#even if it means lock him inside a castle and throw away the key

[crackishincorrecthp]

Hermione: If you were ever to commit a crime, which one would you commit? Pansy, Ginny and Draco: Murder. Ron: I'm too scared to answer that. Harry: I technically already committed murder, but anyways... Pansy: Ginny: Draco: Ron: Hermione: Draco, carefully: And who did you murder, love? Harry: Quirrellmort. I was 11 btw. Also the basilisk when I was 12, but I don't think that counts as a murder tho...Oh, and Voldypant's diary, but again I don't think that was really a murder... Hermione: Oh Merlin, I forgot about Quirrellmort. Ron: Don't worry. I forgot about him too, 'Mione. Pansy: But wait... Who the fuck is Quirrellmort? Hermione: Our first year DADA Professor. He had Voldemort in the back of his head, that's why we call him Quirrellmort. Pansy: Oh. Draco: Okay, but can we all agree that we need to put Harry in a room and kill everyone who tries to enter said room? Harry: I don't think I can live the rest of my life trapped in a room, Dray. Draco: Okay, a castle then. Just not Hogwarts. Ginny: I doubt that someone just has a castle laid around that we could buy, Draco. Draco: Oh, someone does. We just have to find this person.

[luci-four]

Catnap {Diavolo x Reader/MC}

A/N: a fic in which i wanted diavolo to experience PAIN but also know he is L O V E D because i couldnt help but remember that he once said asmo never invites him to parties and it broke my frozen heart,

{Diavolo x Reader/MC}

Diavolo’s eyes were downcast as he walked along, listening to Barbatos drone on about his schedule for the rest of the day. Of course, he knew it was important and definitely something he needed to do as it was his duty, yet, he couldn’t help but long for a sense of freedom. He longed for a time he could simply be himself, not worry about his princely duties—he longed for something, he just wasn’t quite sure what. Of course, he knew Barbatos was simply doing his own job, but it didn’t stop the prince from zoning out. He could hear the shorter man give an exasperated sigh before repeating his last few sentences. Maybe a walk around R.A.D.’s campus would help him focus.

It wasn’t helping. He sighed during the entire walk, each time getting a little more dramatic; he hunched his shoulders and slouched a bit more with each heave, dragging his feet along the ground as though he were a toddler throwing a temper-tantrum. His pitch was whiny, and he secretly did feel bad for his unbecoming behaviour towards Barbatos, but he couldn’t help himself.  

As though it were a beam of light on a cloudy day, something had caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and turned his entire mood around. Without raising Barbatos’ suspicion—or so he thought—his gaze honed in on a small, stray kitten walking along the path behind the shorter man. His face instinctually turned to one mixed with shock and adoration, both attempted to hide behind the thin veil of collectiveness. Golden eyes kept flickering from his butler to the tiny mammal behind him.

“As I said before, after meeting with Lucifer to go over the budget for...” Barbatos scrunched his nose before interrupting himself. “My lord, you aren’t paying attention again.”

“What?” Diavolo’s shoulders stiffened as he let out a half-hearted laugh, “Of course I am!”

“.....What are you distracted by?”

“It’s nothing! Wait--”  

Before Diavolo’s outstretched hand could stop him, Barbatos turned to lock eyes with the kitten that had caught his liege's attention. He held his stare as if the two of them had a contest going without so much as a word, until the kitten had meowed up at him.

“It’s talking to you!”

“I wish it wouldn’t.”

“Don’t be mean to it, it’s cute!”

“My lord, we do need to get through this schedule for the day--”

“I’d much rather sit with this kitten.”

Diavolo quickly jumped at the chance to get down on all fours to level with the kitten, ignoring Barbatos’ pleas for him to not ruin his uniform. He cooed as the kitten rubbed against his face, meowing softly at him in response to his badly-attempted meows, and rolled onto its back to play with one of the pendants hanging off of his coat. A genuine laugh erupted from the man as he pet the creature.

“I’m glad you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, Lord Diavolo, however we do need to get going now--”

“I’ve decided to keep it!”

“Absolutely not.”

“What!”

Like a child who was told no in the toy store—or a better comparison would have been a kicked puppy—Diavolo looked up at him with pleading eyes and a pouting lip. He mumbled to himself, about being the prince and frankly doing whatever he’d like, as though he truly were a child.

“My lord, a cat in the castle would be a terrible idea. You are too busy to see to one--”

“You could do it!”

“--and I’m too busy ensuring you’re taken care of to worry about the cat as well.”

Diavolo groaned and rose to his feet, keeping his back towards Barbatos. After agreeing that he would be right, he attempted to walk off and change the subject towards the schedule Barbatos was so adamant about, only to jolt to a stop as the butler cleared his throat.

“My lord--”

“I thought you said we were busy!” Diavolo chuckled, attempting to continue again, “Let’s go!”

“The cat, my lord.”

“It ran into the bushes--”

“Please take the cat out of your coat pocket.”

Hanging his head as he was caught, he placed the kitten gently onto the path, watching it scamper away, chasing after some sort of bug. He crossed his arms and jutted his lip out into a pout, keeping his glare just a tad icy towards Barbatos. Again, he was aware he was just doing his job, but the kitten was so adorable and just the distraction he felt that he needed, and his friend simply just wouldn’t allow him to have it; so, he listened. He listened intensively, absorbing each word Barbatos had thrown him and repeated key points to prove he had listened. His eyes, however, flickered to the small animal who kept running in and out of the bushes, tempting his willpower and attention an embarrassing amount.

Before he had realized it, however, one of the seven brothers had also been walking along campus. Noticing the two of them talk, Satan minded his own business and only stopped as a kitten randomly appeared in his path. Without so much as a second thought, he scooped the animal up and kept on his way, not realizing the heartbroken, utter shock that had washed over the Devildom’s prince.

“That seems to be the end of it, Lord Diavolo. Shall we move on to our meeting--”

“Did you see that!”

Barbatos tilted his head and looked behind him where Diavolo had been pointing; he used all of his might not to raise an eyebrow at his boss.

“See... what, exactly?”

“The--”

“If you’re going to mention the cat again, then please forgive me for cutting you off. We simply cannot have the cat.”

“But Satan took it!”

“Ah, then you should take solace in knowing that cat is well taken care of. Now, moving on to our meeting, my lord.”

Without so much as another word, Barbatos ushered Diavolo off towards their next location, the cat never left his mind.

***

By the end of the day, MC had noticed something weighing on the prince. He seemed sluggish, lost in thought, a million miles away in those eyes as they sat across the room from him. During the rare moment he sat alone, MC approached him casually.

“Hey,” they leaned against the edge of his desk, “something on your mind?”

“Oh? Was it obvious?”

“I’m just a really good guesser.”

Diavolo leaned back in his chair and shot them an award-winning smile, the hearty, whimsical laugh he’s known for followed suit.

“Then that must be your version of magic, interesting. I’ll admit there is something on my mind that I just can’t shake.”

“Care to tell me what it is?”

Before MC could even get the last syllable out, Diavolo slammed his hands on the desk and stood instantly. He leaned in towards them with wide eyes and a slight pout, not noticing that his sudden closeness caused MC to swallow hard.

“Satan took my cat!”

“..... I’m sorry, what?”

“My cat! He took it!”

“You... had a cat?”

“Yes! No! Kind of?”

“Diavolo, not to sound rude but... I’m really not following.”

He sat back down and bit the inside of his cheek, sighing heavily before explaining himself.

“There was this kitten, outside, it was absolutely adorable. The roundest little face, big eyes, soft fur—it was tiny, too! Just the perfect little thing, and I wanted to take it home! Take care of it! But--”

“But?” MC dragged out their syllables.

“But,” Diavolo mimicked their actions, “Barbatos said it was impossible to take care of a cat as of now. He refused to let me take it, and not only that, but I had to watch in silence as Satan came along and took the cat as his own!”

“Well, if Satan took it--”

“Then it’s in good hands, yes, Barbatos said the same; that isn’t the point!”  

Diavolo held his tongue on what truly bothered him, hoping that MC-the-great-guesser wouldn’t take notice that his burst of emotions dug much deeper than just a little cat he met outside. A thought passed his mind and it clicked for him—a plan—he'd have to think more about. He composed himself, stood up and straightened out his coat before shooting another large, fake smile towards the human.

“Anyway, I have other meetings to get to, unfortunately. It is my duty, after all. My apologies for being so... emotional, but thank you for lending me your time.”

MC’s eyes followed as he stiffly walked from the room. He may have been the prince of Devildom, but MC couldn’t hide the smile on their lips towards his childish behaviour they grew to find endearing. They did wonder what deeper emotions were hidden behind his need for the cat, however.

***

Relaxing by the window, MC was startled to hear a light knock against the glass in the middle of the night. Terrified, they very slowly turned their head to meet face to face with a disheveled prince, smiling from ear to ear. Tossing fear and confusion aside, they rushed to open the window and called out to him in a hushed tone.

“Diavolo? What are you doing here? I mean... here, and also, at my window.” They grabbed his hands and helped him start to climb in. “There is a front door, you know. I’m pretty sure Lucifer wants you to use it. Should I let him know you’re here--”

“No!” Diavolo cried as he fell forward through the window. He sat up as though nothing had happened. “I’m here in secret, please keep it between the two of us!”

“Al...right, but why exactly are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but it is the middle of the night, and you know it seems...” They couldn’t finish their statement due to nerves and turned away to keep the red on their cheeks hidden.

“Hm? Oh, about that!” He stood up suddenly, “I’m going on an adventure! Come with me!”

“Shh! You’re the one who said this was a ‘secret visit’, so keep your voice down!”

“Right!” He lowered his voice, “I’m going on an adventure, so come with me.”

“Where exactly is your adventure going to lead us? Does Barbatos know--”

“No, he does not and he doesn’t need to!”  

Diavolo’s eyebrows were drawn together, nose scrunched in irritation. He sighed and shook his head, forcing an apologetic smile on his lips.

“My apologies, I mean, this isn’t a matter that concerns Barbatos. I came to you for assistance this time, I thought perhaps we could have some fun; what do you say?”

MC twisted their lips to the side, eyeing whatever the tall man was hiding; it didn’t take much to see that he was, in fact, hiding something... but what was it? They nodded, agreeing to whatever plan he may have, knowing they couldn’t just let the prince of Devildom run off and make childish mistakes on his own. MC would get in trouble with Barbatos at that point, and they shivered at the thought of being on bad terms with him. Once they silently agreed, Diavolo captured their hand in his—blind to the eruption of blush across their face—and quickly slipped into the hall.

They were dragged along as Diavolo tiptoed dramatically, peeking around corners and hiding in the shadows. MC was flung around as though they were some sort of paper doll. Diavolo seemed way too out of his element to sneak around properly, so MC called out to him quietly to have him take a moment and explain just what he was doing.

“Stop, stop. You’re terrible at this. Where are you going anyway? The front door isn’t up the stairs--”

“Our destination is, though!” He said in a hushed shout, his movements a bit antsy. “We have to go up.”

“To where, exactly?”

“Hush!”

He covered their mouth with his hand, oblivious to how it caused their heart flutter, he focused his attention to the sound of walking in the hallway behind them. Diavolo rushed them along, stopping at a door and quickly attempting to jiggle his way through the lock. MC faced the hallway, wary of the approaching footsteps and faint voices as they kept watch; Diavolo simply used magic to unlock the handle, and pulled MC in so quick he literally swept them off of their feet. Both of them held an ear against the door and heard as two of the brothers made their way back to their rooms. Before MC could give a sigh of relief, they could hear Diavolo cooing at something in a baby tone. A light bulb went off in their head as they slowly turned to face the room, a look of distaste, disbelief, and irritation graced their features.

“We broke into Satan’s room.”

“Yes!” Diavolo held the kitten up to his face, laughing as it give his cheek a few kisses.

“A cat.”

“Yes!”

“We broke in... to Satan’s room,” MC put heavy emphasis on Satan being the owner, “to steal a cat.”

“Yes.”

“Diavolo!” MC shouted before quickly quieting back down, “We’re dead if we’re caught in here! Well, I will be. You’re the prince of Devildom, you probably won’t be. But I will be. Satan is going to get pissed, oh my god, I’m going to die, aren’t I? I am. I’m going to die. I’m--”

Diavolo held the kitten up to MC’s face, the latter stopping their rant in their tracks as the kitten gave their nose a few kisses. They couldn’t stop themselves from getting red at how cute the prince seemed to smile at them, but they forced disapproval on their features.

“He had the kitten I wanted. I couldn’t simply ask him for it, even if he agreed, Barbatos would make me return it.”

“What difference is that opposed to stealing it?”

Diavolo sat on the ground and stared at the kitten in his hands, a faraway look of longing replaced his usual cheerful smile. MC refused to let him play it off again.

“What’s actually eating at you?”

“The difference, I guess...” he couldn’t meet their eye and instead focused on petting the cat, “is the adventure. The ability to do something so ridiculous for the thrill and fun of it all. Throwing aside the fact that I’m the prince, for once. Just being a person, since people don’t tend to treat me that way. I thought... if I could have this cat, even after being told no, I could have a sense of freedom. It sounds absolutely ridiculous hearing myself say it out loud. Definitely not the presence a ruler should have, huh?”

His sad smile broke MC’s heart in two. Without a word, they moved next to him; he thought they were going to pet the cat so he offered it to them, but their hand landed on top of his head instead. Their voice was quiet and filled with honey, each word dripping with sincerity.  

“I dunno. I think you’re pretty neat. I like hanging out with you, as you are.”

It was Diavolo’s turn to look dazed with wide eyes and a blush across his face. He quickly composed himself with a tender smile and a whimsical laugh; there were quite a few things running through his mind that he wished he could say to MC, but nothing would come out clear enough. Instead, the two of them resided in a peaceful silence, his smile and relaxed shoulders showed how thankful he was to hear that from them. They had gotten lost in the peace, petting the kitten and playing around with the spunky little thing, they hadn’t heard anything come up behind them, nor had they felt the frightful aura shift in the area.

“What are you two doing in my room?”

[the-broken-truth]

Hey um if requests are open could you do house dimestrecu headcanons with a 👦🏻 reader maybe where the reader is alcina's biological son perhaps how the girls would be with an older brother sibling rivalry and stuff like that

Broken Truth: I smell drama! Let the words weave together!!

The Son of Castle Dimitrescu

"Mother, we brought you fresh prey." Bela said as she and her sisters drop the cloaked man on the ground behind the Lady's Grand Chair.

"Once again, my daughters are tending to my needs; so kind." Alcina said as she placed her wine glass down. "Let's take a look at them." She rose from her seat and looked down at the cloaked figure, obviously in pain.

"What is this, Daughters?" Alcina asked as she walked closer to the groaning figure - obviously male from the deep pitch of voice.

"We found him struggling to get to the castle - he kept muttering to himself." Bela said.

"He was obviously in pain but he really wanted to get here," Cassandra said as she kneeled by the downed man and grabbed the back of his hood tightly - catching his hair too. "Must really wanted to die."

"Ngh...Gah...M...M...Mother..." The man groaned but Cassandra scoffed before throwing his head to the ground - slitting the side of his head open.

"Ha, so pathetic - it's calling for its mother." Dani laughed when the smell of blood hit their noses. "Mmmm... He smells good. Do you want the first bite, Mother?" She asked.

Silence.

"Mother?" She asked again as she looked up at the tall woman...and the stunned look on her face - pure disbelief.

"Impossible...There's no way..." Alcina said as she sniffed the smell of blood again - it was familiar...far too familiar for her to be mistaken. She kneeled to the ground and gathered the man in her hands before yanking his hood off - her face gave a shattered expression when she took in his features.

"[Y/N]?" Her voice came as a whimpering whisper, she looked as if she was going to cry. The man opened his eyes - piercing golden eyes - and looked into Alcina's before smiling weakly and reaching out of her.

"M...Mo...Mother..." He said before his hand fell to the ground and his awareness was pulled to the back of his mind.

"[Y/N]? [Y/N]?! STAY AWAKE, MOTHER'S HERE! MOTHER'S GOT YOU NOW!" Alcina panicked as she gathered the man into her hands and ran out of the room, calling to the closest maid to get the doctor to the Old Master's Room.

The sisters just stood there confused for a few moments before they followed their mother and the man who was supposed to be their dinner.

[An Hour or So Later]

"How is he?" Alcina asked the doctor as she came out of the room with her mask on her face.

"He's very weak and malnourished, not to mention all of the scars and insection marks on his body. Wherever he's been for the past decades shows that he wasn't treated well and was used as a lab rat." The doctor explained.

"When will he wake up?" Alcina asked.

"Judging by the bags under his eyes and the paleness of his skin, he hasn't been able to get a proper night's rest - he might be asleep for a few hours or even days, but when he does wake up, he'll need a proper meal to get his weight back up." The doctor explained.

"Thank you, you may leave now." Alcina gave a dismissive wave of her hand and the doctor walked away as Alcina opened the door and walked. The entire time - the Dimitrescu Sisters were standing behind their mother, completely confused as to what was going on and why their mother was taking care of the food. They looked at each other before nodding and following their mother inside the room.

Here's the thing - throughout their entire lives living in this grand castle, they have never once been in this room; it remained locked for as long as they remembered and their mother kept the key close. When asked about the room, Alcina would get defensive and explain that the room was never to be opened - and if it was opened for any reason, there would be horrible punishments.

The first time they saw the room - it was grand: The walls were covered in Royal Blue Velvet with dark Ebony trims along the walks, the rug was large and circular - black with the Dimitrescu Crest in white in the center, the bed was against the wall with dark blue blankets and sheets, around the room was black wooden dressed and along the walls were different kinds of blades - from knives to full-blown dragon-head spears.

Bela walked over to her mother - her sisters following behind her - and looked as her mother eyed the sleeping figure of the man who rested in the bed with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes.

"Mother..." Bela tried to find the right words, "Mother, who is he? Why are you crying for him? Who is he to you?" Bela asked. Alcina wiped her tears before turning to face her 3 daughters.

"He...This man is someone very important to me. Someone I lost a long time ago before I met you, my wonderful daughters." Alcina said in the chair at the dresser - it was strong enough to hold her weight. "As you all know - I have a blood disease and it made it hard for me; one main issue I had was that I couldn't birth my own children...or so I thought." Alcina gave a sad smile.

"What do you mean 'or so you thought'?" Cassandra asked.

"There was a time, around the time I met Mother Miranda, that I found I was pregnant - I didn't believe it until I began seeing the results of pregnancy. I thought I would lose the baby, just as I had lost all my others but...I didn't. The baby was born healthy - it as a miracle that it didn't inherit my blood disease; it was strong...just like his father." Alcina smiled sadly.

"His Father?" Bela asked before her eyes widened in realization, "Mother...you don't mean..." Alcina nodded.

"Yes, that man is [Y/N] Dimitrescu - The Son of House Dimitrescu." Alcina smiled and looked at her sleeping son but the daughters...they could be more afraid.

[A Month Later]

Once [Y/N] opened his eyes, Alcina was all over him, babying him just as she did before he was taken away from her when he was a toddler - she tried asking him where he was for all that time but it made him whimper, he couldn't even be touched without flinching. His right leg experienced a deformity and Alcina gifted him a cane to aid him in getting his mobility back.

Whenever he would move, Alcina was right by him.

When he needed something, Alcina would be the one to get it.

When he was hungry, Alcina would personally demand the best food for her son.

When it was dinnertime, Alcina insisted that he'd sit beside her, which was Bela's spot.

Alcina would do anything and everything for her son - and the girls didn't like it.

They would try anything to get their mother's attention but nothing seemed to work.

Bela managed to get her mother a rare vintage - she shared with [Y/N].

Cassandra managed to hunt down large game for her mother - it was overlooked while she dined with [Y/N]

Daniela made her other a painting - it wasn't even looked at for Alcina was watching [Y/N] read.

The girls hated their older brother.

They didn't even see him as their brother - just an old burden that should have stayed gone.

He took their mother from them and he was going to pay for it. Dearly.

One day - Alcina had left for a House Meeting; [Y/N] begged her not to bring up the fact he turned to the castle in the meeting - it was a strange request but she agreed and left for the meeting. The moment she was gone, [Y/N] began to hobble in a random direction on his cane before it was suddenly kicked from under his hand, making him fall onto the cold hard tile.

"Look at this, sisters; the little thief without someone to protect him." The voice of Bela stood over him as she placed her foot on his back - her heel in his spine.

"We've been waiting a long time for this, you bastard." Cassandra said as she walked into the room with her sickle in her hand - the sight of the tip made the golden-eyed man freak out and try to crawl away.

"Oh, look. He knows he gonna die and he's trying to scurry away." Daniela said as she kicked the man in his side, making him curl in pain.

"No! Please, no more! Leave me alone!" He cried in fear.

"No more?! We haven't even done anything to you yet, rat!" Bela yelled.

"But you've done so much to us - taking our mother from us?! Have you lost your damn mind, Man-Thing?!" Daniela yelled.

"No, Mother, please don't! Mother! Mother!" He cried again.

"Mother isn't here to save you now but you're gonna suffer for all the time you spent with her, taking her away from us, you useless burden!" Cassandra raised her weapon and was about to strike when the words that came out of his mouth made them freeze.

"No, Mother Miranda; please don't hurt me! I'll be a good boy, just please, no more needles! No more pain! I won't ask to see my sisters again, please don't hurt me!" He curled up, clenching his head in pain as memories flooded back into his mind.

"Mother Miranda?" Bela asked.

"Needles and pain?" Cassandra said.

"His sisters?" Dani finished.

Bela took her foot off the man's back and listened to his pleads - his begging not to be hurt, wanting to see his mother, wanting to see his sisters. They looked at each mother before Bela kneeled on the ground before him and gathered his face in her hands, silencing him and asked what he was talking about. Once he calmed - he explained everything:

When he was a toddler - his father took him to see the Village's Priest, Mother Miranda, who gave him a large pouch of coin and he was never seen again. Mother Miranda then began to run experiments on him, trying to determine what made it possible for him not to inherit Alcina's Blood Disease. She mixed his blood with the Cadou and found an interesting symbiotic relationship between the two and was kept there for further experiments. The Cadou gave him the ability to regenerate faster but broken bones were harder to heal with the power. After decades of being a lab rat - he watched as Miranda made the daughters right before his eyes; he was there when they came to life and he called them sisters before Alcina called them daughters. He begged Miranda to see them, talk to them, and know something beyond the walls of his cell, but all Miranda did was cut him open and harvest his organs while he was still awake.

He managed to escape when Miranda was distracted with another experiment and left her keys unattended - he let himself out under the cover out night and got away from that hellhole. He had been limping with a broken leg, missing organs that were still regrowing themself, just to get to Castle Dimitrescu to see his mother & sisters.

The Daughters looked ashamed - for him to go through all of this for decades and risk everything to be with them...they were horrible sisters. They held him and begged for his forgiveness but all he could do was cry as he finally had sisters and was able to learn their names.

When Alcina came back - she wanted to spend time with her children but it turned out that the sisters wanted alone time with their brother and she was shooed out of the room - guess she'll have some wine until dinner then.

[writeforfandoms]

Merry Go Round of Life 2

Find my masterlist

Part two of the Howl’s Moving Castle AU! There will still be a blend of movie and book in this chapter. Still no Din, but we do meet a couple others! (I’m very curious to see your guesses about the as-of-yet unnamed certain scarecrow.) 

This will eventually be a Din Djarin x f!reader.

Warnings: Nothing much. A little unspecified swearing. 

Chapter two: In which we meet a fire demon

You stood there for a moment, stunned into silence. What had just happened? Curse? What curse?

Shaking your head, you moved from behind the counter to go lock the door, only you couldn’t seem to walk as quickly. Indeed, you were almost… hobbling? Concerned now, you looked down at yourself. Was the ground closer or was it just you? 

And then you froze at the sight of your hands. Your hands were thick-knuckled, knobbly, wrinkly, with prominent veins. You blinked down at your own skin, confused for a moment, and then you rushed (as well as you could) towards the floor-length mirror you had set up for customers.

A little old lady stood in the mirror, in your blue dress, with white hair. She looked about ninety - a little hunched, knobbly all over, with wrinkles everywhere. You blinked, and the reflection blinked.

“Is that me?” you murmured out loud, and then jolted. Your voice didn’t sound right - a little more scratchy, something. It sounded off. You touched your fingers to the mirror and stared. The reflection was wearing your dress, so unless the mirror had been enchanted…

But no. She’d specifically said that you were under a curse.

“That’s really me, isn’t it?” you asked yourself. As the realization faded a bit, you felt oddly calm. Almost detached. With a low groan and a series of creaks and cracks, you hobbled over to the door to flip the sign to closed and lock the door. 

Well. This was… something.

You creaked and cracked and groaned your way up the stairs to your apartment. There were no wizards or witches in Kalevala, you knew this. So there would be no one to help you here. Which meant there was no point staying, honestly. Wizards were notoriously unreliable, from what you’d heard. You had no guarantee one would come even if you sent a letter begging them. 

So, clearly, the best choice was your next one: go find one. Surely if you found a wizard (or witch, you weren’t going to picky) one would help you, right? And of course there was still the mysterious wizard of the moving castle around, not far from Kalevala at all. Surely you could convince him to help. 

So you wrote a letter to Omera (in shaky handwriting that you had trouble reconciling as yours). As promised, you couldn’t write anything about the curse, and ended up wasting a few pieces of paper because of that. Finally, you gave up on that and simply wrote that you were taking a few weeks to travel for inspiration. 

Inspiration. Sure. Omera was going to read that and get half the town in an uproar. But it was the best you could do on such short notice.

That done, you gathered up some food and your favorite cloak. You locked your apartment, and sealed a spare key in with the letter to Omera, which you left on the shop counter. Omera had a key to the shop - she’d let herself in once someone realized you were gone.

(Someone would realize, right? Right. Of course.) 

With a faint wistfulness, you patted the shop door, and set off to find a wizard. Fortunately, though you’d aged quite a bit, you still seemed hale - your legs worked fine (after a few more cracks), and though you were slower than usual, you were able to get around just fine. 

The walk out of town to the hills was… something. It was odd. You’d left the town exactly once before, to visit your other sister Cara in the capitol once. But even then, you’d had transportation, and Omera beside you. Leaving on your own with nothing but your pack? It was frightening, and new, but somehow liberating. There was no expectation here. No inherited dress shop to run. No expectant clients to appease. No gossip to listen in on, or ignore. 

It was quiet.

Once out of town proper, you started climbing the hills. There were dirt roads up here for the farmers that lived out this way, and for now you just continued along those. You took a couple breaks, sitting on the side of the road to take a drink or eat a nibble, always turning to look back at Kalevala. 

“It doesn’t look so far away,” you muttered to yourself. “I could probably throw a stone into the nearest chimney!” 

Heaving yourself upright again, you started on again, until you spotted what looked like a stick. A walking stick, maybe. You could use one of those. 

Hobbling over, you grabbed the stick and managed to wrestle it free from the hedge along the road. Only it wasn’t a walking stick. It was some kind of scarecrow. You hefted it upright (with perhaps a muttered swear or two) and then squinted up at the scarecrow.

“Why is your head a turnip?” you asked, rhetorically. “Ah, well. Not a walking stick after all. Too bad, my friend. May you find a better field to stand in.” 

You continued on your way, grumbling a bit to yourself. It was getting late - the sun had not yet set, but it was low in the sky. Your daylight was limited, and you had no idea where you would bed down for the night. 

You stopped for supper on a low rock, sitting and stretching out your legs with a low groan. You could still see the town quite clearly. 

“All this walking and I’ve barely left home,” you grumbled. “This wizard had better be able to help me.” 

You gnawed on your food, stuck somewhere between melancholy, anger, and resignation. But you were far too stubborn to turn back now. After all, what did you have left to lose? Certainly not your good looks. You chortled at yourself for that. 

You had just gotten to your feet again when you spotted a likely-looking stick. Hobbling carefully over to it in the dimming light, you pulled a nice walking stick out of the hedge. It was a bit tall for you, but smooth and sturdy. 

“Now this is a fine find!” you muttered. “This will be a great help.” 

And with that you marched on. You were panting as you reached the top of the hill and you paused to look around. The land out here really was beautiful - rolling hills dotted with farms. Although you could see something moving towards you. Something big. Something big and grey and oddly bulbous, not very like a castle at all, actually. 

The wizard’s castle ground to a stop not far from you. It was odd, round where it shouldn’t be, not as tall as you expected, and an odd color. It was almost metallic, although surely it wasn’t actually made of metal. That would be preposterous. 

“Well, I wanted the wizard,” you told your stick. “I suppose I should go knock.” You started towards the castle, searching for a way in. There wasn’t one immediately apparent. It wasn’t until you hobbled around to the back that you found a door, and eagerly started towards it. 

The castle started moving.

“Will you slow down?” you gasped at the castle, hobbling as fast as you could. You managed to tap on the door with your stick, stumbling a bit and falling behind momentarily. With one desperate hop, you managed to grab the doorknob. Another hop and a skip got one foot on the doorframe, and you pushed the door open. Two more skipping steps got you in the castle, and the door slammed shut after you. 

Your first impression of the inside of the castle was… not favorable. While it wasn’t a total mess, it was cluttered. The large table in the center of the main room had objects strewn across it. More things lay on the floor, largely shoved into corners out of the way. (You didn’t quite dare to look too closely at these items.) A large fireplace dominated one wall, with a cushy armchair in front of it. Troubles momentarily forgotten, you made straight for the chair, sinking into it with a grateful groan. These old bones hurt more than you thought possible, but the warmth of the fire was slowly helping. 

“What a curious fire,” you mused to your walking stick. “Why, it’s almost got a face. Curious indeed what these wizards can do.”

“No wizard did this,” the fire snapped back at you. 

You blinked. The fire blinked back. There was a riot of bright red flames atop the face, and the face itself was vaguely feminine, all in yellow and orange with a touch of blue at the eyes. 

“The fire speaks?” you asked, sitting up straighter.

“Yes, the fire speaks,” the fire spoke. “The fire also has a name. You can call me Peli.” The fire puffed up a bit.

“Peli,” you repeated dutifully. You were still not convinced you were somehow hallucinating this. 

“So what brings you out here? Not many are willing to wander out so far away from the town, or so close to Tattooine.” Peli leaned forward a bit. 

“I’m seeking a wizard,” you told Peli. You noticed the logs in the grate were almost burned up, and leaned over to heft a new log into the fire.

“Oh that’s nice,” Peli hummed, settling in on the new log. “Why do you need a wizard? Oh, wait.” The fire looked you up and down, very obviously. “Aha! You’re under a curse, too!”

“I am,” you agreed. “What do you mean, too?”

“I am also under a curse,” Peli told you, lowering her voice. “But I can help you, if you help me.” 

“You can break my curse?” you asked, caught between eagerness and suspicion.

“‘Course I can!” Peli boasted. “I wasn’t always stuck to this grate, you know. I’m a very powerful fire demon.” 

“So I see.” You yawned. You couldn’t help it. You’d been traveling all day, the fire was warm and felt good on your old bones, the chair was comfortable enough.

“Hey. Hey! Will you help me or not?” Peli hissed.

“Alright,” you agreed, half-asleep. “I’ll help you, if you promise you’ll help me.”

You missed whatever Peli’s response was. Your head tipped back against the chair and you were out like a light.

[zoradementio]

Deltarune Theories and Observations Part 2

Since it’s been like three weeks and this game still hasn’t left my god damn brain, here’s some more things that I felt like noting or theorizing.

~Parallels of Noelle and Kris~

So, I ended my last Deltarune longpost with a comparison between Kris and Susie. But, interestingly enough, Kris and Noelle also have a lot of similarities. Both of them have an older sibling figure who was a very prominent crutch in their lives (Asriel for Kris, Dess for Noelle). Yet, in present times, this elder sibling is not present (though Dess’ is a bit more permanent, whether she died or went missing.) And compared to these older siblings, Kris and Noelle are the more introverted sibling, with Kris barely having a social life until the start of the game and Noelle being the biggest pushover since a card tower. Then, there’s their parental dynamics. Asgore and Rudy are both the carefree, laidback father figures, with Asgore immediately throwing Kris in a bear hug when seeing them and Rudy encouraging Noelle to ask Susie out and playing Dragon Blazers with her. This contrasts with the more proper, if strict mother figures. While Noelle’s mother is certainly the more egregious, if the fact that Noelle would rather stand outside her home’s gates likely for hours on end than to attempt to ‘bother’ her mother during work for a house key, there are a few signs of Toriel being a little strict in some areas. Apart from some dialogue from Bratty about her kissing Asriel and anything involving the big school dance being signs that Toriel does not approve of her kids, or any of her students for that matter, getting into anything even remotely romantic, the flavor text for the closet in Kris’ Dark World room being ‘You could wear whatever you want’ suggests that Toriel imposes some sort of a dress code on Kris and likely also Asriel when he was living at home. They’re also the two characters most susceptible to the SOUL, in other words you the player. Kris’ is a bit more direct, as they are the character we control in both their movements and what they say. While Noelle, considering she has such a weak will, she is fairly mailable if we impose our will onto her, as demonstrated in the Pipis Route. Finally, they both have a strong attachment towards Susie, though whether Kris’ is romantic or not is not entirely clear as of yet. Oh, and speaking of Noelle...

~The Return of Noelle~

In at least one of the future chapters, I believe Noelle will make a come back as a party member. I don’t think Toby Fox would make it this easy to just lose whatever equipment you put on her, especially if you give her the Jevilstail or if the Pipis Route has been fully completed you will lose a component of the Twisted Sword, which will presumably be available in future chapters. Therefore, I believe that Noelle will be playable again, at least at some point.

~Misanthropic Dysmorphia~

So, many people have seen the connections that Kris has to Chara (or The Fallen Child) from Undertale. They both love chocolate, are the adopted children of Toriel and Asgore, and seem to have an affinity for knives. But if there is one more connection they have, it’s that they both seem to hate humans. Now, while don’t know the reasons as to why Chara hated humans, it was enough for them to want to slaughter an entire village of people, going overboard with the body count when only 6 souls were needed to break the barrier. While Kris likely isn’t as genocidal as Chara was, their distaste for humanity runs just as deep. However, Kris’ misanthropy manifests as a form of body dysmorphia. As a child, they wondered when their horns would grow in like their brother and parents, showing that, at least at that point Kris didn’t understand the biological differences between themself and those around them. Not only that, but in Chapter 2, when going upstairs in the library and reading the book ‘How to Care for Humans’, when looking at the pages Kris immediately closes the book when seeing the pictures of humans in seeming disgust. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise if Kris hates the fact that they’re human, seeing as that is the big thing that makes them an outsider to Hometown. It would also explain why they seem to hate the SOUL/Player, even if you play as pacifistically as possible and don’t do anything to intentionally upset Kris like throwing away the Ball of Junk in the Light World. After all, Kris’ description in the Dark World as soon as you enter it in Chapter 1 is ‘A body containing a human SOUL’. Apart from just generally being upset that some outside force is controlling their actions, Kris is also likely pissed that a human is the one controlling them, because, assumedly, you or anyone else that plays Deltarune is going to be a human. That could be just some extra salt in the wound, that even Kris’ own soul is not only human but not even their own.

~Darkner’s History(?)~

This is something strange that I don’t think a lot of people think about. So, I notice a lot of people point out that Ralsei knows that both his Dark Fountain and the Fountain from Chapter 1 are located in a supply closet and a classroom respectively. Most people point to this as evidence that Ralsei knows something, however Ralsei isn’t the only one with knowledge of the Light World. Queen does have a line or two about knowing that her Dark World is within a library. So clearly, Darkners have at least some awareness of the Light World, or at least enough about their enclosed spaces and possibly limited to appointed rulers or some such. What isn’t so clear is how long these Dark Worlds have lasted. Sure, portals to the Dark Worlds seem like only a recent thing, there is talk about the history of these characters. Just within Chapter 1 there’s King overthrowing the other three card kings and taking the throne all to himself, Jevil meeting a mysterious figure causing him to go mad and thus needing to be locked up by Seam, a presumably long series of puzzle makers syphoned out before Roulxs became the Duke of Puzzles, and some kind of falling out between Queen and King (which also brings up the question of when and why was Queen’s laptop in the abandoned classroom). My point being, despite these Dark Worlds being open for maybe a day or two at best, there seems to be almost years worth of history to these places. It could be a case of ‘one day passes inside, but only about an hour has passed outside’ thing or it could be that Dark Worlds still technically exists even without a Dark Fountain. So far, though, I can’t offer any concrete answers to this. And actually, since I brought up his suspicious behavior once again...

~Communication Issues~

I already talked about how Ralsei is suspicious in an out-of-universe perspective here, but in universe he is acting rather suspicious. Namely, around Susie. When Kris and Susie return to Castle Town, Ralsei tells Kris to gather everything in the adjacent classroom and bring it here. Everyone becomes their Darkner counterparts and Susie is naturally excited to see everyone, especially Lancer. Ralsei then says, and only says, that ‘when the Dark Fountain was sealed, that area returned to a normal classroom. And when Lancer decides to become one of you KEY ITEMS, Ralsei doesn’t explain that Darkners become regular objects in the Light World, causing Susie to think Lancer ditched them when Kris and Susie leave to work on their group project. And during the Chapter 2 epilogue, Susie even suggests finding a way to bring Ralsei and Lancer into the Light World, despite that seeming to be an impossibility. That’s not even mentioning the post Spamton NEO dialogue where Susie is the first to bring up the oddities of the whole scenario, and Ralsei immediately chooses to shoot down any questioning. Ralsei seemingly keeps Susie out of the loop on a lot of important things about how the Dark World works. Now, Susie doesn’t really question these things, but that’s mostly because 1. she is a very ‘only cares about the here and now’ type of person and is very excited about the whole Dark World shenanigans her, Kris and Ralsei get up to, and 2. this girl is dense enough to not immediately catch on the Noelle is crushing so hard on her a neon sign saying ‘SHE LIKES YOU’ would be a more subtle message. Now, it could be that Ralsei sees Susie in a much more ‘need to know’ basis, that since she is isn’t really the group plan-maker, she doesn’t need to know the intricacies of how the Dark Worlds, the Fountains, and everything works. It also could be that the player, and by extension Kris, are more important and thus will be needed this information more than Susie. However, I still hesitate to say that Ralsei is malicious in action. What I think would be the most likely reason, if his explanation of the Roaring and Queen’s reaction to it are any indication, it looks like Ralsei’s fatal flaw is assuming his knowledge is common knowledge. After all, he assumed that Queen was opening another Dark Fountain because she wanted to destroy the world, when that couldn’t be further from the case. In all likelihood, Ralsei could be overestimating how perceptive Susie really is when it comes to putting details together.

~Only One Ending...?~

This is something a few people have been debating for a while now. Back when Chapter 1 was released in 2018, Toby Fox said that Deltarune would only have one ending. However, with the addition of Chapter 2′s Pipis Route, many of us are wondering if that was a flat out lie or not. My assumption goes one of two ways. Option A: It was true at the time. During the three year development of Chapter 2 a lot, and I mean a LOT, of things about Deltarune have changed. Initially the game was going to be another mostly solo development similar to Undertale. But, with the larger workload and Toby Fox working on other projects like developing music for the Pokemon games, and on top of all of that going through some pretty bad wrist pains, Fox decided to get a small development team for Deltarune. There were debates on whether to switch Deltarune’s game engine to something like Unity, before settling back to Game Maker. And even when Chapter 1 was released, it was more of a proof of concept than anything, with barely any of the rest of the story being written down. It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise if Toby Fox decided to add some more endings because he thought that would work better for what he was going for. Or, Option B: It will be one ending, but in the same way the Normal Ending in Undertale is ‘one ending’. See, while Deltarune likes to emphasize that ‘your choses don’t matter’ and in Undertale ‘your choses do matter’, in actuality, the choses in both games have roughly the same weight. Sure, in Undertale it seems like your choses have more of an impact, but the basic story beats of the game are all the same. You will always fall into the underground, get quasi-adopted by Toriel, go through a wacky puzzle romp with Papyrus, get hunted by Undyne through Waterfall, guest star in Mettaton’s shows with Alphys as your guide, and finally make it to New Home. And there were still some minor questions in Undertale that really had no bearing on what you answered, such as Toriel’s question of if you prefer cinnamon or butterscotch. But because Undertale frames it with ‘your choses matter’ and Deltarune frames it in ‘your choses don’t matter’ we see it as such. So, when it comes to the endings, there really are only three endings in Undertale. The True Genocide ending, where you go all the way through with killing everyone and everything in the Underground, the True Pacifist Ending, where you SPARED everything you came across and completed the necessary friendship side quests, and the Normal Ending. Now, the Normal Ending sounds like a pretty narrow term, considering there’s like at least around 10 different variations of this ending, but the basic plot beats are still the same: You finish the fight with Asgore, fight Omega Flowey, and using the power of the other six souls you (as Frisk) are able to return above ground. Most of what makes this ending different is pretty much flavor text at the very end, with Sans and which ever other characters that are alive/befriended chiming in. I feel like Deltarune’s ending could play out in a similar vein, with larger plot beats being consistent, but specific character’s reactions and what not would change up the ending slightly. And, if we are only given one ending, I feel like there would be a good reason to word it like that. Similarly to what was said some time after on Toby Fox’s twitter about the True Pacifist ending, ‘This is the best ending, nothing more’ when people were wondering if there was a way to save Asriel from his fate in the end. So, if we are told there will be only ‘one ending’ that implies that there’s going to be something we’ll want to change. And what will this change be? Well...

~Don’t Forget, I’m With You In The Dark~

I believe that the ending of Deltarune will involve sealing the Castle Town Fountain. A lot of what’s set up in Deltarune seems to be leading to this. From the suspiciousness of Ralsei, to the premonition of the world ending if too many fountains are open, to the fact that Darkners are unable to consciously interact with the Light World. I’m pretty sure that we’re going to have to say good bye to Ralsei, Lancer, Rouxls, Seam, Queen, and all the rest of the Darkners by the end. And let’s face it, this ending would be the best punch to the gut that the game could offer. But I don’t think it will be all sad. After all, the Darkners will still be with us in spirit, will still be with us in the dark.

[sunflowersseemhappy]

How the main 6 would ask mc to move i please?

I mean I laughed at these, but I think I’m a comedic genius...

Here’s my Masterlist!

Next up is Main Six finding and reacting to MC's sketchbook full of cute little drawings of them.

Asra

In this particular situation, what Asra is trying to say is that “do you want to move into my room with me.”

It seems like a simple enough task, but just thinking about it makes him buzz with excitement even if it is just sharing a room.

But upon asking you those are not the exact the words that leave his mouth.

“MC do you want to move in with me?”

You take a moment to answer and Asra doesn’t even realise he worded the question incorrectly so he’s wondering if he said anything wrong.

“Asra we live together…”

“Oh, I meant move into my room with me.”

“Sure.”

“Okay then...”

The two of you burst out laughing after the silence.

Nadia

Well, if you two are going to be involved with each other Nadia thinks its only fair that she asks you to move in.

Both to save your legs from the long walk to the palace and to bring the two of you closer.

So she brings you to her wing and asks you to move into the Palace.

“Take your pick of any of the rooms.”

“That one.”

“That’s my room…”

“Yeah I know, but usually when someone asks someone to move in together it also involves sleeping in the same bed.”

She actually blushes, maybe in embarrassment or at your forwardness but she nods.

Smiling at how endearing you are.

Julian

Julian’s been mulling it over and he certainly doesn’t want to ask you to move in with him and Maz. The embarrassing stories of his childhood are alone enough to make him avoid that option.

But he doesn’t have a place to call home yet, sure he has his clinic but there’s no bedrooms in there and he hasn’t been back in Vesuvia long enough to find somewhere.

It would feel to pretentious to ask if he could move in with you.

Oh, what to do?

You catch him half asleep while he’s thinking this and ask what he’s doing, he doesn’t even lift his head to answer with a tired half-asleep tone.

“I want to ask Y/N if we could move in together, but I don’t have anywhere perfect for them and I kind of want to ask about moving in with Y/N but I don’t want to be pretentious. So, what I’m doing is…”

Then he realises he’s talking to YOU, and he awkwardly raises his head to your smiling face.

“All you needed to do is ask!”

Muriel

He wishes every day that you didn’t have to leave the shop for his hut and then after spending some time with him had to leave to go back to the shop.

At this point it’s just…awkward.

He doesn’t quite know how to ask though, but he has a key for you.

Muriel works up almost enough courage to ask if you want to move in with him.

“I thought… maybe you might want to… take this key.”

He shoves the key in your hand with a red face, turning redder as you ask him what it’s for.

“You don’t have to knock anymore.”

“Oh, thank you! But it seems there’s something else you meant to ask me?”

“Well… Iwaswonderingifyouwanttosharethehut!”

“You mean move in? With you?”

“You don’t have to…”

“I’d love to Muriel.”

Portia

So Portia thought of several way’s she could ask you to move in (all very romantic and well thought).

In the end though it came down to a spontaneous question while the two of you were planting a pair of cherry trees.

Somehow you two got on the topic of plant symbolisation and she remembered cherry trees meant love and romance...

“I can’t wait to see them grow. They’ll look beautiful one day.”

“Maybe you could watch them grow every day?”

“Huh?”

“Well if you moved in with me, you could watch them grow everyday...”

“Portia are you asking me to move in?”

“I don’t know does a cherry tree symbolise love and romance?”

“Um...”

“Yes! I am asking you, if you want to watch the trees grow with me?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

Lucio

Ever the showman Lucio wants to ask you to move into the castle but in some kind of way that’s cute, like you.

So he devises a plan bordering on weird, using Mercedes and Melinchor for the question.

Tying the only key to his room between the two dogs on a length of ribbon, looking away for five minutes is not a good idea.

The next moment he looks at the two dogs the key is gone and Mercedes is licking her lips.

“You didn’t just... Mercedes did you eat the key?!”

The dog only whines as Lucio pries open her mouth and looks desperately inside, yelling into the dog’s mouth

Turns out that was the only key and his room is locked...

You arrive at the palace to find Lucio demanding Mercedes to “throw up or something!”

You find a key on the floor at your feet and wonder what the hell is going on.

[nukyster-blog]

Changing Course Chapter 31) Favorite pet

.-.-.

Things changed again in Castle de Haar; this time in the crippled slave’s favor. For this morning, it was not the Giant stomping into the shed, no, it was Duna the Brunette who was holding up Ivar’s keys. 

Ivar’s duties held more of a feminine touch, as yesterday he was brought up one hundred and twenty-four steps into the linen room, where a large collection of tangled bowls of wool awaited him. 

His large, calloused hands were not made for the finer arts. That, and being subjected to the gaze of three young women, was a form of torture Ivar had not lived through before. 

This mischievous sisterhood of three giggling, eyelash batting women made Ivar nearly wish the Giant would throw him out of the nearest tower. Was it possible to catch a fever from blushing alone? Because his face was on fire from the moment he crawled back onto the pile of blankets. 

Being their timid, awkward lapdog did have its perks, however. The food was undoubtedly the best he’d received since his arrival in castle de Haar. Although he did his best to contain himself, he wolfed down the entire content of his plate and finished before either of the three women started. His face must have looked like a stuffed chicken, cheeks still full, while trying to swallow.

The two linen maiden cackled at the way Ivar had to punch himself on the chest to prevent himself from choking on a chunk of bread. The fair-maiden, Mabelia, threw a well-meaning glare at the pair and held out a silver cup of wine for Ivar. 

Gulping down the content, Ivar could not help but to feel completely out of place. He was this dirty, vile shadow of filth in the midst of proper, serene creatures, that for reasons unknown wanted him around. 

There was something brewing between the three young women, that was evident. Ivar had a sixth sense when it came to others talking about him. After lunch the blonde, Badelog, disappeared and returned with a bowl of hot water and a small, sharp knife. 

As Badelog strode up to Ivar, turning the smooth handle in her hands, his face fell and he wondered if she was going to stab it into his back literally, as the three had already done so figuratively.

Luckily for Ivar, his mind still held some control over his body. Instead of slitting his throat, the blonde dabbed his chin and jawline with a cloth drenched with hot water. 

Ivar lost all forms of masculinity and embraced the warm touch of Badelog’s hands. Tilting his head upwards like a good little lap dog he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly as the cold touch of her blade pressed against the skin of his cheek. Receiving the first proper shave within a year, Ivar’s shoulders slumped back against the wall and he submitted to the tender care of Badelog.  

The three young women narrowly inspected every inch of Ivar’s chin, jawline and lips before fully approving Badelog’s work. With arms crossed, they nodded in agreement and spoke in delighted, fluttery cheers. 

Ivar still contemplated jumping from the castle, and he blessed the Gods for the fact that his older brothers were far, far away from de Haar. 

The clean shave did feel incredible though; it gave him a feeling of clarity he hadn’t felt for a very long time. 

The pampering wasn’t over yet. Duna took hold of a lock of his greasy hair and held it up between her thumb and index finger. She muttered something and both of the other woman nodded in agreement. 

A pair of scissors appeared in view and Ivar was just in time to pull his hair from Duna’s fingers. 

“No!” He spoke resolutely, “no”, and he tugged his long hair behind his ears. 

For some reason, the three young women thought his action was both funny and endearing. Their high pitched gasps made Ivar’s face sear so vibrantly it could warm up the sun. 

Focusing on the tips of his toes, Ivar wished the young women would continue their work so he would no longer be the centre of their focus. This small favour was granted, and Ivar managed to breath again. Cautious, he rubbed his fingers over the smooth skin of his jawline. He knew it brought out his boyish features, sending him back a few steps into boyhood. 

Ivar never considered himself handsome, nor beautiful. The heads he did manage to turn in Kattegat had always been because of his disability. He was a cripple and he did not expect anyone to look past that hideous default. 

So, maybe if he’d taken the trouble to learn a little bit of basic Dietsch, and would have been brave enough to peek up, Ivar would have noticed how the three young women were slightly enchanted by the presence of the cripple of de Haar. 

The extraordinary stranger, who’d stood up for the black skinned slave against Ludolf and taken a horrendous flogging for it. No, those three young women hadn’t forgotten his bravery, for all three of them were subjected to the twisted cravings of the young ruler. 

It was hard not to be drawn to this hero; with long, tousled, dark brown hair. His eyes, a mesmerizing deep blue like the ocean. With strong hands, rough from working, and with skin kissed by the spring sun. 

A handsome hero, a survivor of a death sentence; it would be hard for any woman to ignore those facts or features.  

.-.-.

Piglet did not speak a word about Ivar’s refreshed appearance. She did not speak a word at all, but her disapproval was evident. Utstott sided with her, quite literally. The slave and the puffy white raven were united in their disdain  toward Ivar siding with the Christians, forming a bond. 

Utstott sat on top of Piglet’s bandana, cawing raucously at Ivar when he tried to pet the bird. Utstott hopped from Piglet’s head to her shoulder, receiving a few pieces of veiny beef from the young woman. It was the only meat of that evening’s meal and Piglet gave it to the bird instead of sharing it with Ivar. As she fed the bird her eyes were scorching and smoldering, daring him to say something about it. 

Ivar cut his losses and ignored the flaring dark eyes and the beady blue one. He’d eaten like a King in the midst of Duna, Badelog and Mabelia. Surely he’d survive the night with this meager meal. 

“They call me teer kind, tar child”, Piglet announced as she picked up their plates, “your two new well-wishers”, she continued when Ivar raised his chin in her direction, “pulled my headscarf off and ran off laughing”, she gave half a shrug and straightened her back, “I’d rather crawl over hot coals then show any man my hair”, she paused and picked up the last plate, “and the wife of Ludolf, she’ll break soon. She won’t last long.” 

Ivar couldn’t decide if Piglet’s last words were meant as a threat or a promise. He didn’t respond to her spiteful words. His lack of reaction only flared up Piglet’s resentment and the young woman spat in his direction, positioning herself in the furthest corner of his box to spend the night. Her attitude over Ivar’s improved way of work did strike him below the belt. In her eyes he betrayed her, but in all honesty, he had no control over the orders he received. Sure, today’s labour was hardly enough to call work, but it wasn’t like he wanted to spend an whole day with the three young women. At least, that was what he was whole-heartedly telling himself. That he did not have a choice, that of course, he hated slaving for the Christians. It was easier believing that lie, instead of facing the fact that he deeply wished that tomorrow, he’d have to crawl up those endless stairs again. 

.-.-. 

Ivar’s place as favorite pet was short term. The next morning Duna did come to unshackle his chains, but instead of climbing a hundred and twenty four steps, he was sent into the kitchen. Duna’s expression had been blank as she pressed a knife and bowl into his hands. 

Anxious, Ivar started his task of peeling potatoes, occasionally glancing at the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fair-maiden. 

In the evening Piglet’s resentful mood lessened for a bit, they played their game and to keep the atmosphere bearable for the rest of the night Ivar did not ask anything about the fair-maiden or the linen maidens. Utstott still bore an attitude towards Ivar, but allowed him to pet it’s growing feathers as a token of peace. The raven had found itself a place during the night on top of Ivar’s box and kept it’s one functioning eye open. For some reason it was quite reassuring to have the bird keeping watch at night, it allowed Ivar to relax and actually catch a good night sleep. 

A few days passed and Ivar dreaded the familiar boredom of mindless tasks inside the kitchen. He met the linen maidens occasionally, tried to respectfully smile at them, but didn’t dare to approach them. He wasn’t sure if that might be a sign of crossing boundaries and under the watchful eyes of Big Cunt and Little Cunt, every move was registered. He knew the linen maidens were also one of the lower residences of De Haar, yet he still remained at the bottom, last in rank. 

Both the young women seemed hesitant to even acknowledge his presence and ignored him, without the fair maiden’s protection as future ruler, they chose to linger on the safe side. Which meant far away from Ivar; the scapegoat of the Giant. 

The absence of the fair maiden made the brute crawl out of his hole, which of course meant Ivar was quickly pulled from the kitchen and placed back aside the well. Cleaning chamber pots.

“Rumor has it,” Piglet spat coldly, sitting on the stone wall of the well she’d brought Ivar a chunk of bread, “that she’s with child.” 

She did not need to be specific in her revelation, and both remained silent for a while. 

Once more, conflict began to swell inside Ivar’s ribcage. It was a fight between Viking and Slave. His pride and heritage forbid it to feel any sliver of sympathy for the young woman bound to bear a child of a monstrous husband. 

Yet the crippled slave still savoured the memory of her lips pressed against his, it didn’t matter that it had only lasted for a mere moment. Her kindness confused him, yet intrigued him immensely. She wanted something of him, hope, above anything. And although the guilt ripped him to pieces, he wanted to be near her. Even if it was as a humiliated lapdog. Because in a way, Mabelia made him feel less damaged. On the contrary, there was an odd sense of worship in her gaze, every time their eyes met. She truly believed that he was de Martelaar, favoured by her God. 

Maybe that was another thing that tore him up inside; her high expectation. She must have known why Ivar was being punished with forty lashes. He’d drawn her husband’s blood to protect Piglet and he knew she longed for him to save her virtue too. 

And he failed her, dreadfully. 

“She won’t last long,” Piglet whispered thoughtlessly, picking at the moss covered wall of the well, “she won’t last long.” 

.-.-.

A/N: So what I liked about tv Ivar is that he can be 100% ruthless, barbaric, a tyrant, the worst of the worst. Yet at the same time, place a woman in the same room and he turns into this awkward teenage boy. Humbled by the mere sight of a woman of his interest. Remember the first moment with Freydis? He just victored over York, poured boiling gold into the mouth of a priest. Worst of the worst, evil, demonic. And then watch how he sort of melts for simply being kissed. Sorta -am I worthy?- So yes, that’s a part I kind of wanted to explore a little further in Changing Course. His reaction to kindness, women of his peers, the confliction of liking them versus being a Viking. Versus being Piglet’s companion. I’d love to hear your thoughts about my A/N and about the chapter of course. 

Xoxoxox Nukyster

The kickass beta: @sarahh-jane The tagged ones: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax @saldelys ​ @shannygoatgruff​ @pieces-by-me​ @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa​ @readsalot73​ @lauraan182 @conaionaru @sarahh-jane @peachyboneless @adhdnightmare If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

[thewhumperinwhite]

The Winter King’s Ward: Endure

WKW masterpost

OKAY. SO. I’ve been blocked on this story long enough that I just wanted to post what I have, even though it’s out of order. So, there’s about a month-long time skip between this and the previous piece. Sorry about that.

Also: This is nsfw. Please read the warnings carefully, because this is the most graphic thing I’ve posted thus far. It’s an outsider perspective (i.e. not the victim or the perpetrator) but it’s fairly intense.

TW for: rape/noncon; oral sex; nsfw text; abuse of power; guilt; vomiting; mild gore.

Not tagging anyone just to be safe.

----

Andry told the people to endure, there on the balcony with his arms unbound but the least free he had ever been, and he did not say it lightly. He knows that the people are under the power of their enemies in ways many of them never have been before. In this respect he feels he has an advantage; he is used to having his movements restricted, though he knows he has less protection now than he did, even in his father’s house.

He knows it’s coming, in other words. When it inevitably does, he’s almost relieved; he had been afraid it would be The Winter King, and he’s not sure he could have kneeled for the Winter King as easily—it would have been too easy to shake, from anger or from fear.

It isn’t Morden Crane, and it isn’t Thorne either, against all odds; he had been fairly sure Thorne would be the first, since that was Crane’s intention from the first. It’s three drunk Leisevan soldiers, after the feast.

Three is a bad number; enough to egg each other on and spur each other further than one would probably go. But that doesn’t really matter. Andry knows it’s coming. He’s ready to endure. 

----

Thorne stays longer at the party than he might otherwise; the wine his Master has liberated from the Lion’s cellar is sitting warm and pleasant in his belly and he isn’t eager to leave this room filled with people who think he’s funny for his own chambers where the Summer Prince will be waiting in sullen silence. After two months with His Highness, a few more minutes in the company of those who think him more than a murderous brute does not go amiss. Or, people who think his being a murderous brute is cause for slaps on the back more than frigid silence, at least.

He’s in charge of the Summer Prince’s care and feeding, however, so when he’s weaving very slightly and feels impenetrably Approved Of, he snags a plate of what meat is left, and a full cup of the excellent wine in anticipation of the Prince’s silent martyrdom at being brought table scraps. 

He passes the locked door of the Prince’s closet first, and then he stops, because it is very slightly ajar.

Thorne blinks owlishly at the cracked-open door. It doesn’t even really occur to him that the prince may finally have made his first escape attempt. Presumably because he is drunk.

For similar reasons, the low voices and muffled laughter coming from inside don’t set alarm bells ringing in his head as quickly as they should.

The men standing in Andry’s closet are definitely drunker than Thorne is, though, as evidenced by the fact that they don’t immediately notice when he pushes the door open, making no effort at stealth.

Drink is why the two on either side don’t see him enter, anyway. The center one is presumably drunk too, but probably more distracted by the fact that he is busily shoving his cock down the Summer Prince’s throat, rocking back and forth on his heels with the force of his thrusts and making fast, short little gasps of pleasure.

Time slows for a moment. The room is dark; they’ve lit one candle to see what they’re doing and it’s near the entrance, casting everything in harsh shadows, but Thorne can see more of the middle guard’s ass than he wants to, and two different hands twisted in the Prince’s short-cropped hair, and a knife held clumsy and half-forgotten in the center guard’s hand, very close to the Prince’s already-scarred face.

He also sees the second Andry, the only sober one, knows he’s there, and when the Summer Prince jerks in surprise, he chokes on the Leisevan soldier’s cock, gags just loud enough to carry.

“What the hell is going on here,” Thorne says, and his voice sounds like a stranger to his own ears; it isn’t until he hears it that he realizes he’s the angriest he’s ever been.

The guard fucking the Prince’s mouth starts badly, stumbling backwards and trying to turn at the same time, and Thorne sees the knife he’s holding bite deeply into the Prince’s cheek, but the Prince just rocks back on his heels and coughs slightly, like he doesn’t know there’s blood pouring down his face. Thorne sees the stricken look on the Prince’s face, and then he sees the guard on the left left tucking his cock hurriedly back into his trousers, and the guard who had been kneeling to hold the Prince still stumbling to his feet, speaking quickly and swaying, while the man whose cock had been in the Prince’s mouth is just standing there, slackjawed, his pants still down around his knees and his cock standing at confused attention.

Thorne is still carrying the Prince’s dinner. The goblet he borrowed from the great hall is sturdy ceramic, Craeten make, borrowed like everything else in the castle. Thorne drops the tray of food, and then he swings the goblet with all his strength, and it shatters against the guard’s jaw; blood sprays hard enough to splatter on the wall behind him. The impact throws the guard into the wall and he sinks down, keening. The other two stare at him. At some point they succeeded in tucking their cocks back in. Thorne looks at them, so he’ll know their faces tomorrow.

“Get him out of here,” he says, and the two who can stand scramble to follow his orders, dragging the third between them.

“My lord Wolf, sir,” the one who had been kneeling mutters on his way past. Thorne doesn’t answer. 

Thorne stays with his head turned halfway toward the door to give himself a second to catch his breath without having to look at either the fleeing soldiers or at Andry, still kneeling on the floor. He drags a hand through his hair; he’s glad his Master isn’t here to see him. He feels like he can barely stand up straight.

“I ordered guards posted on this door,” he says, because his brain feels like molasses. He’s heard people are supposed to sober up suddenly in serious situations; he can’t decide if he’s disappointed or relieved it doesn’t seem to be true.

He isn’t sure who he was addressing. Not Andry. But since he’s the only one there, after a pause the Prince says in a cracked voice, “You did. You’ve just sent them away.”

That is—no mystery, should have been easy to guess. Part of assigning men to this door had meant giving them a key, in case the Prince was doing something suspicious. And he hadn’t needed guarding, really. It had been a show, to prove Thorne was the one with the power. As if the Prince could have somehow forgotten.

Thorne makes himself look at Andry. The Summer Prince hasn’t moved, his head bowed, his hair tangled and hanging in his face. Blood is dripping slowly down his jaw and landing on his legs, which Thorne realises with a sickening jolt are bare. He’s wearing a nightshirt and it’s torn badly at the collar, exposing most of his chest. He must have been sleeping when they came; it is, after all, very late.

The Prince is looking down at his mismatched hands, which are resting on his bare knees, the whole one open and empty. His voice is that way too. What he says is, “Why did you stop them?”

Thorne has to catch himself against the wall. He makes a noise, but it certainly isn’t Craetan; he isn’t even sure it’s Leisevan.

“Did you want that?” he almost yells. He’s never been more miserably drunk than he is now.

The Prince doesn’t answer that, since it wasn’t a real question. He doesn’t look up or move from the floor, either. 

Thorne’s head is swimming, and he can’t think with Andry kneeling on the floor in front of him. “Get up,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than he means it to be.

The Prince does as he’s told, though he lists to the side in the process, as though he’s been on his knees for a while and his legs aren’t yet ready to bear weight again. Thorne instinctively reaches forward to steady him, and for just a second, Andry jerks away from him, his face spasming with panic. Then it goes blank again and he stands completely still, clearly waiting for Thorne to do what he will.

Thorne stares at him, his hand still outstretched, feeling as though he’s just been slapped.

Andry has the cover on his wrist stump, since that seems to be permanent, but his arms aren’t manacled together. And Thorne knows, distantly, that the Prince knows how to fight, has seen him spar with skill and grace. Even down a hand, the guards were so drunk they were unsteady on their feet; for someone with years of training, even woken suddenly from sleep, the one narrow blade among them and the difference in number should have made little difference. Physically, he could probably have stopped them, in the same way he could have pushed Thorne away, a thousand years ago, in the banquet hall.

Except. Except of course that the men who woke him and forced him to his knees were the men Thorne himself had assigned to watch his room, to report back to him if the Prince did anything suspicious. What would he himself have done if those men had come to him with bloody noses and said they’d caught the Prince trying the windows? Who would he have believed?

Andry’s made no escape attempt so far, nor fought any of the soldiers since the House was taken; Thorne wants very badly to think he would have found it suspicious. But he seems to be a bit too drunk to effectively lie to himself at the moment.

Thorne turns abruptly, leaving the Prince standing there in the middle of the disarray of his closet-room in his torn nightshirt, still dripping blood onto the floor. Thorne stumbles to his chest of drawers and pulls out something that feels like a shirt and pants, then returns and thrusts them in Andry’s direction without looking at his face.

The Prince hesitates a moment, and then he takes the clothes from Thorne and stands there, as though waiting for further instructions. It makes Thorne’s stomach turn.

Thorne looks around the room so that he won’t have to look at the Prince’s face, and realizes with dismay that he can’t ask Andry to sleep here. Even regardless of the fact that he didn’t retrieve the key from the guards, Andry can’t keep living in the same room where they—it doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Come on,” Thorne says roughly, gesturing toward the door to his own chambers, and the Prince’s face shutters so completely that Thorne wants to tear out his own tongue.

“I’m not—all gods, Andry,” Thorne says, and either the strain in Thorne’s voice or the sound of his own name—how long has it been since he’s heard it spoken?—seems  to bring a flicker of life back into the Prince’s eyes. Thorne lowers his voice, trying to keep it steady. “I’m not going to touch you, Andry, alright? On my mother’s grave, I won’t.”

Andry blinks at him, his eyes as blank and reflective as they were the first time Thorne saw him, with blood in his hair and his hands newly bound. Then he blinks again, and inclines his head very slightly. Thorne doesn’t know what that means—whether or not the Prince believes he isn’t about to be held down again—but it’s all he has, for now. He scrubs at his eyes, deeply wishing he were sober. With one hand still covering his face, he gestures to the door with the other hand. 

“I want to get the hell out of this room,” he says. “My chambers have a perfectly decent couch, as you probably remember. I’m inviting you to sleep on it. I’m the only one with the key.”

Andry stares at him. He’s still holding the clothes Thorne gave him, and the cut on his face is still dripping freely onto the floor. When he doesn’t move, Thorne throws up his hands with a despairing grunt and stalks through into his chambers himself.

Thorne doesn’t know where they keep the extra linens, and he doesn’t want to check whether the sheets on Andry’s narrow bed are clean, because if they aren’t he thinks he’ll be sick. But it’s not too cold this far into the palace, anyway, so he drags the comforter off his own four-poster and tosses it in the direction of the couch.

“Don’t get blood everywhere,” he says over his shoulder, on the off-chance Andry has actually followed him into the room instead of standing there blank-faced in his own smashed-up closet. Thorne’s pack is lying near the door of the room, and the gods smiles on him enough that it’s still stocked with bandages from the last time he took it out. He could use something to clean the wound with, though.

When Thorne finally steels himself and turns to look, Andry is shrugging out of his ruined night-shirt, the leggings Thorne grabbed for him already sitting low around his slim hips. Thorne watches him, biting his lip. No part of him wants to ask, but--he doesn’t know how long the men were in there. He doesn’t know how badly Andry might be hurt.

Andry pulls the shirt off over his head and freezes when he sees Thorne’s eyes on him, not able to keep his face blank this time: he looks like a deer catching the eyes of a wolf. Thorne curses himself for cowardice and forces himself to speak.

“Andry,” he says softly, and the Prince shifts slightly at the name, though his expression doesn’t change. “They cut your face. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Andry looks at him with glassy eyes, as though Thorne’s gaze is hypnotic. Mechanically, he shakes his head.

“They were too drunk to think of anything complicated,” he croaks. “I don’t even know why they brought the knife. I got on my knees when they told me; that was all they wanted.”

Thorne closes his eyes and takes a deep breath until his ears stop ringing. “I’m going to tell my Master,” he says when he’s confident it will come out steady.

Andry blinks, the spell apparently broken. Then he almost laughs, a single mirthless huff. “Why?”

What the hell kind of a question is that? “I want to tell him his men broke orders.”

Andry raises a brow, his face more open in confusion than Thorne’s almost ever seen it. “Did you order your men not to fuck me?”

Thorne rocks back from that one like it’s a blow. “It didn’t—occur to me,” he says, which is the truth but isn’t an excuse, but Andry shakes his head, like Thorne isn’t getting it.

“That’s not what I mean,” he says softly. “What makes you think Morden will be angry?”

Thorne stares at him. Gapes is a better word, actually. “Andry, they raped you.”

Andry’s face twitches slightly; Thorne feels like scum. “I know what they did,” he says, and Thorne can’t read his face, but he feels a sudden shift—like he’s seeing the Prince clearly for the first time, the solemn steel-spined truth of him. “What makes you think Morden is against the idea of me on my knees?”

Thorne shakes his head wildly. His ears are ringing, and he isn’t sure why “Master didn’t—Master wouldn’t want—“ His brain isn’t working.

         Andry turns to look at him, his ruined bed-shirt still in his hand. “Thorne,” he says slowly, as though explaining something very obvious. “Why do you think Morden gave me to you?”

         Thorne takes a step backward. He shakes his head again, dumbly; his mouth is dry, and he feels unsteady, like a man standing on a high cliff in a strong wind.

Andry is still staring at him. He almost looks angry, now. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft and very cold, “did you think it was for your impeccable fashion sense?” Andry’s hands are in fists on the torn cotton of his shirt. “Do you think one single person at the banquet didn’t see you leading me around on a leash and immediately think you were bending me over in my father’s quarters?”

It occurs to Thorne very suddenly that he’s never seen the Prince angry before—never seen him anything but quiet and resigned and ready to survive whatever Thorne and his people want to do to him. Andry’s eyes aren’t ice now; they’re blue fire.

“But you hate me,” he says through numb lips; his mouth is working entirely without his consent, his brain is too occupied with not processing anything he’s hearing to say anything that makes sense. “Everyone knows that. They know you wouldn’t--”

“You think that matters?” Andry says, his voice rising to almost a shout. “You think that means anything when they all know I can’t—" Andry cuts off abruptly, his face going white. “I’m going to be sick,” he says suddenly in a panicky voice.

Thorne has exactly long enough to thoughtlessly reach for the chamber pot and slide it towards Andry before the Prince half-collapses, hunching over it, and throws up a stomach-full of bile. Thorne suddenly remembers that Andry hasn’t eaten, possibly all day. The guards could easily have brought him something, but apparently they had other priorities.

Thorne watches Andry dry-heave into the basin, wanting to help but knowing he absolutely cannot touch him, and is just distracted enough that the idea that his Master and the entirety of the Falconers thought he’d be happy to repeatedly rape anyone they left under his power crashes down over him like a bucket of hot oil. Thorne’s Master has known him since he was in short trousers; and he’d thought that if Andry suited Thorne’s tastes it wouldn’t matter if Andry said no or not. Crow and Harpy have known him almost that long, and Thorne suddenly remembers that they’ve been clapping him on the back since he first cleaned Andry’s wounds, like they’d be proud if he held Andry down and forced him. Thorne slithers down to floor level, landing on his ass on the carpet, hard. Then he blinks the black away from his vision enough that he can see Andry shuddering over the basin, spitting the last bit of bile from the back of his throat. The cut on his face is still bleeding into the basin.

They’re both on the ground now, at least, which is better than one of them kneeling in front of the other. And they’re very near the couch, so Andry won’t have far to go when he can stand. Thorne blinks harder and looks up at the end table beside the couch, just above their heads. There’s a half-full bottle of whiskey sitting on it; a gift from Crow, but Thorne doesn’t have time for that to turn his stomach. He reaches out a hand that barely feels attached to his body and takes careful hold of it so he can hand it to Andry when he raises his head.

“Here,” he says, his voice raspy, though he hasn’t even been shouting.

Andry blinks at the whiskey, then scrunches up his nose, but he takes it, spitting the first mouthful into the basin and then taking a long, rather desperate swig.

“Give me that shirt,” Thorne says, when Andry hands the bottle back to him, and Andry does. Thorne covers the bottle with a corner of the shirt that looks clean, and lets it soak up the alcohol. Then he lifts it tentatively toward Andry’s bleeding face.

“It’ll sting,” he says quietly. “Can I?”

Andry looks at him. The fire is gone from his eyes; he looks—breakable. He nods once.

Thorne touches the alcohol-soaked cloth to the cut on Andry’s face; Andry sucks in a sharp breath and squeezes his eyes shut, but doesn’t move back. Thorne pats the wound clean as gently as he can, and Andry holds very still while he does. He’s grateful to be able to turn away when he’s done, stretching to grab his pack without getting up.

Andry lets him roll enough gauze to catch the remaining blood still coming from the wound, and cover it over with bandages. It’s short, just a few inches starting at his cheekbone, but it’s deep; Thorne knows it will scar.

Thorne thinks he’s probably mostly sober now. It’s become very hard to tell. Either way, he doesn’t know how to say any of what he’s feeling; doesn’t want to talk about how sick he feels when he’s not the one who’s been cut and violated tonight--but it seems wrong to say nothing.

“I wouldn’t—have done it,” he says very quietly, and Andry, his eyes still closed, shakes, a single shudder through his whole frame, his brows drawn down as if in pain.

“You do everything he wants you to,” he says, so quietly Thorne has to lean closer to hear it, heart thudding. “If he asked you,” Andry whispers. “If he wanted me broken in front of the court, in a way they wouldn’t forgive.” He opens his eyes, freezing Thorne in place; he looks like he’s already broken. “I wouldn’t be able to stop you,” he says, his voice all air. He sounds more honest than Thorne’s ever heard; Thorne’s hands are still on his face, he can’t move.

He remembers the high, the relief, of his Master’s approval, running down his back like a caress; he knows the place he goes when his Master is pleased with him, like nothing else matters; he knows he’ll do anything from that place. He’s never been afraid of it before.

He wants to make a promise, to swear he would never force anyone, wouldn’t force Andry, but instead he just stares at him, tongue-tied, and he knows he looks scared.

Andry takes a shaky breath and lifts his hand to push Thorne’s away from his face, gently. He touches the bandage Thorne’s just put there and briefly closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” Andry says very softly before he turns to climb onto the couch, and somehow that’s the worst thing of all.

[catsandstrawberries]

I Might Like You

Pairing: Jimin x reader 

Word Count: 3.3K 

Warnings: Ice play, smut, swearing, oral (F receiving), fingering, the end gets really fluffy cause its Disney, penatrative sex w/o protection (use a condem kids), Dom Jimin, Sub reader

Summary: You didn’t mean to set your sister off. You never wanted to argue with her. But how were you supposed to know she was going to freeze your kingdom. You chase after her in hopes of bringing her, and summer back, only to run into an iceman, who might just let you ride his reindeer.

The Disney Project 

"Take me." I blanked as I looked at the cocky smirk on the blond boy's face. 

"Not in a sexual way of course. I wouldn't, well I might have sex with you, maybe-but no." 

I let out an aggravated groan and looked the boy in the eyes. 

"I need you to take me up the North Mountain, blondie." 

The boy cocked an eyebrow at me. A stranger who I knew nothing about, besides the fact he knew the way up the mountain where my sister was, and that he was blonde.

"The names Jimin, beautiful. And the North Mountain's a danger zone with the onslaught of the sudden winter, no one would survive." 

"Well, I know how to stop this winter, and I need to get up that mountain." 

The man, Jimin, chuckled at me with a boyish smile. His body shaking from my words. 

"And how are you going to stop the Queen, stranger?" 

I didn't want to do this, but I had no choice if I wanted to get up that mountain. 

"Because I'm Princess (y/n), and that Queen is my sister."  

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

Jimin looked at me astounded, the reins in his hands loosening slightly as my words ran through his hands. 

"So, you're telling me that you were about to marry a man you just met?!" 

The reindeer that pulled the sled in front of us huffed at Jimin, the two of us not appreciating the rise in his voice. 

"Yes, keep up. Then she lashed out at me and poof! Frozen icicles blasted from her fingertips-" 

"No, no I got that part. Surprisingly magical ice powers aren't the strangest thing I've heard tonight." I gazed at the stranger, analyzing the woolen long-sleeved shirt and trousers he wore, definitely prepared to stay out in the cold and not die of hyperthermia. Jimin looked around my age, maybe a year older but nothing significant. His blond hair swept to the side and some snow flurries stuck to his roots, maybe I would invite him to my wedding. 

"You got engaged to a random dude named Hands?" 

"Hans." 

"I'm not buying it. You just met, he's probably a serial killer or has some weird foot fetish." 

"Excuse me! Let me tell you something Jimin. The night I met Hans was magical, and we fell in love. Love is the one thing that has zero complications, and Hans and I have something special. We clicked." 

"You read too many books." 

"What's wrong with reading books?" 

"I'm just saying, I bet you fell for him as soon as you saw his curly hair and puppy dog eyes." I scoffed at Jimin's words, "love isn't supposed to be easy. From what you told me, he sounds way too easy." I turned towards the boy a scowl evident on my face. "What does a stinky, smelly, mountain man know about love? Have you ever even kissed a girl before?" 

Jimin smirked and winked flirtatiously at me, 

"I've done a lot more than kiss people with this tongue." 

Jimin licked his lips as if to prove his point and I sent him a glare to hide the color on my cheeks. 

"Well at least my only friend isn't a reindeer, and at least I don't try to give marriage advice as an unmarried man who's also a strang-" 

Jimin suddenly appears in front of me, his gloved hand covering my mouth, but his eyes weren't on me but the dark forest behind us. 

The reindeer slowed to a stop and Jimin rose from his crouch to a stand, his palm sliding off my face in the process. 

Jimin suddenly flipped around and yelled to his reindeer. 

"Chim, go!" 

The reindeer, Chim apparently, took off running while Jimin fiddled with a pair of matches. 

"What's wrong?" 

Just as I asked, gleaming golden eyes started to peek out from behind the dark wintery abyss, harsh growls filling the air as the pounding of feet bounced off the snowy floor. 

Wolves. 

The predators neared the sled, teeth shinning against the white snow as they attempted to chomp at us. 

Jimin who had been fiddling with the matches finally lit up the torch at his side, waving it in the direction of the wolves, as if it would stop them from attacking. 

"Stay down," Jimin growled at me as the wolves narrowed in on us. 

"What? No! I want to help!" 

Jimin kicked one of the mammals harshly as it flung its body at us, 

"Sorry princess, but I don't particularly trust your judgment." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Who marries a man they just met? Let alone a man named hands?" Jimin suddenly fell forward as the sled hit a bump and I lunged forward, grabbing him by the back of the shirt before he could fall off the sled. 

"His name is Hans," I grumbled as my arms strained to pull him back to safety. 

Before he could thank me Jimin wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me tight to his waist, 

"Hey!" 

I attempted to push him off, but he only tightened his grasp before throwing me at Chim. I gasped in shock as I landed on the reindeer's back, eyes widening at the absence of ground in front of us. The only way we'd survive is if Chim jumped the cliff to the other plot of land that had to be at least 30 feet. 

Jimin's body slid behind me as the growling of the wolves increased in my eardrums, 

"Jump Chim!" 

My insides felt as if they were doing summersaults as we lingered in the air, but almost as quickly as Chim left the ground he was back on the solid earth. I released a breath I hadn't realized I had held in and turned to find that Jimin had cut the sled from Chim's reigns, the wooden contraption left to the wolves on the other side of the cliff. 

Wait-Jimin.

"Jimin!" I shouted, jumping off the reindeer and peering over the edge of the cliff to find him gripping to the edge for his life. The drop below was deep enough to kill him, even with the snow-packed into the ground. I grabbed Jimin by the wrist and hauled him back up onto the snow with helpful shoves from Chim, falling to the earth with a pant as soon as I realized we were both safe. 

"Not too bad for a princess, huh?" I chuckled as I heaved my body up from the snow, brushing away the flakes as I stood face to face with Jimin. 

"I've seen worse." 

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

Jimin and I continued on foot until nightfall and despite the ache in my legs and the continuous chill running down my spine, I refused to stop. I needed to find my sister. 

"We should settle down for the night-" 

"No." 

The sound of Jimins crunching footsteps stopped and I turned slightly. 

"You're no good to the queen if you're dead." 

I tightened my fist, as Jimin redirected Chim towards the smoke pilling into the air, a sign of a tavern that would house us for the night. 

But even as we turned from the path of the north mountain, guilt rose in my lungs, and the image of my sister alone and scared ran through my head. She had been alone for so long, trapped in her room, to protect us, and I was the one who pushed her too far. 

"Hey," Jimin said softly, suddenly in front of me, 

"We leave at first light tomorrow, we'll find her." I nodded and followed blindly as Jimin led us towards warmth. 

The inside of the tavern was filled with large, shouting men, pouring down drink after drink and fumbling drunkenly over one another. 

"Stay close," Jimin muttered while a man in the far corner puked into another man's pants. 

I didn't need to be told twice. 

The man behind the bar had a large mustache and his eyes seemed to bulge over when he saw Jimin before he burst out laughing. 

"Park if it isn't the ice-man. How's your business doing in this weather?" The man fell forward as if his joke was the funniest thing he'd heard in days. 

"Ha ha. We need a room." Jimin replied dryly slamming down a set of coins onto the table. The man peeked over Jimin's shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows at the two of us, 

"lucky for you we only have a single left." I stiffened behind Jimin and sent the man a disgusted snarl. Jimin sighed but took the key, leading me away from the singing drunk men and towards an empty room. 

"I can sleep on the floor," I muttered once I noticed the small bed while Jimin grimaced next to me. 

"Trust me you wouldn't want to." Jimin sent me a 'don't ask' look and with a drop of my shoulders I sat on the edge of the bed, gaze falling to the outside world beyond the window. A flurry of snowflakes floating in the air. 

"Hey, stop biting your lip." Jimins thumb fell to my bottom lip and lingered there while he kneeled in front of me. 

"I might be a sweaty, smelly, mountain man, but I'm one hell of a listener." A small smile cracked across my lips but my gaze quickly fell to my hands. 

"It's all my fault. Ever since I can remember she was locked in her room, and I was locked in the castle. The one day I have with her, with the world, I pushed her with the stupid marriage. Maybe you were right, maybe true love isn't real." 

Jimin took my hands gently and moved to the bed rather than kneeling on the floor. 

"I didn't say that. I just think that you should know someone for longer than 24 hours before you get engaged." He cracked a genuine smile but started to frown at my quiet form. 

"I can help you forget." My head snapped up towards him, his lids lowered and a seductive smile crossing over his face. 

"No strings attached, no 'I love you's' or proposals. Just something to let you forget. If you want too." The flush spread over my cheeks and neck, and I suddenly found it unbearably hot in the small room. 

"You promise you'll still help me find my sister tomorrow." 

He nodded, the seductive smile faltering for a serious look. 

"I promise, who else would pay for my new sled." 

To avoid embarrassing myself I decided to take the first step and lean forward, rather aggressively, but Jimins warming hands on my body were quick to ease my nerves. The softness of his lips melting away all my anxieties as he tilted his head, tongue pocking out against my lower lip. 

I moaned into the kiss, his hands sliding up and down my ribs as I melted into his mouth, my tongue hesitantly prodding against his until he sloppily pulled away, teeth grazing against my bottom lip in a gentle bite. 

"I thought you said to stop biting my lip." 

Jimin smirked, "I didn't say anything about me not using my teeth." 

I chuckled as he leaned me down onto the mattress, "pretty good for an ice-man." 

Jimin leaned back at that, his mouth spreading in a wild grin while I leaned up on my forearms, an eyebrow-raising in question. 

"I'll be right back, don't move." Jimin practically sprinted out of the room while I fumbled in the sheets in a haze. Running over the kiss in my mind, over and over again, the really, really good kiss. 

He kissed better than Hans. 

I didn't even consider the thought that he might be leaving on Chim, my head running wild with what he would do when he got back, what he would do to me. The door creaked open and my heart fluttered at the sight of his blond hair. 

"Keep your eyes up, princess." My body shuddered at his commanding tone and before I knew it he was hovering over me, trapping me under his body as his kisses traveled to my neck, fingers fumbling with the string of my dress. 

"Off." 

I quickly followed his demand and watched as he took off his shirt, his muscles gleaming against his sweaty skin. He paused as he took in the sight of my top half, his hands faltering and mouth lurching forward to take each of my nipples into his mouth, his teeth grazing against each one before releasing them with a loud pop. 

"What did you get?" I asked breathlessly as he dragged my leggings down, the sight alone of his blonde hair peeking out from between my legs enough to make me squeeze my thighs together. 

He ticked his tongue in disapproval and harshly spread my legs open, hands smothering down the skin of my thighs as they trembled with anticipation. 

"You'll find out. Now, show me your pearls princess." His tongue flicked out and he let out a satisfying sigh as he dragged the strings of my underwear down my legs before flicking it behind him. 

"You smell so fucking good, I'm gonna ravish you, princess." 

I flinched as a finger stroked curiously at my folds, gathering some of the wetness that had already peaked through before pushing it in further. I groaned, my head falling backward as he added another finger, his thumb rubbing figure eights on my clit while he hummed in approval. 

"Look at you, falling apart at just my fingers. Imagine my cock in you or my tongue." My hips bucked up at his words and just as the feeling in my stomach started to coil his fingers were gone. 

"Jimin-Ah!" My words got lost on my tongue as his hands slid under my thighs, gripping at my ass as he shoved his face into my pussy. His tongue gliding over my clit before thrusting into my hole and pulsing in and out. My hands struggled to hold on to the sheets as he hummed against me, his tongue lavishing over my clit before pulling away. It was too hot in this room, way too hot. 

As if Jimin could read my thoughts my back was curving and hands gripping to his hair as something cold, and wet was pushed against my clit. Rubbing at all of the right places while the ice cube immediately started to melt against my heat.  

"Jimin," I moaned as his cold fingers pushed a single ice cube inside of me, his warm tongue against my clit contracting with the sharp cold inside of me. 

"Just a little longer," Jimin muttered, pulling away as he messed with his pants and pulled out his glorious cock. Curved slightly, not incredibly long but girthy, a vein trailing the underside of his penis, I wondered how it would feel against my tongue. 

Jimin knocked me out of my thoughts as his lips met mine once again. 

"Fuck (y/n)," he murmured as his head poked the inside of my pussy, my walls contracting as he pushed further inside. He moaned into my shoulder once he filled me up fully, waiting patiently until I adjusted, and it wasn't long before I was bucking my hips to tell him to move. 

Jimin pulled back before pounding forward hard, his hands curling into the bedsheets against mine as we groaned and moaned. My body withering under his as he hit the spot that made starts appear in my eyes, 

"Ah-right there. Shit." I hissed out, 

"I won't last much longer," Jimin growled out, one of his hands sneaking between our two bodies to rub at my clit, pushing me over the edge as I let out a silent scream, my legs shaking with the after waves as he shortly followed in my footsteps, liquid cream leaking out of me as he pulled out with a groan. 

"Shit, you're amazing princess." He muttered just as the lights started to go out around me, darkness succumbing into my tired limbs.  

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

The next morning we didn't talk about the sex or the fact that he washed my clothes and cleaned me up after I passed out. We just kept walking till reaching the rocky mountain leading to where my sister would be. 

"Fuck," Jimin muttered as he turned from the mountain to the pack tied onto Chim's back. 

"I only have one rope, and you don't know how to climb mountains." 

Before he had even finished his sentence I was pulling myself up against the rock, feet anchoring into foot like holds to support my weight. 

"You are going to kill yourself." 

"I'll be fine." 

I ignored his protesting grunt while I tried to find another foothold. 

"Listen (y/n), people who come to the north mountain are usually running away from something, and the Queen seems as if she doesn't want to be found." 

I furrowed my brows as I hiked my body further up against the rock, 

"Well, what are you running away from?" There was a pause before he replied dryly, 

"a payable job apparently." 

Before I could reply, the rock my left hand was holding onto suddenly cracked, and before I could shout I collided with a warm body, his arms wrapping around me bridal style so I didn't hit the ground. 

"See, I told you I would be fine," I said breathlessly, nervously patting his chest and jumping out of his arms before I could think too much about how strong his arms were or how they flexed when he caught me. I directed my attention away from him, a bright reflection catching my eye and upon further examination, my whole body shuddered with anticipation, she built a fucking ice castle. 

"We found her." I breathed out, a smile breaking out on my face. 

I bounded up the ice made stairs, treading carefully so I wouldn't slip, but as soon as I reached the door all of my hesitations came back. 

"You should stay here, last time I introduced my sister to a boy..." 

"No, you're right. Wouldn't want her to find out I fucked her little sister-" 

"Jimin!" 

The boy chuckled before sitting on the steps, eyes glazing over as he examined the ice and mumbled something about workmanship. 

This was it, I was going to bring my sister home, no matter what. 

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

Long story short, things didn't go exactly as planned but eventually, we were able to bring her home and my sister was able to lift the frozen spell and bring summer back.

Everything was right, except for one thing, 

"Hey blondie, aren't you forgetting something?" Jimin smiled as I jumped excitedly in front of him, though his happiness didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Am I getting an invitation to your wedding?" 

I frowned at that and shook my head, "actually, I called it off with Hans." 

"Oh." 

"Close your eyes," I whispered, taking his hand and dragging him towards my surprise while Chim followed, his hooves clucking along against the pavement. "Surprise!" I shouted as he opened his eyes to see a brand new sled with a bright red bow on the top. For the first time since I met Jimin, he suddenly seemed nervous, unsure of himself. 

"Thank you." He rubbed nervously at his neck, "so I know I said no strings attached, and I meant it, really. But the sex was good, great-but that's not the reason I'm asking because even though I've known you for like a week things started happening and I want to get to know you more-" 

"Jimin." 

His stuttering stopped and he looked up at me, unsureness riddled in his orbs. 

"I know we said no I love you's. But, I might like you. Wanna start there?" 

Jimins eyes widened and a gentle smile spread across his face,

"I might like you too." 

Chim grumbled behind us and pushed Jimin forward, his head butting against his back as he fell into me. Jimins glare at the animal soon disappeared when I reached up and connected our lips, a soft sigh escaping my mouth at the feeling. 

"Thank god you didn't marry hands." 

I didn't have the heart to correct him. 

[whitecatindisguise]

Give Him A Chance To Mend 5

Time for another chapter, people 😁

AO3 link here

Chapter 5: Here In This Hell It's Sinking In

Varian didn't fight back, as the guards locked his arms in shackles and pushed him inside the prison cart. There was no point. His automatons were destroyed, he had no alchemy… and the Princess' hair didn't free his father, as he hoped they would.

Ruddiger, ever faithful, scrambled after his and climbed the alchemist's frame, curling protectively around his neck. The guards either didn't notice or didn't care. They locked the door and the cart started the slow journey back to the capital.

Varian doesn't remember the trip. There is a blank spot in his memory, starting from the moment the barred door locked and ending when they opened back at the castle square. He was flanked by two guards and escorted down to the dungeons, his apron, goggles and gloves taken away. He fought them when they were taking his goggles.

"They were my mother's!" He cried. "Please, it's the only thing I have left of her."

But they were deaf to his cries. They tried to take Ruddiger too, but the raccon growled and swiped it's paws whenever any of the guards got too close, sitting stubbornly on Varian's shoulders. They let it go after one of them got scratched and the other bitten. There was no way of capturing the raccoon. It was staying.

He was led down, down, down the stairs, passing corridor after corridor of cells. The prisoners looked his way in surprise, whispers trailed his path.

"Is this a child?"

"What is he doing here?"

"Did the King lose his mind even more?"

Varian clenched his teeth and kept on going, the familiar weight on his shoulders reassuring him of his animal friend's presence.

Finally, the guards stopped in front of the small cell. There was a tiny bed by the wall, and that's it. One of the men unlocked the door and the other pushed the alchemist inside. The metal door slammed shut behind him, the key turning in the lock.

"You will stay here until the King decides your fate." One of the guards said. Then, they walked away.

It was a moment later Varian finally let his facade drop. The tough villain act fell and what was left was a terrified boy, shaking like a leaf. He slid down to the floor, the severity of his actions finally getting to him.

Treason. He commited treason. He kidnapped the Queen, endangered the life of the Princess and attempted murder on both the Queen and Princess' Lady-in-waiting and the Captain of the Guards' daughter. He can be executed. He should be executed. That's what the citizens will demand, he was sure of it.

He didn't notice he was hyperventilating until his vision started to fog. Ruddiger chittered anxiously, pawing at his face to snap him out. He reached his hand, his ungloved hand, and buried his fingers in the raccoon's fur.

He didn't want to die. His dad was still trapped in that amber. He was the only one who could get him out. He has to save his dad.

The alchemist's whole frame shook, breathing becoming faster and shallower by the second. Suddenly, a piercing pain shot from his ear. He cried out and reached for it, his fingers touching something liquid and sticky. Drastic measure, but Ruddiger managed to forcefully stop the neverending spiral Varian got himself into. The teen took several more shaky breaths, no more being stuck in a terrified state.

He was still scared, yes. But he no longer hyperventilated, so that was an improvement. Ruddiger climbed down from his shoulders and made himself comfortable on Varian's laps instead. The alchemist hugged his furry friend close, awaiting his fate.

~~~~~

He didn't know how much time he spent in that small cell. Guards came and went, checking up on him, bringing water and plates of some grey goo for him to eat, and glaring at him from behind the bars. Varian, for the most time, didn't pay attention to it, curled up in the corner, Ruddiger in his arms.

A sound of the lock opening took him by surprise. The guards didn't open the door when they brought food. Did that mean he was finally getting the trial?

Two guards were standing outside of his cell, the third one walking inside, a pair of shackles in his hand.

"Stand up, hands where I can see them." He barked. Varian obliged, seeing as his chances of escape were close to none.

The shackles locked around his wrists with a metallic click that sent shivers up the teen's spine. The guard eyed him warningly and motioned for him to start walking. As soon as he left the cell, the other two guards flanked him, each putting a hand on one of his shoulders, while the third led the way. To Varian's surprise, they didn't go up, but down again, descending to the lower level of the dungeons.

"Where are we going?" He asked. Wasn't he supposed to get a trial? Isn't that how juridical system worked?

"Your cell has been decided." The guard at the front replied, not sparing a glance at the teen.

"The cell- what about a trial? Don't I get one?" He questioned, confused about the situation.

"Shut up, alchemist." The guard barked back, anger seeping through his teeth. "Be grateful the King didn't order execution. Not for now, anyway."

"Not for now? I don't-" Varian was getting more and more confused by the second.

Before he could say anything more, the guard stopped in front of one of the cells.

"Back up and face the wall." He said. Varian was just about to oblige, when another voice sounded from behind the bars.

"Alright, alright. What's the rush?"

"You're getting a cellmate." The guard simply said and unlocked the door. He turned to Varian, unlocked his shackles and pushed the teen inside, before slamming the door shut again.

"Wait! What's going on?" The alchemist ran to the bars and gripped them, shouting after the leaving guards.

"Get used to the cell, boy." The guard called back, a smirk on his face. "Because it will be your home for the next four years."

The sadistic smile he got in response made the teen freeze in terror. The implication was obvious. In four years, he will be eighteen. A legal adult. And once that happens… there will be nothing holding the King back from ordering his execution.

"Is that a joke?" A male voice sounded from behind and Varian whirled around to face his cellmate. "Is Corona throwing kids into prison now?"

The man was in his early twenties, dark hair tied in a high bun, green eyes and wearing a fur overcoat. He stared at the alchemist with a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance.

"I'm not a kid!" Varian bit back defensively.

"Sure you aren't." The man chuckled and sat at one of the beds. "What did you do, anyway? Stole a candy or something?"

"I stole the Sundrop Flower from the Royal Vault." The teen replied angrily. "Amongst other things…" He added more quietly.

"You stole the-" The criminal stared at him dumbfounded. "Woah, I guess good old Freddy didn't take it kindly."

"Actually I'm here because I also drugged held of the castle with truth serum, kidnapped the Queen, forced the Princess into using her hair in a drill of my design, and almost killed the Queen and Princess' Lady-in-waiting." Varian blurted out, since he might as well share the full scale of his abilities to his cellmate.

"Oh, so you're this Alchemist everyone has been going on about recently." The man exclaimed and looked him over, shrugging. "I thought you would be taller."

"I'm just a proof Corona's security is so bad even a child can get through." Varian mentally slapped his face for referring to himself as a child, but it served its purpose.

The man grinned at the choice of words and laughed.

"Good one. You definitely did that." He nodded and reached out a hand towards the alchemist. "I'm Andrew."

"Varian." The teen replied but didn't shook the man's hand. Ruddiger growled at him from his place on Varian's shoulders and the teenager patted him comfortingly.

"Well, Varian." Andrew's grin never left his face. "I have a feeling we're going to get along just fine, buddy."

"We'll see about that." The younger mumbled in response and made his way towards the other bed, siting on it, Ruddiger jumping down to claim his laps instead.

They sat in silence, thoughts of imminent death by execution returning. He tried to shake them off, but how can you ignore a threat like that. So he opted for a distraction instead.

"So what are you in for?" He asked, looking at the man on the other side of the cell.

"Tried to steal a journal. Got caught." Andrew replied mysteriously. Varian wrecked his brain, trying to remember something about stealing journals. It took a few seconds to click.

"Oh, you're that Saporian guy who tried to woo Cass...andra and steal Herz Der Sonne journal, but for your butt kicked instead." He said and watched the man's face morph into an emotion he couldn't quite place.

"They got lucky. And I was alone." Andrew tried to argue. "If my team was here-"

"I got half of the Corona wetting their pants in fear and the other half scrambling to fight my automatons." Varian countered. "You got caught because you didn't plan for other possibilities than the one you hoped for."

"Should I remind you were caught too?" The Saporian tried to argue.

"The only reason I lost is because the Princess touched those stupid rocks and somehow now decided to control them, and not months ago when they were destroying my village!" The alchemist yelled, acid seeping from his voice. "And now she is on her merry way to sun-knows-where, happily oblivious to everyone she hurt just because she didn't want to be the one hurting."

"Seems to me like you got a bone to pick with Her Royal Hairness." Andrew smirked.

"She broke her promise, ignored me for months and only started to pay attention to me when I threatened everything she loved, because she was oh, so happy, she couldn't see all the bodies she left behind her." Varian's anger was growing and he clenched his fists in frustration. "She's all about friends and promises, but in truth she's just a liar, like all of those upper-class jerks. She only indulges herself into things that benefit her and don't force her to leave her little bubble of happiness."

Andrew listened to the younger's ranting, nodding once in a while. The alchemist once in a while thought he saw his cellmate grin or smirk, but it was gone as soon as he blinked, so maybe he was imagining things.

"Woah, they really did a number on you, buddy." The man said finally, after Varian finished his monologue. "But that's royalty to you. They don't care about anyone but themselves and their happiness. So what people are getting hurt in the process."

"I know, right!" Varian exclaimed in agreement. Ruddiger chittered on his lap and the teen took to petting the raccoon again, the action comforting to him. "The moment you try and get actual help, you're treated like a villain and hunted like a wild animal." He huffed angrily. "I want them to pay for what they did."

"Maybe one day, buddy." Andrew said mysteriously, to which Varian rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right." He buried his face into Ruddiger's fur and didn't say anything else. He missed the smirk that appeared on Andrew's face, as he observed his new cellmate.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (Part 5)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, gunshot wound and stitches

--------

A lot of people might think Daphne was cold or heartless. Sure, she had a bad attitude and it was hard for her to form meaningful relationships, but it didn't mean she was a complete bitch. Which is why she felt bad as she looked at the photos of Mr Lee's son, Keiran, and young wife making out. She'd be seeing him later in the week and have to break the news to him. She was planning on breaking into the Keiran's apartment and snooping once he was at work in the day. She still had that gnawing feeling something was off with the adulterous couple. 

She'd never had a real relationship herself. She never let herself get too attached. She wasn't sure why, she'd just always been that way. Even as a kid with her older brother and sister, she was the snarky sarcastic one. Her love to push people's buttons left her with little to no real friends and guys didn't like a girl that talked back. She didn't mind. It meant she didn't get hurt. She'd just have sex when the opportunity arose and then wash her hands of it. But she'd be a liar if she didn't sometimes wonder what it would be like. To have that someone who cared. Who treasured her and made her feel special. But then she'd think about how most of her PI work was looking into cheating spouses and how most of the time they had been right. Was true love even real? 

She sighed, kicking her boots up onto her table. It was scuffed enough so she didn't care too much. Her boots were paired with a long black summer dress with a slit to her thigh and some thick tights, a black wool cardigan on top. Goth chic her sister Lisa would call it. It made her snort. Her hair was slightly wavy from the shower she’d taken earlier and it had dried naturally. Standing up, she grabbed her backpack and camera  and decided to head out to Keiran's apartment. Only this time she was really hoping not to find something. 

On her way there, she thought about the guns. It had been a couple of days since the disastrous outing with the Devil himself and the morning after she’d given her evidence to Brett. He was worried, so was she. But it was out of her hands now. And thankfully she hadn't been contacted by Mr Moody to accompany him again. Pulling her phone from her cardigan pocket, she was satisfied Keiran would be out of the house and at work. As she stepped up to the shitty broken intercom at the front, she heaved a sigh. She hoped someone would let her in. Glancing at the names, she just settled on any of them. There was a dull beep as she pressed the button for 'Mr Meyers'.

"Hello?" The sound of an old man sounded. 

"Hi there, would you be able to buzz me in please?" She asked politely. She bit her lip  holding her breath as she prepared to think of an excuse for him.

"Annie, is that you?" He asked, sounding confused.

"Mhm," she lied, rolling her eyes and getting impatient. 

"You forgot your key again, dear? I keep telling you to make another," he chuckled through the intercom.

"I know. I'm just forgetful I guess," she snorted. The shrill buzz almost startled her, that had been so easy. Thank God for Mr Meyers. She slipped inside and jogged up the stairs to the third floor. Her steps were light as she tried to listen for any noises. She didn't need anyone suddenly appearing and wondering why a weird girl was on their floor. She idly wished she had Matt's super hearing. It sounded quiet though and she got to the door she was after. 

A few quick moments with her lock pick set and it was open. Her search was quick and efficient. Always making sure to put things exactly where they should be. She felt like she'd searched everywhere and hadn't found anything. She knew she should have felt relieved but she couldn't shake that nagging feeling in the back of her head. She stood for a moment, closing her eyes as she tried to think where something would be. When she opened her eyes again, they glanced around until they settled on a piece of modern art of the wall. She wasn't a fan of the modern stuff. It looked like a toddler just threw paint on a canvas. Her art preference was the more detailed skilled work. She padded over, lifting it from the wall. Sure enough, behind the canvas was a safe. 

"Bingo," she muttered.

It took longer than she liked to crack it, but she did in the end. She wasn't happy with what she found. Along with a handgun that had the serial number scratched out, she found copies of Mr Lee's life insurance. It was for $2 million and it would be split between Keiran and Mr Lee's wife. She started to see just why this guy was getting in her pants. Were they planning something together? Or did she have no idea she was being pulled into this? She snapped some pictures quickly before putting everything back where it should be. Before long she was on her way home again with a bad feeling. It wasn't concrete evidence of any plans but she'd learnt a long while ago to trust her gut. Maybe she should move her meeting with Mr Lee up and speak to him.

Her train of thought was interrupted when her phone started ringing. It was Brett.

"Hey, got news?" She asked, walking down the street and weaving through the people. 

"Bad news. Last night a whole bunch of people were gunned down. Some biker club. Ammo matches some of the heavy guns you got on film," he stated grimly. She stopped walking and the person behind her who almost collided with her scoffed as they moved past.

"Well that's not good. I guess they weren't for selling then? Why would the Italians have beef with those guys?" She asked warily. As bad as it would be, she'd been hoping that the guns were just being sold. But this was war and she had a feeling the bikers wouldn't be the only ones facing the wrath. 

"Not sure yet. We're trying to piece it together. Whatever it is, it seems like the Italians are trying to take over some turfs. I'll keep you updated," he sighed. After they bid their goodbyes, she trudged up her stairs trying to figure it out. 

Sitting on her sofa, she wondered just how bad this war the Italians were waging would be. She'd never set out to investigate organised crime. She stuck with her small time thing for years and she was fine with it. But a few years ago Brett reached out when he was hitting dead ends. He'd heard about her skills and he shouldn't have asked her for help but he did. Now she did bits and bobs for him every now and again, especially with her interest in the Italian case. He was a detective now and even though it was still off the books, everyone knew she helped them out. She only dealt with him though. She didn't trust most of the other cops after the whole thing with Fisk. She'd kept out of that shit show as much as she could after one of the crazy Russians caught her and she got a lovely stab wound in the thigh. Then there was the whole mess with The Punisher. All of it had changed the gangs of Hell's Kitchen. Some of them wiped out, others coming back and others even stronger than ever. She hated that sometimes she wondered if she'd grew a pair and didn't shy away from it after being stabbed, if she'd have saved some of the lives lost in the chaos left behind from Fisk and Castle. Maybe that's why she couldn't say no when Brett had asked her to start looking into the Italians. 

Either way, here she was. In the middle of a war that was just beginning. And her curiosity wouldn't let her back out now. She wanted to know what was going on just as much as the cops. There wasn't much she could do now anyway. She'd let Brett call her when he had some news and a lead to go on before she threw herself in the line of fire again. 

She found herself preoccupied the rest of the day with thoughts on the Italians. She switched between trying to distract herself watching Netflix on her laptop and then looking at articles about the biker massacre. Her phone had been resting on the coffee table. She doubted Brett would be calling her today with news but she waited anyway. She wasn't sure just when she got so invested in trying to help with this. She just wanted something, a lead from the evidence at the crime scene or to do with HCL with the money laundering. Anything that would give her a direction to go to dig deeper. 

Trying to block the Italians from taking over her restless mind, she snuggled on her couch with a thick blanket in her pyjamas as she watched Breaking Bad on Netflix. She loved the show and she’d watched it multiple times. She kept dozing in and out of sleep as night drew on. She wasn't sure what time it was when she heard a banging in the open plan apartment. She shot up, glaring at the door as her heart hammered in her chest. A quick glance to the large clock on the wall told her it was 3am now. The banging came again but she realised it wasn't from the door. Looking to the large window, she was startled by Matt in his suit, leaning against it from the outside. Her annoyance glared at him for dropping in at this time. Dropping in at all, honestly. She told him to stay the fuck away and here he was at 3am and waking her up. She found it hard enough to get a decent sleep on the best of days. 

Throwing the blanket off her, she stood up and stomped over to the window. She wasn't even paying attention to him really.

"What part of stay the fuck away don’t you get?" She snapped impatiently. He didn't say anything through the glass but then she noticed how his hand was clamped over his chest, how his chest was heaving. Something was wrong. She opened the window to see him better and the moonlight glinted off his suit that seemed wet. Oh. Blood.

"Jesus, you're bleeding?" She asked, her voice getting a little higher. It was a lot of blood. 

"Are you going to let me in or not?" He bit out, wincing as he did. She had half a mind to close her window and let him bleed out on her fire escape. But as annoying as he was, she knew she couldn't. She stepped aside and he carefully climbed inside. She took note of how slow he was moving and she wondered how much blood he'd already lost. He stumbled once inside and she quickly wrapped an arm around his uninjured side, making him groan in pain. With a tut, she led him to her couch and helped him sit down.

"Why are you here? I mean I get that you can't exactly go to the hospital, but here?" She asked, feeling irritated. She hadn't expected to have a half dead vigilante bleeding out on her sofa.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," he muttered, shifting as he tried to take off his suit. She wanted to ask about Foggy but she guessed the happy go lucky best friend wasn't his go to for stitching him up. With a heaving sigh, she knelt on the couch next to him, helping him remove the top half of his suit. There was a gunshot wound under the front of his left shoulder. She tried not to be concerned. 

"It's still in there, can you get it out?" He asked weakly. She tried to temper the anxiety at how bad he sounded. Not like she cared or anything, she'd worry no matter who it was.

"I can try," she muttered. She jumped up and ran to the bathroom, grabbing the tweezers off the side, the first aid kit and then the bottle of whisky that was on the side in the kitchen. 

When knelt next to him again, his mask was off and it was jarring to actually see his face when still in his devil suit, even if it was only partially. 

"Don't think this is a routine. You get hurt again, you can go somewhere else," she snarked. Honestly at this point it was more to cover her nerves at trying to keep him alive. He chuckled a little, leaning his head on the back of the sofa as she doused the tweezers with alcohol. One hand carefully steadied herself on his chest and she glanced at his pale face. His unseeing eyes were on her ceiling and his hair was all over the place.

"This is gonna hurt like a bitch," she murmured. Honestly, she felt a little bad for him. He just nodded, closing his eyes in anticipation.

She took a deep breath before digging the tweezers in his wound. He cried out. One hand gripping the couch tightly as the other flailed for a minute before he settled on fisting her shirt. She bit back a retort since he was in pain and she focused on fishing out the bullet. Thankfully it wasn't too long before she yanked it out. He was breathing deeply, sweating and looking awful and now the wound was oozing blood at a worrying rate. She grabbed some gauze and pressed it to the wound with a worried frown.

"I need to stitch it, hold this," she said firmly. Still fisting her shirt, his other hand came up to put pressure on the wound. She dug around and got the needle, cleaning it with the whisky before threading it. She tried to ignore the tremor in her hand as it brushed against his, moving the gauze.

When her eyes flit to his face, he was already looking at her with his unfocused gaze.

"You look like shit, Murdock," she muttered with a wry smirk as she started to stitch him up. He chuckled a little, scrunching his eyes closed as she tried to make quick work of sewing him up.

"I feel like it," he replied with a sly grin. She shook her head as her hands delicately thread the needle through his skin, stopping occasionally to soak up the blood with the gauze.

"You're good at this. Not your first time?" He asked. She wondered if he was making small talk to try and take his mind off it. Since he was injured she decided to go along with it. Her anger at dropping in like this would wait until she was done.

"Not a gunshot, but I had to sew myself up after a gnarly stab wound," she murmured in reply. 

Her hands faltered as his hand let go of her shirt and settled on her bare thigh, his fingers running over the jagged scar. It startled her how he'd even know where it was but she shook it off. He was weird after all with his super senses. She tried to ignore the fact his hand was on her thigh at all. She tried to reason that his hands were kind of his eyes since he was blind. But the touch was light, gentle almost, it made her feel weird and she didn't like it. She didn't think anyone had touched her with such gentleness before.

"Who stabbed you?" He asked with a frown.

"Got caught snooping by one of the Russians a few years back. Taught me a hard lesson in being more sneaky," she snorted mirthlessly. His frown deepened and his hand stilled on her thigh. A few stitches later and he was all done. She wiped his wound clean before bandaging him up. 

His gentle touch to her scar had rattled her and she hopped off the sofa the second she was done. She started stuffing everything back into the first aid kit.

"I wasn't joking when I said this won't happen again. Teach Foggy first aid or something, but don't drop by here like this again," she said shortly, maybe harsher than intended and his frown let her know he was confused by it. He didn't reply, just nodding curtly at her. After putting the bloodied gauze away she noticed him standing from the couch, he was swaying on his feet though and she bit her lip as she walked over.

"What are you doing?" She sighed, annoyed.

"Getting out of your hair. That's what you wanted right?" He bit out. Yes, it was. But as he took a woozy step forward he almost collapsed again. She felt a pang of guilt and pursed her lips as she walked over, pushing him gently to sit back down.

"You lost a lot of blood, you need to rest. Just stop being annoying. You can take the couch and leave tomorrow," she relented. He didn't look any happier than she was about the whole thing but there wasn't much they could do. They both knew he was in no condition to get home just yet. He gave a curt nod, staying where she pushed him back down. This would be awkward as all hell. Her apartment was all open plan except the bathroom and a small closet. Her bed was on the other side and she felt uneasy with him being so close if she was to sleep. But she also didn't want to stay awake and be forced to spend time with him with this tension. 

"Go to sleep," she huffed, padding over to her bed. She had some blood on her shirt and a bloody handprint on it from where he'd gripped it. But she paid no mind to it as she climbed in bed, burrowing under the blankets. She fell asleep that night to uncomfortable silence.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 114: The Lion and the Serpent

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[jadienjaystoriesandart]

Sanders Sides Coraline AU 

It’s nearing 3AM here, and I’m watching Cinema Sins Coraline. So... I decided to write a bit for my Sanders Sides Coraline AU.

This excerpt is when Thomas find the Other World, because I don’t feel like writing shitty parents tonight. And hey! Finally learned how to the do the ‘keep reading’ things!

-0-0-0-0-0-

Thomas bent down his eyes narrowing as the tunnel of rainbow like colors expanded out in front of him. Now, for most people, this might seem like a bad idea. But for Thomas, after hardly having anything fun or exciting happen for the 2 weeks of moving in, this seemed like an adventure and chance he was willing to take. Not like his parents would notice he was gone... or dead.

Pushing his throw blanket off and crawling inside, Thomas let his curiosity guide him into the fabric tunnel. He got to he end and pushed open the door to find that... he was in the parlor room again? He blinked confused at that looking around at the area. 

There was some key differences, more furniture, cleaner, and the paintings on the wall were more cheerful. There were also some photos, but it was hard to see in the darkness. There was however one light, and some faint humming from that direction. The warm glow lead to the kitchen, and the sound was male by the deeper tones.

Carefully he moved down the hall and pushed open the door to see someone in a blue polo shirt with a tan cardigan and tan pants making food. Thomas blinked in shock at the intruder in his home, taking a step back only for the floor to creak. The person turned and looked at him with bright blue button eyes.

“Well hello there, kiddo!” he said happily, he had round glasses on a short, slightly rounded face. “Come, don’t be shy now!” he said happily putting down the bowl and whisk holding out his hand.

Thomas swallowed, “W-Who are...” he asked shakily, trying not to panic.

“Me?” the man laughed, sounding cheerful as ever, “I’m Patton, your Other Father kiddo!” he said with a bright smile at him, moving his curly brown hair out of his face.

“Other... Father?” Thomas echoed confused to him, looking around at the full cabinets of foods. The lights cast a warm glow on the clean walls and counters.

Patton beamed at him, “Yup! I’m your dad, kiddo, I guess I’m just ‘better’.” he jokingly said going back to stirring the contents in the bowl. “Mother dear is outside in the gardens getting some fresh vegetables for dinner.”

Thomas looked at the stuff on the stove, though did keep his distance from the open flames. Patton then looked at him with his unblinking, button eyes, “I’ve got an idea, why don’t you go get your brothers, dinner should be ready by the time.” he suggested to Thomas, ruffling his hair.

Looking at him confused at that Patton beamed, “Virgil is upstairs in the attic and the twins are in the basement.” he told him, “Go on sport.” with that he turned back to getting the ham out of the oven.

Thomas walked away confused, but the other had every opportunity to harm him so he must be okay. That or Thomas was dreaming, one of the two. Walking to the hallway he decided to go to the attic first, as he disliked the basement of the house. The way up was quiet, not even the stairs creaked as he got to the attic door and knocked on it twice. Thomas for a moment thought this was a joke, until the door open and he was looking up at a teenager with a baggy purple and black hoodie. Thomas eyes traveled up from the holey black pants to the purple button eyes looking at him with a raise eyebrow

“Something you need?” who Thomas guessed was Virgil, asked him.

Thomas swallowed hard, “Uh... Patton... Dad, said that dinner is ready and to get you and the twins.” he said carefully, a little scared.

Virgil titled his head then smiled, “Well we best get the twins then.” he said to Thomas as he walked out closing his door. “Come on then bro.” he grinned ruffling Thomas’s hair, his hand was firmer than Patton’s as Virgil lead the way down the stairs. Thomas carefully following behind, this dream was just getting stranger. “So... your my brother?” he asked Virgil who nodded looking at him over his shoulder.

“Yup, your Other Brother.” he said calmly though he was smiling. Thomas frowned, “But I don’t have a brother.” he told him.

Virgil shrugged, “In this world you do though, and that’s me and the twins. I promise, I’m telling the truth.” he said as they turned in the hallway. Thomas followed quickly turning to see someone in the doorway who turned them.

“Out of your room Emo?” the man in a lack caplet and yellow button eyes said hanging his hat on the hanger. “That’s a first.”

“Oh hush dad.” Virgil snarked back, the man made a face playfully messing with Virgil by shoving him and ending with them play fighting for a moment. The man then looked at Thomas and grinned, “You must be who my darling Patton told me about.” he said with a grin, “I’m your Other Father as well child.”

Thomas just nodded to that as he grinned, “Names Janus.” he said holding out his hand as Thomas shook it awkwardly. “Guess you two kids are gonna get the rascal's.” Janus hummed looking at the door. “Yeah, dad said dinner is ready.” Virgil said with a shrug putting his hands in his hoodie pockets.

Janus nodded, “Well don’t want to let the food get cold, best hurry along. Logan dear won’t be happy if you keep him waiting.” he chuckled as Virgil nodded with a smile and walked outside. Thomas took a minuet watching Janus leave as he walked after Virgil, once outside he frowned, “How can I have two fathers?” he asked confused.

Virgil looked at him, “You like to question things, don’t you?” he asked back as Thomas flushed at that. “Look kid, you just do, and they are the best dads one could ask for.” he promised him as they walked down the porch stairs and turning to the stairs that lead to the basement door. “This one is normally unlocked compared to the one in the house.” he told him.

Thomas just nodded, deciding not to ask why as he didn’t want Virgil to snark at him. Walking over as Virgil knocked hard once and just walked in. Looked at the open door for a moment, before following Virgil inside after hesitating, he walked into a large room that had one side painted in green and silver and the other was in gold and red. “Oi!” Virgil yelled out, “Things on and two, dinner is ready! Get your asses in gear!” he called out.

Sounds were heard from the double bathrooms as out of the one from the red side came a guy in a very princely outfit, and dark red button eyes with green thread. This teen huffed. “Really my chemically imbalanced brother, must you just barge into our room?” he scolded. “It’s my house too Princey.” Virgil said back calmly with a nonchalant attitude. “Beside our little brother decided to show up.”

“Little brother!?” came from the green door as it opened, out stepped a guy in a very... exaggerated outfit. Thomas wasn’t sure if he was going for the opposite of his twin or over done villain. Green button eyes with red threat stared at Thomas through wild brown and white locks. “Great! We need a prince for the castle!” he cheered going over and picking up Thomas and tossing him up into the air.

Thomas squeaked as he landed on the bed of the other, Virgil moved his head in the way that would be someone ‘rolling their eyes’. But, as they were buttons, he wasn’t sure. “Come on, we don’t want mom getting upset at us for letting the food go cold.” Virgil grumbled. “Bro, meet your twin brothers, Roman and Remus.” he said quickly. Roman squawked, “For shame, such a lame introduction.” he then bowed to Thomas, “Prince Roman actually, your amazing older brother.”

Then Roman yelped as Remus pushed him out of them, “And I’m Duke Remus! the even better brother!” he said, Roman scowled as i ended with them wrestling each other. Virgil huffed, “Guys come on! I’m hungry!” he said as Thomas giggled a bit, these guys didn’t seem half bad.

Getting up from the bouncy green and black bed with tentacle pictured covers, he ran up after Virgil the twin following close behind and into the house. Inside Patton looked at them, “Wash your hands kiddos!” he said quickly, Thomas went to do so as the twins and Virgil grumbled at that trudging after him. Inside the dinning room when Thomas went in after finish up first, he walked in to see another man setting the table. This guy had on a black polo shirt and blue eyes with black pants that were more dressy than Virgil. Sitting on his face, framing the dark blue and silver thread button eyes, was some thick rectangular glasses.

Thomas wondered if they could even ‘see’ to have ‘bad eyes’ but kept that thought to himself. He did near jump when the man looked at him and hummed, “Well hello Thomas.” he said to him calmly. Blinking in shock Thomas hesitated, “You know my name?” he asked, the others hadn’t said he name yet so he figured they didn’t know it.

Nodding to him, “Ofcourse, I know the names of all the kids here, you’re no different.” he promised, “I’m your Other Mother, Logan.” he said with a curt nod. Thomas blinked at that, his ‘mother’ was a guy? Well, he did have to dads, so this couldn’t be any stranger. “Care to help me set the table?” Logan asked him, with a dumbfounded nod Thomas gripped the plates setting them out at each place with a cloth in front of the chair.

“Don’t worry Thomas.” Logan said after Patton started to set the food on the table, “We’ve been waiting for you, we aren’t here to harm you.” he smiled faintly, after only ever giving cool or calculating looks. Thomas shifted a bit, “That’s... comforting, but what do you mean you’ve been waiting for me?” he asked curiously.

Virgil looked up from helping Patton set the table, “Every kid has Other Parents, Thomas. Right, mom?” he asked looking at Logan who nodded. “Yes, and you happened to find yours, which is lucky. We are here to help you where your real parents are lacking.” Logan told him calmly.

“Oh...” Thomas muttered looking down, was it really that obvious his parents weren’t the best of people? A hand that was cold and smooth lifted his chin to meet Logan’s button eyes, “Don’t cry now, I know your home life isn’t the best, but we are here now. We’ll be a family you need, promise.” he looked at Thomas with a faint smile that was kind and loving, like how he was told moms were to smile at you.

Patton hugged him quickly, the other was rather squishy to the touch, but he was bigger round than stick person Logan, but at least slightly taller than Janus. “We love you Kiddo, and this place was meant for you to find it.” he giggled kissing Thomas’s forehead.

Taking their seats at the table, Thomas was next o Virgil and Logan, with Remus across from him. Patton was at the other end of the table flanked by Janus and Roman. Logan gave thanks calmly and helped Thomas get some food so the other had a healthy balance, while the others got theirs. Thomas was sheepish about this whole thing, but the food did smell good and looked edible. “How is it Kiddos?” Patton asked, smiling brightly.

“Great as always dad!” Virgil said cheerfully as Roman and Remus said the same. Thomas shyly nodded, “It tastes amazing.” he said softly as Patton beamed at him, his freckles showing when he did. The ham did taste great, it was tender and juicy, he happily ate his corn with his mash potatoes.

“Ha! See I’m not the only who who mixes them Roman!” Virgil declared point his fork at him. Roman scoffed, “You two are just weird.” he said with a wave of his hand, Logan chuckled at this smiling fondly at his kids.

“Whatcha guys want to drink?” Janus asked everyone as Thomas blinked in shock when the chandler came down for them with different drinks in it. Logan hummed, “We have sodas and flavored water along with milkshakes.” he told Thomas who looked a little overwhelmed.

“Er... I’m not picky.” Thomas said honestly, Logan hummed with a nod getting Thomas some grape juice as it was higher up. He happily drank some, smiling a bit at the sweet, but very flavored taste. He looked around the table to see the group was very happily chatting to each other, then he looked at Logan. “No need to be scared Thomas, I can bet this is a bit overwhelming.” he said calmly.

“Kind of...” Thomas said shyly, Logan nodded slowly and seemed to be very understanding.

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” Logan promised to him placing a comforting hand on Thomas’s shoulder. It did make him smile at how gentle Logan was being and he wasn’t forcing Thomas to speak like his real mom did. Thomas took a moment, wiping his fingers on the napkin in his lap, “it’s just...” he looked conflicted but Logan remained silent. “This all seems too good to be true, almost magical in a way... I must be dreaming.” he said to Logan honestly.

“Understandable that you’d have doubts, given how your current life is. But, this is very real.” Logan said softly to him, though he didn’t have eyelids, Thomas could tell the button eyes were soft in their gaze. Before Thomas could say anything he yelped in pain when Remus pinched him under the table, “Felt that right?” Remus cackled out.

Logan gave a stern glare, “Remus.” he said carefully, as Remus looked sheepish and ducked his head. “Sorry Mom, sorry Thomas.” the duke mumbled out quietly as Logan nodded to him.

Well that did prove Thomas could feel pain, so he wasn’t dreaming, but still. Logan sighed looking back at Thomas, “Don’t worry Thomas, he’s just trying to help.” he smiled at him, going back to dinner, Thomas finished his plate and drink, feeling a bit more at ease as time went on.

“You kiddos gonna play outside later?” Patton asked happily to the group. Remus grinned again, “Yup, now that we have our Prince here, our castle is complete!” he said was Roman nodded along. Virgil scoffed, “Am I playing Dragon Witch again?” he asked. “Oh don’t be like Emo! You play a great dragon!” Roman whined as Thomas snickered at Virgil’s playful scowl.

“You like games Thomas?” Logan asked curiously, “The twins are great at games in the forest.” he promised. Thomas looked at Logan and shyly nodded, “Yeah, tough there aren’t many kids around the house.” he said softly, especially during this covid stuff.

Logan beamed at that, “Well now you have brothers, right kids?” he asked as Remus was nodded along with Roman happily, Virgil gave him the peace sign with a relaxed smile. Thomas did smile at that with a nod at that, yeah, Logan was right. But, before he could say anything he found himself yawning. “Goodness, it is late.” Janus said looking at the clock, “Might have to change plans boys.” he said sadly.

Remus pouted, but Virgil tried to stifle a yawn himself as Roman did look a little sleep now that the other two started up. Patton giggled, “Come on kiddos, tomorrow you can play outside all day.” he promised them as they got up together.

Thomas sleepily followed them, as Logan looked at him, “Head onto bed, we’ll be up to tuck you in after the others.” he promised. Tuck him in? His mom and dad never did that. Sluggishly making his way upstairs, as his stomach was full for once and it was late, Thomas opened the door to his room on the second floor. “Woah!” he breathed out.

His room had new rainbow rug, with stars and planets on the ceiling that seemed to move on their own. Heck, it didn’t even look like there was a ceiling! Little lights danced around the room like fire flies and stuffed animals waved at him from the bed and walls. Thomas gazed around his mouth gaped open in awe as he sat down on his bed that had puppys and cats on it.

The door opened as he turned to see Logan, Patton, and Janus walk in, “Like it?” Patton grinned, “Jannie and I worked hard on it.” he told Thomas.

“I love it!” Thomas cheered as he hugged Patton and then Janus, then jolted away a little sheepish that he did that. But looking up he only saw bright smiles at him. “Glad to here it darling.” Patton cooed as he helped Thomas to bed. “But, tomorrow is another day, and we expect to see you back here soon.” “That’s right, wouldn’t do for you to be tired.” Janus teased him bopping Thomas’s nose.

Smiling at that, Thomas yawned again as Logan pushed the covers over him kissing his forehead along with the two other fathers. “Goodnight Thomas.” Logan said softly, “Sleep well.” Humming faintly as Thomas closed his eyes, feeling utterly exhausted for once since moving here.

“See you soon.” the three said in unison as Thomas fall into a dreamless sleep under warm covers.

Light filtered through his window as Thomas opened his eyes, lifting the covers only to find his room wasn’t colorful again. The stars were gone, and the walls were there dull grey.

He frowned, had it really all be a dream?

[ampmiscfiles]

The Webs We Weave: Chapter 30

Start From The Beginning

"You realize you've got the entirety of the Avengers and the vigilantes of New York looking for you?" Peter sneered."Oh, I'm fully aware that all your little friends are looking for Osborn." The man smirked.Suddenly, it hit.Fisk! Wilson Fisk! The rising 'star' from Hell's Kitchen. Start From The Beginning

Fisk?

Tony looked at the large man smirking at Peter.

Fisk. Where had he heard that name before?

"I truly hope your worth the time to me. I wouldn't mind getting rid of you as well, but I promised Osborn I'd leave your fate to him as payment."

"You realize you've got the entirety of the Avengers and the vigilantes of New York looking for you?" Peter sneered.

"Oh, I'm fully aware that all your little friends are looking for Osborn." The man smirked.

Suddenly, it hit.

Fisk! Wilson Fisk! The rising 'star' from Hell's Kitchen.

Tony had never really paid the man any attention as his business was pretty exclusive to Hell's Kitchen and improving it. He was technically small time to Tony, but did have promise if he decided to start expanding, which Tony had assumed he would.

Still, what business did Wilson Fisk had with Dea-

Tony froze.

How could he be that stupid?

Peter wasn't a bait for Deadpool.......he was a bait for Daredevil.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harley followed silently behind Wade and Daredevil. His head was spinning with the new revelations.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

The cute guy he had been desperately trying to win over was the same man he had been feuding with.

What a mess.

He glared at the back of Wade Wilson's head. Perhaps, if he had gotten to know Spider-Man and Peter before the mercenary, things would be different. Maybe if he had actually taken time to better figure out the story between Peter and Tony, things might be different.

Not that he was sure he wanted to know the story between Tony and Peter.

When it was just Spider-Man, with his attitude, it had been easy for Harley to hate him. Knowing now that it was Peter, and having spent a little time with him, Harley couldn't stop the nagging feeling that maybe Tony wasn't at innocent as he thought.

Still, Harley respected Tony. He looked up to the man and really couldn't find it in himself to believe that anything he uncovered between Tony and Peter would change those feelings.

Because it was obvious Peter didn't want it to.

He could have ousted Tony for whatever had happened, but he didn't. So either the problem wasn't all Tony, or Peter was really just that intent of keeping it between the two of them.

He had to respect Peter for it.

Anyone else might have jumped at the chance to get people on their side, but not Peter. Sure, he obviously had his vigilante friends and family, but it was also clear that they trusted Peter and left the choice up to him. Whatever he decided, whether they liked it or not, they respected it.

"You keeping up back there, brat." Wade tossed over his shoulder.

"Don't push your luck, mercenary." Harley sneered. "I'm only working with you for Peter's sake."

"Don't tell me you still think you have a chance with him!" Wade growled.

"Shut it! Both of you!" Matt hissed. "I don't have the patience to hear you argue."

Both men closed their mouths as Matt seethed next to them. Wade imagined he could see the ground smoking under the man's feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There's no way all these tunnels will lead to where we need to be." Natasha frowned. "Spider-Man and Tony are gone. We're not all going to end up in the same place."

"We've been walking a while." Clint replied. "Even if we turn back and take the tunnel they did, there's no way we'd catch up to them."

"Then maybe we need to be thinking outside the box." Natasha said, stopping.

"What are you thinking?"

"Maybe these tunnels aren't as clean cut as they look. I mean, if I had an elaborate system of moving goods, I'd also have contingency plans."

"You think the tunnels all connect?" Clint asked, looking around.

"I think it's worth keeping an eye out for possible side routes, or even the ceiling."

"Well then," Clint grinned. "Let's put these spy skills to use."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Keep an eye out for side or even top exits from the tunnels."

Clint's voice came through the comms.

Felicia looked over at Bucky as he stopped and looked around. They didn't notice anything where they were, but that didn't mean they wouldn't come across one, or more, if they kept going.

"I hate to tell you big guy," Felicia smirked. "But I can promise you my eyesight is better in dark and dim light than yours."

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Felicia turned, making her way further down the tunnel.

"Enhancement?"

"Night vision."

Bucky stopped as she threw a saucy wink over her shoulder.

"Trust me, it comes in handy.......at the most interesting of times."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, he goes through all this trouble of capturing us in the room......and never considered the strength of the actual walls?" Luke groaned, running his hand down his face as Jessica punched at the steadily crumbling wall.

"A few more well placed hits and we'll have a hole we can get through." Jessica grinned.

"Get to it Cage. Danny and I aren't gonna do it all."

Luke smirked, cracking his knuckles and throwing a punch. The walls cracked and crumbled sheet rock busted away.

"Looking good. I think you and Rand can handle it from here." Jessica smirked, settling herself against the opposite wall and watching.

"Chop chop boys."

"Well, you heard the lady." Danny shrugged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frank Castle didn't do subtle.

Kicking the door in, he stepped into the dark inside of Fisk Tower. He hated crooked business dealers.

He hated them even more when they went after people he actually liked.

Picking up his duffle, Frank strolled down the long corridors, ignoring the cameras "hidden" in corners. So what if anyone knew he was coming, it wasn't like he had a problem playing dirty.

"Big shot billionaires." Frank scoffed. "They're either disgustingly crooked, or arrogantly obnoxious. Now, if I was an insane, serum high piece of shit, where would I hide?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony watched as Fisk circled Peter, analyzing him.

"I wonder just how old you are, Spider-Man. You've been under the red menace's watch for some time now. Long enough to make you the perfect bait for luring him to me."

"I hate to tell you, Fisky, but Daredevil isn't coming. He's not that stupid."

Tony could hear Peter's smirk behind his mask.

Fisk chuckled as shook his head.

"I think you and I both know that's a lie. In fact, I look for him to show up very soon. We already have a few of your little friends locked away."

Peter tensed.

Tony frowned. He knew it couldn't be any of the Avengers, which only left the vigilantes Peter was always with.

So much for backup.

"Boss!"

Norman and Fisk looked up as a bloody guard stepped into the room. His right arm hung loosely at his side and his left leg left a trail of blood behind it.

"We....we have a pro-"

A bullet through the man's skull ended his warning.

"Good. I haven't missed any fun."

Peter gasped under the mask as Frank Castle, bloody and grinning madly, strolled into the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who the hell hires all these guys?" Danny shouted, punching a guard in the face.

"You're telling me you don't have a mass of evil underlings, Rand?" Jessica cackled, slamming another into the wall.

"I don't need underlings. I run a respectable business!"

"If you have employees, you have underlings!" Luke huffed, throwing a larger man into an oncoming group.

"Whatever, let's just move. We gotta find Osborn be-"

A vent falling out the ceiling stopped the group as two people dropped down.

"Starting without us?" Clint grinned.

"We hate missing all the fun." Natasha smirked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Matt stopped, an odd sound ringing in his ears. Holding out his hand, he stopped Harley from following behind Wade, just in time to watch the mercenary go flying into one wall as a hole was knocked into the other.

"Holy shit!" Harley yelled, immediately encased in the Iron Lad armor.

"Matt!"

Harley watched in shock as the platinum blonde woman and Bucky Barnes stepped into the tunnel.

"Felicia. I want to be surprised, but I'm not." Matt said with a small, but relieved smile as she wrapped herself around him in a hug.

"We have to find him, Matty." she whispered.

Matt didn't reply. There wasn't a need to.

"Where's Wilson?" Bucky asked, looking around.

"Over here under the rubble, you Sebastian Stan wanna be lookin' asshole!"

Bucky rolled his eyes, walking over and pulling the grumbling mercenary out of the rubble.

"It's not like anyone could do any more damage to that head of yours."

"I'll have you know, Petey likes my head just the way it is."

"I never said the kid had good taste."

Wade gasped as Bucky turned and walked back to where Felicia and Matt were talking.

"Lose the suit kid." Bucky grunted, passing by the still suited up Harley.

Harley glared at his back as the suit retracked.

"Let's get moving." Matt instructed. "Peter and Stark were taken in this tunnel, I'm not deviating from it."

The group nodded, moving forward.

They walked for a while before coming to a dead end.

"Are you kidding me?" Harley huffed. "No way this tunnel just ends like this."

"For once, I agree with the brat." Wade grumbled, looking around.

"Because he's right." Matt said, moving back and forth along the wall. "I can hear air hissing through the cracks."

"Are you seriously telling me there is a secret door to and out of this tunnel?" Wade asked excitedly.

"Are you seriously telling me your getting excited over something this stupid when Peter and Tony are missing?" Harley glared.

Wade ignored him, instead choosing to study the area.

Harley looked over as Felicia put her hand on his shoulder.

"Trust me, he's worried, humor is just a defense. Besides, Peter would most likely be the same way."

"Think I found the key." Bucky said, drawing everyone's attention as he pushed into a few bricks, noting the slight give.

"Suit up, kid." Matt tossed over his shoulder to Harley. "We don't know what's on the other side."

Harley felt the nanites run over him, sealing him inside his armor.

As Bucky pushed fully on the trigger, the wall began to slide to the side. Wade clapped in delight at the absolute cheesy evil villainy of the event.

As soon as the door completely opened, the sound of gunshots rang out in the area.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter watched as Frank fell to the floor as a group of men ran into the room, tackling him to the ground.

"It seems as though you didn't do as through of a job of dispatching my men as you thought, Mr. Castle." Fisk smirked, his smug expression only serving to infuriate Frank more than being caught off guard.

"Perhaps your lack of proper planning should be reconsidered."

"Of let it be the perfect distraction."

Peter broke out into a grin as Jessica Jones flew into the room, a flurry of excited punches and kicks as Luke, Danny and, surprisingly, Natasha and Clint, followed behind her.

"Osborn!" Fisk growled, "I thought you said they were secure!"

"You started without us!"

Tony's eyes widened as Wade Wilson rolled into the room, guns firing. Harley flew in behind him, repulsors blasting the equipment in the room.

More guards flooded the space, trapping Bucky and Felicia right outside the door they came through in combat.

Norman growled, rushing over to a side table and picking up a syringe.

"I won't lose you again so quickly this time, Peter." he said, stabbing the needle into the side of Peter's neck.

"Peter!" Tony shouted, struggling to break out of his bonds.

Peter slumped forward, Norman catching him as the restraints were undone.

"You just always seem to be a few steps behind me, Stark." Norman sneered, throwing Peter's limp form over his shoulder.

"Put him down or a swear-"

"You'll what? You seem to be missing the picture here, Tony. Your little band of resc-"

Norman's words were cut off as another wall cracked and burst open.

Wanda, hands glowing red flew into the room, followed by the remaining team of Avengers.

Tony had never been more happy to see them.

Grabbing another syringe off his cart, Norman stabbed his leg, the green liquid flowing in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fisk glared at the fighting as he stumbled back into the shadows. If he wasn't killed or captured, Norman would pay heavily for his failure.

Pressing a button, a panel opened up and he slipped inside. He had prepared for the possible problems of Norman's scheme tonight, and a helicopter had been stationed on the roof for emergency evacuation.

He couldn't be charged for a crime he wasn't here to commit after all.

"Going somewhere?"

Fisk jumped, spinning around to find Daredevil standing behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Norman cackled gleefully as the serum coursed through his veins. He could feel the raw power it provided, raising him from a normal human to something more.

"How cute that you think you'll win so easily." Norman grinned madly.

"Put Spider-Man down!" Steve shouted, shield up.

"You're so demanding, Captain." Norman laughed. "But I've worked far to hard to get to this point.

Shoving his hand in his pocket, Norman pulled out a small remote.

"Let's even the field a little bit."

"Watch out!" Sam yelled, pushing Steve out of the way as the goblin's glider flew right through where he had stood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony struggled against his bonds. He had to get out and help!

"Tony!"

Tony's head snapped to the side as Harley ran up to him, pulling the straps from him.

"Where's Peter?"

"You know who he is?" Tony asked, rubbing his wrists.

"Yeah, Daredevil spilled the beans on both his and Peter's identities when you two fell."

Tony nodded, looking around. He grinned as his eyes landed on the nanite encasing arc reactor, snatching it off the metal cart.

"What do you say kid," Tony started, attaching the reactor and hitting it. "Let's do some damage."

Harley grinned, helmet covering his face.

"FRIDAY, give me a scan of this structure." Tony said, as his helmet incased him.

"Tony, wha-"

"Get to blasting kid." Tony ordered, firing up his suit. "Scans show this place isn't supporting Fisk Tower, and we can't have anything leaving this lab. Osborn is keeping stuff here and we don't know what all that is. It's all gotta go."

Harley nodded before blasting off.

Tony snatched up the syringe Norman had stabbed Peter with.

"FRIDAY, give a reading."

"It's a strong sedative. From what records I still have of Peter, he'll burn through this, but will be sluggish for a bit."

"Great."

[sunshinesukuna]

hogwarts school of sorcery and sweethearts

✨ pairing: kuroo x reader ✨ genre: fluff ✨ wc: 1.5k ✨ uwu here’s a soft interlude for all y’all, hope y’all like it, 

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢: 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧) | 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢: 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

See-through people floated along the halls as you made your way back to the common room. The painting of the knight on the third floor snored so loudly that you thought it would break your eardrums. Mental reminder: never hang a magical painting of yourself in Hogwarts. If you do, hang far away from the East Wing, preferably far from the third floor. How the paintings around him stood it, you didn’t know.

 “Poor sweetheart, she could be one of us with those eyebags!” a painting cried on your left. A couple of talking raccoons pointed at you. They were either painted so well that they looked like they had devilish faces, or they were painted so crudely that even the ounce of cuteness a raccoon held was replaced by a foul disgust.

 “Who is it? Snape? Flitwick? We’ll sneak in when they’re teaching and set you all free,” one of them sang.

 Your eyes were glazed over as you looked at the animals. The muscles in your legs were begging for you to sit down right then and there, but your mind, still intoxicated with the drug that is fatigue kept them in place. “Professor,” you yawned, “McGonagall.” The raccoons cackled with their scratchy voices.

 “We’ll raise hell for you, sweetie,” they said. “Wasn’t Peeves out for that Seventeenth Century Animal to Human Transfiguration book?” With all the remaining energy in your body, you shrugged your droopy shoulders. You could care less about McGonagall’s class than how you were about to get to the dorms right now. Hanging your head, you walked away.

At least the Fat Lady gave you a warm greeting.

“Goodness gracious! What are you up to again, Peeves!” the Fat Lady said. Her flushed face reminded you of a blinking traffic light on a dark night. She had obviously been drinking with her friends. Thank goodness paintings didn’t emit any smells. You groaned.

“I’m not Peeves,” you said. She pointed an accusing finger the size of a blood sausage at you.

“Lies! Prove it! Password?” Sleep was clouding your thoughts by now. What was the password again? It was just yesterday that they had given you the new one. Something about quidditch? Or was it something to do with cats?

 The support from under the stack of books under you fell down. The legs that had loyally carried you from one end of the castle to the other had now reached their breaking point.You reached in front of you to cushion your fall, only to land on your bag. The books inside provided poor cushioning, but it only stung a little. 

So what if you forgot the password? You were going to finish these assignments even if they ripped you apart from head to toes. Making yourself as comfortable as the spiky walls would let you, you settled down under the portrait of the Fat Lady. 

“Hey! Get out from under there Peeves? What in the blazes do you think you are doing?” You got your books ready from your bag. It was the last one you had to do. Transfiguration. As much as the inhabitants of Gryffindor Tower loved Professor McGonagall, there were some instances where each of them would give up at almost nothing to throw a hex or a jinx at her. Yours was now.

“Getting shit done,” you muttered under your breath. Ink from the quill wept over your hands from the shaky movements. The book was balanced on your lap, parchment over your other leg as you wrote. To hell with comments about your handwriting. You needed that grade.

The Fat Lady eventually fell asleep. The only sound in the halls right now were her elephant-like snores and the scratch of your quill. You couldn’t fall asleep now. There were five questions left on the parchment, you could at least finish two more and do the rest at breakfast tomorrow. Just two more… Two more questions…

The assignments! The cruel realization that you would be late to Transfiguration startled you awake. You pulled off the blankets from above you and pulled back the curtains. It felt like all the things you had feared of the night before had come raining down from you again. Thoughts of what you were going to do came crashing around your head like snow in a particularly violent avalanche.

 McGonagall was going to give you a lower-than-passing grade, which would bring down your total average, which in turn would greatly impact your work options in the future. Visions of a bleak future invaded your brain. Your fingers treaded the space under the bed, instead coming in contact with soft carpet on the floor.

 Weren’t you on the steps outside the Fat Lady just a little while ago?

You shook the sleep out of your eyes. Soft morning light woke your brain up from the haze that it had been for the past…. You looked at the clock. It was already 11 o’clock! Running to the bathrooms, you passed the common room, which was filled with a slew of your fellow housemates. How could they still be in the common room during this time? Didn’t they have—

“Morning, babe,” someone said. A pair of large hands found their place on your shoulders and nestled between the locks of your hair.

“What are you doing?” you asked. You spun around, only to be met with the baffled face of your boyfriend. Kuroo raised an eyebrow. He was still in pajamas, as were the other members of Gryffindor House. They were looking at you like you had taken the Polyjuice Potion wrong and had grown another set of eyes.

“What are you doing?” Kuroo retaliated. He gripped the sides of your shoulders. He wasn’t making any sense. It was like you woke up in a parallel universe. It was Friday, for goodness’s sake. They had lessons! What were they doing, relaxing so leisurely?

 “What do you mean? Isn’t it…” The bright red letters of the calendar to the side made you collapse on the chair behind you.

“It’s Saturday, kitten. What are you getting so worked up about?”

Getting no response, Kuroo decided to sit down beside you. His fingers rubbed small circles between your shoulder blades, eventually switching to short lines on your neck. Once he was sure you were properly grounded and awake, he put your head on his lap.

“You dummy, you didn’t have supper last night, did you?” The gurgle of your stomach made him sigh. Kuroo put your head down on the couch and stood up to put a steaming plate of toast and eggs on your knees. Just the smell of it was enough to make you lightheaded. It was gone in five bites.

“You’re welcome,” he said. Sickly condescendence coated his words, but you were too hungry to even pay attention to him. You nodded a silent ‘thank you’.

A glass of water and a shower later, you were in his lap once more. 

“What happened last night?” you muttered. It was an afterthought, something you said to clear your mind. You did not expect Kuroo to respond.

“I got back from night patrol to see you and the Fat Lady knocked out cold,” he said. He detailed the scene he came upon; your sleeping form sprawled over several books, the parchment a blanket over your body as you dozed off the fatigue of studying all day with no breaks. Kuroo had then proceeded to use a Levitating Charm to get you back to bed.

“My papers!” you cried. If anything happened to the work that you spent a whole week on, you would—

“Don’t bother. I did them already.” You whipped your head back from under your bed. All the air in your lungs felt like it had been gently expelled after rotting in there for a week. Sure enough, besides the stack of books on your desk, was a neatly folded sheet of parchment with his loopy handwriting. The notes were clear, concise, and more than enough for you to work with. Kuroo shrugged.

“I just wrote the key points. You can go off from where I left off,” he said. It didn’t seem like much. But for somebody that had been laboring 7 days and 7 nights for this grade, key points were more than enough. Really, anybody lightening your load was enough. You put your face in your hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kuroo’s hands patted your back again, “why are you crying?” Were you crying? You pulled back your hands to see that he was right. They were soggy with tears of relief and desperation. You wiped the rest of the tears off with your sleeve. Kuroo massaged your neck with slow, tender motions.

“Tetsu…” you said once you had stopped crying, “I could seriously kiss you right now.” Kuroo laughed. He spread his arms and beckoned you to come closer.

“Be my guest.”

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢: 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧) | 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

taglist: @yeet-these-hoez @tattedweeb

[thenovelartist]

A Bride for the Prince, chapter 17

A03 ~ < Previous  ~  Next >

To say Marinette was floating on air was an understatement. Her head might as well be up in the clouds she felt so light. Adrien loved her.

Adrien loved her.

She couldn’t settle down. Not after he’d kissed her completely and totally senseless under the sparkling night sky.

Her heart started racing again. Heat flooded her face as her gut spun into knots. He’d been pressed flush against her, their position deeply intimate all on its own. That alone would get any respectable woman’s face to turn red. But paired with the way their lips had met over and over and over again before his had wandered down her jaw to her neck…

With a shamed whimper, she sunk to her knees on the floor. “Pull it together. Pull it together!” she whispered, scolding herself for having not only allowed Adrien to lay nips on her neck in the first place but likely encouraging him with the way she’d grabbed at his clothes and shoulders and arms.

That was the other thing: hands knew no boundaries. Good lord, what would her mother say if she knew what her unmarried daughter had done with a man? At least she was betrothed to said man and they didn’t escalate to… certain actions done only within the marital bed, but it certainly hadn’t been proper!

Marinette hid her flaming face in her hands, whimpering in pure embarrassment. She’d been raised better than this! She’d always scolded other maids when they slipped out late to flirt with the guards or other staff, chastising them for acting so wanton, yet here she was, the hugest hypocrite possible.

She could not let that happen again. The next time she saw Adrien—

A knock came at the door, one quiet yet frantic. “Marinette!” A familiar voice hissed.

“Adrien?”

“Marinette, please, I need to talk to you.”

His voice was as frantic as his knocks. She hurried over and opened the door.

He immediately slipped inside and shut the door behind him.

Well, so much for being proper with Adrien the next time she saw him.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. She should have stepped away from him. She shouldn’t have been so close. She should be able to control herself.

‘Should’ being the key word. Because she found herself drawn to him like a moth to his flame.

Good bye, propriety, she mentally bid.

“I have to talk to you,” he said, his hands reaching up to hold her arms, grabbing on tightly.

She couldn’t keep her own hands from his shoulders. “Adrien, you’re scaring me.” His grip was tight, but that paired with the tone of his voice and the pain that was evident on his face… “Something’s wrong.”

That pain in his expression intensified to the point she felt like she could feel it. He grit his teeth, his eyes screwing shut as he hung his head with a grimace. His grip got tighter as he tugged her closer. Her heart was racing with worry as her stomach dropped to the floor like lead. Even the way he leaned his forehead against her own didn’t settle her.

“Adrien.”

“Gah! I don’t want to have this conversation,” he growled, pained.

Slowly, nervously, she reached up to grab his cheeks, pushing him away so as to look her in the eyes again. He looked so nervous, and she took up rubbing slow circles on his cheeks in hopes to calm him down. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Let me help you. Tell me. Please.”

“I have to, whether I want to or not.” He sighed, letting his eyes close a moment before opening them up again. But when she met his gaze, she wasn’t comforted by the intensity they held. “You might want to sit down, Marinette. I…” He huffed a sigh. “I have some secrets to tell you.”

A lead weight filled her stomach, making her feel almost physically ill. In fact, it felt like her whole body was full of lead, because it was very hard to move to a seat.

Maybe the bed wasn’t the best place to sit; she did have a chair, after all. That would have been more proper. But Adrien was able to take a seat beside her, taking hold of her hand in a way that reassured her as he began.

“Marinette… I’m not actually a guard.”

Her brow furrowed and head tilted in confusion. “What?”

He rubbed his jaw, sheepish. “It’s just… just a cover. To give me a little freedom.”

Her frown deepened. “Cover? Freedom? What…?”

With a sigh to steady himself, Adrien took both her hands in his, holding on tight as he said. “Marinette… I’m actually the crown prince.”

She blinked, looking intently at his face. Unbidden, a smile came to her face, one that was uncomfortable to wear. Giggles tickled her throat, settling uneasily in her lungs, making them too full to take in a breath she clearly needed to clear her head. “What are you talking about? The… the crown prince? You… You’re the son of… son of a maid…”

His expression was a serious one, no joking in sight. Only pain.

Pain from his admission.

“No,” Marinette said, reality slowly becoming hazy as a dream. Her giggles turned self-depreciating, and her smile fell to a grimace. “No, no. You’re… there’s no… That’s not—”

“Marinette,” he called out to her, interrupting her thoughts by squeezing her hands reassuringly. “Marinette, I’m very serious.”

“But… that’s not who… you said… you said you’re the son of—”

“My mother insisted,” he cut in. “She didn’t want me admitting my true title. That was the condition she gave me when playing with kids outside my class.”

It felt as though a noose was tightening around her neck, air becoming scarce as she struggled to breathe. Her heart beat harder and faster in her chest as a result, frantic and panicked. “I… I don’t…”

“I know,” he assured, squeezing her hands and shifting closer to her. “I know. This is… it’s a lot to take in.”

“I…” Words failed her. What was she supposed to say to that? “You’re the crown prince?”

He nodded. “I am.”

And that’s when it hit her all at once. He was the crown prince. She could see it, his face hidden behind a white mask. She could hear his voice, one that had brought her comfort in a crowded ballroom and joked with her in a garden, running through a maze to escape Nino. And he… the crown prince…

He was vowing himself to her.

“Adrien.” She suddenly stood, pulling her hands away from him as though he’d burned her. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him. He was the crown prince, and she was a servant girl. “You… oh my—no. We… we can’t… You can’t—”

“Marinette.” He stood from his seat, reaching out to her. “Marinette, listen.”

She took another step back, holding her hands close to her chest. Everything was flooding to her at once as her mind struggled to connect the dots. “You… you knew. You knew I was a serving girl. You knew I wasn’t a lady. Why…”

He knew. He knew this whole time. He had all the cards in his hands and played her, strung her along all while having to know they could never… they could never…

Tears were now pouring down her face. “Adrien.”

“Marinette,” he coaxed, finally grabbing onto her shoulders to pull her close. “Marinette, listen to me.”

“Why?” she challenged, unsure if she was asking why she should listen or why he betrayed her. “Tell me why?”

“I’m going to,” he assured. “But please, stop struggling and just let me explain.”

She hiccupped a sob, quickly covering her mouth with her hand and feeling the wet tear trails drip onto her fingers.

He shifted her in his grasp, securing her to him with one arm while using his now free hand to wipe away her tears from her cheek.

But that only made the tears worse.

“Before I say another word, I need you to know I meant everything,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “That I still mean everything. Every word and kiss; I mean it. I love you. I want you as my wife—”

“That can’t happen,” she countered. “So why—”

“I spent days locked up in the castle library looking for anything that said I couldn’t be with you,” he cut in. “Anything. Because once I realized I was falling for you, I knew I would never be satisfied with any other woman for my wife but you. And so I looked for anything that told me that I couldn’t be with you, hoping that I wouldn’t find it. And I didn’t.”

She brow furrowed. “W-what?”

“I couldn’t find anything,” he said. “There were no laws that stated I couldn’t take you as my bride. But…” His expression sobered. “But my father… and his traditions…”

Which meant… She then froze as cold dread crept in “Your father knows…? A-about me?”

Adrien grimaced.

Her knees gave out completely, but Adrien was there to catch her, lowering her to the floor and kneeling in front of her.

“No,” she whispered, her heart pounding as icy fear overtook her.

“Marinette.” Adrien grabbed her cheeks, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Marinette, listen to me. Nothing is going to happen to you. I vow to you, nothing bad will become of you. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that. But…” He grimaced. “Ah, damn it!” he yelled before resting his forehead against hers, cradling the back of her head to hold her there. “I promised you, Marinette. And I meant it. I still mean it. And if I could, I’d drop everything for—”

“But you can’t!” she cried. “You’re the crown prince. You can’t just abandon everything for me.”

“You’re worth it!” he cried.

Shocking her to the core in the process.

“Yes, I would give up everything for you,” he reiterated, calmer this time. “In a heartbeat. To keep my promise. To be with you. I love you.”

He loved her. He loved her. Loved her enough to throw everything away.

And damn it, she loved him enough to ensure he wasn’t an idiot. “You can’t do that,” she countered. “And whether you want to or not, you know you can’t, Adrien. You have a kingdom who needs you… More than I do…”

Adrien paused, his face contorting into a grimace. “I know,” he reluctantly agreed. “I know my kingdom needs me to care for it. I can’t abandon my people. If I knew the next of kin would rule justly, I wouldn’t be so hesitant to abdicate, but I can’t abandon my duties. Because if I do that, then you…” His expression turned pained as his eyes turned glassy. “I could protect you from the world, but not from my father. Not fully. And I can’t… I can’t…” He squeezed her tight. “I can’t put you in danger because I want to be selfish. In the end, I love you and have to do what’s best for you. I have to do whatever it takes to protect you even if it means I can’t be with you.”

Her heart was in shambles at this point, along with their relationship. They could fight all they wanted, but in the end…

In the end, it was all for naught.

“Damn you.” Tears poured down her face. “How dare you come into my life again, only to leave me like this. You become my best friend for the second time, then go and make me fall in love with you, steal my first kiss, then ruin me for any other man before finally revealing that I could never have had you all along!” She slammed her hands against his chest, the pain in her heart growing stronger. Just as a new wave of tears and hysteria washed over her, she smacked him again, grabbing tightly to his shirt as she cried, “Damn you.”

He looked physically pained by every word out of her mouth. “I deserve that.”

She choked on a sob, hanging her head as the tears overflowed and poured down her cheeks. Her hands still entangled in his shirt, she held him at a distance, knowing it would only worsen the pain if he were close.

Yet, he carefully dislodged her hands from his shirt, using them to pull her closer to him as he shifted closer to her.

And she was too weak to put up a fight.

She found herself in his arms, held tightly up against his chest as she sobbed her heart out. If she were a little more cognizant, she would have realized she wasn’t the only one in tears.

It took a while for them to settle, him clinging to her and her clinging to him. Neither were willing to let go of the other.

“If I had my way, Marinette,” Adrien spoke up, voice hoarse from the tears. “If there were any way I could keep you, I would.”

She knew that. She really did.

“But… in the end, I will have to pick a bride tomorrow.”

And it won’t be you, she mentally finished.

“Even though I’d marry you in a heartbeat if given the chance.”

She sniffed again, already exhausted from crying but nearly ready to start up again. In the end, she forced herself to pull away first. He was clearly hesitant to let her go, if the way he held her was any indication. But from her new vantage point, she could see his red-rimmed eyes and the tear trails down his own face.

Don’t do it. Don’t do…

But she did, reaching up to wipe the tears from his eyes, and allowing him the chance to grab her hand and hold it to his cheek. She didn’t have the will-power to pull away, an action she regretted when he pressed a lingering kiss to the palm of her hand.

It would be the last kiss he gave her. It would have to be, or her heart would stop right then and there.

“Adrien.” She pulled her hand away. “You have to go.”

Oh, those words hurt, but it was clear they hurt him, too.

“You… you have to pick a bride.”

That’s not me and will never be.

“This is where we…” Tears flooded her eyes as the last words got choked up in her throat. “We part.”

Her voice finished with a squeak, but it was the best she could manage.

Adrien looked nothing short of utterly crushed. “Damn it,” he whispered, leaning forward to press their foreheads together one last time.

She cherished the feeling, knowing that when she pulled away, it would be the last.

“Just go,” she whispered. “There’s… there’s no way to make it… make it hurt less.”

“I know it,” he said. “And I hate it.”

She did, too.

Yet, he stood. Then, like a gentleman, he helped her stand, too. Where they held hands for a moment longer before letting go after one final squeeze. The moment he dropped her hands, Marinette took a step back. And Adrien lingered, looking at her with tears in his eyes.

“I love you.”

She could have cried at his words. “Stop making it hard,” she chastised.

With a heartbroken expression, he started to back away towards the door. Thankfully, she had the good sense to realize those were not the last words she wanted to ever say to him.

“I love you, too.”

Adrien froze, hand on the door handle as he stared back at her, mouth open slightly in surprise. It was quick to turn into a pained smile, though.

And that was the last thing she saw before he slipped out the door.

Once he was gone, she broke, crumbling into a thousand little pieces as she collapsed onto her bed and sobbed her little, shattered heart out. She clutched the sheets, screaming into her pillow as her body shook with grief.

She didn’t know how long she allowed herself to be that severe of a mess, but once she pulled herself together and started processing everything, she knew… she knew she couldn’t stay here. The love of her life was going to pick a woman to marry, and it wasn’t going to be her. She couldn’t stand it. She just couldn’t.

Though completely exhausted, she had a new determination, one driven by the throbbing pain pulsing through her. She scurried through the castle, into the servants’ quarters as she tried to find which room held her carriage driver.

Once she figured it out, she roused him with the quietest knocks on his door she could manage. She remembered their conversations when they first set out on this journey and the knowledge they would have to be prepared to leave on a moment’s notice should anyone ever become suspicious of her. Marinette had thought that maybe, thankfully, they’d have been able to get away without using their emergency plan.

However, she had been wrong.

She told him to ready the carriage and that she would go pack her things and then they’d be off. With a nod, he was quick to leave.

Marinette then slipped out of the bedroom hallway, thinking that she was going to be able to escape the servants’ quarters without being seen.

“Marinette?”

Her heart jumped in shock. Marinette whipped around towards the voice to see Alya standing there, her eyes wide with surprise. “What’s wrong. You’re a mess!” she hushedly observed, rushing over to her friend.

Marinette took a step back, causing Alya to freeze in her tracks. “I have to leave.”

Alya looked completely confused by those words. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Marinette shook her head. “I… I don’t… I can’t…” She bit her lip to keep her tears from falling. “I have to go.”

“Marinette—”

“Please, Alya,” she said. “Please. Let me go. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Alya’s expression softened. “Okay,” she said. “But do you have to go?”

“Yes,” Marinette said. “So I have to go pack—”

“I’ll go with you,” Alya said.

“No—”

“Please,” Alya said, voice full of concern. “Let me help.”

After a moment of silence, Marinette surrendered. Silently, the two girls hurried back up to her room, packing her trunk of things before Alya offered to assist her in taking it back down.

Soon enough, the driver found them.

“I have one more trunk in my room,” Marinette whispered to him. “A smaller one.”

He hurried off to grab it. And the next thing Marinette knew, she was packed up and ready to be driven out into the night.

“Marinette,” Alya began.

“Thank you for everything,” Marinette said, keeping her distance from her newfound friend. She couldn’t hug her knowing that she’d burst into tears if she did. “And, please, for the love of all that is good and wonderful and lovely, please don’t tell Adrien that I left. Don’t tell anyone.”

Alya looked hesitant, but after a tense moment, she sighed. “All right,” she relented. “If that’s what you want.”

With a sniff which started up the tears again, Marinette nodded. “Yes,” she squeaked. “I really beg you to do that for me.”

With a sympathetic look, Alya walked forward, her arms out. And though Marinette knew her tears would worsen, she couldn’t hold back from giving Alya a hug anyway.

After a moment of crying into Alya’s shoulder, Marinette pulled away. “Thank you for everything,” she said, whipping the tears away for the umpteenth time that night.

Alya nodded. “Of course. And if you need anything else from me, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, walking backwards towards the carriage. “Thank you, Alya.”

Alya raised her hand. “Stay safe.”

“We’ll do our best.” With that, Marinette boarded the carriage, giving Alya one last wave out the window before the driver started up the horses into the night.

She watched as the castle slowly grew smaller and smaller as they drove out into the night. Eventually, the castle grew too small to see, and she finally pulled her gaze away from it, from the place that housed so many memories.

She settled her hands in her lap, and that’s when she noticed

She was wearing Adrien’s lucky charm on her wrist.

With a pain in her heart, she hesitantly ran her fingers over the beads, memories flooding back with such painful intensity she couldn’t hold back the tears. Grabbing onto the beads, holding them close to her chest, she sobbed.

When she had first arrived at the castle, all she had needed to do was avoid the prince and ensure that he never had his eye on her. And she thought she’d succeeded. The thing she didn’t plan for was having another man fall for her. Yet… yet he’d been a guard. That was in within her station. It was a surprise but acceptable and a blessing, even. But…

But for life to play such a cruel trick just wasn’t fair.

She was supposed to be a Lucky Ladybug. So why…

Why’d she have to go falling for the prince?