shook his head fondly and walked over to them on silent feet. He bent and pressed a hand to the top of Virgil’s hand. Virgil stirred just barely, but didn’t open his eyes, pressing into the touch a bit.

Logan smiled. “He wanted to learn how to make protection charms today. I assume you’d like to join us?” Patton perked up and nodded happily, making Logan chuckle softly. “I will go set it up then. Would you like another book for the time being?”

“Just the one I was reading last night would be nice,” Patton said.

“Of course.” Logan stepped away to grab it and handed it to him. Then, he disappeared into his potion’s lab. Patton smiled down at Virgil’s sleeping face and settled the new book onto his chest to replace the children’s book. He didn’t even stir.

  Chapter 13

Logan was able to quickly set up the station for making protection charms. Patton had always liked making them, though he often used his more as fun accessories than for protection. The one he was going to show Virgil how to make was a very simple low level one used for little more than to keep bugs off of yourself and, in the event of a well made one, alert one to imminent danger by changing temperature. It was a nice thing to hold in the middle of the night if one was frightened by real or imagined threats. It would be warm to the touch when your environment was safe; he thought Virgil might appreciate it.

 He and Patton decided to wait until Virgil woke up naturally which only took about 30 minutes. Then, Logan brought him to his set up supplies. He explained briefly the process for making a protection charm. “I will be the one performing the enchantment for today,” he told Virgil. “I will show you how to make your own later, but I thought seeing how to make them would help with the learning process.”

“Plus, it’s fun!” Patton said.

Logan flashed a smile at him. “And that as well. I’ve prepared a small number of possible pendants for you to choose from. You can choose the shape and color, then we will put on a custom engraving, as well as decorations.”

 “Glitter! Glitter! Glitter! Glitter!”

“Yes, Patton, everyone knows you’re going to choose glitter,” Logan said, amused, “but why don’t we let Virgil decide for his own pendant?”

“Fine,” Patton said, “but mine will be glitter.”

Logan grabbed the box of blank pendants and offered it to Virgil. “Choose whichever one feels right,” he suggested. Virgil moved forward and looked over the box. “You can touch them,” Logan said. “In fact, I would suggest it as it is meant to be held when it’s done and you may as well get a feel for it.”

At his prompting, Virgil did. He reached into the box and shifted a few to the side. Eventually, he started picking a few up. “I like the crescent shape for holding the most he said,” holding a blue one up, but I don’t know.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Patton asked.

“Oh, um,” he mumbled. “I dunno.”

“Well here,” Patton said, reaching for the box. He dug through it and pulled out every single crescent moon shaped pendant and lined them up. “What do you fancy?”

Virgil considered them all for a long moment and then tentatively pointed the purple one out.

“Great!” Patton said. “Then, we’ll use that one.”

Virgil nodded and Patton picked up the pendant to drop it into his hands. His fingers curled over the shape and he seemed satisfied by the choice, so Logan turned to Patton. “Your turn,” he said.

Patton happily grabbed out a heart shaped blue one, but then paused and exchanged it for a purple one. “We match!” he said.

Virgil smiled slightly at his enthusiasm, and Logan dug out a blue crescent moon shape for himself. “Now that you have your base, you get to choose the engraving.” He opened up the instruction book to the correct page and showed it to him.

Virgil looked over the two pages of designs with carful focus. He wavered between the spiral sun and the flames for a moment, but eventually settled on the flames. Patton chose the interlocking hearts design as anticipated; it was his favorite, and Logan chose the spiral sun design for himself.

“Now, I’m going to engrave this design onto yours,” Logan said getting out the thin pen like instrument and dipping it into the slightly glowing bottle of potion he’d set out. “In the meantime, Patton will show you what we have for decorations.”

He was careful to get the symbol as perfect as he could and then started on Patton’s. Patton apparently managed to corrupt the boy because both of them came back with brushes and glitter to add as decoration.

Logan shook his head and handed them their freshly engraved pendants. “Apply the glitter how you like,” Logan said, moving on to his own engraving. Once he was finished, he selected some glow in the dark paint to decorate his own.

 Once he’d finished decorating his own pendant, Logan looked up. “Are you finished?” he asked.

“Yep!” Patton said, shoving his pendant at Logan while Virgil nodded. Virgil had been far less enthusiastic than Patton, having carefully brushed glitter into the flame design only whereas Patton had haphazardly covered his own all over with glitter. Logan took both pendants.

“This,” Logan said, bringing over a different potion, “is used to make sure the decorations never fall off. It basically allows the other substances to become a part of the stone. “It isn’t too dangerous, but I’d suggest you stand back for the moment.”

 Virgil stepped back farther back than was strictly necessary and gave the potion bottle a wary look. Logan moved all three pendants to the prepared surface (else they ran the risk of also getting stuck to the table) and put on gloves, having learned that magically gluing rocks to ones hands was not fun years ago. Then, he carefully drizzled a bit of the potion onto each rock. The rocks fizzled loudly, and Virgil gave off a startled yelp before toppling over flat on his face with his wrist glued to his sides.

“Oh no, honey,” Patton said immediately crouching next to him. “I’m sorry. We should have warned you about the noise.”

Logan wasn’t sure what type of action he’d tried to take when the sound started up, but whatever it was, it had caused him to move his arms fast enough that he’d activated the binding potion and it snapped his wrists to his side, overbalancing him.

 Patton’s hands hovered over the startled boy, but he didn’t touch. After a few moments, it was clear that the magic keeping Virgil’s hands at his side released because his hands slowly crept forward to push himself up, so his face wasn’t planted against the ground. His eyes still looked incredibly startled.

“Are you alright?” Patton asked.

Virgil blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

Logan took his words as permission to move without risking startling him more. Virgil’s eyes bopped back and forth between him and Patton a few times as he crossed to his wall of potions and grabbed one.

 He also selected a clean cloth from a basket on his way over to them. “A light healing potion,” Logan explained as he knelt in front of Virgil. He uncorked it. “May I?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said with a frown. “I’m not even bleeding. It’s barely anything.”

“Which is why it’s a light healing potion,” Logan said. “You are sure to bruise with the way you hit. This will prevent it and make it stop hurting.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed after a moment. Logan dribbled a bit out onto the rag. After a moment of thought, he touched the damp part of the cloth with his own finger, just to quash any fears that it would harm him.

 “It will tingle slightly,” Logan warned. Virgil tilted his face to let him dab it onto his nose and the light scrape on his face. His nose scrunched up and he moved to rub the sensation away quickly only to have his arms slam back to his sides.

Patton caught him so the sudden involuntary movement didn’t cause him to fall back, and then giggled when Virgil titled his head to what could only be described as pout back at him.

“Aw, poor thing,” Patton cooed, reaching forward to rub a hand across the top of his nose and then his forehead where the potion had been applied for him.

 “Better?” Patton asked.

“You’re really bad at this being captors thing,” Virgil commenting, willingly leaning back into Patton. Patton just smiled happily.

Logan took the bottle and got to his feet, before returning it, and then glanced at the pendants as Patton helped Virgil to his feet. The pendants had stopped fizzing, so Logan felt okay reaching in and grabbing them all.

He handed both Patton and Virgil their pendants when they walked closer to the table.

“And now for the actual enchantment,” Logan said. “For today, I already prepared the potion up to the last step as it has to sit for a few hours, but I will show you the last step and eventually teach you everything if you are still interested.”

 Virgil nodded, but said. “No more noises?”

Logan smiled. “No more noises,” he confirmed. Then he pushed forward all of the ingredients he was about to put in the pot for Virgil to study one by one before putting them each in it in the correct order. Then he demonstrated how to stir it correctly and told him how many times, though he doubted he’d be able to retain all of the information from this one demonstration. “There,” he said, setting down his spoon. “Now we just all put our pendants into the pot, and they should be ready in 25 minutes.”

 Logan showed Virgil around his potion’s lab while they waited, explaining what certain pieces of equipment did and a bit about his organization system. Virgil followed him around, looking at the things he pointed out curiously. He, however, got very distracted when Logan showed him one of the experiments he’d concocted. It was a thick liquid that was super attracted to itself and would form a small ball that could be disturbed by touching it. He seemed to like the sensation of squishing it down onto a table… over and over and over again.

“We should get him a ball of yarn,” Patton said out of the corner of his mouth. He may have been enjoying watching Virgil play with the substance more than Virgil was enjoying playing with it himself. And that was saying something.

21984

Eventually, however, the pendants were finished, and he dragged Virgil away from his new toy to show him the finished product.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Is it supposed to be warm?” Virgil inquired.

“Yes,” Logan replied. “It’s temperature changes based on if the magic on it senses a threat or not. Warmer temperatures mean you are safe.

“Oh,” Virgil said softly, hand squeezing around it. “I like it.”

Logan found himself smiling. “I’m glad. It’s yours.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“If you would like, I’m sure Patton has some suggestions if you’d desire a way to keep it attached to your person. He in particular likes to make them into necklaces or clip them to his clothing.”

Virgil looked over at Patton and nodded shyly. Patton immediately perked up. “I’ll go get some supplies!” he said.

  Chapter 14

“So then,” Patton was saying. “We ran to the stables.”

“We went to gazebo first,” Logan cut in.

“Right, we tried to go to the gazebo first,” Patton corrected, “but Mr. Deknis was over there tending to the tomatoes, and we knew he’d tell Mama the second he saw us. So, then we turned around and went to the stables.”

Virgil tilted his head, listening to the story Patton was telling. Patton was not the best storyteller. He tended to get lost in the middle and embellish, though Logan always corrected him. It was still very entertaining to watch though because he got incredibly animated. He’d even toppled himself over in excitement a couple of times.

 Virgil squeezed the small pillow he had in his lap. He… wasn’t 100% sure what was going on. Logan and Patton had settled him on the blanket covered ground near Logan’s bed and proceeded to feed him snacks and talk about a lot of different things. It had started with them talking about what they’d done that day, and when Patton had made reference to something Virgil hadn’t understood, the two of them ended up talking about things from their childhood.

Virgil found himself entranced by their stories about playing in and running around the castle. It was all so different from what Virgil had experienced.

 “…but, right as we were about to get to the ladder to climb up into the hay loft, Logan tripped!” Patton said, arms whipping around him. “He fell into a container of grain for the horses and it spilled all over the place. He tried to get up but grabbed the edge of the water trough and apparently it wasn’t very secure because it fell over and soaked him. So, then he was wet and covered in grain. He looked hilarious.”

“I did not!” Logan protested, but it did not sound like all of the other times he’d corrected Patton’s stories that night.

 Patton looked over at him. “You did! You woke up the cute stable hand and he laughed himself silly at you, and by the time we got you even partially cleaned up, your dad had already found us. That’s how we got caught.”

“I have no recollection of these events,” Logan clearly lied, his cheeks a bit flushed.

“Liar,” Patton claimed. “You complained about picking grain out of your sheets for weeks.”

“No,” Logan growled.

“Yes! It’s okay. It was a good laugh.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed on him, and he looked pissed, but a second later, his expression lightened up. “You know what else was a ‘good laugh’?” he asked.

 There was a second of silence before…

“Don’t you dare Logan.”

Logan looked him directly in the eye. “Patton was thirteen,” Logan started, but was interrupted the next moment when Patton lobbed a pillow at his head. Logan grabbed the pillow and leaned forward to smack Patton back with it. “He was thirteen and had just ‘discovered boys’ as his mother and my father called it when they attempted to explain his behavior to me. The focus of said ‘discovering’ at the time was the son of an ambassador from Lamir” who was staying for the summer, a seventeen-year-old boy by the name Bernardo.”

 Virgil flinched back as Patton suddenly threw himself across the semicircle they’d made with their bodies to tackle Logan to the ground. He watched as they ineffectually wrestled on the ground for a few seconds before Logan, voice strained continued to speak, while battling Patton’s hands away from his mouth.

“Patton’s only knowledge about flirting… ow… at that point was laughing at everything someone said and touching their arms and shoulders.” Logan managed to flip himself onto his stomach which was a horrible move as far as Virgil was concerned. It put him at a disadvantage to get out of the pin. However, Patton just kept reaching for his mouth and didn’t bare down on his neck to try to cut off his oxygen like Virgil expected. So, perhaps it was a rational move. “Our parents were speaking leaving Patton, Bernardo, and I in the garden,” Logan mumbled into the ground. “Bernardo said something ‘funny’ and Patton went to slap his shoulder while laughing, but shoved too hard… Patton did you just lick my face?!”

 “And I’ll do it again if you don’t shut up!” Patton threatened. That was a… weird fighting strategy.

Logan paused to consider his options. “He shoved Bernardo into the fountain and when Bernardo asked him why he did that, he ran away and wouldn’t talk to him the rest of the summer!” Logan rushed out.

Patton reached over and grabbed the nearest pillow, proceeding to whack him viciously in the back of the head. Logan was lucky the nearest object was a pillow and not something any sturdier. “It’s not funny!” Patton yelled, smacking him even more, which was when Virgil realized Logan was laughing despite the pinning and pillow pummeling. “It’s not!” Patton said. “I really liked him!!”

 “He was seventeen!” Logan said. “It was never going to happen!”

Patton groaned and rolled off of Logan to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling. “But he had so many muscles,” Patton said. “He probably could have thrown me 10 yards.”

“And that is… a benefit?” Logan asked, rolling over onto his side to face him.

“You don’t. Get me.” Patton tilted his head to look at Virgil. “Anyway,” he said. “That is the story of how I died at 13.”

Virgil stared at him, and Patton’s forehead crinkled looking at him.

“Is something wrong, honey?” he asked.

 “What was that?” Virgil asked.

“What was what?”

Virgil just blinked at him. Patton seemed to think for a moment.

“Oh, did you think we were fighting?” Patton asked. “Like, really fighting?”

“You weren’t fighting?” Virgil asked.

“No, sweetie,” Patton said. “We were just playing.” He popped up into a sitting position. “Well, play fighting, but emphasis on play!”

Virgil looked over at Logan for confirmation. “No one is harmed nor was there any intention to harm each other,” he assured.

Patton grabbed the pillow he’d been smacking Logan with. “Like this!” he said. “Bap.” Unlike how he’d smacked Logan ruthlessly, he basically just touched Virgil’s shoulder with it.

 Virgil squinted at him.

“Bap!” Patton said again, smacking him again, this time with a little bit more force and on the cheek. Virgil’s nose scrunched up. “Pillow fight!”

“Pillow fight?”

“You try,” he said, pointing to the pillow in Virgil’s lap.

Virgil glanced down at the bands around his wrist. “Um…” he said. “I don’t think I can?”

“Oh, right,” Patton said with a frown. He bit his lip and glanced over at Logan. “Maybe…”

“Ill-advisable,” Logan said.

“But…” Patton said. “Pillow fight.”

“We would have to be very cautious and make sure there were no weapons in the area.”

“No weapons but pillows!”

 “Fine,” Logan relented to whatever was going on. “Let’s clear the area.” Virgil watched them with mounting confusion as they removed everything within a few meters radius of him except for pillows and blankets.

“There!” Patton said after a minute. “All done!”

“What are you doing?” Virgil said.

“We’re going to have a pillow fight,” Patton said.

“But I…”

“We’ll temporarily allow your restraints to be in the third setting like when you’re in the closet.”

Were they serious? Were they stupid? Virgil could have killed them dozens of times with the second setting and now they were giving him even more range of motion?

 “You have to promise not to try to hurt anyone though,” Patton said. Virgil stared at him dumbly, as Patton held out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

Patton nodded solemnly. “We lock pinky fingers and make a promise. It’s the most binding promise in the universe.”

Virgil looked at his finger, confused. He’d never heard of that type of deal. “What kind of magic is it?”

“No magic,” Patton said. “Just friendship.” Virgil tilted his head but brought his hand up so Patton could twine their fingers together. “Now, promise you won’t hurt anyone.”

“I promise I won’t hurt anyone,” he said.

“It’s a deal!” said Patton, squeezing Virgil’s finger with his own briefly before drawing away. “I trust you.” Virgil felt a rush of something that was no type of magic he’d ever come into contact before but was definitely far more powerful.

 Logan came over to them and waved his hand over the restraints on Virgil. They buzzed slightly and Virgil looked between them. “So, I just hit you with pillows?”

“Try not to hit too hard near the face, and Lo and I should probably take off our glasses before we start, but yeah,” Patton said, taking his glasses off as he said it. It was yet another foolish move on his part. “It’s fun, and it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay…” Virgil said.

“I will demonstrate,” Logan said as he took a pillow and smacked Patton in the stomach.

“Hey! No fair!” Patton giggled. “We haven’t started yet!” This did not deter Logan however, as he continued to smack Patton with a pillow.

“On the contrary,” he said. “It has started, and we’re getting you first.”

 “No,” Patton whined, but the way he crumpled to the ground under the onslaught seemed far too staged to make Virgil worry. He didn’t even try to curl up into a ball or to protect his head, just taking the hits and giggling.

Logan looked up at Virgil and motioned with his head. Virgil inched over and looked down at Patton. Logan slowed for a few moments. “Go on,” he urged.

Virgil bit his lip and reached forward to smack Patton lightly with his pillow which seemed to do nothing to him but renew his peels of giggles. From there, it was easy to continue. Logan picked up the pace of his strikes and he and Virgil proceeded to ‘fight’ Patton until he couldn’t breath through his laughter and pushed the pillows away, curling up on his side to recover.

23897

“No what?” Virgil asked when Patton sat up.

“Now I get vengeance!” Patton said, popping to his feet and smacking Logan in the face. “Help me Virgil!” So, Virgil turned on Logan and he and Patton gave the prince the same treatment. Then, because it was only fair, it was Virgil’s turn, though they were a lot more careful with him then they’d been with each other, and really Patton spent more of the time checking in on Virgil then actually hitting him with the pillow. It was nice. Fun. And when Virgil pushed them away, they pulled back. Then, it was Patton’s turn again and they went around teaming up on each other and sometimes just smacking at each other at random.

  Eventually, they slowed, and all ended up laying near each other on the floor.

“Well, that made me hungry,” Patton said, sitting up and stretching. “I asked Mama to make us a bunch of mini sandwiches with different flavors. I’ll go get them.”

He hopped to his feet to walk over to where they’d stored the food earlier in those little glowing magical balls Logan had for food preservation.

Logan and Virgil sat up too, and Virgil offered him his wrists.

“Right,” Logan said with a blink. He made a motion and Virgil could feel the magic weighing down his hands once again. He’d almost forgotten, Virgil thought with an internal sigh. They’d given an assassin free range of motion, had a pillow fight with him, and almost forgotten to restrain him again. What was Virgil going to do with these idiots?

  Chapter 15

Patton strolled up to the doors to the royal wing, his arms crossed casually around his middle.

Kalani raised an eyebrow as he approached and gave her the most innocent expression he could. “Whatcha got there, Pat?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he asked, as his sweater squirmed. “What do you mean?”

She considered him for a moment. “Well, I see nothing suspicious here,” she said. “Do you Owen?”

“Nothing,” he replied without hesitation.

Patton grinned at them both.

Kalani leaned in like she was going to tell him a secret. “Who is it?”

Patton made a show of glanced around like he was hiding it from anyone passing by. Then he shifted around to pull up just the bottom of his sweater.

 A small black paw reached out from the depths of his sweater and swatted at the air.

“Ah, I see,” Kalani said, reaching out to touch the little paw. “Hello, Mittens.”

Patton giggled as Owen poked the cat’s stomach gently through the sweater, making her wiggle a bit and try to bite him.

“Well,” Patton said. “I better be off with my totally normal sweater.”

Kalani nodded and stepped to the side, and Patton was free to head down the hallway to Logan’s room. Patton knocked on the door with their new extra secret knock and Logan all but ripped open the door. “I’m late. I have to go,” he said, darting past Patton.

 Patton smiled, happy that his plan to be running a little late to come watch Virgil had worked so well, even though he felt a little bit guilty about it. He hoped Logan wasn’t late to his meeting, but he also knew that if Logan had noticed Mittens, he wouldn’t have let her into the room.

Virgil was already out of the closet, sitting on one of the chairs. Patton came in and smiled at him. Unlike Logan, Virgil’s attention was immediately drawn to the oddly shaped lump in Patton’s sweater.

“You’re not very good at hiding things,” Virgil said.

 “It worked on Logan,” Patton defended himself.

“Logan was about to rocket into space if you didn’t show up in 5 seconds,” Virgil pointed out. Patton just shrugged, and Virgil tilted his head. “What do you have?”

Patton grinned wide and carefully pulled Mittens out of his sweater. She did not resist this maneuver at all, simply purring. He held her up for Virgil to see. “Ta da!”

“A cat?” Virgil said.

“This is Mittens,” Patton said. He then turned to Mittens. “Mittens, this is Virgil. I thought I’d introduce the two of you!”

Virgil blinked at the cat. Mittens blinked back. Patton thought maybe he should have let them sniff each other from under a door before doing this.

 He didn’t need to worry though, as Mittens started purring after a moment. “You can pet her,” Patton offered. Virgil looked up at him. “Just…” he said.

“She likes chin scratchies!” Patton prompted.

Virgil reached out a hand to scratch under her chin and that was the end of it. Mittens stretched out her chin happy to get the attention and Virgil’s eyes widened at how soft her fur was. It was a work of minutes before Virgil was sitting down on the floor and Mittens was happily kneading his thighs and spinning around in circles to make sure he pet every inch of her.

“I did not understand why people like cats,” Virgil commented. “All I’ve seen of cats is people coming back with bloody scratches from trying to pet them, so I never even tried.”

“Well,” Patton said. “Cats are just like people. If you’re nice to them, they’re more likely to be nice to you.”

 Virgil’s hand paused briefly on the cat’s head, but then continued with the petting a moment later. Patton wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t press.

“She seems to like you,” Patton said.

“Don’t know why.”

“Hey, don’t be mean.” Patton scolded.

Virgil hands jerked away from the cat he’d been petting and then were forced abruptly to his side in reaction. Mittens meowed, seemed very unhappy with the jostling as well as the sudden lack of petting.

“Sorry,” Virgil said, eyes wide. “What did I do wrong. I didn’t mean to be mean to her.”

It took Patton a moment to sus out what he was talking about and felt a pang in his chest when he did. “Oh, no honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I meant don’t be mean to yourself.”

 Virgil gave him a confused look. Mittens bumped her head against his chin and with a blink, he cautiously went back to petting her.

“Of course, she likes you sweetie, you’re a good boy.”

“I came here to kill the king. I’ve killed before.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I don’t think you ever wanted to,” he said. Virgil seemed to grow very interested in mitten’s ears. Patton scooted over so he was sitting beside him and carefully brought a hand up to touch the top of his head. Virgil sort of curled into him, pressing his face against Patton’s shoulder, but continuing to pet the cat.

 “It’s fine. You’re going to be okay now,” Patton said softly.

Virgil shook his head against Patton’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Patton insisted. “You’ll be okay. You won’t have to go back.”

Virgil didn’t respond for a long moment. “You can’t keep me in Logan’s closet forever,” he said softly. “When his dad comes back, you’re going to have to turn me in.”

Well, that was true, but… “It’ll be okay. No one will hurt you.”

“The kings would be assassin?” Virgil asked skeptically.

“Thomas is nice. He’ll understand.”

“He’s nice to you. He’s nice to Logan. Maybe he’s even nice to the people he rules over, but what am I? An enemy assassin who would have slit his throat if I hadn’t gotten the wrong room.”

 It…it did sound bad when he put it like that, but, but… “Thomas will understand,” he promised, hugging him tight. “He will, and we’ll keep you safe and I’ll introduce you to every single cat in the castle. In fact, we’ll get you a cat to keep as a pet if you want and he or she can snuggle you as much as you want. I’ll show you all around the gardens and introduce you to Mama and help you figure out what your favorite type of cookie is. You’ll never have to hurt anyone again and no one will ever hurt you again.”

 Virgil drew away a bit and shot him a half smile. He clearly didn’t believe him, and it made Patton’s stomach twist a bit. Patton knew. He knew Thomas would be nice. There was no way he’d hurt Virgil. Virgil was just a kid and with Logan and Patton on his side, there was no way anything bad would happen to him. He could see it from Virgil’s perspective though.

“I like her feet,” Virgil said, touching Mittens’ little black paw that contrasted her otherwise white coat. Mittens purred and began kneading his legs again with those paws. “I’m guessing that’s why she’s named Mittens?”

“Yeah,” said Patton softly. “‘Cause she looks like she’s wearing mittens.” Virgil leaned forward to kiss her little head and that little action made Patton’s heart ache for him. He deserved so many kitten kisses. So many.

Patton was determined to make sure he got them.

  Chapter 16

“Well done,” Logan complimented when Virgil looked up at him for approval. It was the first time Virgil was trying to make the protection charms without Logan’s instructions. Logan was of course still in the room in case he had questions and the boy had a written set of instructions next to him, but for the most part Virgil was doing it on his own.

“Now,” Virgil said squinting down at the paper next to him, “we wait for 35 minutes.”

“Fifty actually,” Logan corrected offhand, focused on his own potion.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Virgil said. He grabbed the timer and set it for the appropriate time.

 Then, he stepped away from Logan’s nontoxic potion station. Logan saw him edge a bit closer to peak at what Logan was working on, though he was careful to maintain a distance. Logan wasn’t sure if this was because he’d been warned of the possible harmful substances Logan sometimes used at his experiment table or because he was worried Logan might not want him to approach.

Logan looked up at him. “You can come closer. Nothing here is very dangerous.”

Virgil nodded and walked over to peer at the boiling pot. “What are you making?” he asked.

“I am once again attempting to invent a potion that will reliably remove cat hair from surfaces,” Logan said, glancing over at Patton.

 Patton looked up from the bracelet he was making and stuck his tongue out at Logan.

“I can never seem to find an adequate solution,” Logan said.

“The solution is to accept all parts of kitty love!” Patton insisted.

“Or maybe the solution is to exile you from my room for the rest of time,” Logan muttered. Patton chose to ignore him and go back to working on the bracelet.

“Do you want any help?” Virgil offered Logan.

Logan smiled at him. “I’m actually almost finished with this step and there isn’t much left to do but thank you.”

Virgil nodded. “Oh, okay,” he said. He shifted back and forth a few times.

 “You’re well on your way to mastering this potion,” Logan said. “I was thinking that next I could teach you how to make a tracking charm. I marked a passage about it in the book on that shelf.” He gestured to one near the station Virgil had been working at. “Why don’t you go ahead and read that while you wait?”

“The…” Virgil said. “The green book?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “I left a bookmark in the correct page.”

“Um… yeah, sure. I’ll go… read that.”

Logan nodded and turned back to put the finishing touches on his own potion as Virgil walked away.

 Logan finished up his potion up after a few minutes and covered it to let it simmer. He looked over to see that Patton had flopped onto his back, still working on the bracelet and Virgil had sat near to him with the book on his lap open. Logan walked over to them.

“What do you think?” Logan asked.

Virgil glanced up at him. “Erm,” he said. “Looks good.”

“Which option do you like better?”

“…The second one.”

“Really?” Logan asked, surprised.

“Uh… yes?”

“I’m surprised,” Logan commented. “I figured you would shy away from the ones that required a blood sacrifice.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. “I… didn’t notice that. I would like to not do that one, please.”

“You didn’t notice?” Logan asked. “Half of the entire first page is dedicated to a discussion of it.”

There was a beat of awkward silence.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “Can you read the first paragraph on that page?”

 He grimaced.

“You can’t read?!”

“Logan, tone,” Patton snapped when Virgil flinched.

Logan took a breath. “I am not upset that you cannot read, but what have you been doing for the past week when I have given you written instructions for the protection charm potion?”

“Not… read it.”

“How have you been making the potion?” Logan asked.

“I just remember the steps, and if I’m not sure I ask. You’re usually distracted enough that you barely notice.”

“If I had known this, we would have done a completely auditory explanation.”

“Sorry.”

Logan sighed. “You didn’t need to pretend, Virgil.”

 Virgil blinked up at him. “Sorry.”

Logan just shook his head. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for. In fact, you are the one who is owed apologies from many people in your life for a multitude of reasons.” He knelt down to take the book from him. “Here,” he said. “For now, I will read this passage to you while we wait for the potions to finish brewing. Later we can talk about changing my lesson plans in reference to the potions as well as adding reading lessons into your schedule.”

“You… want to teach me how to read?” Virgil asked.

 “If you are willing,” Logan replied. “It’s a useful skill to have and opens up many doors.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it,” Virgil said with a frown.

“If you can memorize an entire potion recipe from start to finish with inadequate vocal instructions, I’m sure you can learn the alphabet perfectly well.”

“Okay,” he replied sounding a bit doubtful.

“And once we get you to an appropriate level, I’ll let you read a book about stars I enjoyed in my youth.” He seemed pleased with that prospect, and Logan smiled at him. “For now though, let’s read this together.”

 “Okay,” Virgil said. Logan opened the book in his lap and started to read. He noticed that Virgil was leaning over to look at the page despite the fact that he couldn’t read it, and so he began to point to the words as he read. His reactions to the words on the page were honestly quite funny when Logan caught them. His nose would scrunch up in confusion every time he thought an instruction nonsensical, and he’d squint his eyes at the words as though willing the sounds and letters to connect in his head. Logan wouldn’t be surprised with his memory if he had parts of it memorized by the end.

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After a few minutes of reading, a light weight descended on Logan’s shoulder. Virgil had settled his chin on Logan’s shoulder to peer at the words. Logan did his best not to draw attention to this fact and shot a glare at Patton when he clearly noticed, sitting up to smile widely at them. Luckily the boy was sensible enough not to squeal as he oh so clearly wanted to. Logan pointed out a picture while explaining what the caption said and then giving a personal antecedent. Virgil touched the page curiously and asked a question about the story before laying his head back down on Logan’s shoulder. They continued in this way until the potion was finished.

  Chapter 17

Virgil’s suspicion was growing. Logan and Patton seemed to have something planned. Luckily, whatever it was didn’t seem to be malicious, at least, Virgil hoped it wasn’t. He truly didn’t think that Patton had it in him to be so clearly excited about anything cruel. He also didn’t think Logan had it in him to be cruel, he was just was better at masking his excitement.

“What?” Logan asked innocently when Virgil gave him a pointed look the second Patton left to do ‘something’. Virgil would almost believe he truly wasn’t planning anything if it wasn’t for the way his lips twitched just a bit at the corners. Virgil glared harder.

 Logan dared to laugh lightly at the expression on his face. “Come here,” he requested. “Patton wanted me to make you pick out a book for him to read to you tonight since, I quote ‘You’ve gotten to read him all sorts of stories the last few days.’ I attempted to explain that it was not purely for fun, but he insisted.”

Virgil grumbled, but wandered over to look over at the books laid out on Logan’s bed, settling his chin on Logan’s shoulder. “What do they say?” he asked.

Logan pointed to each in turn. “Five Dragons and a Flame. The End of May. A Stone in the Meadow. Or you can continue to read The Never-ending Garden.”

 “I want to finish The Never-Ending Garden,” Virgil decided.

“Good choice.”

“Now will you tell me what you’re doing?” Virgil asked.

Logan just chuckled. Honestly, it was like he didn’t know that he had an assassin right next to his carotid artery. “Why do you think something is happened?”

“Patton’s a shit liar.”

“Be careful,” Logan said. “I might just have to tell him you said that.”

“Then I’ll tell him what you said when you accidently dropped the lavender into that potion,” Virgil threatened back.

“Hmm,” Logan said. “Truce?”

“On that,” Virgil agreed, “but you still need to tell me what’s going on.”

 “It is a surprise. A nice surprise,” Logan informed him. He looked at Virgil’s face. “Don’t pout at me.”

Virgil had not been aware that what he was doing was pouting, but he did whatever it was harder.

“Patton would murder me,” Logan claimed, “but I suggest you try that on him the next time you have a chance. You will certainly get whatever you want.”

Virgil sighed and gave up, figuring he’d learn whatever the surprise was soon enough. He chose to flop down on top of the pile of pillows on the floor that had been laid out already. It was his fourth ever slumber party and the first had only been a week ago. He did not know much about slumber parties, but that felt like a lot.

 Goodness, it had already been two weeks. He looked up at the ceiling. He felt safe here. He felt like he didn’t need to watch Logan’s every move as he organized things in his room, but it wasn’t going to last, was it? The king was set to be back in a week. Virgil needed to actually attempt to escape soon. He hated that fact. He didn’t want to leave, and he certainly didn’t want to go back. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d figure something else out, but no mater what, he did have to escape, and soon. He looked over at Logan who was slotting the books Virgil hadn’t picked back into place on the bookshelf. Not tonight.

 There was a knock on the door in a familiar pattern, and Logan walked over to open it for Patton. Virgil sat up to shoot a confused look at the giant thing that Patton rolled in.

“Ta da!” Patton said excitedly.

Virgil blinked at him.

“It’s food,” Logan explained.

Virgil perked up immediately. That must be a lot of food if he needed that to carry it.

“I know you haven’t gotten a chance to try a lot of different foods, so I asked Mama if I could use the kitchen earlier today and made a bunch of different type of food samples for you to try.”

 That sounded like literally the best idea in the universe. These people were very good at surprises and Virgil would not question them again ever for the rest of his life (or, well, the next couple of days he was around them before he tried to escape and either managed it or died a bloody and painful death).

Patton seemed to feed off of Virgil’s excitement, practically vibrating himself as he gestured to different parts of the cart. “We have a bunch of types of cheese and crackers, mini sandwiches, different smoked meats, six types of pasta, and every leftover I could find on this shelf. On this shelf, we have things with hot sauce, things with spicy dry rubs, curries, and things with a lot of peppers. I’ve ordered them by spiciness level so we can what you can handle, and we’ll only go as far as you want. Then this shelf is a bunch of types of cookies, mini cakes, pies, and ice cream!”

 “We are not starting with the sweets,” Logan said firmly.

“But Lo!” Patton whined.

“We do not want to make him sick, do we?” Logan asked.

Patton pouted. Virgil honestly had no preference. All food was good food in his experience.

“Fine,” Patton said. “We’ll start with the cheese.”

They had him sit back in the center of the blanket pile and handed him little portions of things. Some of the cheese tasted weird at first and Patton would giggle at the faces of surprise he made, but Virgil managed to if not like, then tolerate almost all of them.

 Then came the different sandwiches, some hot and some cold and all of the pasta and leftovers. Virgil eyed the plate of fettuccine alfredo long after they had moved on.

“You can have some more at the end if you still have room,” Logan promised with a fond smile. Virgil frowned at him. “You want to try all of the food, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can’t eat an entire plate of fettucine alfredo.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Virgil said darkly.

Logan just rolled his eyes and passed him another plate.

Eventually they moved on to the next shelf full of what was deemed ‘spicy food.’

 “Part of this is figuring out what level of spiciness you can handle,” Patton said. “So, tell us when it gets to be a bit too much and we’ll move on two the deserts. Also, milk helps wash the spicy stuff that so drink some if you need to!”

Virgil nodded and accepted the first dish on that rack.

Virgil, it turned out, liked what they called “spicy” food even though some of it made his nose run a little bit. It was kind of fun to eat them, honestly. Some of them hurt a tiny bit, but they also tasted really good. It was strange.

“I am impressed and horrified,” Logan said when he finished that shelf. “Do you… have nerve endings in your mouth?”

 Virgil shrugged. “Well,” Patton said, sounding pleased. “Now it’s time for the best part! Assuming you still have room.” Virgil nodded immediately and Patton handed him a plate he’d covered with chunks of cookies he’d torn off. He ate every single one of those and then went through the rest of the deserts. Everything was fantastic and he’d like to investigate a few of the cakes once more, but…

He pointed insistently at the fettuccine alfredo.

Logan shook his head but handed it over. “How many stomachs do you have?”

Virgil did not care to respond, choosing instead to shove his mouth full of pasta.

 When he was done with that, he laid back to relax and digest the food, feeling very content. Logan and Patton had also eaten a bit of the different dishes and were finishing up themselves.

“You good there?” Patton asked after a moment of Virgil just laying with his eyes closed.

Virgil nodded.

“Did you like your surprise?”

“Uh huh.”

“It seems he will not be doing any of the other planned activities for a little while at least,” Logan said. “So now might be a good time for you two to read,” he suggested. “I’ll get the rest of the food stored in case we want something more later.”

 “Okay,” Patton agreed. Virgil didn’t open his eyes, but felt Patton settle next to him. Virgil rolled slightly, so his head rested against the side of Patton’s leg. A hand touched softly down on the top of Virgil’s head and Virgil heard a page flip. “So, let’s see. I’m not sure when exactly you fell asleep last time, but how about we start at the Troll Bridge?”

Virgil hummed his ascent.

“Okay,” Patton agreed as he started to read. “‘Melly stepped onto the bridge backwards while sticking her tongue out at Al, but Lydia’s eyes widened as a large looming figure stepped up behind her….’” Virgil listened happily to him read about the four children. He liked this book. He hoped they managed to finish reading it before Virgil had to go.

  Chapter 18

They made it all the way to the big blowout between Al and Melly where Melly got mad and left the group to their fate in the magical garden by the time Virgil awakened completely from his food coma (he’d never actually fallen asleep, or at least he always responded when Patton asked) and squirmed around for a bit before sitting up.

Logan hadn’t been particularly interested in the story he’d heard many times before and was reading a book of his own on Patton’s other side, but he put a bookmark in his book when Virgil sat.

“Want to take a break from reading?” Patton asked. “We can do a bit more later, but we have more than just food and books planned for tonight.

 “Okay,” Virgil agreed easily.

“Great!” Patton said clapping his hands. “We’re going to introduce you to the most fun sleepover party event ever!”

Virgil tilted his head.

“Dress up!” Patton said. “Also make-overs. We’ll do you first and then we’ll help you learn how to help pick out other people’s outfits and make-up. If you want to, of course.”

“Sure,” Virgil said with a shrug.

“Yay!” Patton hopped to his feet. “You stay here. Lo and I will get everything ready.”

He pulled Logan to his feet and over to the chair that was the perfect height for doing make-up.

 They set up what they’d need for make-up and then Patton instructed Logan to grab the clothes of his they usually used for this sort of thing out the closet that Virgil wasn’t set up in while he grabbed the pieces he himself had brought upstairs and strew them over the bed so they could see anything.

Smiling happily, Patton looked over at Virgil who had stood up in the giant pile of pillows and blankets to watch him with intense eyes. He looked like he was memorizing every action Patton took as though expecting a test at the end. He was so adorable. A rush of affection and a touch of mischief hit him suddenly.

 “Hey Virgil,” Patton said. Virgil looked over at him. “Can I tackle hug you into that pile of pillows?”

“Tackle hug?” he asked.

“I run over and hug you so hard that we fall into the blankets. I do it to Logan all the time without warning, but I didn’t want to confuse you.”

Virgil considered the offer for a couple of seconds. “Okay,” he finally decided.

“Great!” Patton did a little hop before launching himself across the room. He slammed into Virgil, who apparently had very good balanced because they didn’t immediately fall backwards, but then he seemed to remember that he was supposed to let Patton slam him into the pillows, and so he fell back on his own power.

 Patton giggled when they hit the ground and drew back to look at his face. “I got you!” He leant forward to kiss him on the nose. “Oh wait! I should let you fight back.” He propped himself up on one arm and held out the other hand. “Pinkie promise not to hurt anyone if I let you use the 3rd setting again?”

“Pinkie promise,” he agreed with a grin, linking their pinkies.

“Great!” Without hesitation, Patton did the hand motion to allow the restraints to be in the third setting.

Patton was on his back almost instantly, but he didn’t even have a chance to think about worrying before Virgil pressed a kiss to his nose in a mirror of what Patton had done a moment before. “I got you,” he said proudly.

 “So, you do,” Patton agreed with a laugh. He reached up on of his hands to card it through Virgil’s hair. Virgil leaned into the touch and then practically melted on top of him. “Virgil,” Patton laughed. “It isn’t nap time.”

He grumbled something unintelligible into Patton’s neck making Patton giggle more.

“Sweetie, please.”

Thankfully Logan saved him from the unrelenting cuddling by poking Virgil in the side. “I have finished preparing the stations for the makeover and dress up. You need to get up now.”

Virgil made a noise that sounded like a growl, but he did roll off of Patton.

 Patton hopped to his feet and helped Virgil up before pulling him over to the piles of clothes. “We pick the outfit first, but you don’t put it on. Then, we do your make-up and hair based on it. Then, we get you dressed and do touch ups. Okay? Pick anything you want.”

Virgil looked over the options, eyes going a bit wide. “It…” he said. “It all looks really fancy and expensive. Are you sure you want me to touch any of it?”

“We wouldn’t be offering anything we didn’t want you to touch,” Logan said gently. “In fact, I insist you touch all of it. Beyond just appearance, making sure the texture of the fabric is agreeable is a large part of this activity.”

 Patton picked up one of the pieces of fabric he knew was very soft and offered it to him. He touched it with careful fingers, his eyes lighting up at the feel of it. They had to continue nudging him into feeling the different fabrics, and he hesitated when they asked him to pick his favorite at the end, but eventually he shyly pointed at a dark purple dress.

Patton clapped. “Great! Ooo, I already have some ideas for make-up that will go with that.”

Virgil let Patton pull him over to the chair they’d set up and settled down on it.

29009

Patton hummed. “I think silver and purple make-up mostly?” he said.

Logan nodded and they grabbed a few things from the make-up kit. Logan let Patton do most of the make-up as he tended to be better at the more creative parts, but Logan was the one who gave him the fancy winged eye liner with purple sparkles because he was really good at them.

“You look fantastic!” Patton squealed when they were done. He held up a hand mirror for Virgil who studied himself in it for a long few moments. “Do you like it?”

“It’s really nice,” Virgil confirmed. Patton smiled and hugged him.

“Next hair. We have a lot of accessories. I’ll let you pick from the purple ones.”

 He and Logan sorted through the jewelry box full of different hair accessories for the royal family and ended up finding three purple ones. Patton hesitated a bit over one of them, but Logan picked it up and set it in front of Virgil for him.

“Your choice from these three,” he said.

One was a purple feather with little hooks to braid into hair, one was a smattering of purple and silver stars that would weave through the back of someone’s hair, and the last was a string of silver leaves with purple tips that would wrap up the back of a person’s head from a bun.

Virgil thought for a moment and then pointed to the one made of leaves.

 Patton glanced at Logan who took the hairpiece. “I’ll do your hair right for that one,” he said. “I know how it fits.”

He grabbed the brush and carefully ran it through Virgil’s hair. Virgil seemed to like the attention, leaning into the touch, and a smile flickered over Logan’s face. Logan started gathering the hair together to make the low bun that would be the base of hair arrangement. Patton honestly did not expect him to speak, but then he did as he started to secure the piece with pins.

“This was my Pa’s favorite hairpiece,” Logan said. “Not the father you came here for, but my other one. He died when I was six.”

Virgil went shock still. “I don’t have to...”

“I wouldn’t have let it be offered if I wasn’t okay with you using it,” Logan said.

 Virgil didn’t move as he finished securing the hairpiece. “There,” Logan said when he was done. He picked up the hand mirror and positioned it so Virgil could see. “It suits you.”

“I…” Virgil said. His eyes were wide, and he clearly didn’t know what to say.

“Now,” Logan said. “I believe there are some other pieces of jewelry that would match this very well in the other room. I…” he turned away. “If you will excuse me.”

He turned away and exited through his bedroom door into the hallway. Patton watched him go and then turned to Virgil. “I’m going to go make sure he’s okay, okay?” Patton asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong, there’s just a lot of emotions.”

“I can take it out…” Virgil said.

“No,” Patton said. “I think he likes that you’re wearing it.” Virgil bit his lip. “He never really moved on,” Patton felt inclined to say. “This is… a lot for him, but I think it’s good too.” He leaned forward to kiss the top of his head, being careful not to mess up his artfully done hair. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned to follow Logan out of the room.

  Chapter 19

Thomas sighed in relief as the door to the royal wing finally came into sight. He was exhausted from his journey to Lamir for many reasons. Beyond just the physically taxing journey, he’d also had to deal with the emotions of loosing someone he had thought of as a friend while also trying to help her young daughter who had just had the crown thrust upon her.

Now he just wanted to see his own child and curl up into bed. He smiled at Owen and Kalani as he approached. “Is Logan here?” he asked.

Owen nodded. “The prince and his royal advisor are having a slumber party.”

Thomas smiled. “Of course, they are,” he said.

 He said goodnight to the two guard as they’d be getting off duty soon even if he did manage to drag himself out of his room again tonight and walked past them into the hall.

He walked past the room where they kept the jewels, though was unsurprised to see that the room was unlatched as Patton loved playing around with the different jewelry and had probably left it open when he grabbed them. He was however surprised when his son’s room’s door was thrown open, as Logan usually couldn’t stand for the thing to be open with or without him in it.

 Thomas didn’t think much of it however, and simply walked over to look inside. He was surprised when he didn’t see his son or Patton and instead saw that the only person in the room was a young boy that Thomas did not recognize. He was seated in one of Logan’s chairs and had his head tilted looking at himself in the mirror. He seemed to be trying to get a look at the ornament on the back of his head, and Thomas felt his heart seize a little bit when he recognized the hairpin.

He hadn’t recovered from that gut punch when the boy’s eyes drifted and met his in the mirror. There were a couple of long seconds where the two of them stared at each other in silence.

“Hello?” Thomas finally managed to get out.

Panic. There was suddenly horribly intense panic in the child’s eyes, the likes of which Thomas had never seen before. Thomas could only blink dumbly as he hopped to his feet like his seat was suddenly made of hot coals and then threw himself across the room to the opposite side from Thomas.

He looked around himself, back to the wall and considered Thomas with wildly spooked eyes. Clearly, he realized that he was pinned in Logan’s room by Thomas being in the door.

The boy dropped suddenly and disappeared under Logan’s bed.

 “Uh,” Thomas said, confused and shocked and still a bit in pain from seeing that piece of jewelry in use. He crossed slowly over to the bed and bent down to look under it, moving the bed skirt slightly to the side. He saw a small shaking blob curled up into itself under the bed. “Um, hi,” he said softly.

The blob did not respond except to continue shaking.

Thomas frowned and settled himself onto the floor. “It’s okay,” he said softly. Had he been here stealing things? Thomas had to wonder as he wasn’t sure why someone here for legitimate reasons would be acting so terrified of being caught. Though, that posed the question of how he’d gotten past the guards, and why Logan hadn’t noticed him. “I’m not mad,” Thomas said. “You’re fine.”

The boy looked up briefly from his knees looking terrified. Thomas tried to smile at him gently, but that just made him hunch into himself more, his breathes coming faster. That wasn’t good.

“No, shh,” Thomas said softly. “It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” He did not seem to believe him, and Thomas winced. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just leave him here but trying to talk him down himself didn’t seem to be working.

Luckily, a familiar voice spoke from behind him then. “Dad?” Logan asked.

Thomas looked back at him. Both Logan and Patton were standing at the door, a couple of pieces of jewelry in their hands. They seemed very surprised to see him.

“You… seem to have a guest,” Thomas informed them.

 “I…” Logan said, beginning to edge into the room like he was expecting something to blow up at any moment. “Yes.” He got to Thomas and squeezed himself between him and the bed, putting a physical barrier between Thomas and the boy. Confused, Thomas took a couple of steps away without challenge. “That,” Logan glanced behind him. Patton had moved to the opposite side of the bed from Logan and Thomas and had gotten to his knees to look under it. “That is Virgil.”

Thomas blinked at him. “Virgil?” he asked.

“He’s… new to the castle,” Logan explained. Patton started speaking softly the boy, but Thomas could not make anything he said out. “Patton and I… invited him to a sleepover.”

“The guards didn’t mention anything,” Thomas said, sure that they would have warned him if there was a stranger in the royal wing.

“Uh, well, Virgil is… shy and we didn’t think you’d be back for another week. So, we snuck him past them.”

“Shy?” Thomas asked doubtfully. That was a lot more than shy.

“Particularly of adults,” Logan said.

Thomas took a moment to let that sink in. “Oh.” He was… scared of adults. Thomas could imagine many reasons why that might be the case and none of them set well. “I see.”

“Hey, no, sweetie, stop that,” Patton said, sounding distressed. Patton had managed to draw Virgil out from underneath the bed, though they were both still mostly hidden behind it and Thomas had no question in his mind that if he went to step towards them, Virgil would be back underneath it in a moment. Currently the boy seemed to be clawing at his own head. “No, baby shh,” Patton said, trying to stop him from tearing the pinned in hairpiece out, Thomas realized. “I’ll get it out,” Patton promised him. “Just calm down and let me do it.” He sounded close to tears, and Thomas couldn’t particularly blame him with the way the boy was acting. “You’re hurting yourself, baby.”

He must know, Thomas realized. If Logan had known he was here, then he must have allowed him to use that hairpiece. He’d probably even told Virgil that it belonged to his dead father. Now he was probably terrified that Thomas would be mad at him for touching it, especially when he’d come in to find Virgil alone without Logan to explain.

Patton managed to get all the pins undone and placed the piece delicately on the bed before wrapping himself protectively around the boy and hushing him.

Logan was looking back at them as well. He looked between the puddle of upset on the floor and Thomas. “Could…” he said. “Could I maybe come and see you in a few minutes, Dad?”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “Of course, I’ll go wait in my room. Take as much time as you need.”

He was careful to move slowly as he stepped towards the door, so the poor thing didn’t notice him move and mistake it for him approaching. He closed Logan’s bedroom door softly behind him feeling even more drained than he’d been before as well as anxious and a bit sickened. He went to his own bedroom to wait for Logan.

  Chapter 20

Logan let out a slow breath as his father closed the door behind him. That could have been very, very bad. He turned his attention to Virgil and Patton. Patton had curled himself around Virgil as much as physically possible and had tucked the boy’s head under his chin.

Logan slowly rounded the bed and knelt in front of them. “It’s alright,” Logan said, cautiously moving to put a hand on his shoulder. Virgil didn’t pull away. “I asked him to leave. It’s alright.”

Virgil tilted his head slightly too look at him. Logan rubbed a circle into his back as he slowly got control of his breath.

 Logan smiled softly at him and reached out to touch his cheek with a gentle hand. “You… didn’t hurt him. You didn’t even try to hurt him.”

Virgil shook his head.

“Why not?” Logan asked curiously. “It was a perfect opportunity.”

“Promised Patton,” Virgil mumbled, and the idea that perhaps the thing that had saved his father’s life was a pinky promise just about gave Logan a migraine, but then Virgil ducked his head. “And it would make you sad.”

“I see,” Logan said, heart in his throat.

Virgil kept looking towards the floor, his eyes starting to fill with tears again. “Are you going to turn me in now?”

 He was shaking and barely holding back a fresh wave of tears. Logan knew of course that no one would hurt him here if he turned him in to his father and the guards, but he also knew that Virgil would be terrified if he did so. He was already terrified. Logan didn’t want to know what he thought the fate Logan would be condemning him to.

“No,” Logan said before he could even truly think it through. “No, I’m not.”

“You’re not?” Virgil asked.

“Well, there wouldn’t really be a point, would there?” Logan asked. “The reason we planned to turn you when father got back in is because you posed a danger to him, but you have just demonstrated that is no longer an issue.”

 “Really?” Virgil asked, sniffling a bit and Logan saw Patton’s arms tighten even more around him.

“We will have to figure out a better cover for you than just that you’re new to the castle, but I believe it will work fine. No one besides the two of us would ever guess your origin anyway.”

“S-so I can stay?” Virgil asked, “and you won’t throw me into prison or execute me?”

“I promise you were never going to be executed Virgil,” Logan said. “Even if we turned you in, but yes you can stay with us. We’ll figure out a backstory for you that doesn’t involve assassinations and you’ll have to keep up the lie, but I doubt anyone will question it.”

 “I’ll do whatever you want,” Virgil said, chocked up. “Thank you. I really didn’t want to go.”

“Well, you’re our friend now so there will be no going anywhere,” Patton said kissing him on the cheek. Virgil relaxed back into his hold, pleased with the affection.

Logan smiled at them both. “Can I see your wrists, Virgil?”

Virgil blinked but offered them and Logan tapped the restraints doing a quick incantation. They popped off after a moment.

“You’re letting me go?” Virgil asked, eyes wide.

“Of course,” Logan said. “We’re not just going to keep you prisoner for no reason.”

[astrandofgold]

Take Me As I Am

Chapter 4: i want every other freckle

18+ Leo x Higgs: VERY NSFW. Oh boy this is full on hardcore smut here. I haven’t written that type of content before, so this was my attempt at practicing it 😬 Also, AU Porter Higgs, they both work together for the sake of whatever minimal plot there may be.

____________________________

12:34 am. The cuff link around Leo’s wrist emitted the time with a digital blue light. It had been three fucking hours since her tired body had crashed on the firm mattress of the private room, exhausted from a day of hauling heavy cargo around the Mountain Knot region. She delivered cargo boxes full of food, medicine, and the occasional special underwear from early morning until after the sun set, and all she wanted now was some relief from consciousness. And of course, life didn’t want to offer it up to her today.

Leo kneaded her eyes with her palms, sighed, and stared up at the ceiling. The low lights gave the room a soothing vibe, her eyes used to the way it settled on the objects in the room that she had collected over time. She liked how her room now represented who she was. It was the closest thing to a home she could remember.

Leo’s hand wandered mindlessly, lazily moving underneath the light blanket that covered her body. It found its way to the outside of her underwear, black briefs that she found comfortable. Rubbing gently at first, she felt herself melting into the mattress. If she wasn’t going to get sleep, she figured she might as well relieve some stress.

As she rubbed back and forth, her thoughts bubbled towards her coworker. He was tall, unbelievably so, and his presence was always felt when he was in the room. Leo always thought he was attractive, but she absolutely melted at the thought of his clear blue eyes, and the smudge of eyeliner he always framed them with. When he looked at her, Leo felt like he could see all of her, where she came from, who she was as a child, her hopes and dreams, all of it. It was an intense feeling, but it was just one of the many reasons why Leo was smitten with the man. To Leo, he was the very image of her deepest fantasies in human form. She knew her face betrayed her feelings towards him, burning with the disrespectful thoughts that occurred when he was near her. She hoped that it just looked like a kiss from the sun due to the many years of harsh outdoor life as a porter, but she had a feeling she was being too hopeful.

Warmth started emanating from the point between her legs, and her caresses grew rhythmic. Inhaling deeply, she let her head fall back into the pillow.

The way his eyes brightened when he smiled. That one strand of hair that fell in his face when he was focused. The way he applied his eyeliner, something so simplistic that added an undeniable appeal. His cologne, intoxicating and floral, permeated her mind, and she wanted nothing more than to leave his room in the morning marked by that scent. The way his sleek black shirts cling to his muscular, lean frame. The way he pulled off his gloves at the end of the day, slowly pulling them off one finger at a time. Tantalizing. Tortuous. The way he’d lean over to tie his boots, sometimes his shirt would lift and Leo would be privileged with a peek at his corded, bare skin. So muscular. His pants. God, they were so fucking tight in the just the right places. Sometimes, Leo could see the bulge of his co—

Close. Very close. Leo’s slender fingers worked at her clit, body pulsing. She let out soft moans as she grew closer and closer to climax. Without thinking, she let his name slip through her lips, flowing out like honey.

It felt so wrong, calling out his name in the middle of the night. Her passion betrayed her, and she let her mind go wild. Picturing what he would do to her, what she wanted him to do to her. Her cries came out broken and jagged, but she knew the walls of her room were sound proof. Nearly over the edge now. Her toes dug into the bed, her back arched.

“Higgs, Higgs, H-Higgs, HIGGS ”, she cried out with a breathless gasp, a bead of sweat running down her neck. At that moment, the room filled with a current. The hair on Leo’s neck stood on end. A flash of light filled the room for a split second, then the darkness returned. In a daze composed of sexual tension and confusion, Leo panted from the bed, eyes wide and looking around the room. They landed on a dark figure in the corner. As her eyes readjusted, Leo froze. She found herself looking into the blue eyes that she had been fantasizing about moments before. Higgs was in her room.

“Well I’ll be damned.” His slight drawl caused Leo’s eyes to flutter, and her face reddened to what she knew must have been a bright shade of crimson.

“H- Higgs” Leo managed to squeak out.

“I never would have guessed that you had such a dirty mind, darlin’. I could hear you screaming my name in your head. DOOMS, y’know”, and he tapped the side of his head with two fingers. How the fuck did his DOOMS allow him to hear thoughts? What else did he know?

“I’m flattered, really, that you spend your evenings, ah, thinking about me.” He gestured a hand towards Leo’s lower body, eyelids lowering the slightest fraction. It was subtle enough to almost miss it, but Leo caught it. She always did. Leo was mortified at being caught with her pants literally down, but she was surprised at his nonchalant nature. She assumed he would have been put off by her boldness at fantasizing over someone in such lewd detail with whom she’d only had a professional relationship with. She knew she was, and her mind ached with guilt. He took a few steps closer. Leo’s eyes widened.

“Now that that’s out in the open and I know what you fantasize about in the lonely night, we can drop the pretenses of friendly office banter. I have to ask—“ his voice dropped dangerously low, and he approached the bed “—do you want to see what it would really be like?”

Leo’s heart was racing now, and she was sure he could hear it. Sweaty palms gripped the sheet underneath her, eyes lowering to flee from the intensity of his eye contact. Did he just say that? No, she must be misreading it. It was late, after all. It had been a long day. A long, hard day.

She looked back up at Higgs, mouth slightly agape as she searched for words that weren’t coming. He placed his hands on the bed, leaning over where Leo still lay, shaking slightly, and emphasized each word with a quiet clarity.

“Do.

You.

Want. Me.

To. Fuck.

You?”

Leo involuntarily bucked her hips ever so slightly in response, and Higgs smirked. She quivered at his expression, and nodded. This is what she wanted. This is what she had always wanted.

“My my, darlin’, I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already shaking.”

Without warning, Higgs repositioned himself with hands on either side of her, knees tight on the outside of her thighs. Body tantalizingly close above hers. She could feel his heat radiating. It made her dizzy, so dizzy, and her breath hitched.

“I wonder what would happen,” he said as he lowered his head close to hers, eyes blazing with lust, “if I did this. ”

He gently nestled into the crook of Leo’s neck, then licked a line from her collarbone up to the precipice of her jawline. Leo let out a gasp, resisting the urge to arch her back. She hadn’t anticipated that from Higgs, at least not Higgs the person. Higgs the daydream ravished her on a routine basis. In person, he always had an air of elegance about him. He was polite, and while he was flirtatious, it never escalated beyond that. The Higgs that was on her bed in the darkness of night, now biting marks into her neck? This Higgs was completely unexpected, and completely welcome. The way he grazed his teeth over the delicate skin on her throat had her writhing under his lithe body. It was so animalistic, and it drove her fucking crazy.

His eyes searched her face, hungrily taking in every little spasm it made. He grinned, and ran his tongue over a pointed canine. He brushed his fingertips along her rib cage, along the edge of her white shirt, teasing underneath it. Her sporadic breathing betrayed the sense of self control she was desperate to maintain.

“St-stop teasing, and f-fuck me already” were the only words Leo could manage to force out.

With a swift motion and a chuckle, Higgs moved his hand underneath the shirt and pinched one of Leo’s already sensitive nipples, causing her to yelp out.

“Mmmm, you’re a feisty one. Y’know sweetheart, if I had known before about those dirty little secrets you were keeping in that pretty head of yours, I would have had some fun with you when we first met.”

Leo, in no position to think logically, gazed up at him, confusion written on her otherwise preoccupied face.

“When...we first met?”

His eyes pierced into hers, and Leo lost herself in his kohl-lined blues. That fucking sexy eyeliner. She could feel him tense up as he lowered himself so his chest touched hers, forehead brushing hers, breath cohabitating in the same space. She felt him rub against her thigh, and he let out a low groan. He was already hard.

“I wanted you from the very moment we met”

Lips crashed against one another, each trying to take the other in. Hands grasping in the dark, tangled in hair, forming wordless prayers at the alter of each other’s bodies.

“I wanted to hear you scream my name”

Moans escaped Leo. She grabbed at his arousal as he grinded against her. She was just as ready as he was. Leo grabbed his hand, and pushed it down towards the hemline of her underwear.

She knew what she wanted.

“Then make me.” She dared to look him in the eye as she said it. “Fuck me, Higgs. Fuck me like you mean it.” The ensuing growl that left Higgs sent shivers throughout Leo’s body. This was real. This was happening. All the nights she spent deep in lust and shame and one-sided cries of passion, and against all odds, Higgs was here with her.

And he was between her legs in an instant. Shoving her underwear aside, he slipped two fingers into her, already slick from her earlier activities. She gasped, back arching and body shuddering at the sudden warm intensity in her abdomen. His fingers found a rhythm, stroking and pulsing, hitting that one spot over and over again. The loud moans that escaped Leo would have set her face ablaze in different circumstances. Higgs let out a small chuckle and quickly used his free hand to cover her mouth.

“Careful, darlin’, don’t want the neighbors to come runnin’.”

Leo cried out as Higgs quickened the pace. The constant strumming assault on her sensitive nerves caused her to shudder continuously, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold out. She normally took longer than this, but these were unusual circumstances.

“H-Higgs....I’m g-getting.....getting close....”

Words were forced, unnecessary. Leo cried out as she bucked her hips into his hand, forcing his fingers deeper.

“Oh, no no no, I don’t think so”, he spoke with words reminiscent of a purr. “You don’t get to come until I say you can come.” Leo whimpered, and considered begging. She wasn’t beneath doing anything anymore. She was now a desperate woman, and decided to take the lead. “Higgs, I swear to god, I need your cock in me right now.” Those were, apparently, the magic words, and more than Higgs could handle. Hands tangled, moving to undo the zipper on those green pants.

Hands wandered, and hands led.

In a swift motion, Higgs ripped the underwear from Leo’s hips, wrapped her legs around his waist, and teased Leo’s slick entrance with the head of his cock. It was torture, and Leo tried pulling him into her with her legs. With a wicked grin, he thrust into her all at once, filling her completely. It was a sudden immaculate balance of pleasure and pain as he stretched her swollen folds, over and over and over again. Warmth spread through her core with each thrust from Higgs, and she could feel herself leaking around him. He ran his fingers between where they met, then slowly licked them clean. “F- fuck. You taste amazing.” Leo tightened around him at the sight, and Higgs quickened the pace in return.

“Oh, oh, oh .... Higgs! ”

He grabbed her wrists, and positioned them above her head. His mouth crashed into hers, causing her passionate screams to die in her throat. His thrusts were frantic, desperate now. Her bruised core sang out a litany of unknown pleasure, marks covering her body telling the story of two lovers in the dark, writing words in a language only they shared.

“Darlin’,” came the sing song voice, “come for me. Now.”

Leo felt golden in that moment, heat and fire rocketing through her as she climaxed. Her body trembled as waves of electric made their way through her body. She could feel every breath Higgs made, every bead of sweat that mixed between their bodies. She inhaled his scent, musky sweat mixed with his floral cologne. It was intoxicating. She let out a satisfied cry, and she felt Higgs finish seconds after her, streams of his pearlescent completion filling her. She wanted more, she wanted him in her everywhere. She wanted him to use her and leave her leaking from every single one of her holes. She had experienced the impossible, and now she needed more.

Higgs let his body fall onto Leo, panting and covered in sweat. Leo exhaled a long sigh, then broke out in laughter. Higgs, who had his head resting on her chest, looked up at her. His eyes crinkled, exactly the way she remembered them, and he asked her what she was laughing at. She grinned. “I have to admit, Monaghan, you managed to outdo my fantasies.”

He gave a knowing laugh, then teased her.

“I’m surprised, considering how kinky your fantasies are, and how little time we had tonight. I saw some of that shit, and my dear, that was some pretty freaky stuff you were scheming up.”

His brows were raised in fake disapproval, and Leo scowled as she gently punched him on the shoulder.

“Well then we’ll just have to add that to the list for next time.” It took Leo a moment for the weight of what she said to hit. Her face went red, and she looked away, shyness suddenly settling despite the fact that they were both laying naked together, embracing in the soft afterglow.

“Will there....be a next time?”, she asked, quietly.

Leo felt a gentle hand on her chin, and Higgs turned her to look up at him.

“Darlin’, you’re too perfect for me to let go of. I want there to be many next times.”

Exhausted, and happier than she had felt in a long time, Leo rested her head on Higgs’ shoulder, and her exhaustion made itself known as her eyelids grew heavy. She didn’t have time to worry about seeing Higgs off as he left to his own room, or offering up her shower to clean up, because she soon fell asleep. Higgs enjoyed the quiet moment, arm around Leo as she snored softly against his chest. She was so beautiful, he had always thought. He never dared to imagine in his wildest dreams that he’d be here, seeing this side of her. He knew he took a huge risk when he jumped after sensing someone calling out to him. Luck was looking out for him that night. He gently rubbed Leo’s shoulder as he rested his eyes. Slowly, his breathing synced with Leo’s. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Slowly. Slower. Slow.

Asleep.

The quiet of the room, the humming of the power source, the gentle light bathing over the two bodies.

Morning found the two lovers where the night left them, still holding onto one another, completely at peace in each other’s arms. Leo yawned, opened her eyes, and felt complete bliss when she woke and found two ocean blue eyes waking up next to her.

[safaiagem]

Hello everyone and welcome to another Thirsty Thursday. I am an American who is a giant ball of anxiety [at time of writing which is 2AM MST on the 5th] so please take pity on me. Or go follow me on twitter which is linked above where I do a whole bunch of shitposting while trying not to have a meltdown. That’s as close as I’m getting to pimping my socials so it’s time to pimp another fic and this one is one some of you might already know. 

I was never able to get into Game of Thrones because I got two episodes in and Dany’s wedding scene triggered me so badly I nearly threw up. So the show is just too rapey. However, I accidentally watched season 7 because I was at a friends house at the time episodes dropped and I would read spoilers to make sure I could handle the episode. Come season 8 and I watched the entire thing because I wanted to be part of such a huge cultural moment ending. I’m not sure when I decided to start reading fic but I did and by July of last year I was writing. Fast forward to the present day and I’ve written over 300,000 words for a fandom I barely know. So I’m here to pimp my two Game of Thrones fics which are part of my series called Vengeance Has No Foresight. 

Revenge is a Wild Justice -  Words: 195,761 - Chapters: 50/50 - Rated: M - Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Meera Reed/Bran Stark, Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen, Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark

An alternate universe where Arya overheard Beric and Thoros talking to Melisandre about selling Gendry and they have enough time to get away. They eventually decide to help and protect the smallfolk during the war as a team. However, their deeds do not go unnoticed by their enemies and, eventually, Arya and Gendry find themselves pulled back into the game of thrones and the fight for the future of Westeros.

Think Upon Revenge [WIP] -  Words: 127,916 - Chapters: 34/45 - Rated M - Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Theon Greyjoy/Sansa Stark, Meera Reed/Bran Stark, Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Val, Quentyn Martell/Daenerys Targaryen

The war has ended and Daenerys sits upon the Iron Throne as Westeros begins to heal after so many years of misery. Arya and Gendry continue to try and find their own place in the world but politics have never really been their things. When a mistake is made old grudges rise up and Arya and Gendry find themselves in the middle of a very different type of conflict.

[myownprivate-johnnyutah]

If Found (Chapter 1)

AN: A Fluff-as-Fuck Penpals Story because we’re in a fuckin’ pandemic and I want to write about yearning, goddamnit. I have no outline, no plan and am just going wild with it. 

Synopsis: After losing a notebook in a Brooklyn bar two years ago, Alana Miles has lost a few more things and gained some others. Lost? Her tiny Brooklyn apartment, her first love-turned fiancé, their shared cat. Gained? A small rental house in her hometown, a second book deal, a rescue bulldog and a facelss email pen pal she may or may not be falling for. (AO3)

Wordcount: 1,530

September 2020

It’s a little early to be up for a Saturday, but she cracks open her laptop anyway— careful not to jostle the sleeping bulldog deep snoring across her legs. Alana has tried to let herself sleep in on weekends, lately. With the weekdays full of deadlines, interviews and long calls with her editor normally kicking off before her morning coffee’s kicked in, the few blissful hours of no screens and light-blocking blinds on Saturdays were usually her favorite thing. Usually.

It’s not her fault, though. Because of stupid timezones, there was a message waiting for her that she’d be itching to see and even after years (plural) of back-and-forth emails with her accidental pen pal, the little rush of seeing where the conversation would go next was enough to make her a bit more of a morning person (even when she doesn’t have to be). 

To: Miles2Go@mail.net.

From: KCR@mail.net

Subject: RE: RE: RE: The Not-Divorce is Finalized! 

A, 

Sure, okay, I believe you.

I know you said you were fine and I understand I’m maybe half-obligated by the terms of our friendship to take that at face value and instead pivot to asking you about your day or the book proposal or whether you got around to reading that book I sent you (it’s a chapbook, honestly, and you pretty much read for a living). And I will ask those things. 

But I wanted to add, RE: your point on “closure not even being a fuckin’ real thing” that I’m not sure if I agree. Provided you’re giving yourself the grace to step away and close the chapters, relationships, painful memories in order to open something up, it’s as real as you want to make it. 

But what you’re going through (all of it), it’s draining and exhausting and you’re carrying a lot. Closing a door doesn’t mean everything’s resolved behind the door, just that you’ve resolved to let yourself be on the other side. 

I think you’re brave and good, if that helps. And I hope you’ll read that goddamn chapbook so we can talk about it.  

Yours, 

KC

Welp. That’ll need coffee to respond to, she thought, slowly inching her legs out from under Bruce (who let out an insulted snort before snuffling back into the duvet) and heading out to the kitchen. 

Mug in hand, she made her way out to the porch and took in the fall morning: the lake’s got the beginning reflections of red and orange showing through and the smell of burning leaves (they still do that out here) is already making its way to her door. The tiny one bedroom house she’d been renting is about five minutes from where she grew up (where her parents still live). It’s modest (if maybe cramped) but has big windows, a monthly rent that doesn’t drain her bank account beyond recovery and lets her be close to her mom for doctor’s appointments and long meetings with specialists that she trades off with her sister and brother. 

She leaves the door open a crack, since Bruce is unlikely to last long in the bed alone before stumbling out to his sunny porch bed, and takes a seat on her own “grown-up porch couch” — an oversized wicker basket chair her little brother salvaged from a friends’ student house and spray painted white to look less wretched, paired with some overly fluffy pillows her twin sister bought her. She cracked open her computer again and tried to figure out how she’d respond.

She tried, not infrequently, to picture KC. She was sure he was good looking, despite that name feeling so deeply undignified and childish for a man in his forties. (Or is he fifty by now? A funny thing about surprise pen pals is you never really exchange birthdates or A/S/L — and, in their case, they just went for the emotional jugular). She imagined a doe-eyed John Cusack-type (maybe a bit more “High Fidelity,” actually) or, of course, a Tom Hanks “You’ve Got Mail” has crossed her mind but neither really ever felt right. 

She knew a lot about him, after nearly two years of correspondence. He’s told her about the long scar going up his stomach that he got in a motorcycle accident (how he’ll forget its there even after 20 years); she knows he works in film but simply says “I help people tell lies for a living” when she asks for specifics; she knows he fell in love a few years back, after thinking he was never going to fall in love again (and that he has a gift for emphasizing the sweet of a bittersweet ending) and she know she’s a Virgo with a Cancer moon. He knew a lot about her, too: He knew birds freaked her out, that she was in the middle of final proofs of her first book and the proposal on her second; he knew she broke off an engagement (and thus a relationship spanning nearly all of her 20s) in the last year and reflexively performed being cavalier about it; he knew her mom was sick and that she left the life (the one she secretly wasn’t all that wild about) in Brooklyn to be closer to her.

It’s funny the way these little stories and pieces of ourselves can be assembled to make a person feel so whole and so close, even if they’re thousands of miles away and you’ve never seen their face and you probably wouldn’t have met if it weren’t for the right amount of happy accidents flowing in succession. 

He was her happy accident and, if she were the fate-believing type she’d believe it was some of that kismet that brought him to that Fort Green bar on that rainy afternoon. She’d been transcribing some notes in one of her many junk-ish notebooks (full of story ideas, a few email addresses and phone numbers for sources, a scribbled quote, some ticket stubs and a lone piece of gum between the back pages (whoops) — all organized by chaos) and got a call from Brandon, her then-fiancé reminding her that they’d need to leave their Greenpoint apartment for his department chair’s dinner party on the Upper West Side (a thing she’d forgotten she’d agreed to do) shortly and if she was still stopping to grab the wine. 

In her rush to settle up her tab, scamper to the liquor store next door and procure a fancy-ass bottle for the academic circle jerk, she left the notebook behind. Luckily, she’d remembered to scrawl her email in the front cover that time —she wasn’t going to let some rando find her address!

KC, as he told her later in one of their subsequent emails, found it and “began trying to decipher its many, many mysteries (the gum, for example).” 

She couldn’t be mad, she 100 percent would’ve done the same thing if fate, kismet, the universe’s funky algorithm, who knows, left someone else’s brain-dump to her doorstep. Between that confession (and the charming apology that came with it), the emails just didn’t stop — long after he’d sent the book back. 

Despite this two year friendship, she hasn’t seen his face — and only recently heard his voice. She knows he’s older than her 34 years by a not-small amount.  (He doesn’t have an instagram or a Twitter and when she asked him why he responded “Oh, that. What would I do with that stuff, really?”) And 95% of the time it doesn’t bother her. But then she sees emails like that and thinks of his deep, thoughtful voice (the calm, intentional pauses when he speaks that make everything go soft and quiet over the phone line) and something in her twitches. 

It’s been a long 18 months of being very single and maybe, just maybe it’s messing with her head to have such careful, considerate attention 4-8 (depending on how much they write and how busy they are) times a week. 

To: KCR@mail.net

From: Miles2Go@mail.net.

Subject: Doors Open & Closed — moving on.

KC, 

That poet soul of yours is working overtime today, bud. It’s too early for my icy heart to thaw the way it needs to if I’m going to adequately respond, so take this: I know. You’re right. I’ll try. Thank you. 

And try to let it be the end of this for now. 

I’m digitally and spiritually cleansing this space and cracking open this sad  pamphlet of a book you sent me. Stand by for my thoughts. 

Chilliest regards (with a gooey center), 

A

P.S. You promised me that shortlist of “films I need to watch now that I work from home and can watch movies all day.” Keep in mind, my attention span is like my love life: short, sad and ridiculous. 

She hits send and quickly checks in on the few dangling work emails that couldn’t wait until Monday. It’ll be a few hours before her West Coaster pen pal is up and a few more before he’s near a screen. He’s an early riser, but more of a yoga, outdoors-y, going jogging (ugh) kind than a feverish AM emailer. But she’ll forgive him that one (admittedly well-adjusted) flaw for now.

[kenkamishiro]

Ishida’s Q&A comments from YJ compilation, Part 8

Once again Ishida continuing to give answers that don’t actually answer the questions at all lol.

For anyone who doesn’t know about the relevant Questions to Ishida contest, please read here. You can start from Part 1 here.

The recent set of zakki:re and interview translations take a lot of time and effort, so if you enjoyed it please reblog or leave a like. Thank you!

2016

No. 1

Still 1 month left of this year! What’s something you still have left to do for 2015?

The storyboard.

Good luck.

No. 2

Sensei, please share with us a piece of news that was important to you in 2015!

I forget.

I wasn’t feeling so great in 2015.

No. 3

December 17 is Airplane Day! Now then, please share with us a memory you have that is related to airplanes!

I like the window seats.

Probably that time on the plane to head to the New Years party, when the staff was forced to stop because of me...

[T/N: Referring to his New Year’s party escapades in the volume 6 omake.]

No. 4-5

December 24 is Christmas Eve! Now then, please share with us a present that you want now as an adult!

I don’t need one since I’m an adult.

Even adults want presents too, you know!

No. 6-7

When you think of New Year’s Day...you think of New Year’s money!! Please share with us one way you spent the money you received from New Year’s when you were a child!

On games.

I was jealous of other people’s families since I didn’t have a lot of relatives.

No. 8

Sensei, please tell us your philosophy when it comes to food!

I think of meals as work.

I consider meals as work when I’m eating alone. When I go with people I eat whatever I like.

No. 9

January 28 is the birthday of the late Komatsu Sakyou! Now then, please share with us one of your favourite sci-fi works!

Gantz.

It’s not Star Wars...

No. 10

Please share with us one aspect or behaviour of the opposite sex that you unconsciously care about!

Their face.

How they use social media.

No. 11

Please share with us a Twitter account that you’re most interested in now!

Inagawa Junji-san’s for his ghost story tweets.

I find that accounts of artists are helpful for studying.

No. 12

Please share with us one of your favourite genres/videos that you end up watching on video streaming sites.

I got Netflix so I could watch Terrace House.

I still use it.

No. 13

If you were to ever film a Taiga drama who would you pick as the main character?

Siebold.

But why?

[T/N: A Taiga drama is a type of long-running TV drama period piece, often produced by NHK.]

No. 14

Graduation season is in full bloom! Now then, please share with us one of your favourite graduation songs!

“Lion” by Amano Tsuki.

Uh-huh, yup.

[T/N: "Lion” was one of the songs included in Ishida’s Spotify playlist.]

No. 15

Sensei, if you could decide the design of the 10,000 yen bill, who would it be a portrait of?

A cat.

A cat...?

No. 16

Today is Weekly Manga Day! Please tell us your number one favourite manga that is released weekly!!

I’m curious about what Ooima Yoshitoki-san will draw for her next manga.

Just how much do you care?

No. 17

Sensei, please share with us one thing that makes you go, “Man, I wanna go see this,” now?

Commentary on demonstration boards for shogi.

I went to one! Man, was it interesting.

No. 18

The final day of March is...Orchestra Day! Now then Sensei, please share with us a memory you have that’s related to musical instruments!

I bought a piano recently, and I’ve been playing it almost every day.

And I still play it.

No. 19

Entrance ceremony season has arrived! Now then, please tell us about a schoolteacher who’s left the biggest impression on you!

Some student hacked the school server and the teacher intercepted the culprit.

That’s the kind of school I attended.

No. 20

New dramas are starting one after another! Now then, please share with us a series that’s left the biggest impression on you among all the dramas that you’ve seen recently!

Right now I’m currently watching Mad Men.

I watched all of Mad Men. I can’t believe what happened at the end of “Meditations”...

[T/N: Not entirely sure what Ishida meant by that last line, but I think “Meditations” refers to the last episode of the second season, titled “Meditations in an Emergency”.]

No. 21

Sensei, please share with us one game that’s popular in your circle!

The staff and I often play Mafia a lot together.

Recently we’ve been playing table RPGs.

No. 22-23

Today is the day in which the elephant was first introduced to Japan! Now then, please share with us a person/thing/culture from overseas that you would like to come to Japan!

David Downton-san.

I don’t think that.

No. 24

It’s that time of year where it’s getting warmer even at night! Now then, please share with us something about hanging out at night that you still remember!

That time I went drinking at a bar in the outskirts of Tokyo with Takahashi Kunimitsu-kun.

I don’t want to go there again.

[T/N: Referring to that time in April 2016 where Ishida and Takahashi were at a bar and a middle-aged woman started hitting on Takahashi for 3 hours lol.]

No. 25

May 19 is Boxing Day! Now then Sensei, please share with us what you thought was the best match ever!

I like the match with David Haye.

Clearly it’s Darth Maul vs. Obi-Wan.

No. 26

Please share with us a story about a debacle that you or someone else caused at a drinking party!

The first time I met Nakayama Atsushi-sensei, I made so much of a fool of myself.

I was so piss-drunk that I fell asleep in the bathroom I think.

No. 27

When you think of June you think of June Bride! Now then Sensei, please share with us a story that you remember that has to do with weddings!

I drew the welcome board for my friend’s wedding.

That time I left early since I didn’t want to be late for my senpai’s wedding, but the flight ended up being delayed by over an hour...

No. 28

Sensei, please share with us one of your favourite literary works for children!

Ringing Bell by Yanase Takashi.

Stormy Night.

[T/N: Ringing Bell (Chirin no Suzu) was referenced in :re by Kaneki during Arima’s death scene. You can read about it here. Stormy Night also seems to have influenced :re.]

No. 29

June 16 is Wagashi Day! Now then Sensei, please share with us a confectionary that you like!

It’s not available in Fukuoka, but sweet mochi cake.

I want some now.

[T/N: Wagashi is traditional Japanese confectionaries.]

No. 30

June 23 is Olympics Day! Now then Sensei, please share with us a competition from the Olympics that you still remember to this day!

Uchimura Kouhei’s horizontal bar performance at the London Olympics.

I don’t really watch TV much, so questions like these are tough for me to answer.

No. 31

Please share with us your slogan for the latter half of 2016!

I won’t be late. I wasn’t able to keep that promise for the first half of the year.

Good luck with that.

No. 32

Sensei, please secretly tell us about one shop that you think is the King of Restaurants!

The Chinese restaurant by my previous workplace.

The stir-fried oyster with lettuce was perfection.

No. 33

Summer has arrived! Now then Sensei, what do you think of as “summer food”?

The spicy Mexican crispy noodle salad from Family Mart.

Ah that, that was so good. But I don’t see them sold anywhere now...

No. 34

If you could see exactly one historical event or incident live in person, what would you want to see?

I want to see Tezuka Osamu-sensei’s workplace.

The Perry Expedition.

[T/N: Tezuka is the “father of manga”, having drawn iconic manga like Astro Boy, Black Jack, and the currently airing anime Dororo.]

No. 35

When  you think of summer, you think of the ocean! If you could raise just one sea creature as a pet what would you choose?

An octopus.

So I can eat it.

No. 36

Sensei, please share with us the most nerve-wracking moment you’ve ever experienced in your life!

That time when I had to address a speech to over a hundred people for the launch of the anime.

Finishing the manuscript before the deadline of the final chapter.

No. 37-38

Sensei, please share with us a word or phrase that’s been stuck in your head recently!

“Pandas exploding in the wild.”

It’s from group_inou.

No. 39

Sensei, please share with us a small luxury that you use in your everyday life!

On days I stay up all night I buy carbonated drinks.

Feels kinda pathetic huh.

No. 40

The disbanding of idol groups nationwide is hot news, but please tell us about an experience that you’re still reluctant to part ways with.

A little while ago, I bought a copy of Jump every week for several months.

It was so I could read Hunter x Hunter.

[T/N: Question is most likely talking about the disbanding of the top male idol group SMAP which was announced around this time of the year.]

No. 41

Sensei, what item makes you think, “whoever invented this is a genius”?

The PC.

Amazon.

No. 42

What was the most interesting reception you’ve received up until now that has made you the happiest?

I got a shikishi from the staff to commemorate 100 chapters of being serialized. Though no one from that time is left anymore...

I also got a shikishi from the current staff. I was happy.

No. 43

Sensei, please share with us a moment that’s made you feel the generation gap the most!

Encountering people who were born in the 2000′s.

Sha-Mail.

No. 44

It’s Reader Autumn! Please tell us what you consider as your bible!

Recently it’s “Speak Aloud and Rhyme”.

Now it’s “Drawing the Morphological Human Body with Boxes and Cylinders”.

No. 45

Sensei, please tell us about a manga/anime/novel that you’d like to see as a movie!

I’m looking forward to “Satoshi: A Move for Tomorrow” being released this fall.

I missed the chance to watch it.

No. 46

Sensei, what were you most enthusiastic about playing with when you were in school?

Smash Bros.

Games that are updated periodically.

No. 47

Sensei, please tell us about something that you’ve used for many years and have been unable to throw away!!

I throw things away when I need to.

My Cintiq 22HD (DTK-2000/K1) LCD tablet. The size and responsiveness of it matches it better than the latest model.

No. 48

Sensei, when was the moment you felt you became independent?

If I’m living.

What? Probably when I got my pay cheque.

No. 49

November 2 is Family Culture Day! Sensei, please tell us about a rule that’s only found in your household!

Playing no more than 1 hour of games a day.

That’s proper.

No. 50

Sensei, please share with us any furniture/interior work that you want to replace right now!

The bookshelf.

Same.

No. 51

Sensei, please share with us the first CD you’ve ever bought!

Morishita Reika’s “Your Wind is Blowing” (most likely).

Most likely, yeah.

No. 52

This year has had various movies become blockbuster hits, but in your opinion what work do you consider as a hit?

It’s actually a drama, but Game of Thrones.

I recommend it.

previous || next

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (36 of 42?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @courtorderedcake, @facesiousbutton82 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

Present (Friday, continued)...

The terrible, grating screech of the church's crooked door negated any chance of sneaking in unnoticed, but Jones somehow doubted that stealth was ever Emma's intent. She stormed into the cathedral, yanking her arm from his pretend grip, unraveling the ropes in an explosion of uncontained fury.

"Get away from him, you bastard!!"

Jones caught a brief glimpse of an enormous hulking figure near the opposite end of the sanctuary, its hunched bulk dappled with tinted sunlight, but then his attention turned to a more pressing matter: the group of guard slaves clambering to their feet along either wall. He drew his stun gun and took aim. He could not worry about Emma now; his only chance of helping would be to watch her back.

The continuous ache from his injured sternum grew ever sharper with each squeeze of the trigger; in fact, it seemed to be radiating gradually upward in bursts, like the pulse of blood through his veins. He ignored it and sought a way to blockade themselves inside, to keep out further foes until the Master could be subdued. He heard Emma's gun roaring as she stalked down the center aisle, apparently willing to gamble that Killian would not be struck by a stray bullet.

Another stunned slave went down hard near a tipped pew. Jones bent to grasp the seat, prepared to drag the entire bench in front of the door. They had all the makings of a respectable barricade, if he could only…

His hand flew to his chest with the first pull as massive, crushing pain accompanied the effort, leaving him staggered and breathless, feeling exactly where he'd been three years ago, when the poison in his heart was at its strongest. But that couldn't be... he was cured... it was impossible for…

KNEEL.

The detective found himself on his knees even before the voice had finished reverberating through his mind. He shook his head, disoriented and still clutching his chest. The Master... it was coming... and he had to…

More grim slaves marched through the door, and Jones meant to stun them, but found he could not raise his gun.

He really ought to warn Emma.

NO.

He didn't. Couldn't.

The sheriff put up a good struggle but was quickly overwhelmed.

So was he, unnecessarily. Fellow slaves surrounded him. Not touching, knowing he was as good as bound, there on his knees with his Master's will pressing down.

Emma snarled, a wild sound of pure frustration. The beast on the dais rose and swiveled to face the intruders. Behind it, partially obscured by gnarled crab legs and writhing tentacles, slumped Killian, ashen and still.

The Master, despite an obvious bullet wound through its shoulder, exuded calm. It smiled coldly.

"Sheriff. And Tripod the Second. I've been waiting for this day." It used a handkerchief to clean ominously human-looking blood from its long fingers as it took a step closer. Emma started cussing the monster out; without emotion, it waved a mild hand and the nearest slave drove a fist into her middle. She reeled, silenced, the wind driven from her lungs.

A conflicted Jones knew he ought to take action but could not rise to his feet. No hands held him down; he was being restrained by an invisible force equally as effective. He found himself staring up into the Master's beady eyes. It leered down at him, and it seemed as if it were directly in front of him, not 15 yards away.

"This other human, the one who shares your face... he is a special favorite of mine," said the Master, glancing back at what very well could be Killian's corpse. "I've been... rather rough with him. I'm afraid I may have used him all up."  

It scuttled down the steps, stopped briefly in front of Emma, and said,

"I have enjoyed watching you, Sheriff. Your desperation. I don't normally get much pleasure from female Voices... but yours may be an exception."

Still out of breath, Emma nevertheless took the opportunity to tell the Master exactly where it should go. Its only response was a condescending pat on the head before it moved away.

The searing cramp in Jones' chest grew in intensity, and the small part of his mind that had so far evaded the Master's control wondered if he might be suffering an actual heart attack. In response to the stress of the situation, or the terror of what awaited him now that their plan had failed. He cringed back slightly as the monster neared, then heard the commanding voice again.

GIVE YOURSELF.

He froze, trembling. The Vocivore stopped a few feet away. A tentacle slithered out from beneath its waistcoat and traced the healing gash on his cheek, prompting a flinch that would not come. Absently scratching at its torso, the Master continued exploring its new prize.

"Thus far, you taste much the same, my three-legged one."

SLAVE.

The tentacle snaked its way down his front, past the bandaged torso, lower, lower, until it found the bottom hem of the borrowed slave costume. It curled upward again, lost from view, and for an instant, his Master took on Mother Gothel’s face, her cold leer smothering him in disdain as she held him with her dark power.

"I am inclined to allow myself a more thorough introduction.” The voice and face gradually resolved back into the five-eyed monster, and the tentacle slipped away with obvious reluctance. “But perhaps I should save you for a day when I'm missing my first Tripod..."

It pressed a claw to a violet stain in its clothing, looking vaguely miffed. "On the other hand, I do have need of extra energy just now. You can thank your sheriff friend over there while you scream for me, hmm?"

"Yes... Master..." came the strangled response, and Jones was hauled to his feet. He realized he still held the stun gun, and felt a sudden shame for having launched an attack on his Master. With eyes downcast, he offered the weapon to the imposing figure before him, who took it without a word. Its tentacle slithered down to Jones' handless wrist and curled around the fake ring there.

"Not a bad deception. But did you truly believe I would not sense your approach?"

"We..."

Jones trailed off. What had they been thinking? Why didn't they plan to immediately surrender themselves? In fact, what was the whole United Realms doing, plotting against their rightful Master? "I... I don't..."

He reached up to massage his eyes and found tears there. His chest throbbed fiercely; it was growing more and more difficult to breathe. His Master yanked suddenly on the coat hanger replica, which yielded easily, sliding free of the bandage holding it in place. A pincer joined the tentacle in exploration, gripping the cut end to bend the thin metal out of shape.

"I've lost my assistant, the one who designed and placed the original stake-and-ring restraint in your counterpart over there. But it appears he won't need it for much longer. I'm sure we can arrange for you to inherit it."

Revulsion and fear crashed over him, followed immediately by more shame. His Master knew best.

The Vocivore smiled, still rubbing at some invisible annoyance beneath the bloodstained breast pocket of its waistcoat. "For now, though... well… I was promised a scream."

It opened its pincer, revealing the now-straightened coat hanger entwined in its tentacle. A nod at the slave to Jones' right was enough to communicate its command, and the man snatched his wrist above his clenched fist and stretched his arm out toward their Master.

SCREAM FOR ME.

The jagged, cut end of the hangar snagged the skin of his upturned wrist, trailing fire as it went, until, with a quick and brutal thrust, the metal was driven into the flesh beneath his tattoo. A grunt of pained surprise accompanied the instinctive struggle, despite orders to the contrary. But it was not enough to produce a scream, even when more force was applied and the flexible metal burrowed its way further underneath the painted skin. Jones fought weakly, tense and growling, feeling the scalding, tearing trauma as several inches of foreign body deformed the subcutaneous tissue of his forearm.

Instead of continuing to enter smoothly, the metal suddenly bent at the puncture site, and the Master ceased the application of pressure. Its menacing face and jowls glistened with its own version of sweat, it was panting nearly as rapidly as Jones, and its five eyes reflected the barest hint of uneasy discomfort, but it continued to behave in a most dignified manner.

"Tripod the First was like this, to begin with. Stoic beyond reason. I should have expected no less from his duplicate."

Jones squinted his eyes open, remorse tightening his throat at the thought of having disappointed his Master. He caught a glimpse of the metal protruding from his arm and cringed, but kept silent. He heard Emma renew her efforts to escape; what was she doing? Didn't she know their Master had every right to do with them as it wished? The Vocivore, however, paid her no mind, trusting its guards to keep control. Almost carelessly, it wound the remaining length of hanger around Jones' wrist, fashioning an obscene bracelet of pain. Then it took a single step back.

Its newest slave watched through watering eyes as the monster prodded its own chest and examined the fingers that came away dry. Then it seemed to catch sight of the stun gun still hanging from its other hand, and it rotated the weapon thoughtfully back and forth, lifting it to eye level.

"Non-lethal, yes?" it remarked. Jones nodded. It took no great feat of imagination to predict what would happen next, and his adrenaline levels skyrocketed, but he stood resolute. If his Master willed it...

The muzzle came up to rest against Jones' left shoulder, just below the clavicle.

"At point-blank range?"

"I... don't know," murmured Jones, shivering. The gun pressed deeper; the Master's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Don't!" Emma pleaded, and she received a wallop to the jaw for her efforts.

I REQUIRE YOUR SCREAMS.

The startling pop of discharge preceded a red-hot surge of gunpowder. The force of the electrified projectile twisted Jones sideways and back, out of the grip of his guards. The first blaze of agony was immediately disrupted by a storm of power frying every nerve ending, contracting muscles in uncoordinated spasms and outlining his twitching form in pins and needles. The jolt to his brain restored true awareness of self, just for an instant, so that the Master became once again the enemy they fought. Its grotesque figure flickered with the same sparks swirling in Jones' vision; its voice fled his frazzled thoughts. And Jones knew he was going to die.

He struck the ground in possession of the knowledge, aware of that fact more than any other. When the charge burned itself out and shattered senses slowly gathered into regained continuity, and his diaphragm coordinated enough to resume its vital work, Jones’ thoughts turned to his daughter.

It was like an apology and a goodbye, the clarity of emotion drowning out all physical pain. Regret and yearning, loneliness and grief. He couldn’t bear to leave her, not now, not after all they’d been through… it wouldn’t be fair…

Jones’ screams, when they came, weren’t for the metal buried in his forearm or the shattered shock projectile embedded in his shoulder, but for the familiar, terrible pain in his heart.

And should anyone have chanced a look at the writhing, wounded man on the chapel floor, they may have noticed a pulsing green light shining between the fingers of his white-knuckled fist.

[whiskynottea]

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43

AO3

@theministerskat , thank you so much for being such an awesome beta!

Chapter 44. Dreams

In the morning, I felt Jamie’s soft lips against my cheek. His whispered words mingled with my dreams, causing me to doubt that he was really in my room - Lallybroch’s guest room.

“We’re leaving, Sassenach,” he announced, lightly pecking my lips with a kiss that didn’t quite alleviate my want for him.

“What time is it?” I asked confused, opening my eyes to see the most beautiful sky blue in his. He wore an indigo t-shirt and jeans, and he was smiling.

“Seven-fifteen. Go back to sleep. We’ll be back before ye know it.” With that, the heat of his body vanished from my side. I heard the door close behind him, and my heavy eyelids shut the light out again. It was too early.

I nuzzled my pillow, pulled the covers up to my chin, and thought of him.

Dream a little dream of me.

I woke up almost four hours later, and stared at my phone, stunned at how late I had slept. 

That’s what holidays are for, right?

Relieved that Brian wasn’t there to witness my waking hours - the man woke up before dawn - I stretched my body languorously and got out of bed. Having the entire house to myself had its advantages. Without bothering to get dressed, I padded to the kitchen in my pyjamas, looking forward to a warm cup of coffee. 

It was a beautiful summer day. The rays of sunshine squeezed through the curtains to dance upon the wooden kitchen table, Bran barked his disagreement with the chickens’ behavior in the yard, birds were chirping from the trees next to the back door, their song a praise to the cloudless sky. 

The house was quiet and I closed my eyes. The coffee’s scent had filled the room and I inhaled deeply, listening to all the sounds that were usually swallowed by the constant buzz of the city. I was far away from Edinburgh, and yet, this place felt like home. 

Lallybroch held a distinctive warmth, like a wisp of vanilla and cinnamon enfolding me when I stepped into the house. Brian, Jenny, Jamie… They had opened their arms to me. Even Ellen, with her fiery locks flying in the wind, smiled at me through the picture on Brian’s desk. Her eyes kind, her gaze conspicuous. Take care of them.

I suddenly felt alone. There was a note with Jamie’s writing on the table and I picked it up to see a smiley face next to a hastily-written ‘Good morning, babe. Breakfast in the oven.’ I chuckled and opened the oven door to find a bowl of porridge, with blueberries and toasted nuts.

My little chef. Jamie Fraser is not little. My personal chef, I amended.

With a smile, I took the bowl with one hand, my coffee with the other, and headed to the library. On my way there I realized I had left my phone in the kitchen, but I had read Jamie’s good morning text already, and it would probably be a while before he could send another message.

We had been at Lallybroch just for a day, when Jamie’s coach had called him, asking if he and his father could return to Edinburgh because he needed to talk to them – both of them. He apologized for the inconvenience but insisted it was important. 

Jamie and I had spent the previous night on the couch, him lying on my outstretched legs, making guesses as to the meeting’s purpose. At last, we agreed that Jamie’s coach would want to talk to Brian about Jamie’s future, and make sure he would continue training with the team during the next year.

Which was ideal, concerning our gap year plans.

Our applications to the colleges at Oxford University would be due in October. Our interviews would follow in December, and by the beginning of the new year we would know if we were accepted.

We would - I knew it. And then we would celebrate our success with a trip to Paris, just as we had agreed. Maybe Rome, too, depending on our budget.

Our budget was currently at zero, but we had come up with a way to fix that tiny detail. We had both started looking for jobs in Edinburgh, and we wanted to talk to Brian about our plans as soon as possible, because he had to let Jamie stay with Murtagh one more year. Maybe it would be easier after the meeting, if his coach talked to Brian about the importance of Jamie’s training.

But just in case, we had a backup plan too. Once Brian set his mind to something, it was difficult to convince him to change it - just like his son. So if he would insist on Jamie staying at Lallybroch, I would go with him and find a job in Inverness. We wouldn’t spend our gap year apart when the last year we had been just a phone call and 10 minutes away.

Thinking of my phone, I remembered the message he had sent me that morning and a wide grin spread across my face. It had been a gif of a sleepy baby, and a text saying how much he would like to be in bed with me. 

Just a few more hours and he will be back.  

Perched in my armchair – the olive armchair that I had declared mine – I ate my breakfast, staring at the bookshelves and wondering what to read. My gaze fell on Circe, the book Jenny had suggested, and I soon found myself lost in its pages, forgetting to finish my coffee.

I was so engrossed with my book, that the next time I checked the big clock on the wall behind me I sprang to my feet and almost ran to the kitchen. 

Two hours had passed, and the meeting would certainly be finished by now. I was sure that I would find tons of messages from Jamie wondering where I was – and yet, there was nothing.

Sassenach: Jamie? Are you still in the meeting?

Five minutes passed without a reply. Five minutes, even though he was online.

Sassenach: Jamie?

He didn’t read my messages.

Calm down, he probably hasn’t checked his phone. I heard a little, calm voice in my head.

But he’s online. An evil second one, added.

Sassenach: Is everything okay?

Nothing came in response to my texts. I paced back and forth in the kitchen, then back to the library to retrieve my bowl.

I checked my phone again. Nothing. I washed the bowl to avoid sending yet another message. Once my hands were dry again, I grabbed my phone from the table, typing furiously.

Sassenach: Where are you?

Finally, three dots appeared on my screen – only to disappear again. I felt my stomach clench. Jamie never hesitated when messaging with me. But he had never avoided me before either.

I typed again, but deleted my message. I stood in the middle of the kitchen – his kitchen – on that same beautiful summer day, and yet I shivered. I stared at my phone’s screen, waiting, willing myself not to text him again. Finally, his picture appeared on my screen, next to a new message.

Scot: Coming home, Sassenach.

That was all? No emojis, not even an exclamation point?

Sassenach: Are you alright?

Scot: Yes, fine. Ttyl. 

Talk to you later, my ass.

That wasn’t fine. It was far from fine. Miles away from fine. Jamie never texted like this.

What the hell happened in Edinburgh?

I spent the next two hours watching the clock, wishing the hands to move faster. Wishing Brian to speed up, to bring Jamie back home to me.

I needed to see him, to listen to him say he was ‘fine’ and look me in the eye. He wasn’t fine.

I had tried to resume reading, but I couldn’t focus. I could do nothing but pace back and forth, then sink in the armchair in despair only to find that my limbs needed to move as much as my lungs needed to breathe.

The house suddenly seemed too big, too empty. Every little sound drew my attention, upsetting me. A subtle sound of plates settling on the drying rack in the kitchen, scaring me half to death, a door creaking, the roof clicking… And above every other sound, the one of my nerves rattling. The same question repeating itself in my head, loud and clear.

What is wrong? What had happened?

We had everything planned, we had thought of a solution for every possible problem. This meeting was supposed to help us.

And yet, Jamie wasn’t speaking to me. We had promised we would share everything, and now he wasn’t opening up to me.

I had my head buried in my hands when I heard Brian’s car and then the front door opening. I walked to the foyer to find Brian alone, his brow furrowed, mirroring mine. 

“Jamie?” I asked, hesitantly. 

“He’s outside, lass. Give him a moment, aye?” His eyes were soft, his lips pressed in a tight line. As if he was sorry.

Sorry for what?

I nodded, but my lips moved involuntarily, asking “Why?”, even though I knew there would be no answer to my question. 

I waited five minutes. Five excruciating minutes, and then I walked back to the front door, put my shoes on, took a deep breath and stepped out. The sun blinded me for a second, and then I saw him, tall and impressive, red hair fiercer than the sun, standing on end in all possible directions.

With a shaking breath, I walked to him. He stood with his back towards the house, facing the hills, just as he had told me he did as a child, when he felt sad. The scenery calmed him down; wild and tamed, it was like him.

All my anger about him not replying to my messages and then being cold evaporated like fine mist under the sun’s heat. I wanted to hug him. To wrap my hands around his waist and bring him to me, whispering that it would be alright. But as I took a final step towards him, I felt afraid, unsure of how to approach him. I placed my hand between his shoulder blades tenderly, wishing not to startle him.

Jamie took a deep breath and let it out in a single word. “Sassenach.”

I had never heard that tone in his voice before. A relief, feeling my hand on him, mixed with concern and something that was terribly close to fear. 

“Jamie?” My voice was small, but my steps were steady as I walked to face him. “What did your coach say?”

Jamie pursed his lips together, just as Brian had done minutes ago. “Come with me?” he asked, unsure.

“Of course.” I smiled and turned to take his hand. My eyes lingered on the scraped knuckles, the blood still fresh, painting his fingers. “What happened?” I asked, swallowing with difficulty. 

“I punched a tree,” he answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You punched a tree.” I repeated. “And I guess if I go check, the tree will be worse than you, right?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Ye’re really funny, Claire, have I told ye so?” he mocked me, but his lips curled up.

“I think you have,” I said, and took his other hand in mine. “Let’s go inside to clean that up, you bloody Scot.”

His laughter came stronger this time, and I revelled in the sound. As long as I could make him laugh, all would be well. 

Jamie sat quiet while I cleaned and bandaged his wounds. When I finished he pulled me closer, breathed in, and said, “My very own doctor.”

“Always,” I whispered, placing a kiss on the side of his neck. I pulled away then, scowling at him. “Why the hell did you do that?”

Jamie shrugged, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I didna ken what else to do.”

“Will you finally tell me what has happened? I’ve been waiting for hours, Jamie, and you kept me in the dark.”

“Claire,” he said, and his hand came to rest on my cheek. “Ye ken I love ye, aye?”

Things are worse than I thought.

“Tell me,” I pressed, feeling my heart speeding up. 

The kitchen was suddenly too small, the walls too thick to let me breathe. Jamie must had felt it too, because he took my hand and walked us outside again. 

“Come, Sassenach,” he said, when I pulled us in a stop. “I want us to be alone.”

We walked up the hill behind the house and sat on the grass. The view was beautiful, the sun caressing the hills, hues of green and yellow coloring the earth, as if an invisible hand had painted them fresh that same morning. Walking had soothed my nerves, but when I caught my breath again I felt the anxiety build in my chest, rising up in my throat, threatening to choke me.

“Tell me,” I demanded again, before tears could come to my eyes. This tension was painful, the truth he kept from me mocking me from the shadows, hidden, powerful, intimidating. I needed to know.

“There was another coach in the meeting today,” he started, and I took a breath to steady myself, but Jamie didn’t continue.

“And?” I asked, impatient.

Jamie turned away from me, hiding his face in his hands, rubbing his temples. “I was offered a scholarship,” he mumbled in his hands, so low that I wasn’t sure I had heard correctly.

“What?” I froze.

I should be hugging him now.

I wanted to move. I wanted to do something more than just stare at him, lost. Something that wouldn’t aid him in building a wall between us. “A scholarship?” I whispered, striving for more words. “That’s wonderful, Jamie!”

God my heart hurts.

The scholarship wasn’t for Oxford. Because if it was, he would have called me the moment he had left his coach’s office. 

In that moment, seeing my world tumbling down, I smiled the strangest smile of my life. Happy, sad, afraid.

Happy for him. Sad for me. Afraid for us.

He turned in my arms and cupped my face with both hands. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do, Jamie,” I answered and kissed the lips that I ached for all day, tasting him. Counting.

One more kiss, now that he’s still mine.

I needed that kiss, and all the kisses that would follow, to feel his presence next to me, inside my heart. To believe that the end of the world hadn’t come yet. “I do,” I repeated. “Tell me about the scholarship.”

“The coach was from the University of Michigan,” he said in a low voice, as if the volume would change the blow. 

Michigan. The United States. 

Oh God.

I listened to him quietly, not daring to trust my voice, unsure if I wanted to bring my feelings to the surface. This was a great opportunity for him. Maybe the best thing that could have ever happened. Jamie explained to me that the University of Michigan had one of the best bachelor programs for business administration in the US, and one of the best swimming and diving teams. He wore his mask tight, careful to show no emotions. Maybe because he couldn’t sort them out either.

“They have an Olympic sized pool for student-athletes, coaches and sports-specific dieticians and physios. Michael Phelps trained at the University of Michigan.”

Michael Phelps. Jamie’s first crush before he met me.

“It’s going to be amazing, Jamie. I’m so happy for you,” I said and hugged him again. I didn’t want to let go. I needed to keep him there, with me, in that moment while we were still together. But all I could see in front of me were broken dreams, their shards painful against my skin, carving a smile on my face that was neither fake or genuine. 

I didn’t know how to feel. At that moment, I understood why Jamie hadn’t replied to my messages, why he’d hit that tree. It was happiness and anguish mingled together in the most inexplicable way.

“I didn’t say I’m going,” he said pulling away, his eyes searching mine. Dropping his mask.

In that moment, I saw his dreams and aspirations tearing him apart in front of my eyes. Half a heart here, half there. Torn, no matter what.

I wouldn’t do that to him.

“You didn’t accept?” I asked, my voice matter of fact.

“No.” He shook his head repeatedly, as if to prove his innocence, his devotion.

“Jamie, you should. This is like a dream coming true.”

My smile was genuine this time. Not our dream, but his. There was not a me anymore, just him. I had to see him safe, whole. And if I had to sacrifice a part of me to do that, I would gladly cut it out myself.

“I ken,” he said, his voice light at the thought of accepting the offer. “But what about us, Sassenach? Michigan is… far,” he finished lamely.

Too far. But still. 

I took a deep breath, forced the widest smile on my face and took his hand between both mine.

“Are you kidding me? You have the opportunity to go to the US on a scholarship and you’re thinking about it?”

Jamie didn’t say anything, just looked at me. 

“You said you love me,” I said.

“I do!” he exclaimed, his hand squeezing mine. His eyes honest, shining with unshed tears under the sunshine.

“Well, I love you too, you bloody Scot. You will go to Michigan, and we’ll make it work. If…” I trailed off. “If you still want that. Us.”

Jamie wrapped an arm around my waist, claiming my lips with his. “Of course I want that.” His whisper was hot on my lips. “You’re the most important thing in my life, Claire!”

I smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “We will FaceTime, we will visit, and you’ll come home during breaks, right?” Jamie nodded, and it was my turn to take his lips in mine. It was a long, unhurried kiss; trying to convince us both that we could make it work. 

“He said I have to hurry, if I want to start in January. I have to take the SATs and complete my application by the 1st of October.”

“Then that is what you’ll do.” I shrugged, and smoothed the frown between his eyebrows with my index finger.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, and I silenced him with another kiss.

“I’m sure. You have to go teach Michael Phelps how things are done.”

His laughter. That boisterous sound, filling every empty nook of my soul.

“I dinna ken what I would do without ye, Sassenach,” Jamie whispered, still smiling. The sigh that followed felt as if the weight of the world had been taken away from his shoulders.

And set upon mine.

As we walked back to the house, hands tightly clasped together, I could feel my heart beat with difficulty, my brain hurt.

No Paris. No Rome. No Oxford.

No sleeping in Jamie’s arms every night.

No waking up to his whisper breathing ‘good morning’ in my ear every day.

Dreams crushed, like the wildflowers underneath our shoes.

Chapter 45

[kaiba-fangirl]

Fill in the questions/statement as if you are being interviewed for an article and you were your muse

Tag 10 people to do this meme, (repost, don’t reblog)

TAGGED BY: not @rogueprinceconsort =P & I know I’m not a RP blog, but I am a fanfic author so I still do the same kind of stuff, just everyone at once with chapters, so I’m sure ya won’t mind... idk itching to write Seto but his mind is all over the place in Ch7 of And You? (AO3/FFN), & I know I’ve missed a bunch of personal tags in the past, so, well, I’m here now. TAGGING: anyone 1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

“Seto Kaiba.”  (海馬 瀬人 Kaiba, Seto)

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?

He narrows his eyes, already suspicious. “Legally, that IS my real name.”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT?

“I was born Seto,” he answers flatly, then smirks. “The Kaiba family name I earned for myself and my little brother at the age of 10, when Gozaburo agreed to adopt us thanks to my, superior negotiating skills.” [Seto after Egyptian Pharaoh Seth. Kaiba for, apparently, hippocampus/seahorse.]

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN? “Taken. Happily married to the number 1 female duelist, Mai Valentine. She’s now heading the new Fashion Tech and Merchandise Department at Kaiba Corp.” [but he’s also still looking >.>]

5. HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS? “Just bleeding edge technology development and superior dueling skills,” he shrugs smugly. [and hacking.] [You also accidentally activate latent magical powers every so often, dumbass. Sure he’s a genius. A genius that weaves techno-sorcery into everything & commands gods without even knowing it.] “Anything else you may have heard about magic or spirits or real monsters, is all just nonsense hocus pocus. It’s sensationalists trying to make our amazingly life-like holographic projections seem dangerous.”

6. STOP BEING A MARY SUE/GARY STU. “Heh, doesn’t that just mean born talented? You should be so lucky.”

7. WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR? “Blue,” he chuckles childishly. “It was probably what first drew me to, you know, Blue-Eyes, when I was young.” [It’s not. The Blue-Eyes White Dragon was his magical monster of light ‘girlfriend’ in Ancient Egypt in a past life of his 3000 years ago.]

8. HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR? “Chestnut.”

9. HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS? “Living, my little brother, Mokuba, and now my lovely wife.”

10. OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS? “No pets. I barely have time for having two people in my life now it seems, and that’s even with Mokuba off travelling.” [any pet energy is expended on more Blue-Eyes White Dragon themed everything]

11. THAT’S COOL I GUESS, NOW TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE. “You wanna see a REAL Gary Stu?! As in, there is no reason he should have made it this far?! Joey fuckin Wheeler. This loser stole his way into my tournament, then has the nerve to even challenge me for 3rd place as if that meant anything, and he still ends up 4th even?! How! He operates on pure luck, and leeching off his ‘friends!’ His deck is a mess, I mean have you even seen his lineup?!?!” [Well that would all be redacted. Now, since this is for an interviewer for a published article...] He calmly and thoughtfully looks off at a spot on the far wall behind the interviewer. He purses his lips and furrows his brow, genuinely distraught, drawing from a direct encounter. “I’m actually more concerned than ever about the state of refugees- whether they have that official label or not. Around the world. Especially the children. These children don’t know what’s going on, and people say they care about children, but they really don’t. They’re not thinking of those kids- of refugee kids. Of poor kids. Of orphans or abused kids. And the way these refugees are being treated, those kids are getting hit with all those things at once. Ya know, I- I was fortunate enough to have that opportunity to be adopted, in a strong first-world nation, but I know what it’s like, to know that the grown ups are just using you, not listening to you. You’re nothing to them; maybe pawns. Now, I’m doing all I can, as president of Kaiba Corp, but there is still only so much we can do. We’re not making tanks or any weapons at all anymore-” He chokes at the thought of a tank staring him down specifically, compared to the latest news. He clears his throat to manage. “Not since the day I took over. We may not be contributing to that military industrial complex anymore, but the state of refugees today is still just as bad if not worse. Now they’re using weapons outlawed by the Geneva Conventions, and in countries that pride themselves on freedom and opportunity. Pteh. It’s madness. It’s evil.” [...aaand that just became the cover story] [We’ll be back after after a short break.]

12. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING? “Besides dueling, uh, tinkering. Reading. Hacking into random databases I shouldn’t be in.”

13. EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE? “Next question. Don’t even print that, or you’ll be hearing from my lawyers. And they don’t play so nice.” [By ‘lawyers’ I’m pretty sure he just means goons.]

14. EVER… KILLED ANYONE BEFORE? "No.” [Gozaburo.]

15. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU? "Dragon.”

16. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS. "Tch, I wouldn’t have gotten to be president of a multi-billion-dollar corporation if I had bad habits.”  [That is literally his worst habit. Also how he got there is because of all his bad habits.] He chuckles at what he’s about to make fun of. “Then again, some people think that working too much is a bad habit.”

17. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL? "How could I when I’m already on top?”

18. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL? "Irrelevant.” He smiles menacingly. “Card games are more important anyway.” [Bi and trying to figure out how to tell his wife. Then again once he does that, the press will be easy. Possibly also grey ace or demi, since he does enjoy the physical aspects of being married & his crush.]

19. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL? “Graduated high school early and then went right back to work as CEO, at the time. I don’t have time to waste getting a piece of paper to validate my knowledge that I’m already putting to use at Kaiba Corp everyday. --but I certainly support everyone staying in school as long as they can. Kaiba Corp offers a free college tuition program for any employee, paid ahead of time, and schedules can be worked around class and homework time as needed.”

20. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY? “I never thought I would want to marry, but I have always assumed I would want to adopt. Now I am married, and we both want to adopt. Someday. It needs to be when I can have time for them...” [and he’s wondering why you are supposed to only marry one person...]

21. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANBOYS/FANGIRLS? “Yeah,” he laughs, genuinely embarrassed at this level of pure idolization, “I find it endearing to see people dress up as Yugi and I at events.”

22. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF? “Losing my little brother.”

23. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR? “Full-length pants, tight fitting turtlenecks, boots, and a trenchcoat. More leather and straps and buckles, the better.”

24. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE? “Of course. My little brother and my wife.” [and Joey]

25. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WET YOURSELF? [he just makes this face:]

[but possibly the last time he did hard drugs]

26. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? (HIGH CLASS, MIDDLE CLASS, LOW CLASS) “Highest class.” He winks, for the spotlight.

27. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? “I don’t need ‘friends’ outside of my family.”

28. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE? “Finally, an intelligent question!” he laughs rudely. “My thoughts are that we should change the standard approximation for π to something closer to 3.16. That’s what I use in my calculations, and I find things just seem to work out better for me because of it.”

29. FAVORITE DRINK? “I’ve started drinking a lot more water, and I think that’s pretty much all I drink lately.”

30. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE? “It’s comforting being in my office, knowing where I belong, knowing that with me there, everyone I love is safe, knowing how I got there, and being proud of all I’ve accomplished, but...” [sometimes anxiety about it being Gozaburo’s old office creeps into his mind like an evil spirit or ghost...] “But more than that, I enjoy the wild freedom of just taking my Blue-Eyes jet out with some good music playing.” [oh my various gods he will always be an emo teen at heart <3]

31. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE? He scoffs. “Yes, I am genuinely interested in my wife. Mai is an amazing person. And- Ah, and, um, next question?” [and Joey!]

32. WHAT’S YOUR BRA CUP SIZE AND/OR HOW BIG IS YOUR WILLY? “What kind of magazine is this for, anyway?” he asks as an aside, then thinks up a ridiculous enough response. “Ever hear of Zorc? I’d say that’s roughly one-third the size of mine.” Under his breath, he scoffs in disgust. “Imbeciles.”

33. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN? “Er, a private pool, thanks. Too many paparazzi anyplace else, and I wouldn’t want to close off anything from the public.” [I hear there’s a river in Egypt he lives in though]

34. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? “Independent. Strong. Great duelist. Someone who knows what it’s like at rock bottom, but still managed to claw their way to the top...” [he spaces out off to the side]

35. ANY FETISHES? *zoom out to room full of Blue-Eyes White Dragon themed EVERYTHING* “Nah.” [*insert Will Smith presenting his AO3 tags]

36. SEME OR UKE? TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE?

[Switch! But “And You?” is stuck at a T rating, sooo...]

37. CAMPING OR INDOORS? "The fuck- you’re giving me whiplash with these questions,” he mutters. “Camping sounds nice. Real camping. Mokuba and I used to build forts and play outside a lot. I should ask him if he wants to go on a camping trip when he gets back. I doubt- well, no, I think Mai would like that, too.” [And Joey can cook them “candy bars!”]

38. ARE YOU WANTING THE QUIZ TO END?

[nobodyzhuman]

Don’t Trust Dumbledore

Chapter 34: 

Draco’s POV

Their deadline was fast approaching and Draco was feeling the stress of it. Add in his growing worry about Harry and he was about ready to snap. What had him worried was the ball of nerves and anxiety that was his mate. It had gotten so bad Harry couldn’t sleep without him. Harry had dragged him into the Room of Requirements every night since the first they had slept there together. Two weeks of not sleeping in their own beds was starting to draw unwanted attention. Not that Draco really cared. They would be home soon. He hoped. There was also how much time Harry was spending with his young parents. Draco could feel disaster coming. He doubted it would happen until they were back in their time, but he could feel it in his bones. Harry was going to suffer a broken heart soon and there was nothing Draco could do to stop it. 

With only two days left, their small group was planning to meet tonight. The meeting was to be held in the shrieking shack. Which he had just learned was only hunted by Lupin’s wolf. He had been shocked when Harry gleefully told him that. The meeting was to make sure they had everything ready for the ritual.. Which Draco knew they didn’t. There were two small ingredients missing. One he needed to get and one Harry did. Only he hadn’t been able to pull his mate away from either of his parents long enough to tell him about it. 

His father had scowled at him, the night before when he told him. Lucius told him to stop putting it off or he himself would drag Potter out into the greenhouses to find the right flower. 

He was standing in the library at the end of a row of books watching Harry smiling as he talked to his mother. The firey red head had her hand on his arm and was laughing. It was a heartwarming moment until he thought about how she was dead. Not yet, but in two days she would be. At least from his perspective, he looked at Harry, dreading when that fact finally sunk in. 

He cleared his throat getting both of their attention. “Sorry, “ he said. “I need Evan for a little while.” Lily just smiled happily at him. “No problem. I’ll catch up with you before dinner?” she asked looking at Harry who nodded and pushed to his feet. “I’ll see you then.” 

“What’s up?” Harry asked as they walked away. 

“We need to go to the greenhouses. You need to pick out a flower.” Harry gave him a confused look. 

“The ritual we are using is a mix of two I found. Most of it is simple, a chalk lined circle with well chosen runes and candles. All placed or drawn in just the right way to help direct the magic to doing what we want. There is also a leather strap tied by either Lupin or father, to bind us together. It ensures we travel and stay together. The last two ingredients are flowers that represent us to the magic. We have everything but those.” He stopped for a second, cursing himself for forgetting. “We will also need to pick one out for the headmaster.” 

Harry stopped walking. “Why?” 

“The ritual will take us back to Hogwarts, the headmaster is tapped into the castles wards. I have tried my best to set the circle to keep us hidden, linking it to just us, but if we add in a flower to represent him and cover it with a warded black cloth, it should help hide us.” 

Harry nodded. “So I have to pick a flower that represents me?” he asked. 

Draco shook his head. “No, it works better if you pick one for me and I pick one for you.” 

“Oh,” was all the Gryffindor said. Draco separated them into different greenhouses. He didn’t want to pressure Harry about the flower he chose. There was a magic to nature that was delicate and he knew Harry understood this small act was significant. 

Draco didn't have to go far, he had chosen his flower months ago when he designed the ritual. A blue rose. They grew wild outside the last greenhouse and while they weren’t part of the curriculum taught at the school. There were one of the flowers Sev had taught him about. 

Blue roses signified mystery and attaining the impossible. It could also mean love at first sight. The tiny blue flower was Harry in every way. He had wanted Harry from their first meeting even if he hadn’t understood it at the time. They had somehow become friends despite years of rivalry. Not just friends, by mates, if that wasn’t attaining the impossible, Draco didn’t know what was. And well Harry would always be a mystery. It took him the better part of 10 minutes to find and cut off the perfect one. He smiled as he placed a stasis charm on the flower and pocketed it. With that done he walked back to see if Harry had finished. 

He found the smaller teen standing outside the greenhouse he had been in. Two flowers in his hands. Draco’s heart danced at the white snowdrop in Harry’s left hand. Hope and Rebirth. He didn’t know the exact reasons Harry chose that flower, but any flower that told him Harry had hope about him or them was good enough for him. He looked at his mate right hand and winced. A bright red Dahlia. Betrayal and dishonesty. 

“You okay?” he asked Harry. His mate nodded and shoved both flowers at him. He gave Harry a smile as he took the snowdrop and smelled it. He held onto it while he put the dahlia in his pocket with the rose. 

“Have you thought about saying goodbye?” he asked as they walked back to the school. 

“To your dad and Remus, yeah. I don’t think I can to the others.” Draco understood that. 

“I’m sorry” he said softly, reaching out to take Harry’s hand. Harry stumbled a step and looked down at their hands. They hadn’t done this before. Not really. Sure, they had grabbed ahold and dragged each other around by the hand, but never had one of them took the hand just to hold it. His palms started to sweat as he grew nervous, but Harry just tightened his fingers and looked back up at him with a huge smile on his face. 

Relieved, Draco smiled back. 

Luc’s Pov

Luc felt guilty for what he was about to do, but he had thought about it for weeks, and he knew it was needed. He needed it. Taking a deep breath he knocked on the potions classroom door. He knew his mate was behind it. Sev was almost always in there working on something new and exciting.

“Come in,” Severus called out. 

Luc opened the door and sure enough Sev was standing over a boiling cauldron stirring it as the potion switched from green to teal. The black haired teen didn’t look up at him once while he finished mixing and started adding a couple things to it. 

“I need a favor.” He had waited until Sev took a step back from the cauldron. His mate shot him a glare. Luc swallowed. Sev was still upset about him not telling him anything. Although they had found an easy peace of the last week or so, he knew Sev was still angry. 

“What?” his mate drew out with a sigh. 

He stepped forward and handed him a piece of parchment. It was for a potion. One he was sure he could brew himself but he couldn’t take the chance he got something wrong. Severus was a master at potions, he had no doubt if the other teen brew it, it would be perfect. 

“Luc?” His mate sounded worried as he looked up from the potion to study him. “Please tell me what's going on?” The parchment shook in his hand. “This--” 

“I know what it does, Sev.” He stepped forward and took his lover’s chin in his hand. He rubbed his thumb in soothing circles on the other’s cheek. After a second he brushed it over Sev’s bottom lip. His mate closed his eyes and opened his mouth in a soundless plea. They hadn’t touched much since that night.  He knew they were both desperate to feel each other again. He pressed the finger into the warm mouth. Sev moaned as Luc pressed it over the top of the other’s teeth and pushed it further back to rub over his tongue. Said tongue wrapped around his thumb and then Severus sucked. Luc bit back a moan of his own.  

He leaned in to put his mouth just over his lover’s ear and whispered, “Will you make it if I swear it has nothing to do with you?” He felt Sev shiver. 

“Your word,” the other teen demanded over the thumb in his mouth, the pressure of teeth over the top of his finger increased in warning. 

“You have it,” he said softly. Severus nipped at his thumb and Luc pulled it away. 

“Luc, this is a dangerous potion. I wish you would tell me why you need it,” his mate said stepping away from him. 

“Sev, I cannot. Maybe someday this will all make sense.” 

The other teen just shook his head and turned back to his cauldron. “It will be ready in the morning.” 

“Sev,” he pleaded stepping towards his mate. 

“Please, just go,” his mate said softly. He nodded even though Severus wasn’t looking at him and backed out of the room. 

He knew he was asking a lot. Especially with the potion he just begged the man to brew, but he had no other options. He just hoped that in the future when Draco and Harry were back in their own time, this would all make sense to his mate. After all Draco had said Severus was part of the group trying to bring them home. So future him had to understand all past him secrets, right? 

Remus POV

It was a little strange heading into the shack without it being a full moon, but that was the only place all four of them could agree on to meet tonight. They had to perform the ritual the next night, and they wanted to go over everything one final time. Part of him didn’t want to. He was worried something would go wrong. Like Harry and Draco being tossed into yet another time that was not their own. Not to mention Moony was already restless about their cub leaving them. He tried to reassure the wolf they would see him again, but it didn’t seem to believe him. It caused this empty feeling in his chest that he was trying desperately to ignore. 

Harry was already there when he walked into the room. He was sitting in the middle of the room reading over James’s inheritances book. 

“Hey,” he said looking down at his best friend’s son. 

“How’d you know I found my mate?” Harry asked without looking up from his book. 

“Huh?” he asked taken by surprise. 

“When you told me you knew who I was. You knew how? Because I have read this damn thing front to back and it doesn’t say.” Harry growled frustrated at the book.  

“Does it talk about submissives seeking out their mates when overwhelmed?” he asked sitting down next to his cub. Harry nodded, then stopped and looked at him. 

“Is that what I did?” 

Remus nodded. “I kind of blindsided you with the information and you panicked. So your instincts kicked in and told you to get to Draco. Your scent as also changed a bit. I’m sure when you’re home and the glamours are taken away, you will find it more pronounced. Especially if you continue to share a bed.” 

Harry’s cheeks turned bright red and Remus chuckled. He looked away giving his young cub a second to pull himself together. He noticed a different book on the floor. One he was very familiar with. He sighed and picked it up, waving it at Harry in question. 

“I don’t have an animal,” Harry said with a shrug. “Draco has this beautiful leopard. And he says his dad is similar but all black. You’re a werewolf and Dad and Siri are both animagus.” 

“So you want to be as well,” he asked. Harry nodded. 

“How long have you been studying?” he asked placing the book back on the ground. 

“Just the last week or so. I know I won’t get one until I’m back, but I wanted to at least start.” Remus smiled. He could hear both Malfoy’s walking down the tunnel. 

“Cub, ask me about it when you get back okay. I helped those two, I’m sure I can help you.” There was a weird flash of something across Harry’s eyes but he didn't get a chance to ask because the other two walked in. 

“Hello,” Lucius said. 

“Hey,” Harry said quietly next to him. Remus nodded his hello to the Slytherins but his attention was on his cub, who suddenly smelled sad and guilty. 

“Harry?” he asked, reaching over to take the other’s shoulder by his hand. Harry wouldn't look at him. Instead he shrugged the hand off and stood up. 

“We got the flowers,” Harry told the room. Remus was so confused, he looked up to see the older Malfoy looking between him and Harry. Clearly the pureblood had noticed it, whatever it was as well. 

“Harry?” he tried again, standing up. His stubborn cub inched closer to his mate and grabbed the surprised blonde’s hand. He caught the confused look on Draco’s face as the younger slytherin looked around the room. 

“That’s everything right?” Harry asked, clearly ignoring Remus. Moony growled inside his head. 

“Cub.” This time it wasn’t a question it was an order and he saw Harry still. Slowly Harry raised his head to look at him. 

“What’s going on?” he asked gently now that he had his cub’s attention. 

He heard Harry swallow. “I didn’t tell you,” he mumbled looking away again. 

“You didn’t tell me what?” he asked mind racing as he tried to figure out what he didn’t know. 

He heard Draco sigh, as the blonde leaned in and whispered in Harry’s ear. He was sure he wasn’t meant to hear but he’s ears were better than most. 

“This is about the letter?” he saw Harry nod. 

“You didn’t send me a letter?” he asked, now understanding. Harry hadn’t sent him a letter. Future him didn’t know what was going on, and Harry felt guilty about it. 

He didn’t even wait for a response before asking, “Why not?” 

Harry just shook his head. The stale smell of guilt got worse and Remus had to breath out of his mouth to avoid gagging on it. 

“He had just--” Harry elbowed Draco in the stomach, cutting him off. 

“He didn’t want to find out for sure if you did or did not betray him.” Lucius said. Causing Harry to look up surprised and angry at the other Malfoy. His cub turned to glare at his mate, who it seemed had told his father things Harry hadn’t wanted to share. 

“I don’t understand,” Remus said. 

“The headmaster and two of his best friends had just betrayed him,” Draco said. This time Harry didn’t try and stop him. His cub just dropped his head and looked down at the floor. “Sirius had sent him a note, telling him to trust no one,” the young Slytherin went on, “Harry,” there was a pointed look at his mate, “knows you wouldn’t have betrayed him. But…” Remus waved the blonde off as he finally understood. 

Harry trusted him, but still held worry that he was wrong, and he hadn’t had the heart to find out for sure. 

He walked over and wrapped his cub in a bone crushing hug. “It’s okay,” he whispered, and it was. He couldn’t hold fear of being betrayed by someone he loved against Harry. 

“You will just have to go to me after you get back,” he said. If he hadn’t been looking over Harry’s head he wouldn’t have seen the grin Draco shot his father. Who in return rolled his eyes. He almost questioned it, but Draco saw him and shook his head. He let it go. For now.

Harry pulled away. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“It's okay,” he said again giving Harry a smile. 

“Now, can we please go over the ritual?” Lucius asked. 

[digimondestined]

1-50 :D (for xxx: Blurred Lines; 42: Aokise Songfics (Need You Now); 46: Try- and Keep Trying; 47, made up title: In the man behold a child) ❤️

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

Oof.  12 ish? FFNet But we don’t speak about it; the site or the writing :P

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

Right now, I’m more invested in aokise / knb fandom and well, once invested, it’s hard to pull my focus :P Other fandoms I’m interested in writing in as of the moment are Owari No Seraph (Gureshin :P) and Seven Deadly Sins (man, that’s lovely hell)

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

Probably OCs? I haven’t written OC’s in a while but heck, reader inserts sounds kinda of awkward to write :P

4) What is your favourite genre to write for?

…is angst with a happy ending a genre?(Otherwise maybe coming of age?)

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

Blurred Lines is the only one that has an actual plot :P and is multi chaptered :P. It’s also got a couple of my favorite tropes such as mutual pining & simultaneous obliviousness. To be honest, I normally don’t edit my works before I put them out (sometimes I’ll get a loving friend to look at it tho :PPPPPP) because I can’t bear reading what I’ve written without cringing, but yeah, I thought Blurred Lines was pretty good :D in terms of writing skill because I’ve been able to read it again aha and I thank all the wonderful people who showered me the work with compliments.

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

LMAO WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I HAVEN’T ALREADY? If I delete stories, it’s always for the reason I’m disappointed with it in hindsight, or xD embarrassed I produced such poo.

7) When is your preferred time to write?

Night time becuz I like to procrastinate, it’s quiet and the dark is cozy.

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Other writers/stories, canon material, music, random insights at odd times, prompts sparked by single words or little phrases, prompts from sites or book quotes or from friends and epiphanies, and then mostly I don’t :P 

9) In your Blurred Lines fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?

Chapter 5, the (two I guess?) scene where Aomine’s really upset and Kise makes it his job to take his mind off of it; it’s a memorable moment for both of them because Kise’s determination and hard work really gets to show (SEIRIN GAH; jskghjkghg sg lgsg gsjlsd) in front of two people that mean a lot: himself and Aomine, and for Aomine, it’s an example of how he can be weak and injured too, and is so much more than some give him credit for.

10) In your fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind? Nah, I really liked how it ended actually :) Happy after endings are my favorite :)

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

I’ve only gotten harsh criticism once or twice and man, you should’ve seen me RAWRR in their faces :P. Sometimes self criticism- ex: dislike of plot- will get me to edit though; and then there are just times where I’ve been lazy but reading the work, I’ll see flaws that definitely have to be changed and will proceed to do so.

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

Aomine and Kise are the most fun imo. I go wild with both because of the complexity to both their characters and simply, the inspiration you can see from different works of other authors (Ex: MoustachePenguin wrote JustBreathe with Kise who had crushing depression and KaijosCopyCat wrote When It Rains, It Rains Bullets, where Kise is actually more jaded than Aomine is); point being said, there’s enough material to make a lot reasonable.Kise is fun for his masks and layers; Aomine is great for his relativity. And of course, you can always find a way to knit in angst of some sort :P 

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

Lots man. Kuroko, Murasakibara-

14) How did you come up with the title for the xxx? - You can ask about multiple stories. 

SO. Remember how it was planned as a one-shot aha :P I’d gotten 3 chapters and ½ written out before I said screw it and posted them before gradually working on the rest :P 

Anyways, I’d only then finished on a final summary, and with one of the parts being “Lines Blurring”, I thought heck let’s roll with that.

Oh also! Had a hard time getting that summary out. gotta thank my special, one and only snowflake.

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

- Likes to indulge myself; I’ll base OCs of some real characters, then twinkle with the name little bit, maybe adding extra letters or finding names with similar meanings?

- It also has to do with how the name tastes. You know how some words just flow better? (Connotation and all that :P) but like, Jewel over Gem, Crystal over Jewel, Ruby over Everything, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.

16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx?

Was a prompt- (voldetort :P)

but i was given an open ending option and then i took it and ran with it and turned it into angst with happy ending :P

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

Kise stuck out his tongue, Aomine smirked, and they let Momoi laugh herself dry.

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Yah, who doesn’t? :PP (atop of the temporarily abandoned WIPs :PPP) Either loss of enthusiasm, lack of ability (time, but mostly procrastination :P) to write, or post-insights that lemme realize the story is unsatisfying to the point of repulsive :P

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

Maybe Blurred Lines? Struggle them through 2nd year of school, relationship where it’s so much more precious than a regular, “we-just-began-a-”relationship” because of the stakes. (But then I’d have to like write a conflict???and my inability to be creative would hinder that :P)

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

I haven’t really “ended” any stories of worthy length, but for Blurred Lines :P. Which had an okay ending in my opinion, though maybe hurriedly carried out XDI imagine when I do get to finishing more/other stories, I might? Because I can be impulsive. :P But then again, I take a heck long time to procrastinate; and sometimes that means more time to think about how a story wants to go- in these cases, I don’t, usually :)

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

I am heck into lots of writers.

Roch; VanillaDaydreams22 (tumblr) and just VanillaDaydreams (ao3) is a great friend and writer :P with a lovely, descriptive style of fluid writing.

A famous one would be moustachiopenguin - wrote lots of heart wrenching stories; aha we both know :P So, imagination, use of plot, detail, etc.

And then there’s an up and new coming one; her name starts with a Y and ends with a U.

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Literally all of them. :P Anything from over 4-6 months in particular is a bit of, no thanks :P

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

I prefer music, even though sometimes it’s not helpful and actually, is a hindrance :P but music always helps the mood~

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

Laughs.

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Writing? Nah. Reading? Heck, few times.

26) Which part of your Blurred Lines fic was the hardest to write?

All of it cause I didn’t want to write it, I wanted to waste time~

- In the later chapters, carrying out Aomine’s realization for feelings was a little difficult; I had Satsuki sort of catalyze his action, because he’s pretty heckin determined to get Kise in his unconscious mind; Satsuki’s rejection just enforces the feeling he needs to express himself, though hard. But I occasionally would wonder whether Aomine was made too soft, or OOC in general.

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

My impulsiveness pushes me towards flow; but for fics requiring detail, general outline help XD no matter how “general”.

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

Maybe just the fact that the fandoms I’d get to were in existence :D like how some of us talked about, would have been pretty cool to write with the other gazillion of fan- tho, then again, wouldn’t trade them for you guys aha

There’s a lot of things I’ve learned from it and only with the actual writing action have I come to understand the things :P

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

Maybe Lazy or No Questions Asked. Lazy, because it was the first time I’d written something short but with a bit of story to it still, y’know? :P And then No Questions Asked because I just love the trope of uncertainty and obliviousness and pining in the middle of aokise.

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Honestly? Say It. It was short and okay but like, plot-wise? Not sure if it deserved all the kindness it/I got XD

32) Are any of your characters based on real people?

I haven’t written any OCs in a while! I imagine one I get back to doing so, they could be :P

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

Not quite sure. I have shit memory sometimes aha, but all the support is good :D

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

On one of my first fics, which I’d written 24 chapters / 40K (GASP I KNOW :D IT’LL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN *SMILES THROUGH THE TEARS OF SAD*) I was told the other chapters should be deleted because it was so bad. But like, the reader had posted said criticism through at least half of the work so :P and a couple of chapters later, said, “This is better! But change everything before this.”I actually got a lot of help/reviews becasue I’d asked for them from various authors aha and fandom was popular and lively; the criticism just went straight through my ears I think. XD

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

I like getting a second opinion if I’m insecure about the idea (often, you guessed right

36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?

No.

jkjk :P I currently have 4 active WIPs. 1. SECRET (for fanzine :PP), 2. As Long As You Love Me (CJ’s prompt) 3. Some Stuff Has Actually Changed 4. Oops I Did It Again

37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written?

What is humor explain??!?!?

38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.

- You silly.- Roch + CJ- You, super lovely

39) Do you prefer first, second or third person?

3rd for the most of it. I’ve never written with 1st before but I’m considering it for a work that’d require an extensive cast. 2nd also strikes me as fun though, because of this angsty story I’d read where Kise was the narrator but done through 2nd? 2nd also seems very poetic and I’d like to try it out some day for fun :P

40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

Yeet :P

41) What’s you favourite minor character you’ve written?

Nijimura, Jellal, you name it XD all of them??? You know my tendency to avoid protagonists :P

42) Song fic - What made you decide to use the song Need You Now

It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone and I need you nowSaid I wouldn’t call but I lost all control and I need you nowAnd I don’t know how I can do without, I just need you now

Angsty and perfect for pining ships.

43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?

LMAO I’ve never written a fic long enough for a plot twist to occur; B) I DON’T WRITE PLOT?? XD

44) What is the last line you wrote?

A victory, Kise should think, should be thinking. What is there instead is empathy, but sadness anyways. Oh Aominecchi…

45) What spurs you on during the writing process?

Not much. There are periods of time when I don’t want to write at all and I will find excuses of any kind to get off my laptop, or stay on, and just not write aha. What helps is typically at night when I feel semi-tired, I’ll be motivated to write enough to be a pleasant thought before bed.

46) I really loved your Try and Keep Trying fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it?

GoM have a Winter Cup Banquet and there’s alcohol there. AoKise has done a lot more pining and both gotten better at hiding it. They meet awkwardly at the event becuz of their friends talking to each of their friends and then suddenly disappearing while AoKise are startled, staring at each other. Cautious tense talk tried to be made easier by both of them; Kise makes a joke like, “Alcohol would make this a little easier, right Aominecchi?”

And Aomine blurts out stupid becuz high strung, smth like, “Is that what you thought the last time?”

AND THEN, Kise is also high strung right, so his reply is probably something dumb; maybe a few more lines and then:

KISE ACCIDENTALLY CALLS HIM ‘DAIKI’ AND THEY BOTH JUST FREEZE AND BLUSH PROFUSELY BC THEY’RE REMINDED OF THE KISS AND FDSJFS AHO REALIZES KISE DID N O T FORGET - and he’ quick to press Kise for an explanation but Kise is sure this is going to lead to heartbreak, that Aomine’s frantic (heart beating at 12432 beats a second) and desperate (to know becuz becuz if Kise- if Ryouta-) demands of Kise to tell him the truth are from a place of piss/fury. When Aomine realizes Kise is only shying away from his emotional cornering/words more and more, Aomine does the only thing he can think of and kisses Kise again and again and again.

Kise realizes he means it, Aomine is almost heartbroken over how Kise couldn’t understand he meant it; both are overwhelmingly overjoyed becuz c’mon. MUTUAL pining, not just pining :P and then THAT turns into cautious, hopeful, cautious prompts for dating.

47) Here’s a fic title - In the man behold a child

(Uni AU)Aomine pines after Kise’s ass and he constantly sends him is inviting him: “C’mon Kise, kiss me and I’ll shut up forever.” and “C’mon Kise, I’d be a great fuckbuddy. No string attached but sex. I’ll be gone immediately.”, lots of, “C’mon Kise. I’m fun. I’ll give you want you want, what you need.” and more earnest and genuine stuff, “I know I sound like I’m kidding, and maybe parts of me were…but I meant it when I said I love you. And I’ll wait until you finally hear I’m fully serious.”

Eventually, Kise comes to realize he is serious. The fact that Aomine really has matured as a person over time and that he really loves Kise.  Who also realizes maybe a little bit of the fact that he’d never needed a real relationship because Aomine sort of checked off all the boxes; and so, (poetically aha; i thought of this at last moment XD) child Kise is also revealed in man Kise for being oblivious and little bit scared (because that’s what teens/kids are good at Aha?)

Ofc, then Kise finally says yes, though hesitant still; Aomine takes him slowly through love and all the good stuff :P

48) What’s your favourite trope to write?

Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining/Obliviousness & Uncertainty, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, anything with a slight of it’s hard and if we’re not being told we’re gonna make it through, how can i be reassured now that we will; but you’ve got friends to rely on so it’ll be okay OTHERWISE KNOWN AS Angst with a Happy Ending :P

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

Something from Warrior Cats

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

(Both both is good)

YOU CAN’T MAKE ME CHOOSE.

But like, if angst with a happy ending counts as angst??? Than that :PFluff is good but you have to have a reason that makes it even sweeter :P

[tskumoyuuma]

cause tumblrs a Bitch im remaking this post on my computer so ill be able to edit it later on, but this is basically a reference for how much time passes in each warriors book, primarily based on how many gatherings r shown. will add on later

into the wild: ~3 moons. evidence: firepaw joins the clan, the next night is a gathering (gathering 0). we get a timeskip, saying it’s been “more than two moons” since firepaw joined tc. this means there have been two gatherings not shown (gathering 1 + 2). a gathering soon happens after this timeskip (gathering 3), which means that a total of 3 moons have passed. this makes firepaw ~9 moons old at the end of the book, since it’s been stated he n graypaw barely saw six moons when they first met

fire n ice: ~3 or 4 moons. book starts off where last one ended, but a timeskip happens in the middle if the first chap. we learn that a gathering is happening (gathering 4), so around a moon has passed. at this gathering, the clans agree to bring windclan back, which they do. towards the end of the book we learn that a gathering (gathering 5) was canceled because of rain. fireheart meets onewhisker again after two moons at the gathering after that (gathering 6). in the first chapter of forest of secrets, we learn the last chapter of fire n ice takes place three days before the next gathering (gathering 7). almost 3 moons have passed, but if u count the beginning of the first chap almost 4 moons pass. this makes fireheart ~13 moons old at the end of the book

forest of secrets: ~1.5 moons. first chapter starts off with a gathering (gathering 7). many things happen and towards the end we have the next gathering (gathering 8) where its revealed to the clans that thunderclan has brokentail. silverstream has her kits n dies, then cinderpaw becomes a medicine cat apprentice by going to the moonstone during the half moon. the next day tigerclaw leads the attack on thunderclan w rogues, but is caught trying to kill bluestar n is banished. this means 1.5 moons pass, making fireheart ~14.5 moons old

rising storm: ~1.5 moons. a gathering happens (gathering 9) a few chapters in. the fire happens near the end of the book, then the gathering where tigerclaw is revealed to be shadowclans new leader happens (gathering 10), ending the book. around 1.5 moons pass, making fireheart ~16 moons old

a dangerous path: ~2 moons. begins with the tigerstar gathering (gathering 10). a half moon passes as cinderpelt goes to her first medicine cat meeting by herself. snowkit is taken away by the hawk, and the next gathering happens (gathering 11). swiftpaw dies n brightpaw is injured in the fight w dogs, and another gatherings occurs (gathering 12). its now been a year since fireheart joined thunderclan. they drive the dogs out, but bluestar dies in the process. 2 moons pass, making fireheart ~18 moons old

the darkest hour: ~1 moon. fireheart becomes firestar and makes whitestorm his deputy. the next gathering takes place (gathering 13) where tigerstar asks thunderclan and windclan to join the new tigerclan. stonefur is killed, tawnypaw joins tigerstar, n gorsepaw is killed. tallstar n firestar confront tigerstar. scourge appears, kills tigerstar, n gives the clans three days to decide if they fight bloodclan or not. they decide to fight, the clans win, and graystripe becomes the new deputy. only 1 moon passed n at the end of the prophecies begin arc firestar is ~19 moons old

time skips between arcs is a little tricky...

firestar’s quest: ~2 or 5 moons. this book begins in greenleaf. going by this timeline, the end of darkest hour would be the beginning of greenleaf, when it was actually leafbare in the canon book. looking at the canon books, this means its a half year timeskip in between the canon books. if we switch the seasons (darkest hour being set in greenleaf n this book in leafbare), it would make sense regarding this timeline. a time skip of a half year would also make sense regarding ages. the book opens w bramblepaw becoming a warrior. going w my assumption that a usual apprenticeship lasts around 6 moons, a half year would fit this perfectly. this is because bramblepaw is born somewhere around (gathering 7) in forest of secrets, making him a new apprentice in the darkest hour (gathering 13). so, when the first gathering is shown at the beginning of the book, this is (gathering 19). longtails eyes get scratched, willowpelt dies, n fire n sand start their journey to remake skyclan. when they arrive at the gorge, they wait to meet ‘moony’ during the full moon (technical gathering 20, makes me wanna kno what tc did that gathering when fire coudnt show up..). lots of cats join skyclan n they have their first real gathering (gathering 21, has a rumor spread thru the forest that fire is dead ? hasnt been spotted in two moons now). skyclan fights the rats, leafstar gets her nine lives, n fire n sand finally go back to tc. epilogue where squirrel n leaf r born happens three moons after returning, so (gatherings 22 to 24) have gone by. not including the epilogue, two moons pass in this book, but including it means five moons have passed. at the end of the book firestar is ~30 moons

midnight: ~1 moon. according to the wikia which is based off of the canon seasons, 18 moons have passed from darkest hour to this book. this makes sense to me regarding the ages so I'm keeping it that way, which means this book happens 7 moons after firestars quest, making the first gathering shown (gathering 31). the chosen meet up at the half moon. they then leave for their journey. a half moon med cat meeting is held shortly after they leave. the next gathering (gathering 32) occurs after tawnypelt gets her rat bite. the chosen cats meet midnight, the forest starts getting torn down, n the book ends. around a moon passes, so brambleclaw is ~25 moons old n squirrelpaw is ~8 moons

moonrise: ~ .5 moons. many chapters in we have a half moon meeting. this is around when stormfur is held prisoner in the tribe. lots of things happen, mainly that feathertail dies, then the book ends. only like, .5 moons pass n there are no gatherings. brambleclaw = 25.5 moons, squirrelpaw = 8.5 moons

dawn: ~ .5 moons ?? its... very hard to know how much time passes in this book because the forest is destroyed so they cant hold regular gatherings. but considering that leafpaw mentions to stoneteller towards the end of the book about gatherings, it can be safe to say that a gathering (gathering 33 ?) would have occurred then. since theres no other mention of the moons phase (that I can tell from the wikia chapter summaries cause I dont have this book), only .. .5 moons pass ?? maybe. brambleclaw = 26 moons, squirrelpaw = 9 moons (this is where the bramblesquirrel love confession happens ..... yike). will prob update this when / if I reread this book for more accurate info. so far this arc has had only .. 2 moons pass maybe. first arc had 8.5 moons pass by the end of book 3 for comparison

starlight: ~.5 moons. squirrelpaw becomes a warrior, tallstar dies, clans find their own territories. leafpaw finds the moonpool in time for the half moon, where she gets her full name. mudclaw leads his rebellion against onewhisker, but loses. so.. another book w around .5 moons passing ? brambleclaw = 26.5 moons, squirrelflight -= 9.5 moons (good to kno shes following in her fathers footsteps in becoming a warrior early)

twilight: ~1 moon. finally a real gathering (gathering 34) happens. they do it on the island. a little later another half moon meeting happens. leafpool feels left out from .. basically everything, so she runs away w crowfeather, but they come back when they find out badgers are attacking tc. just a moon passes, but hey its finally more than .5 moons. brambleclaw = 27.5 moons squirrelflight = 10.5 moons

sunset: ~1 moon. a half moon meeting happens. then the next gathering (gathering 35) happens. brambleclaw is made deputy when firestar finally accepts graystripe may never come back. another half moon meeting happens and leafpool helps guide willowpaw to starclan. hawkfrost traps firestar in the fox trap, but brambleclaw refuses to kill him and kills hawkfrost instead. 1 moon passes, making brambleclaw 28.5 moons n squirrelflight 11.5 moons, thus ending the new prophecy books. only 4.5 moons pass from midnight to this book, compared to the first arcs 13 moons

leafpools wish: no real time passes, but i wanna mention this book cause it takes place after sunset n leafpool gives birth to holly lion n jay. ill say this happens a half moon after sunset ends (around gathering 36) to make their ages rounded. the trio = 0 moons old

the sight: ~1 moon. a few chapters in the trio become apprentices, meaning 6 moons (gatherings 37 - 41) have passed since being born in leafpools wish. the trios first gathering (gathering 42) happens but jaypaw doesnt go as punishment for wandering onto wc territory. graystripe shows up w millie. hollypaw n jaypaw switch their duties. half moon meeting happens. another gathering happens (gathering 43). tc hosts a ‘daylight gathering’ but it ends w lionpaw n breezepaw trapped in a badger set, which jawpaw helps free them out of. 1 moon passes n the trio are 7 moons old

dark river: ~2 moons. first chap is the trio going to their first gathering all together (gathering 44) where tigerkits birth is announced. holly n cinder find out lion n heather have been meeting in secret. jay n leaf go the moonpool. jay finds The Stick. millie keeps her kittypet name n cinder breaks her leg. lion meets tigerstar n hawkfrost for the first time after a meeting w heather. next gathering (gathering 45) happens n all of rc is on the island. holly goes to rc to see what's the matter but becomes a prisoner instead. lion breaks up w heather. wc loses kits but the trio + heather n breeze find them n bring them back before tc n wc could fight. two moons pass n the trio are ~9 moons old

outcast: ~1 moon. few chapters in jaypaw goes to a half moon meeting where mothwing is sick. talon n night of the tribe arrive at tc asking for help w rouges. the trio plus the og journey cats go (oh yea also breezepaws there). then good ol purdy joins the group just until the mountains where he heads back. most of the tribe including stoneteller is convinced they will be destroyed by the attacking rouges but r convinced to fight anyways w the clan cats training the tribe cats. the final attack is scheduled for the full moon (gathering 46). they win the fight n cause lion is only covered in other cats blood w no injuries to himself, jay has to explain the prophecy to him n holly. a moon passes n the trio = 10 moons.

eclipse: ~1 moon. the clan cats return home w stormfur n brook staying behind. half moon meeting happens n willowpaw becomes willowshine. sol appears n says the suns gonna go out. wc attacks tc w rc, holly goes to recruit sc. battle ends cause eclipse happens. the trio go find sol cause hey maybe he can help w the prophecy, he agrees to mentor them all. theyr caught by a sc patrol n sol stays in sc. next gathering happens (gathering 47) n only blackstar n sol show up claiming sc isnt going to come anymore n doesnt believe in starclan. lion holly n cinder become warriors. another one moon book w the trio being ~11 moons (so close to them being made warriors at the right age ..)

long shadows: ~1 moon. jaypaw goes to the half moon meeting alone so leafpool can take care of the sick cats at home. the trio plus tawnypelts kits help trick sc into believing starclan again n blackstar kicks sol out. jay meets fallen leaves in the tunnels n when he exits the tunnels he becomes Jay's wing. after making sure the ancients go to the mountains, he wakes up. both leafpool n jaypaw go to the moonpool n he becomes jayfeather. the fire happens n its revealed that squirrelflight isnt the trios birth mother. tc leaves for the gathering (gathering 48) n finds ashfur dead. one moon passes yet again, trio = 12 moons.

sunrise: ~1 moon. tc thinks wc killed ashfur until ashfoot says she saw sol by where his body was. a patrol goes to find sol, brings both him n purdy back. sol wont tell anything n the other clan tell tc to get rid of him before next gathering. half moon meeting happens where jay realizes leaf is the trio's birth mom. lion releases sol so he would tell them who their birth father is, but that was a waste of time n they leave him for good when he starts talking about taking over all the clans. yellowfang then tells jay crowfeather is his birth father. next gathering (gathering 49) happens n hollyleaf reveals everything. she runs away into the tunnels which collapse n jay thinks the third cat could be either dove or ivy. one moon passes Again, trio = 13 moons. only 7 moons pass in this arc, but it's at least more than second arc

the fourth apprentice: ~2 moons. six moons have passed since sunrise cause dove n ivy are becoming apprentices, making the gathering in the first chapter (gathering 55). dove n ivy become apprentices. lionblaze n jayfeather figure out doves power n thats shes the third cat. another gathering (gathering 56) occurs n the plan for going upstream to find the source of the drought is devised. the patrol consisting of cats from every clan, including dove n lion, set out. the patrol reaches the dam n fights the beavers. they fail n rippletail dies. meanwhile breezepelt theatens to kill poppyfrost cause he hates jayfeather. round 2 of destroy the dam plan works n they all head home. two moons pass, ivy n dove r 7 moons old.

fading echoes: ~1 moon. leopardstar dies n mistyfoot gets her nine lives. dove n ivy go to windclan to see sedgewhisker but r instead called intruders n punished. firestar learns about the three. a gathering (gathering 57) happens where tigerheart asks dove to trust him when she confronts him about crossing the border. ivy begins training w hawkfrost. the tree falls on thunderclan camp, killing longtail n disabling briarpaw. jay goes to the moonpool for a half moon meeting. thunderclan n shadowclan fight over territory cause ivy followed hawkfrosts orders by making up a dream. lionblaze accidentally kills russetfur, firestar loses a life, n thunderclan wins the battle. around a moon passes, dove n ivy = 8 moons

night whispers: ~1 moon. first chapter starts from where last book left off. jay finds out ivy is training in the dark forest. cinderheart finds out about lionblaze being one of the three n somehow thinks that means they cant be together. jay goes to a half moon meeting where the meddie cats r told to stand alone. ivypaw gets captured by shadowclan when she goes confront dove n tigerheart. shes eventually traded back for some herbs. gathering (gathering 58) happens where dove n tigerheart argue. ivy finds out about the three n doves powers n is basically forced to spy on the dark forest. flametail drowns in the lake n ivy is almost forced to kill his ghost in the dark forest, but tigerheart stops them. 1 moon passes again, dove ivy r 9 moons old

sign of the moon: ~1 moon. dove n ivy become warriors. jay n lion figure out holly is still alive. a gathering (gathering 59) happens. jay demands to go to the mountains n dove comes w. antpelt dies n is now a spirit in the dark forest. jay goes back to ancient times again n once his duty is done he tells rock he wants to stay, but is forced to leave. ivy n blossomfall go exploring the caves but blossom gets hurt. theyr led out of the tunnels by gasp hollyleaf but we dont kno that its her quite yet. jay names the next stoneteller n the clan cats leave. 1 moon passes yet again, dove n ivy = 10 moons old

the forgotten warrior: ~2 moons. dove is having issues w her power. tigerheart tells her that dawnpelt thinks jay killed flametail. gathering (gathering 60) happens where dove tells ivy about the whole dawnpelt thing. sol is found by lion n brought to camp. sol tries to get wc n tc to fight. hollyleaf returns, sol disappears. cinderheart remembers cinderpelt. ivy kills antpelts ghost. another gathering (gathering 61) happens where dawnpelt announces her accusation for jay. wc n tc fight in the tunnels n sol talks about his hatred to the code. holly lets him go instead of killing him. 2 moons pass, dove ivy = 12 moons old

the last hope: ~1 moon. jay goes to moonpool meeting even tho he was told not to. he n mothwing try to unite the clans. dove n tiger r meeting again. a gathering (gathering 62) happens n jay doesnt go. jay finds flametail in starclan n by telling the truth of his death, unites the meddie cats. firestar is revealed to be the fourth cat. dove turns down tiger as a mate. cinderheart chooses lionblaze n being a warrior, thus letting go of cinderpelt. dark forest begins to attack. holly dies saving ivy from hawkfrost. lots o cats fight, lots o cats die. eventual show down of firestar vs og tigerstar. firestar kills tigerstar, but then dies like a min later. brambleclaw becomes bramblestar n squirrelflight his deputy. the end. 1 moon passes, dove ivy = 13 moons. overall, 7 moons pass in this arc. 

dovewing’s silence: ~1 moon. starts right after last hope. few chapters in we have first gathering after the great battle (gathering 63). 

crowfeather’s trial: ~3 moons. the book starts seemingly a little after the great battle. it is not right after because the first gathering shown is where blackstar starts listing off all the dead, which did not happen the first gathering after the great battle since no indication of it was made. its reasonable to say that this gathering happens a moon after that one, making it (gathering 64). towards the end of the book, (gathering 65) happens. then at the end of the book is (gathering 66).

bramblestar’s storm: ~2 moons, 8 if u include the manga section. its stated at the beginning of the book that six moons have passed since the great battle, making the first gathering in the book (gathering 68). its also stated that (gathering 67) was missed, probably due to poor weather. at the end of the book, (gathering 69) happens. the manga ending is when lionblaze n cinderhearts kits, who were not yet born in the last chapter, become apprentices, which means at least 6 moons have passed since the last chapter, making the manga take place around (gathering 75). squirrelflight finds out shes pregnant in this manga section.

the apprentice’s quest: ~2 moons. the book begins w the apprentice ceremony of squirrelflight n bramblestars kits, meaning at least 6 moons have passed, tho i’ll say 7 since squirrelflight only just figured out she was pregnant at the end of bramblestars storm, making the first gathering shown (gathering 82). next gathering (gathering 83) happens where violetkit n twigkit get separated. alderpaw = 7 moons, violet twig = 5 moons

thunder n shadow: ~3 moons. first gathering of the book is (gathering 84) n a little after violet n twig become apprentices, making them 6 moons. then another gathering (gathering 85) happens. and the last gathering of the book (gathering 86) happens. alderpaw = 10 moons, violet twig = 8 moons