#it’s taken me a few days to be more or less certain that our conversations are more than 2 sort of old friends catching up

[i-could-be-so-much-more]

It frustrates me to no end that everyone I talk to someone new my brain catastrophises to the point where even though I know logically it’s fine, and normal, and fun, I end up making it a bigger deal in my head that I know it is…I think myself into spirals that the logical part of my brain knows are ridiculous and dramatic and improbable, which stress me out more than is entirely necessary…it’s so tiring to exist and participate in the social world sometimes

[ithebookhoarder]

Special Delivery (Spencer Reid x F!Reader)

Description: Something's different about Reid and no-one knows what. However, a surprise delivery to the BAU may just have the answer...

Warnings: Food references, mentions of mental health, mentions of medical procedures, references to smutty behaviour, Spencer being adorable

Masterlist

“Ok. Am I the only one who’s noticed something’s different with Reid lately?” Morgan remarked, watching as the said boy-genuis made his way across the bullpen and over to his desk. 

“Yeah,” Emily hummed, watching the young agent over the rim of coffee cup. She had to admit it - as much as it annoyed her - Morgan was right; Spencer has definitely been acting different. If anything, she was surprised it had taken them all this long to say anything. 

Normally, they were all over each other the moment they noticed anything even remotely different about each other. Hell, she’d barely taken a step off the elevator, after getting an extra few inches cut off at her latest haircut, before the team were quizzing her about possible life changes and whether or not they needed to be worried about her. 

It was a hazard of working with profilers for a living; it was almost impossible to keep anything a secret. No wonder they were all intrigued and slightly confused by the fact that none of them had been able to pinpoint what was going on with their friend. 

The most notable difference was the gradual disappearance of the dark circles under his eyes. Reid also seemed happier in general, less quiet and reserved when talking to others, and it was starting to make agents talk. 

Morgan and Emily stood up straighter as JJ walked over to join the unofficial gossip session. She took one look at the pair and knew immediately what they were whispering about. 

“Are you talking about Reid?”

“Oh yeah,” Morgan grinned, “my money’s on him having finally found someone.”

Emily choked, seemingly as a result of inhaling her coffee at the grand statement. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Miss ‘super spy’. Just look at him,” he teased. “He’s been distracted. He’s all goo-goo eyed and he’s been leaving this place at a normal hour. Like… tell me that doesn’t scream ‘I got a date’.”

“What? It could be loads of things. It doesn’t have to be a date, right JJ?”

“He’s probably just happy. We’ve all been getting more sleep lately and our paperwork is non-existent at the moment,” JJ murmured, reaching past the pair of them to grab for the coffee pot. She was clearly doing her best to try and put this line of questioning to rest. She’d always been the first to protect the younger agent she now saw as a little brother. “Besides, we all know he’s not interested in dating, he hasn’t been since…. Well, you know.”

Morgan groaned. “But what about the secret texts, JJ!” he protested, ignoring the look Emily shot him in return. “He’s been glued to that phone of his and keeps giggling like a school kid. Then there’s the lunches! I know he’s always been organised and likes things a certain way, but damn. His lunches have been like next level - and actually healthy? And I swear he’s had jello like every day.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “You’re basing your profile on jello? Is that it?” 

“Well, no I mean… did you not hear the part about the texting and the taking secret calls and the fact he didn’t come out for drinks last night-”

“-Can’t we just be glad for him? Whatever is going on, it’s good for him. Let’s just drop it, ok? He’ll tell us when he’s ready if there’s anything to share.”

“JJ’s right,” Emily echoed. “Reid’s just … happy. End of.”

By the way Morgan frowned it looked like it definitely was not the end of this conversation, but he never got the chance to argue. In fact, he was interrupted as the main doors opened next to them and a rather lost looking receptionist hurried through. 

Normally, this wouldn’t have been worth noticing but all three of them spun around at the sound of him calling out the name, “Agent Reid? uh… Is Agent Reid here?”

“Oh, uh, here!” Spencer shouted, soundly vaguely like he was taking roll call. It didn’t help that he shot his arm up in the air too, almost falling off his desk chair as he lurched to his feet and hurried over. “That’s… that’s me - and it’s Dr Reid, but it doesn’t matter. How can I help?”

“Oh, uh, there’s a Y/N at reception for you,” the unfortunate messenger managed, gesturing back the way they’d came. “I told them to wait whilst I came to check with you as they’re not on your visitor list-”

Spencer didn’t even let the poor man finish. He was already racing for the door before the man had even made it to the end of the sentence. Needless to say, the others were quick to follow, with Morgan smugly boasting “told you soooo” as he went. 

There was no way on earth they were missing this and considering Hotch and Rossi hadn’t arrived yet it wasn’t like they were about to get their asses handed to them for missing their briefing either. 

Despite the amount Spencer had told you about the BAU, you were still surprised by how different the FBI offices were to what you’d imagined. 

The offices were larger and the sheer number of people walking about in suits and carrying a side arm made you feel even more nervous, and that was already a problem considering you were stood there wearing neon blue scrubs, embroidered with jungle animals on the pocket. 

You were like a walking, flashing sign, screaming ‘outsider - does not work here’.  Thankfully, you weren’t going to be there long. You were only swinging by on your way to work, hoping to catch your utterly perfect - and utterly forgetful - boyfriend, before the start of your shift. 

Speaking of Spencer, you had only been standing there for possibly five minutes when you saw him barreling through the doors towards you. 

“Hey, Spence-“

“Y/N? Honey? What’s going on?” he gushed, hurrying over and taking your face in his hands. You could see his wide eyes frantically scanning every inch of you, looking for some kind of problem or sign that you were not ok. “Is everything alright? What are you doing here?”

You felt your cheeks warm at the sudden display of concern, very much aware of the scene your wonderful boyfriend was making. Spencer wasn’t normally the most affectionate in public, preferring to save those rare moments for when the two of you were alone. The fact he was so worried about what might have brought you to the FBI on a Tuesday morning was touching and made your heart swell. 

“I’m fine, Spence. Don’t worry-” 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“You forgot something,” you soothed, pulling back and reaching into your satchel. It was impossible to miss the way his face reddened as you pulled out a neatly labeled Dr Who Tupperware by way of explanation. “I’m here because you were in such a rush this morning that you forgot your lunch.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’,” you teased. “I couldn’t exactly let you go hungry so I thought I’d drop it off on my way to work. I don’t start till later as I’m covering Amelia’s shift as she’s visiting her sister in Boston, so I thought I’d swing by.”

Sure, Spencer was an adult and you could have let him just buy something from the cafeteria or order something in for lunch, but considering how much effort he had gone to to cook with you the day before you felt bad letting it go to waste. 

He’d been so proud of the way the recipe had turned out, following the instructions and your guidance with extreme precision and care. The result had been a rather tasty looking dish - and it had the added benefit of being healthy too. You were always worried that Spencer seemed to think fast food, like Pizza, was a food group. Then again, he had been forced to be an adult pretty fast and had been in college so young that it wasn’t a surprise that no-one had been there to teach him about cooking and eating right. He had been too focused on his studies to even think about anything else.  

It was something he had been working on since you’d got together and now cooking had become one of your favourite date night activities. It didn’t hurt that you often ended up spilling food all over yourselves and needing to shower together - it was just a lovely bonus. In fact, your screensaver was now a picture of you and Spencer, covered in flour, and beaming ear to ear. 

“Thank you, that… that’s so nice,” Spencer stammered, “but I feel bad. You didn’t need to go out of your way and bring it to me.”

“As I say, it’s on my way to work. It’s no trouble.”

“Well, still-“

“Hey, pretty boy!” 

Spencer froze. 

“You gonna introduce us to your friend, or what?”

Spencer opened his mouth but instantly closed it again. You knew by the way he rolled his eyes and began muttering under his breath that whoever had shouted that had definitely been talking to him. 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Pretty boy, huh?” 

“Don’t ask,” he whined, taking a deep breath as you looked over his shoulder and saw a small group of people now making their way towards you. “I should probably mention that I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were with me mentioning you, so I haven’t told anyone about us yet and those idiots are some of my team and I would say ‘run’ but they’re all faster than me.”

“Ah… I see. So I’m guessing that one is Morgan?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, no time like the present,” you cheered, turning and waving at the approaching trio. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N - Spencer’s girlfriend.”

“Wow. A girlfriend?” cooed Morgan, reaching over to pull you into a hug before the other two could stop him. To their credit, they looked slightly embarrassed by the display but they were clearly too interested in your identity to care. “And a doctor to boot? Didn’t know he had it in him. I’m Derek Morgan.”

“Oh, I worked that out. It’s good to finally meet you all.” 

The others were quick to echo the sentiment, with JJ and Emily quickly introducing themselves in tandem. They were also quick to invite you inside the office for some coffee, but thankfully you weren’t lying when you said you had to get to work. 

“You know how it is. People to take care of, medical cases to solve, lives to save - same old, same old. All I’m missing is a snazzy badge and I could be an FBI agent.” 

“Ha ha.” Spencer’s smile was genuine as you stole a kiss before making a dash for your car. However, you could see the nerves in his eyes at being left alone to face the great inquisition that now awaited him following the discovery of your existence. You were pretty sure the entire BAU would know about you before it even hit lunchtime. “I’ll see you later, ok?” 

“Of course. Just let me know if you’re coming home or if you’re off saving the world in another state - otherwise I can’t promise I won’t eat all the leftovers before you get back.” 

He chuckled. “Will do.” 

With that, you bid the others goodbye, making sure to agree when they asked (more like insisted) that you came to their family dinner on Friday night at none other than Rossi’s house. The rest of the team were going to be begging to meet you after this, and they were all bringing their families along too. 

If Spencer wasn’t comfortable with you going you were pretty sure the team would believe it if you said you’d got called into a last minute surgery, but you’d check later when you both returned to the apartment you now called your home. Either way, you were going to have to make something to take with you, just in case. 

As your grandpa had always said, there was no quicker way to someone’s heart than through their stomach. Or, as in Spencer's case, with an unlimited supply of Jello...

[icarusignite]

An Eye for an Eye Ch.3

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC

"Sorry about the blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine."

Summary: Daenys receives a letter from her mother, a relic of brighter times that evokes memories of a familial love that once enveloped her, now tainted by betrayal and sorrow. As she reads, Aemond observes, realizing with a pang of despair that the ties that bind his wife to her family are unlike anything he has ever known. The realization that he can never reclaim such warmth after the deeds he has committed leaves him hollow, bereft of hope, and haunted by the chasm that separates him from the love he so desperately craves.

Word Count: 3.6k

My dearest darling girl,

I hope you are faring well. We all miss your presence here, Lucerys and the boys in particular. They all have things to tell you and sometimes the distance feels like too much, although I realize it has only been a few days. 

I hope that your husband is treating you well, but I would expect nothing less from my brother. From what I have seen for myself, he cares for you deeply, so perhaps you shall be content in your marriage. Such is the hope of every mother for their child, is it not? I will admit, however, that your mother is a selfish creature, who wishes you could have remained with her forever. 

You were my child first, before you were anyone else's. Was it so wrong to hope that you could have remained mine longer? 

Oh, look at me, blathering on so. The babe must be making me sentimental. Only a moon left and yet I already cannot wait to see her. Yes, her. I have not told anyone just yet, but it is a girl this time, I am certain. I will name her Visenya. You shall have a sister, and I will have four darling girls. Perhaps the gods are sending her to me as a consolation for not having you anymore. 

Give my greetings to your grandsire. I fear he is not long for this world and I wish to be with him during his final hours. Perhaps you might lend him strength until I arrive. I find myself not up to riding these days, but as soon as this sickness passes, I will make my journey to King's landing at once. 

The boys are doing well. Jacaerys is shouldering his responsibilities as heir well enough, and the younger ones are growing up to be fine boys indeed. Aegon and Viserys miss your nightly tales, but Joffrey has already laid claim to your chambers. He says you have a better view of Dragonmont and the bay. Worry not, I am certain we will be able to evict him should you like to visit us. 

I worry for Lucerys though. He is a quiet boy, not as sure of himself as the rest. He is afraid to inherit Driftmark, to bear the responsibility I have placed upon him. Perhaps it is indeed too much for his gentle soul, the gods know that such positions are quite a burden. In another life, I think he would have enjoyed learning at the citadel. 

Our Lucerys as a maester, can you imagine? I think he would have been suited for it. He was always so taken with Maester Gerardys and his work. 

I had an interesting conversation with him this morning. The sweet boy thinks he cannot be as great a ruler as Lord Corlys. What's more, he thinks that I am perfect. How comical, when these days I feel anything but. 

Perhaps you might ease his mind about his worries when you write to him. Tell him that he is capable of the responsibilities I have placed upon him. Tell him that his mother will prepare him as best she can and that his family will always be there to support him. I have told him as much, but he has always listened to you better in most things. I think he took your departure the hardest, so write to him as often as you can, my love. I have seen how your letters light up his entire countenance. 

He said he had something of great importance to tell you, but he won't say what it is, so I shall leave it for you to discover. He is adamant about visiting you on your name day, so he will probably tell you then, if his raven doesn't find you first. 

I do not wish to force your hand but you are so dearly missed here. Perhaps you and Aemond might like to spend a few moons with us here in Dragonstone. It will be an opportunity for your husband to see your childhood home. 

I have rambled on long enough now, but do let me know and I shall make the arrangements. 

With all my love,

Your mother.

Aemond crumpled the letter in his hands, frowning as he did so. Irritation picked at his nerves. It was quite hypocritical of his half-sister to refer to him so fondly when she had never made any efforts to endear herself to him over the years. It was obvious that his mother had already gone over the contents of Rhaenyra's letter, the broken seal a testament to it, so he could not imagine why she asked him to deliver it to Daenys. It would only further alienate her from their cause if she was reminded of her loyalties to her mother. 

Still, he supposed it made sense. He had always known his mother to be a kind-hearted person, even if she wasn't able to put her compassion into words. For all he knew, this was her attempt at mollifying his grieving wife, by giving her a piece of home. It must have been penned quite a while ago, before the death of King Viserys, before the death of Lucerys. 

He felt the resentment begin to climb up his throat along with the bitter bile of regret. Reading that letter had been too much of an intimate look at Daenys's relationships with her family. He knew his half-sister's family functioned differently from his own, but he couldn't help but feel deprived, as if something had been taken from him, something he never even had to begin with.

A father. A family that was not so disjointed. 

"I am just going to leave this here then," he placed the crumpled scrap of parchment beside Daenys and turned to leave.

"I will never know what he had to say to me," she hissed, interrupting his departure. "I will never...I never got to write to him. I never got to tell him that he would have made a brave Lord of the Tides. I will never get to tell him how much I- I will never get to tell him anything and it is all your fault."

"You must know how sorry I am, truly." 

She sat up straighter then, scrubbing her face with her sleeve, leaving it reddened and blotched. A little of her fire had returned to her eyes, and Aemond wasn't quite whether to rejoice that for a moment his Daenys had returned, or lament that she had only done so out of loathing for him. 

"Your apologies mean nothing to me so cease them at once! You cannot bring him back, can you? No, you cannot, so I do not want any more empty words. He died scared and alone and I just know that his last thoughts would have been of mother. Of how he had failed her, of how he'd failed Lord Corlys. And I will never get to tell him that he could never fail us, not ever."

The one-eyed prince turned to leave again, no longer being able to stomach the derision she threw his way. Maybe that made him a coward but he did not care. He could not bear to see the sharp hatred in her eyes anymore, not when she had only ever looked at him with warmth before.

Daenys's hand shot out and grabbed his arm before he could depart, her nails digging into his arm.

"Wait..."

It took her a while to gather her words. She pawed at her face again and swallowed her hiccups as she took deep shuddering breaths to collect herself, equal parts sorrow and rage. 

"I need to know. I need to know what you said to him last. What his last words were. Is there...is there anything of him left?" she choked on the last word.

Aemond hung his head, refusing to meet her searching eyes. What was there to say? Whatever last words his nephew may have said meant nothing now, swallowed up by the wind and the waves. Why the bastard boy was flying in the direction of King's Landing instead of returning home to Dragonstone, Aemond did not understand back then, and now he certainly would never know. 

Lucerys Velaryon's last actions would remain forever a mystery. 

"Tell me what happened," Daenys repeated. 

"Aegon told you most of the story. There is not much more to it I'm afraid."

"Tell me anyway. I want to hear it from you. Every single detail."

"It will only hurt you. I do not wish to cause you more pain."

She smiled bitterly, her fingers digging harder into his arm. Her nails would leave marks, perhaps even draw blood, but he could not make himself pull away. He relished in the pain because at least this way she was touching him. She was speaking to him. 

"You have hurt me enough already. What's a little more? This time I am asking for it. You owe me this much."

"I cannot speak of it again."

"Do not act as if you are the victim! As if you are the one in pain! Not when this is all your fault!" she was seething now, as if she was mere moments away from flinging something at his head. 

"I do not wish to speak of it because of what it'll do to you."

"How much worse could it be? I just...I just want to hear it from you, instead of your idiot brother."

Aemond met her gaze and sighed in defeat as he began to recount the tale again, and every time he'd try to gloss over certain parts, her grip would tighten and she'd ask him to reiterate. 

"What. Did. You. Say. To. Him," she asked for the umpteenth time, speaking as if each word pained her, her hold on his arm becoming almost deadly.

He was nearing the end of his tale, and he wanted to stop speaking. He wanted to stop but he had the mouth of a waterfall and his wife's attention was far too compelling. 

"I tossed him my knife. Told him I would not blind him but that he would have to give up one of his eyes."

"And what did my brother say to that?"

"He said he would not fight me because he was there as a messenger only..." Aemond paused.

"Continue!"

"No."

"Aemond..."

She said his name. It had been so long, but she had still said his name, except now it sounded different, the syllables harsh and unforgiving. 

"Do not make me say it, please."

"You are in no position to plead with me," Daenys sneered. 

"I cannot do it."

"You owe it to me."

"I told him I would...that I would take his eye out myself," Aemond took a deep steadying breath, his gaze dropping to the floor, "and I called him a...a..."

"A bastard," his wife finished softly, her breathing almost ragged. "You called him a fucking bastard, didn't you? It is your favourite insult to leverage."

"I am sorry."

"You know that means nothing to me. Do go on. What happened next?"

"I...your brother...he departed on his dragon, and then... well, you know the rest."

He considered telling her the rest of it, about how Maris Baratheon's words needled into his skin and burrowed into the recesses of his mind, filling him with fury and resentment. It felt too much like an excuse though, and he knew exactly what she'd say in response. She'd call him a coward again, trying to blame his misdeeds on someone else. She'd scorn him for dragging the Baratheon girl into a fight that wasn't hers to begin with. 

No, he wouldn't mention Maris at all. It would be utterly pointless. 

The one-eyed prince watched helplessly as his wife dropped his arm as if she'd been scalded, as if the mere touch of him burned her. 

"Why?"

It was only one word, but he found himself unable to answer. What could he say anyway? What could he possibly say that would mollify her, that would ease her pain, and make her more forgiving? He could bring up his eye again, but the truth of it was that it was never truly about his eye. 

Aemond Targaryen hated Lucerys for the privilege he held, for getting away with maiming him, for being absolved of his crime while his own wounds were left to fester. His hatred had spread through him like a sickness, like rot, bone-deep in its misery. The gods were cruel, and everything his nephews were freely handed, he had to scavenge for. Everything they received in abundance, he had to make himself content with crumbs of. 

For him, King Viserys's trueborn son, to be set aside in favour of a mere bastard was inexcusable and it was this that he could not let go. It was this unpunished crime that led him to take justice into his own hands, and follow his nephew out into the storm. 

It was always going to happen. Lucerys Velaryon had been dead from the moment he stepped into Lord Borros's castle, from the moment he set eyes on Aemond. The Stranger had already staked its claim on him, just as his one-eyed uncle had, and no amount of remorse would change the fact. 

An eye for an eye made the world go blind. 

Aemond Targaryen would soon come to learn the true meaning of that, and it would be his wife, who would make him see it. 

Right now though, she was chewing on her lips again, mulling over his words in contemplation, formulating her response. Her fury distracted her from her grief, but it was not a welcome respite. 

"You called my brother a bastard...after swearing to me that you would never do so again. Does your word truly mean so little?" she finally spoke, her voice sombre. "And how hypocritical of you. If he is considered a bastard, then so am I, or have you forgotten, lord husband? Have you forgotten that you married a bastard, something you consider to be less than a person? Or have you perhaps always scorned me for my supposed inferior birth?"

Lord husband. 

Her words dripped with venom, and he marvelled at how she could make what once were his favourite words sound like poison.

"You are not inferior."

He meant what he said, although perhaps not in the way he intended to. It was easy for him to forget that she was a bastard too, with her fair hair and violet eyes — dragonless child that she had been—he had more in common with her than with anyone else, and so he could pretend that she was just like him. He could pretend she was everything like him and nothing like them. 

It made her easier to love. 

She was him and he was her. 

It made her easier to stomach without the rot of resentment clouding the air they shared. 

"You are not inferior," Aemond repeated. "You are not less of a person."

"But I am still a bastad?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you did not deny it," a crazed laugh bubbled out of Daenys's throat — a prelude to a sob. "You killed my brother for the crime of existing. You might as well do the same to me."

"That was not the reason."

"Wasn't it?"

Aemond sighed, stepping away to run his hand through his hair in exasperation, "It was an accident, I swear it. There was a storm and the visibility was low. Then your brother's dragon came at Vhagar breathing fire. If Lucerys had just listened, if he had just...,"

"If he had what? Given you his fucking eye? Do not pin this on him or Arrax, you pathetic fool. They are dead and you are alive to sit here in front of me and present your pitiful excuses. You are the one who thought it was a good idea to chase them with a beast of war. A war-hardened dragon! They didn't stand a chance!" Daenys's voice rose an octave.

"Vhagar lost control," Aemond's voice dropped even lower. 

"No, you lost control! And my poor brother paid for it! Tell me, is there even a body? Does my grieving mother get to see her dead son one last time before she burns him? Do I?"

She squeezed her eyes shut before he even answered, stealing herself against his response, almost as if she knew.

Aemond was quiet for a moment.

"There isn't," Daenys answered her own question. "Whatever was left of him is in the sea now? Shipbreaker Bay, Aegon said."

Silence stretched between them, the only sound the distant clatter of the castle servants going about their day. How strange it was that everyone was able to go on as if nothing had happened, and yet here she was, with her entire world come to a standstill. She remained motionless, her fingers reaching to clutch the fabric of her gown. Better to twist the threads around her fingers, than her fingers around her husband's throat. 

Aemond's apology hung on the precipice of his lips, waiting to be spoken, but he found himself unable to utter the words.

She shook her head at him, as if anticipating it, the movement almost imperceptible, and a single tear trailed down her cheek. The one-eyed prince resisted the urge to wipe it away, resisted the urge to touch her as she pressed her lips together, a delicate tremor betraying the strength she summoned to hold back her emotions.

Then the room shrank around them as her grief erupted, her anguished wail shattering the stillness, her breath catching in her throat as she confronted him with a gaze ablaze with accusation. 

"Oh, why couldn't you have left him alone? Why couldn't you have let your stupid grudges go? I would have given you both my eyes had you asked, I promise. I would have given them to you with a kiss and my blessing if you had just asked. I would have blinded myself for it, if you only...How could you be so cruel!"

The weight of her words pierced through him. 

An indictment and a prophecy. 

"Why would I take yours? He was the one who took my eye, not you! Left me with this hideous disfigurement for the rest of my life, without even having to answer for it! Everyone in King's Landing looked at me with either pity or disgust. None of the ladies at court would have married me!" Aemond roared.

Oh. 

He had said the wrong thing and he regretted it even before his wife's lips curled in disgust.

"No one would have married you?" Daenys scoffed. "I would have married you. I did marry you!"

"I did not want your pity. I feared that even you would be repulsed by me. That one day you would see past whatever sympathetic affection you held for me and be sickened and ashamed of the scarred creature you claimed to love."

He did not know why he said the words, the most shameful thoughts spilling out of him, unabridged. Perhaps Maris Baratheon's observations had hit him harder than he expected, and now it was all he could think about. 

Then Daenys opened her mouth and proved all his fears to be true. 

"You were right," she nodded, almost to herself. "I do find you hideous... unsightly even. I do see now, past whatever affection I held for you, and I am sickened and ashamed that you are my husband."

"Daenys..." Aemond's voice trembled. His world was shifting, tilting on its axis. He felt like he had been slapped. In fact, he wished she had slapped him, it would have hurt less.

"You. Repulse. Me."

"Stop."

"Leave. I have nothing more to say to you and I wish to be left alone."

And when the door swung shut behind him, but the click of the lock never came, Daenys felt the walls closing in on her, suffocating her once again. 

In a sudden surge of frustration, her hands lifted a crystal trinket from Aemond's desk. It was a fragile, ornate thing, one of the many she had gifted him, a momento of happier times. Before she had marvelled at them, basking in the joy that he kept them all neatly arranged where he could see them every day as he worked, but now they only brought her rage. 

With a primal scream, she hurled the trinket at the door, where it exploded upon impact. Then, one by one, she hurled them all at the door, each one accompanied by a cacophony of shattering glass. 

She fell to her knees amidst the wreckage, her breaths ragged, the echoes of her screams still reverberating through the room. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched at her chest, the intensity of her emotions leaving her gasping for air. She resisted the urge to swallow the jagged shards, stuffing them each into her mouth, one by one until her tongue was heavy with the taste of blood and not her husband's name. She'd force them down too, swallowing until that gaping hole in her stomach was filled too, filled with glass that felt less fragile than the memory of her dead brother. 

It was her cursed mouth that brought this on, so it was only fair, that it paid the price. 

When she lifted the largest of the pieces, only seeing the stream of scarlet when she knew she ought to have felt the bite, she knew old habits died hard, and she had never been one to cope well. 

A/N: likes/reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, would love to hear your thoughts <3 Comment to be added to the taglist

[castien-ffxiv]

Joie de Vivre

Mistake/Wild: Day 5 @daily-writing-challenge

It felt as if the past handful of weeks had been eons. She often wondered what Cyrus had been doing in their time apart. More often than not Castien had spent her time on ships when she wasn’t sailing the seas beneath sails and wading surfs she had taken up odd jobs at the Smoking Crow in Black Water Bay or upholding commissions that took full advantage of her skill set.

Crimson eyes traveled across the darkness to her companions whom she had been traveling the past few days with. The Lady Gray hadn’t been someone she was too accustomed to knowing but had been learning little by little during the journey they had been embarking upon within the wilds of Yak T’el malms from Tuliyoyall and the comforts of the seas that she had found peace within.

Wren she knew even less of aside from the fact she had been Ward to the Lady Gray and from what Castien could tell, the two were close but they kept the relationship professional – close friends more than the norm for what an employer and employee would be.

Then there was the Lady Cress, Vahalia. Still, quite the mystery as the woman often kept her private life under lock and key.

Smirking, Castien continued to carve at the curve of the piece in her hand, having worked at it for some hours now, “The lads back home must be quite jealous of our outing.” she mused with some mild jubilant snark while whittling away.

“Nary such for myself,” Wren replied and Cordelia simply remained quiet. The book within the Lady Gray's hand must have kept her attention far better than the conversation, or perhaps, it was simply a pleasant excuse.

“And you?” Castien gazed to Vahalia.

The Lady Cress only afforded Castien the slightest of smirks and a shake of her head, “I’m certain details will have to be shared though to their dismay it might not be as interesting as they play it up to be in their mind.”

“So there is someone within the darkened halls of yours?” Castien asked blowing the slivers of curled wood from the piece, listing forward she handed it off towards Vahalia.

Taking the wooden carving, Vahalia turned it over in her hand as the piece itself seemed to be very much a small gift for her. The slope and shape of the item depicted that of a tulip-shaped bell sans any true detailing but it was quality in and of itself. There was no mistaking that this had been carved with Vahalia in mind, “Yes. Though it matters little.” she finally responded to Castien, remembering something she had been privy to several months prior, “You and Cyrus though, I recall Cyrus asking me for wood of great calibur for you when you both had seized the most recent ship some moons ago.”

A small nod came and Castien pulled another piece from her bag, half-finished but it was easily starting to resemble that of a moth’s wing, “If that is your subtle way of asking if he and I are together, then yes.” the knife continued to work away at the soft wood and a few blows expelled from Castien again to rid the work of debris, “Quite the odd way we happened to meet though it makes for an interesting story. Caught him out hard on his luck and while he was in need for work I directed him to Ishgard. That is where he came upon Eivor, Carrera and eventually you.” she bobbed her head towards Vahalia, “Bit of a wild thing that man if you haven’t noticed.”

“I have but the said could be said of you, Bancroft.” Vahalia swiftly replied, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the tell-tale signs.”

Castien paused and her red eyes pinned across to Vahalia before cutting to Cordeila and Wren nearby. Cordi was still enveloped in her book though Wren looked rather intrigued.

“Worry not.” Vahalia laughed, “To make you an enemy would mean to make one of myself. It seems we all are familiar with the same dark halls. Make no mistake, you’re well within your proper circle here.”

For a brief moment, Castien caught a looming sensation that lingered in the darkness behind Vahalia, the space before her between Wren and Cordelia illuminated well by the fire's light but still, she had felt less of a threat enclosing the space and more at peace with the notion of being somewhere she belonged; darkness included.

Outside of Cyrus – these were her people.

Mention(s): @cyrus-black - @promethea-silk - @vahalia-cress - @song-of-wren

[spocks-husband]

wordless, wordless.

This is my Star Trek Gift Exchange piece for @idealisticcatastasis!! I really hope you enjoy :")

Words: 1,142

Pairing: Garak/Bashir

Genre/Tropes: Fluff, Slow Dancing, Late-Night Conversations

Summary: Garak has some... interesting dreams.

@startrekwintergiftexchange (am i supposed to tag you guys?? i don't remember lmao)

The Promenade's humming evening silence was closer to eerie than soothing, but Julian paid it little mind as he walked, his hands clasped tightly behind his back and his eyes firmly fixed upon the windows of the station. Logically speaking, Julian knew that the vacuum of Bajoran space was just the same as it always was, that their system of station time was merely devised to give species in need of a consistent sleep schedule some semblance of normalcy-- but quietly, he liked to think that it grew darker this time of 'night', that the stars were just a bit brighter against a contrasting black abyss. 

Since the war had ended the station itself had begun to feel... smaller. There was nothing to do anymore. One would think that being the center of some of the most significant events of this century would make Deep Space Nine a rather popular place to visit, but at least to Julian, it seemed like there were less people every day. 

Miles had gone back to Earth for his academy job and taken his family with him, Captain Sisko was... somewhere with the wormhole aliens, Kira was spending more and more time on her home planet and away from her command post (and when she was back with them there was always a vague sadness in her eyes that Julian fought the urge to ask about. He knew she didn't really want to talk about Odo)-- everything felt... empty, somehow. 

"Doctor? You're up rather late."

Well...

Almost everything. 

Julian smiled softly as he turned around to see that familiar smirk standing several meters away. 

"I could say the same thing about you, Garak," the doctor retorted, taking a few steps until he was close enough to see the way the starlight was glimmering in the Cardassian's blue eyes. There was a moment of stillness that sat between them, a stillness that the two of them often found to linger in their company, but it wasn't paid any mind. If anything, it was welcome. 

"You should know by now that Cardassian sleep schedules are far from identical to those of humans, Doctor" the older man chuckled, his steps falling in a natural sync with Julian's as they began to walk. 

"Then maybe I have you to blame for my current bout of insomnia," Julian joked accusingly. "You're rubbing off on me." 

"Perhaps I am," Garak mused with a slight smile, glancing out the windows for a brief moment. "... Perhaps I could say the same about you." 

"Oh, really?" Julan smirked. 

"Oh, yes, indeed," Garak hummed. "In fact... I've begun dreaming." 

"Dreaming?"

"It's not typical for Cardassians to dream. Not consistently, anyway. Once in a while, sure, but not every night." There was a glimmer of regret shining in his eyes, suddenly, as if he were almost... embarrassed... that he'd brought it up. 

"And what might you be dreaming about?" The doctor asked slowly, his grin widening just slightly. 

"Oh, I can't tell you-- that's highly classified information, my dear doctor," Garak smirked. 

"Oh, of course," Julian nodded in mock seriousness. "I understand completely." 

For a while, there was a silence that returned between the two of them, and Julian couldn't help but consider how... nice... it was. Pleasant, even. 

"Though, there has been a recurring figure in these... dreams of mine," Garak added suddenly, his gaze fixed on everything except for the man at his side. Julian quirked a brow. 

"Oh?" The doctor couldn't help but chuckle. "And... who might this person be?" 

Garak fought the urge to smile. "Oh, I'm not certain," he lied. "I can't ever see him very well, the lights are too dim."

"Then how can you know it's the same man?"

"I just know." 

The silence returned, temporarily. It didn't stay, though-- it never did. 

"Well, what has this man been doing?" Julian snorted, looking up at Garak with a curious smirk. Garak smiled back. 

"Dancing." 

Julian laughed. "Really? Dancing?"  

"Oh, yes," Garak nodded, crossing his arms. "You don't have to believe me if you don't want to." 

"Hm," Julian chuckled. "Well... why don't you show me?" 

Garak raised an eyebrow slowly, his eyes locking with Julian's in a way that made the doctor's heart skip a beat as a smirk rose to his face. Without a word, the Cardassian extended a clawed hand toward Julian, a silent invitation that spoke entirely for itself. The doctor hesitated for just a moment, a playful glint in his eyes, before finally placing his hand in Garak's.

The Promenade's ambient lighting seemed to dim ever so slightly as Garak led Julian to a more open area, away from the occasional midnight passersby and their prying eyes. Garak placed his other hand firmly on Julian's waist, and the doctor's breath caught at the unexpected warmth of the touch. Garak's hands had always seemed so cold to him, but... not tonight. 

"There's no music here, you know," Julian spoke softly, his eyes remaining low as he tried to hide how flushed his cheeks had become. "I didn't necessarily mean... here... and now..." Garak only chuckled. 

"I'm sorry, Doctor, would you like me to stop?"

There was a pause. 

"... No," Julian said finally. "I... don't believe I would."

They began to sway gently, the dance unfolding organically between them. Julian felt a mixture of exhilaration and contentment, realizing that this was a moment he had secretly yearned for. As they moved gracefully together, the silence spoke volumes, filling the empty spaces that the war had left behind.

"You know, Doctor," Garak began, his voice low and intimate, almost careful. "I must confess that dancing was never my forte back on Cardassia. But there's something about this place, this station, that makes everything different."

Julian chuckled, his eyes locked with Garak's. "Maybe it's the stars. Or maybe it's the company."

Garak's gaze softened, and a warmth spread across his features. "Perhaps it's a bit of both," he admitted.

The two continued their dance, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. In the quiet intimacy of the Promenade, surrounded by the hum of the station and the distant twinkling of stars, the boundaries between them blurred. It wasn't just a dance; it was a moment of connection, a shared understanding that went beyond words. There were no more games of riddles and teasing, no subtleties or avoidance. Whatever it was that they were, something they'd always struggled to name... they were here. They were together. Perhaps that was enough. 

As they twirled gracefully, Julian couldn't help but feel a sense of completion. The emptiness that had lingered since the war's end seemed to dissipate with every step. It was warmer here, somehow. 

"Garak...?" 

The Cardassian shook his head slowly. 

"Just let it be, Doctor. I think that might be the best thing to do." 

Julian smiled softly. 

"... If you say so."

[kuwdora]

The Witcher Netflix - 3x08 Episode Reaction In season 3 of The Witcher Netflix we got our first look inside the Nilfgaardian Empire. I was taken by surprise because sometimes I think the show isn't subtle with certain things. Sometimes showing without telling. Or telling without showing in a way doesn't offer viewers enough information to understand the impact of a creative choice. The glimpses we got of Nilfgaard are, in my opinion, a subtle bit of worldbuilding that doesn't lose its impact without showing too much or telling too little. In the books Nilfgaard's culture and history, its military strategy--it's all pastiche from different historical empires. That is a hallmark of Sapko's style. I'm sure other people have spoken more definitively about that on tumblr and elsewhere. CDPR absorbed a lot of Roman Empire influences from the books for its own take for Nilfgaard. And now we can see TWN's production is also picking up on that as well and going with Eastern Roman Empire (Byzantine) flavor. So let me share a few screenshots from episode 3x08 that caught my eye. This is a mini-commentary with some thoughts, not a deep analysis. We had this establishing shot of a Nilfgaardian city (which I'm presuming to be the capital). This looks like Constantinople to me.

A modern day photo of Constantinople ruins for comparison:

Next we have Emhyr with several men dressed in what comes off as very Eastern Orthodox-inspired vestments, right down to the monastic headwear (mitre, I think?). I'll leave more the in depth TWN and costume critical takedown to perseruna. But those hats definitely kept screaming Eastern Orthodoxy at me and making me circle back to Eastern Roman Empire.

And finally we have this scene of Francesca and Fringilla in the church. In all of my groupchats everyone was losing their mind about their conversation and heartbreak. But I was losing my mind over the fact that they were a) in a Nilfgaardian church or temple and b) this shot was framed in such a way to show us the statue of an ambiguous church figure in the background. Standing in between Fringilla and Francesca, no less.

I can't help but think this might be a statue of the Nilfgaardian Emperor who, in the books, is implied to be a prophet or important figure in the religious sphere.

"...Recently the main topic of preaching has been of a Saviour who will come from the south. From the south! From beyond the Yaruga!” “The White Flame,” muttered Demavend. “White Chill will come to be, and after it the White Light. And then the world will be reborn through the White Flame and the White Queen… I’ve heard it, too. It’s a travesty of the prophecy of Ithlinne aep Aevenien, the elven seeress. I gave orders to catch one cleric who was going on about it in the Vengerberg market place and the torturer asked him politely and at length how much gold the prophet had received from Emhyr for doing it… But the preacher only prattled on about the White Flame and the White Queen… the same thing, to the very end.” -Blood of Elves

(thank you to @akilah12902 for sourcing this quote for me when I was looking for help!) This just reaffirms my thoughts that Fringilla and Francesca are arguing before a statue of Emhyr. A surprising amount of symbolism for this scene and show. Anyway. This was my main takeaway from 3x08. It was nice to be pleasantly surprised by this.

[joachimnapoleon]

"A delightful surprise"

Browsing through the memoirs of the hilariously snobbish Countess Potocka a little while ago, I randomly decided to see if she had written anything about Davout. 

I was not disappointed. Enjoy Countess Potocka’s otherworldly visit to the Davout couple at Savigny. 

[Source: Memoirs of the Countess Potocka, (English translation, 1900) pages 142-144.]

I was taken to several entirely denuded rooms; I was shown into one little less ornamental than the first, but at least there were a sofa and chairs! The lady marshal was not long in appearing. I easily perceived she had dressed up for me, for she was still sticking some pins into her bodice. After a few minutes of languishing conversation she rang to have her husband notified. Then we resumed our painful interview. It was not that Madame Davout was deficient in the ways of the world, or devoid of that sort of cleverness which facilitates intercourse between two people of the same social rank, but there was a certain stiffness about her which might have been taken for haughtiness. She was always Homer’s Juno, or, better still, the strong woman who would not laugh until the Last Day. 

The marshal finally arrived in a state of perspiration which bore witness to politeness; he sat down all out of breath, and, holding his handkerchief to wipe his forehead, he took care to moisten it with saliva, so as to remove the dust more thoroughly that covered his face. This rather military freedom tallied badly with his wife’s starched deportment; she was visibly put out by it. Finding myself superfluous in this mute scene I rose, intending to take my leave, but I was asked to stay to luncheon. While the table was being laid we took a walk in the park. There was not a road laid out, the lawns were grown with high grass all ready to become haystacks, the trees clipped during the Revolution were sprouting like thickets; at every bush I left a piece of my flounces, and my lilac laced boots had taken a greenish hue. The marshal urged us on with voice and gesture, promising us a delightful surprise! What was not my disappointment when, turning a clump of young oaks, we found ourselves facing three small wicker huts! The duke went down on the ground on one knee and exclaimed: 

“Ah, here they are! Here they are!”

Upon which, modulating his voice:

“Peep—peep—peep!”

Immediately a flock of partridges fluttered about the marshal’s head. 

“Do not let the others out until the youngest have gone in again, and give these ladies some bread. They will enjoy themselves like queens,” said he to the yokel who performed the duties of gamekeeper. 

And there we were, in the scorching sun, feeding partridges!

With imperturbable dignity the duchess emptied the basket handed to her. As for me, I nearly fainted, and, the thing becoming too much for me, remarked that the sky was overcast and that we were threatened with a storm.

[oldbutnotyetwise]

Detours

     I think we all know what a detour is.  You are going somewhere and the way you were going is blocked for some reason. You have to divert and go a different longer way.  Detours aren’t always a surprise, sometimes we plan a detour into a trip, maybe we detour to see some sight or perhaps to visit with a long lost family member.  So to summarize, a Detour can be planned or unplanned, but normally involves going in a less than straight direction.

     So what I have described above normally applies to some kind of trip you are going on, but what I have been pondering lately is Life Detours.  That is when your life is going in a certain direction but then goes off in another direction, often because of someone who you have met on your life path.  These people can often act like a bumper in a pinball machine sending you off in an unexpected direction, perhaps playing a small role but having a big impact.

     Now let me tell you how my thoughts got hitched to this train of thought.  A young man that I used to work with came to visit me recently and shared with me something that he said had a big impact on his life.  Apparently one day many years ago, before we really knew each other I stopped him in the hallway at work one day.  I hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with him prior to that day, but I had read enough of his reports to know that he was a good, hard working officer who I felt would be a good fit for our detective office.  I stopped him that day and suggested he apply for an upcoming opening we had in the Detective office.  He told me he hadn’t thought about applying before I suggested it, but he went home that night, spoke to his wife and he applied the following day.  From this short conversation, that I only vaguely remember, he was brought into the detective office, which led him to being promoted and just recently leaving the Police for an prestigious position in the Justice system.  He credits that conversation I had with him as having a significant impact on the direction of his life.  I had totally forgotten that conversation until he mentioned it.

     Another example I can offer is a woman I worked with years ago stopped me one day to thank me for being there for her many years earlier.  Apparently we were working together on the same squad and she was having a really challenging time.  She tells me that after a tough nightshift I had taken her out for breakfast, listened to her, offered her some guidance and sent her home feeling a lot better about her situation.  It was more than ten years after that breakfast that she was thanking me.  I had absolutely no recollection of that breakfast, but it had a significant impact on her as she made some changes after we spoke that sent her life in a different direction.  

      So this got me thinking about some of the detours I took in my own life, and the people that were largely responsible for those detours. 

     My first real significant job of note was when I was hired on Security at General Motors in St. Catharines.  It was supposed to be a summer job but I stayed for seven years, and during my time there I my life took two significant detours.  

     One of the people I worked with there was Gerry, a guy about ten years my senior, who became a very dear friend to me, and still is now, some forty-four years later.  Gerry was significant in my life because, well I would say he is largely responsible for the person I am today.  When I met Gerry I would describe myself as a twenty year old young man who was like many people that age.  I thought I knew everything, when in fact I knew very little, and if I met myself at that age I don’t think I would like me.  Gerry was just this really likeable young guy, married to a beautiful wife and with two handsome young sons.  He was kind, thoughtful and gave me the impression of being an exceptionally good person.  He didn’t directly teach me how to be a better person or a better father, but I learned so very much by watching him, listening to him and then emulating what I saw and heard.  Sometimes when I was struggling with a decision I would think to myself, what would Gerry do, and I would then do that.  I guess you could say he was a life mentor for me.

     Also working with me at GM was a guy named Wayne who left the Provincial Police and eventually ended up with GM Security.  Wayne knew of my desire to pursue a career in Policing, and one day as I was approaching ten years of failed attempts to get hired by a Police Force I shared with him that I was thinking that maybe I should give up this dream as it did not appear it was ever going to happen.  He looked at me and said why don’t you apply to the Hamilton Police?  I explained that it was too far away, but he pointed out that lots of guys drove down the highway to the steel plants everyday.  I thought about it, then did as he had suggested and a few months later Hamilton Police hired me.  I haven’t spoken to Wayne in over three decades, and I doubt he would even remember that conversation, but thanks to him my life took a huge detour. 

     My life took another detour one cold, wintery January day when my daughter made her entrance into this world.  Suddenly I was a Dad, and so began the desire to be the best Dad I could be. I am still working at it some 42 years later.  I watched how Gerry parented and copied him, I watched how some others parented and did the opposite, but mostly I just tried my best not to screw up the most important role I would ever have in my life.

     There are as many different styles of Policing as there are Police Officers.  It was important for me to be the best officer.  I had three Sergeants that made me a good officer, each causing me to detour from the way I had been doing things.  Peter who taught me that I had the best career in the world, and if I wasn’t having fun than I wasn’t doing it right.  Robert who was such a stickler for detail that we would often get our handwritten reports back covered in sticky notes with questions that needed to be answered.  Once I learned to write reports to his standards I never had a Sergeant send my reports back for further work.  John who taught me that true leaders create an atmosphere where those who work hard for you don’t do so out of fear or intimidation, but do so because they don’t want to disappoint you.

     There is an old saying, its better to be lonely and alone, than lonely with someone.  I was a broken man, living an unhappy life with little hope for my future.  This is when I met Traci who convinced me that my company was enjoyable, that I was interesting, that I was attractive and desirable.  Although Traci and I didn’t get our happily ever after, I credit her with opening the door that allowed me to find my way back to a happy and fulfilling life.

     Like many others I am a survivor of an ugly war in Family Court that stretched over ten years and cost an obscene amount of money.  I was trying to represent myself, drowning in a tank of sharks when Gina stepped in to throw me a life ring and pull me out of the shark tank.  She directed me to Michael, my third family court lawyer who was a kind, gentle and wise man who managed to win in court and give me back my life.  Gina and Michael, two people with minor roles in my life, but who both had a major impact.

     After two failed marriages I had begun to wonder if perhaps I wasn’t meant to be single for the rest of my life.  My friend Lynda convinced me to try out online dating and I reluctantly agreed.  I went on a string of dates and had some fun along the way but wasn’t really clicking with anyone.  Then one day I received a message from a pretty young woman, I was above her requested age range, and she was below mine, but there was something about her.  I wrote back and we began to message back and forth daily.  After a month we met, and she was every bit as special as her pictures and messages suggested.  I sometimes wonder what our lives would look like today if she hadn’t been looking outside her age range that day.  It was this detour which led me to my last, best and final wife.  The woman I was meant to be with.

     There was the Neurologist who was the first one to tell me that I had ALS and would likely be dead in 2 - 5 years.  This was an unplanned an unwelcome detour I found myself on.  If we go back to the Pinball metaphor, the steel ball has now hit the last bumper and is rolling down the centre of the game, out of reach of the flippers.  It is the last play, the game is soon to be over, there are no replays.

     Every life has detours, some good, some not so good.  

     What detours has your life taken?  

     Who in your life has had a minor role but a major impact?  

     Who on your life path have you been responsible for sending on a major detour?

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Crown Princes and Butterfly Wings (9/?)

Chapter 8 : Prince's Flight

—-

The group begin to travel again, Patton promises to show Virgil everything the kingdom has to offer whilst Roman teaches him to fly and tries to set up a certain pair. Key word, tries.

<- Previous | First | Next ->

@cutebisexualmess :)

—-

Whoof this turned into a long one boys, somehow, because I struggled to write the first 2k words. Well, we're like five minutes later, but five minutes is better than a week. I love this chapter, we're focusing on character interactions for a bit! My favourite!

Enjoy!

----

“So, my lovely prince,” Roman said, landing from the position he’d taken hopping through the trees to walk next to Virgil, who jumped with a squeak, “You ready for your first taste of society?”

“Don’t- do that!” Virgil huffed, batting at his arm, “You startled me.”

“Sorry,” Roman shrugged, he wasn’t actually that sorry, Virgil’s little startled squeak was adorable, “I thought I should warn you that we were almost at the edge of the forest.”

“You mean it’s not all like this?” Virgil asked with a dramatic sigh, “Damn.”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Roman laughed, their walk back from the tower had been a lot nicer than the journey in. There were far less monsters that they needed to kill and the entire forest felt like a weight had been lifted off of it. The constant feeling of being watched had abated almost completely and after the rainstorm had passed they’d all been able to sleep peacefully again.

“I expect us to reach the outskirts of Brindleswan within the next three hours,” Logan called back to them over his shoulder, “And we should reach the inner city before evening.”

“Oh, good,” Roman called back with a smile. Logan turned back to continue quietly conversing with Patton a while ahead of where Roman and Virgil walked. 

“Brindleswan?” Virgil asked, tilting his head a little.

“It’s the closest town in our kingdom to this forest,” Roman explained, “It’s very light and friendly, so you should fit right in.”

“Har har,” Virgil said, shaking his head, "Will there be uh- other people there?"

"Indeed," Roman nodded, "It is a city." 

"Ah, right, of course," Virgil nodded, "More appropriate question, will I need to interact with them?* 

“Not if you don’t want to,” Roman smiled, “Leave the talking to us!”

—-

“So you’ve really never been to a city before?” Patton asked Virgil as they once again trekked through the orchards and fields that lead to Brindleswan. 

“I haven’t,” Virgil nodded.

“How?” Patton said with wide eyes, “I mean, even if you’ve been in that tower for a while, surely you were somewhere before then?”

“Before the tower… I don’t really have many memories of before,” Virgil said, “I was very young.”

“Oh,” Patton said, “Thats- so sad!”

“It’s fine,” Virgil said, “I didn’t have a bad life, you know.”

“Maybe not,” Patton said, “But you’ve missed out on so much! We’ve got to show you things!”

“You don’t have to do anything, actually,” Virgil said, glancnig back at Roman who shrugged helplessy.

“Logan!” Patton called, “I propose we stay in Brindleswan a few more days than planned so we can show Virgil what he’s been missing out on!”

“Whilst I would love to pause our journey both to rest and for- that- I suppose- but, unfortunately, this trip has already put us almost a month behind schedule and we must make it to Lymaine before the trail we’re following goes cold,” Logan reasoned, Patton sighed, looking down, Logan’s resolve broke after only moments and part of Roman wished he could crack Logan so easily, “But, due to our low gold supply we will need to make stops along the way, plus we’ll likely have to spend a few days in Lymaine, we can always take some time to indulge in the journey along the way.”

“I suppose that’ll have to be good enough!” Patton said, excitement returning, “Maybe even better! We’ll be able to show you everything the kingdom has to offer, that way!”

“Oh, wonderful,” Virgil said, sighing. 

“You may as well resign yourself now,” Roman said, “Patton is enthusiastic and probably won’t drop it, and hey, it might actually be fun?”

“I… suppose I could- try?” Virgil said slowly.

“Yes!” Patton cheered, “I have so much to show you!”

—-

They stopped in every village they came across on the way to Lymaine. Their supply of gold was running far too low and so was their supply of information. Logan wanted to do some searching to see if he could find a way to track Remus without something that belonged to him, they needed to somehow get some more gold for the journey and Patton wanted to show Virgil the best parts about society so they took it in turns.

So they decided, together, that in every village they would come across they would split into pairs. One pair would search for information and the other would attempt to find paid work for the day. Whoever was paired with Virgil would try and find something new for him to experience throughout the day. 

In one town that happened to have a large library, Patton and Roman had gone of to see if anyone would pay for assistance while Logan lead Virgil through walls of books.

Virgil was familiar with reading. Roman knew this, since he’d had that massively overstuffed bookshelf back in the tower, but he had said there was something different about the library than his bookshelf. It had been calm and dim but not dark, the books had had a certain smell to them and there were enough to keep him occupied for the hours that they were there and more.

“You should see the Royal Lbrary back at my palace,” Roman told him as they left the town late that afternoon, still determined to get a few hours of travelling into the day, “It’s size probably matches that of the whole town.”

“There are really that many books to fill such a space?” Virgil asked, tilting his head.

“Of course, and probably more beyond. There are so many that even Logan hasn’t read them all,” Roman said with a grin, “Though not for lack of trying, say Logan, how many of the books have you read, now?”

“11,521.” Logan answered, “Is my current count.”

“And how many books are in your library?” Virgil asked.

“Roughtly 400,000.” Logan said.

“Ah,” Virgil said, “That is a lot of books.”

“Indeed,” Logan nodded, “I have been attempting to read at least one book a day since I was beginning to read at three years old, though admittedly at the beginning these were picture books.”

“That is a lot of books.” Virgil repeated.

“As it said, at first it was only children’s and picture books. I was able to get through those incredibly quickly.” Logan reasoned, “As I progressed I started to slow down, however if I had continued at the same speed I would have been at around 24,000 books by now.”

“Do you have some kind of, magic reading spell?” Patton asked, wide eyed.

“I do, in fact, though it takes a while to set up.” Logan said, “So I don’t use it often.”

“Wow,” Patton gasped, “That’s brilliant!”

—-

After days of stopping in every village on route from Brindlesawan the group found that their path lead through more forest. Roman had suggested they go around in order to continue their current routine, but Logan had pointed out that it would be much faster simply to go through and, at the moment, they had enough supplies to last them the few days trip. 

Virgil seemed to be much more comfortable in the more familiar environment despite the Greensglade forest was so different to Teine. It was much brighter, for one, and there weren’t any monsters attempting to kill them. 

Although they still had to be careful incase they came across any other travellers in the forest, Logan was happy enough for Roman to show his wings, and thus he dedicated as much of their travel time as possible to teaching Virgil how to use his own.

The difficulties surrounding teaching Virgil how to fly started at the very first step. For Roman, while he wasn’t flying, his wings would rest either out flat to the side or closed behind him, meaning he could just- take off, whenever he wanted. They worked out almost immediately that Virgil’s wings did not do that. Instead they rested closed around his body like a little blanket. 

With a little help from Logan, embarrassingly enough for Roman, they worked out that Virgil needed to spread his wings out before he could take off. 

It took longer to coax Virgil into actually trying to leave the ground than it had taken them to practive what he would need to do with his wings when he got there. There had been a lot of assurances from Roman that he would catch Virgil if he did fall and then for Roman to prove himself by actually catching Virigl when he stumbled the first time they tried for them to feel brave enough to really try properly.

From there it had basically been smooth sailing, in terms of flying, at least. Virgil had gotten the hang of it incredibly quickly once he got past the fear and had started following Roman as he hopped and fluttered between boulders and ledges created by roots and low hanging tree branches by the third day of their forest travels and by the evening it had evolved into a strange game of chase that had them both laughing so much their sides hurt.

Roman knew they had been acting childish, in fact he could easily remember playing similar games with Remus and Logan when they were young, but it didn’t really matter. It did wonders for burning through the extra energy he got from keeping his wings hidden away and hell it was fun, and if that wasn’t a good reason to do anything, he didn’t know what was. Virgil must have had fun too, if the way he had collapsed next to Roman, still smiling, once they had stopped was any indication.

—-

“Whilst you two were busy playing games like faerie sprites,” Logan told them a little later, after they had set up camp, “Me and Patton have been working out where we’re going to be headed next.”

“Oh?” Roman asked, leaning forward to show his interest. Virgil hummed to show he was listening, though he was already curled up, half asleep, in his sleeping bag.

“The path we are taking brings us out of the forest almost on top of Miera,” Logan explained, before Patton cut him off, seemingly bubbling over with excitement.

“Which is where I’m from!” He said with a grin, “Oh, I haven’t been back there in years! And right around now they’ll be holding the harvest festival, which means that we’ll be able to go!”

“Patton has also informed me that he may be able to pull a few favors and get us free lodgings whilst we are remaining there. So we’ll be able to spend some time at this festival as well as restock our supplies and do our usual information gathering over a few days.”

“Isn’t it great!” Patton grinned, clapping his hands, “My goodness, I can show you around! You can meet Ma and Pop and my little siblings! And the Hervest festival was always so much fun, there are so many stalls and games and fun things you can go and do! We’re gonna have the best few days, I promise you guys!”

“And after that we will continue our journey to Lymaine, which is only a few days west of Miera.” Logan finished, a faint smile on his face.

“Oh, wonderful!” Roman said, polite smile turning into a grin, “I’ve always wanted to go to a real village festival! You know, the seasonal galas they hold in the palace are fine and all, but you can only spend so much time around snobby nobles, this’ll be wonderful!”

“I will admit, whilst I have read and heard about these festivities, I have also never experienced them firsthand.” Logan said, Virgil hummed a noise of agreement from his sleeping bag, though Roman was pretty certain he would have to run this by him again in the morning. 

“I can show you guys all the best bits then!” Patton grinned, “A new experience for all three of you, rather than just Virgil for once!”

“Hurrah!” Roman cheered, “This will be wonderful! But- Logan- are you really alright with us taking such a detour?”

Logan smiled and ducked his head a little, “You are not the only one interested in the customs of the people of this kingdom, you know.”

“Oh really?” Roman asked, “You’ve never showed interest before…”

Logan ducked his head even more, Roman was pretty sure his cheeks were going purple. He mumbled something unintelligible to Roman across the clearing but Patton squeaked and went red, Roman smirked. So this was exactly what he thought it was, then.

“What was that? My apologies, I couldn’t quite catch it,” Roman said sweetly, putting on such a false innocent face that Logan must know he was on to him. Good.

“I said that Patton seemed very excited about the idea and I could not bring myself to say no to him. Are you happy?” Logan muttered, this time loud enough to be heard.

“Very!” Roman grinned, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will be sleeping alongside my fellow prince, you two are welcome to stay awake as long as you like, though.”

Roman winked at Patton, who blushed in response before laying down where he had set up his stuff next to Virgil. He did his best not to fall asleep so he could keep listening to what happened while he was ‘sleeping’. Between the two of them Roman wondered quite how much they would have to explain to Virgil in the morning.

—-

“You think he’s actually asleep?” Patton whispered, loud in the silence of the forest.

“I expect so,” Logan answered, “Roman is a heavy sleeper, do you believe he told us to stay up for a reason?”

“He didn’t exactly tell us to,” Patton reasoned, “But uh- yeah he definitely implied it. I think he has a reason, yeah.”

“There could be many reasons someone may tell their companions to stay awake whilst they sleep,” Logan said, “Which do you believe is Roman’s?”

“Well I uh- I believe he… y’know, there’s not very many chances to talk in private, being in a travelling group, and I uh- I think he wants me to talk to you, about something, and saw the opportunity now and threw it at me, since, we’re now alone, well not alone, but y’know, and talking, so, yeah.”

“What is it that he would’ve wanted us to talk about?” Logan asked, sounding confused. 

“W-well I uh- there’s this, thing, that I’ve been trying to- well- tell you subtly since we left Mirefeld…” Patton trailed off, “Actually, no, it’s nothing, nevermind, really not important.”

Damnit, Patton.

“Oh, well- you know I will listen, if you want to tell me anything-?” Logan said, sounding even more confused, “I will not judge you if you have some kind of issue we must resolve-”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, I just- it’s really not a problem at all,” Patton shook his head, “Are you really sure you’re ok with us going to the festival tomorrow?”

A blatant redirection of the conversation.

“Of course,” Logan nodded, “It will make you happy to go, and it will also make Roman happy, and likely Virgil too, though I cannot be sure.”

“But will it make you happy?” Patton asked, almost too quiet for Roman to hear without moving and altering them to his state of wakefulness.

“Of course,” Logan said, “That is a foolish question, I have found, over the course of our travels so far, that seeing you happy also makes me happy. Besides, I value new experiences and this will certainly be a new experience.”

“Oh!” Patton squeaked, “That’s- that’s really nice, Logan. For the record, I really like it when you’re happy too, you’re- your freckles, they glow, when you’re happy, and it’s- it’s really pretty.”

That’s adorable, what.

“You think so?” Logan asked, slowly, was he unsure? “I have always found such an obvious tell of my emotions cumbersome.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Patton said, a little awkwardness seeping into his tone.

“It bothers me,” Logan simplified immediately.

“Oh…” Patton said, now a little sad, “Well I think they’re wonderful.”

“...Thank you,” Logan said, “Very much, we- we should really get to sleep, so that we have optimal energy for tomorrow.”

“Yes! You’re completely right, sleeping, yes, let’s do that!” Patton said, jumping up from where he had been sitting and moving over to the space he had picked out.

“Goodnight, Patton.” Logan said, in the softest tone Roman had ever heard the man use.

“Night, Lo,” Patton said back and Roman almost jumped out of his sleeping bag and yelled for them to just kiss already, because gave him a nickname? Really? This was just getting unbearable.

----

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[snowdice]

Creased Hoodies (Chapter 8: Cheeseburger Bribery) [Folds in Time Universe]

Fandom: Sander Sides

Relationships: Logan/Virgil, Janus/Patton (background), Remus & Roman  (background)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Virgil

Appear: Patton, Roman

Mentioned: Janus, Remus

Summary: Virgil just wanted to go on his planned summer research trip to do an anthropological study in 2005 America. However, when he is taken off course by an unknown enemy, he ends up stranded in the summer of 2018 with no way to get back the the 44rd century. Luckily, 2018 happens to be where a certain illegal time agency is based, and he might have an in with one of its agents.

This is the intermission for the story Folds in Paper. It takes place between Folds in Paper Book 1 and Book 2. It also takes place after the first 5 chapter of “Messages for a Hacker” which are side stories in the universe. Check all of this and more out on my Folds in Time Master Post.

Chapter Summary: Logan gives Patton a yummy bribe.

Notes: Time travel AU

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

The museum ended up being interesting to Virgil. Though, this was not because any of the exhibits taught him anything more about the events they displayed. No, it was interesting to learn what history people in the 21st century cared about and how they presented past events. It was an angle he’d never really thought about studying, but he might put a pin in the idea of going to different museums from this time period to study how the 21st century viewed history.

His and Logan’s conversation quickly became a game of not only finding the mistakes made in the exhibits, but of hypothesizing why those mistakes had been made: prejudice, missing information, and unreliable secondary sources all contributed. Logan’s contributions were a whole lot less technical than the theories Virgil threw out, however he seemed to keep up well.

They spent a few hours in the museum before deciding it was time to head back to Logan’s apartment. However, not before stopping at a small hole-in-the-wall bar inhabited only by day drinkers.

“I have to bring home a peace offering after running off this morning,” he explained to Virgil when questioned. “Patton will forgive me easier if I do and will be more likely to agree to a time travel mission for me.”

“…And Patton likes… vodka?” Virgil asked with an eyebrow raise.

“No,” Logan replied, seemingly amused at the thought. “This establishment serves cheeseburgers which are apparently the ‘best in the city.’ It is the only thing they cook. They don’t even serve fries.”

Virgil gave the location a dubious look but didn’t question it. Sometimes good food was found in the weirdest of places. The best tacos he’d ever eaten had been bought out of a window on the side of a laundry mat in the late 1900s.

When Logan handed him one of the unlabeled brown paper bags that looked as though it had been dipped in hot oil instead of just its contents, Virgil shot him a raised eyebrow.

“Ah yes,” said Virgil dryly as they left the restaurant, “the quintessential 21st century American meal.”

“You once ate only bagged pepperoni slices meant for pizzas as your breakfast for an entire week,” Logan pointed out.

“I told you that in confidence!” Virgil said, smacking him lightly with the bag of grease.

“And I have told no one,” Logan responded. “Therefore, I have not violated any part of our agreement.”

“You’re making fun of me. That’s a part of the agreement too,” Virgil said.

“I don’t remember there being any clauses like that in our verbal contract,” Logan replied with a slight smirk. Virgil rolled his eyes. “Besides, I’m not truly making fun of you. The decision to fuel your body solely with pepperoni is, while not the best strategy and one that would certainly prove detrimental in the long run, better than eating nothing.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “Well, good.”

“I am simply citing another example where not perfectly healthy food can be good in the short term,” Logan said.

“But in this case instead of depression eating to stay alive, the purpose is bribery?” Virgil asked.

“Precisely,” Logan said with a smile. “Bribery to end the time distortion and get you back to the proper time.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Virgil conceded. “It’s still horrible nutrition wise.”

“You don’t have to have any if you don’t want it,” Logan promised.

“Oh, no, I’m going to,” Virgil said instantly.

Logan paused and turned to look at him. “Then why are you complaining?”

“I just thought you should know your time has much too greasy food.”

“Thank you for the information,” Logan said dryly. “I’m sure it will be very useful going forward.”

They’d made it to the apartment by then, and Logan stuffed the bag he was carrying under his arm to unlock the door.

“And where have the two of you been all morning?” Patton’s voice called as soon as the two of them walked through the door.

“I have cheeseburgers for you,” was how Logan answered, following his roommate’s voice towards the kitchen. Virgil followed in his wake.

Patton rolled his eyes as Logan set the bag down in front of him. He was sitting at the kitchen table typing on a laptop, but he paused to peak into the bag. “The French toast wasn’t that bad,” he tried to convince them.

“I will take your word on that,” Logan said.

Patton just shook his head and reached into the bag for one of the cheeseburgers. Logan kept looking down at Patton, and obviously that meant something that Virgil didn’t know, because Patton glanced up at him after eating a couple of bites. “What?” he asked, suspiciously.

“Virgil and I went back to the location he arrived at,” Logan told him. “There are signs that one of the devices that cause time distortions caused the crash and is still active in this time.”

“There aren’t any weather disturbances though,” Patton pointed out with a frown.

“It seems to be a more advanced version of the devices we’ve seen so far,” Logan explained. “Which will make it much more difficult to trace.”

“Okay,” Patton said. There was still a good amount of distrust in his tone. “Then what are we going to do about it?”

“Well,” Logan said, “if we could gain access to an older version of the device, we could likely study it and reverse engineer a way to track the current one’s location.”

“And how exactly are we going to get an older version?” Patton asked, eyebrow raised.

“I do understand that you have only been back from your last trip for a little over a week,” Logan said quickly. Patton was already frowning, “and that your last trip through time was a challenging one, but,” he nodded at Virgil, “we do know of the time and place one of these devices exists and I have it on good authority that you have a good chance of finding it, deactivating it, and bringing it home if you travel to Camaguey Cuba 1755.”

Patton groaned. “And judging by the obvious source of this information, I’d be stealing it off of the TPI.”

“Well, yes,” Logan admitted.

“Excellent.”

“At least, in this particular circumstance, you will go into it knowing there will be no major disasters.”

…

Should Virgil… say something? It’d be rude to not mention the whole time shredding almost full party drowning experience, wouldn’t it? Then again… giving him foreknowledge could be a danger to the timestream and he was going into an already messy time disturbance.

Virgil debated with himself on whether general social courtesy should trump the possible destruction of all of space and time.

…

Maybe he’d just suggest a boat if they weren’t already planning to pack him one. Just in case.

“Fine,” Patton said with a sigh, “but you’re finishing your tech updates and my survival pack before I make any jumps. I am not making the same mistakes again.”

Logan nodded. “I can do that,” he agreed. “Give me a list of what you want in your survival pack by tomorrow.”

“I’ve already been working on a list,” Patton said. “It’s in the Google Drive.” He turned back to the computer he’d been working on and typed a few things to pull up a google document. “You can add to it if you think of anything.”

Logan looked over his shoulder at the list. “…Do you really need all of this?”

“Yes,” Patton said, taking another bite of his cheeseburger.

“I will do my best,” Logan said.

“You will do it,” Patton returned.

“Right.”

Patton sighed and turned back to his laptop. “And I’ll start researching Cuba in the 1700s,” he said.

Virgil watched him pull up google on his computer. He looked at the 21st century computer and then back to Patton. He couldn’t help but think of the museum he and Logan had been to earlier, in particular, all of that museum’s inaccuracies.

“Do… you want help?” he offered.

Want to read more? Click below!

Folds in Time Universe Master Post

My Main Masterpost

[pomfiores]

" Oya what luck was bestowed upon me for my my eyes to still have the honor of witnessing our dear queen in this outfit that brings out in particular that magically enchanting beauty to light " the ancient muses with a chuckle as he finally made an appearance right through the queen's window of his personal chambers, at the very end of the party. Fashionably late and ridiculously excentric entrance, as usual " I do hope that you can excuse my absence from the party, there were some problems that needed to be taken care of so i was caught in a little more than i would like " that is not an excuse but a mere explanation, or perhaps just a smooth way of taking the conversation where he wants it " Ah however, in the end i do prefer this time after all " lips curl into a sly grin and the fae places a small box upon Vil's hands. The box was a familiar certain magenta color however instead of green, the ribbon wrapping it was a very elegant shade of deep purple, a match made in heaven if he was so bold to say. Inside the box was a precious necklace in the image of a peacock feather, the main piece that brought the precious thing together was the ' eye ' of the feather which was a beautiful deep purple sapphire stone that on it's own was breathtaking enough, however, the captivating gem had a delightful little secret inside it. If one looks closely, you can see something moving inside it, that is because the inside is filled with some droplets of a dangerous poison.

" I call it, the eye of poison, the handyman that crafted it said i had a good taste with names so i trust his judgment kufufu " he takes the necklace and proceeds to carefully place it around the queen's neck " Boring days may come any time, two taps of the finger for the eye to open and a few drops of poison to fall, in a drink, directly on the skin, the choice would be yours of course based on how you feel at the moment, then you can replace the poison with another one of your liking for a next time " and he smoothly steals a kiss, one that lingers for way longer, one that is pressed deeper with hunger, fangs sinking into his bottom lip as he bits hard and blood quickly follows " Mmm ~ what a sight " he whispers against the kiss and licks Vil's lips while he still did not pull away one bit.

He presses the kiss deeper until he knocks the other over his back to fall nicely on his bed and Lilia to lad on top of him, fitting oh so perfectly " Ah my, it just suits you so nicely " he says oh so enamored. //happy birthday his darling queen mwah

His shoulders shrugging off velvet robes, revealing the black chiffon wrap underneath — the gentle spring wind against his back makes Lilia's appearance apparent. Who else? He isn't quick to turn. Instead, his brows furrow into a light frown as he almost rolls his eyes. It's one thing to show up late. But to still show face and do so uninvited? What kind of student — much less a knight — had the gall? "It's late, Lilia." You're late, Lilia. "I'm going to bed. What is it that you want?"

Vil's annoyance slightly grows as fae takes Vil's response as an invitation to completely enter the room. Hmph, he has more than the gall. It's the lack of respect. Never mind the excuse. Was he bothered? Yes, however, his reasons do check out. If Lilia thought he could simply show up with no repercussions — he had another thing coming. And Vil wouldn't let him get away with it scot-free. "Yes, you prefer being awake all hours of the night whereas I prefer my sleep. Can't this wait until tomorrow? I thought you'd be at your dorm, by now." Now, shoo.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Vil finally looks over at Lilia who's already right beside him in seconds upon entering his bedroom with the box in hand. He must think he can bribe his way out of this by gifting — come now, Lilia, you've known him this long. It's an extravagant piece, that much was obvious. Vil certainly wasn't going to do anything with it tonight but Lilia's already on it; putting the accessory on his neck. It's cold, especially through the chiffon.

"Hm... it is, indeed, original." He comments, glancing at the vanity to watch Lilia behind him and a peak at the piece adorning his neck. The necklace is suitable for practicality. Though, he wonders ... from what it sounds like — the poison inside must be formulated with rare ingredients. Briar Valley, he wonders? He'd ask but Lilia seemed to have other plans, sneaking around to catch the Queen's lips.

Now, just what do you think you're doing? "Lilia." Quite persistent. "Lilia." visage contorts as his eyelids lower. Vil's taken by surprise by the kiss, his hand taking the Knight's shoulder. He has every intention to not simply give in to what the fae wants and he will do just that. It was — after all — still his birthday. Leaning back to create some space, Lilia's quick to recover it to keep the kiss going. Fine. He won't mind testing the fae's endurance. Irritability begins to subside albeit slightly so, until — ah!?

Eyes open wide at the sting, Vil hisses. It doesn't occur to him why until he tastes iron ... Slack-jawed, he doesn't react as erratically as one might possibly expect. Violets locked with crimson once he'd landed upon his bed, unshaken and quite possibly determined. "Ugh. How barbaric." This behavior? Wherever did it come from? No matter, Vil wasn't opposed to reminding a knight who he was being reckless with. "You impudent." Taking Lilia's shoulder, he sits up to return the favor; kissing the fae back with just as much force.

One chaste kiss. Followed by two sloppier ones.

[akehoshimystar]

Chapter 3

Shinobu: Tadah! Here’s a photo of the little one.

Ito: Oh, he's adorable... Wow, his fur is so shiny.

Shinobu: Let me introduce you to Maro-kun, a smooth-coated chihuahua. He's 7 years old, an age where his cuteness is at its peak.

The one in the photo with him is our client, Tohru-san

Ito: (They look so happy. So, the reason she requested the rescue is….)

Is he missing?

Soyogu: Tohru-san and her boyfriend, Kuchiki Yuuto had been semi-living together until last month. Maro was taken away by him.

Apparently, it happened while she was sleeping at the night she brought up the topic of breaking up.

Ito: !

Soyogu: She has tried to get Maro to come home many times through a third party, but….

"I want to talk to you again, just the two of us. If you accept that condition, Maro will go home with you right away.” That’s what he said.

Of course, there’s no way she could accept that, so the conversation is at a standstill.

Ito: Just the two of them?

Shinobu: It's weird, isn't it? He’s so hung up on that.

From what I've heard, he seems like a typical emotionally abusive, controlling man.

If Tohru-san were to be alone with him, he might be able to do what he has been doing up until now. If that's the case, it's seriously so over.

Ito: …………………Has she consulted the police about this?

Soyogu: I heard that she already did, but didn't get the response she had hoped for. The conclusion seems to be that it is difficult for the police to intervene at this point.

Ito: I see….

(They're living together like a family. It's still difficult when someone like that is taken away without consent...)

I once received a consultation about a stalker at my previous job. I remembered an employee who said the same thing, "I already consulted the police, but didn't get the response I had hoped for.” And ended up quitting the job due to the damage caused, and I felt a little heavy in my stomach.

Ito: (I couldn't do anything back then.)

Soyogu: After considering all the circumstances, our leader decided on two major policies.

First, "Do not let Tohru-san and Kuchiki come into contact".”

Second, “To avoid resentment, we will handle Kuchiki in a way that causes as little mental and physical damage as possible.”

Ito: (Leader... Head of the department Fushimi?)

Soyogu: Shizuka-san is still coordinating the details of the strategy, but the plan is to create a "dog escape" accident.

Shibobu and I are the “rescuers” who cause an accident. And we will have Yashiro act as the carrier.

Ito: Carrier?

Shinobu: Gucchi and I are going to let Maro-kun out, that’s when you have to pick him up and head to the meeting place a few stations away.

Ito: (Eh?)

Shinobu: Once we delivery him to Tohru-san, it’s mission complete!

Ito: ………………Thank you for the rundown.

Can I ask you one thing just to be sure?

Shinobu: Sure, bring it on.

Ito: Sorry if this may come off as an amateur opinion. From what I've heard, I think the carrier is a very important position.

Are you sure you want a temporary member to take on that role?

Shinobu: Ah. Well...

Soyogu: It's simply a process of elimination.

Ito: (By process of elimination, huh…)

Shinobu: Could you be even blunter?

Soyogu: We don't have enough people. The commander role needs experience and intelligence, and the rescuer and guard roles need a certain level of physical strength to do their jobs.

But Shizuka-san judged that Yashiro could be trusted with the carrying task. That’s why he summoned you. Nothing more, nothing less.

Ito: (.….So I was called because he deemed me capable of doing the job.)

Thank you for having a faith in me. I understand.

I'll do my best as a carrier. Looking forward to working with you.

Shinobu: Same here!

On the very day, Shizuka-san will support you with his instructions, so it’s a pretty safe role, you can rest assured.

Nevertheless, there's one thing I'm concerned about.

…...And that is?

Shinobu: Kuchiki has a wide circle of friends, and not friendly ones. They have lots of free time on their hands and are all over the place.

Ito: (A bunch of unfriendly people, huh.....)

Something like… Drunkards who walk around a busy street at night?

Shinobu: Ahaha, the image in your head is very HD. That's probably what they’re like.

Ito: (My least favorite type of human being!!)

Shinobu: There's a chance that you will face those kinds of people while you’re on the move.

I'd like you to at least take a basic self-defense lesson...or rather, a course to learn how to use your body. Would that be fine with you?

Ito: .…..If it's not too much trouble, please allow me to take part in that.

Shinobu: Great! I will be joining you, and our instructor will be Gucchi.

Soyogu: Do you have any experience in sports or martial arts?

Ito: No, nothing in particular.

Soyogu: Are you confident in your physical strength?

Ito: My physical strength is pretty much… average...? I think.

If I have to say it clearly, I would say not at all.

(My physical education grade has always been average.)

Soyogu: I see. Then, I'll make sure you can say “Yes, I am.”

Ito: Eh?

Soyogu: The more stamina you have, the better.

Just leave it to me.

…..And that brings us to today.

Soyogu: .....Let's go again! Start.

Shinobu: Okay then... I'll grab you from behind.

Ito: (If someone come at me like this, open up my palm and do this!)

Shinobu: Oh!

Soyogu: Don't be complacent with that, dash off now!

Ito: …..Nghh.

Ito: ………………Haaa...Haaa...

Soyogu: That was good.

Shinobu: Exactly my thoughts! It was really smooth.

Ito: I’m glad…... to hear that…..

Soyogu: Now it's time for repetitive practice. Ultimately, the ideal is to be able to move your body without having to go through the steps in your head.

There's nothing more unreliable than "what you know in your head".

Soyogu: ...Alright. It's already time, let's call it a day

Ito: ……!

Thank you….. very much

Soyogu: Good job today.

Shinobi: You did well!

Ito: (I managed to survive somehow...)

Shinobu: Yashiro-san, here’s water.

Ito: Thank you so-…... Thanks.

Shinobu: You’re still using polite language in this situation?

Ito: Sorry, I just thought I could do it.

Shinobu: No, it’s okay. I'm the one being selfish and leaving only Yashiro-san to speak casually after all.

"I feel uneasy when someone my age use polite language, but I also don’t want to speak in a casual manner to the acting owner." After the first meeting was over, Aizawa-kun brought up his “small worry.” After careful consideration, we have settled on this form of communication for the time being.

Ito: (...………………It's certainly rare for me not to use polite language in response to someone my age who uses polite language with me.)

(I thought it would be more awkward, but surprisingly it wasn't.)

(Maybe it's because Aizawa-kun's communication skills are on another level.)

Shinobu: As usual, you must have it rough. Let's take our time to cool down.

Ito: Aizawa-kun... You still look energetic as always. As expected from you.

Shinobu: Nyahaha. Well, this is the Watchdog Dept. we’re talking about…. Ah.

Just when I was wondering why Aizawa-kun suddenly stopped talking…. A soft towel fell over my shoulders from behind.

Ito: ! Shinkai-san?

Soyogu: Your body will get cold, so wipe yourself properly. You haven’t gone through all that training just to let a cold weaken you.

Ito: …….Yes. Thank you.

(.…..A gentleman. A very kind gentleman...)

(Just now he was saying, "Don't be afraid of self-defense, you’re only evil when you attack with murderous intent".…. I feel like I'm going to catch a cold from the difference in temperature he’s giving off.)

Shinobu: Gucchi suddenly turned into a good guy just like that? No fair. What was that, Mr. Cool guy?

Soyogu: Just hurry up and stretch before taking a shower. Yashiro, sis asked you to come meet him, right?

Ito: Yes. I was originally planning to go back to Aporia after today to say hello, but….

I was offered a training course for counter work. I heard that he had time to teach me because the reservation was canceled.

Soyogu: I see….

Shinobu: And I’m supposed to go out drinking under the pretense of being a customer, what about Gucchi?

Soyogu: I'm having dinner with Sei-san today. Well, Yashiro, you had better prepare yourself.

Ito: Prepare myself?

Soyogu: Sis may be that kind of person, but when it comes to work, he’s really strict.

Ito: Eh?

Soyogu: You best brace yourself.

The scary thing here is the fact that I didn’t hear "That's not true" from Aizawa-kun. Time passed by in the blink of an eye...

Shinobu: Good evening.

The person who greeted us there was…..

Takeru: Come in! I've been waiting for you.

Ito: .….You must have been working hard.

(I thought I was already used to the corporate culture of Aporia by now. But this person really shattered my confidence...)

Glamorous makeup that stands out in the slightly dimmed lighting, beautiful long hair, a figure and beautiful posture that make him look like a show model. The voice that resonates from the visual, which is worthy of being described as a “beauty” is unmistakably that of a man. I was taken aback for a while by this person who had such an overwhelming presence.

Shinobu: Were you surprised?

Ito: Eh?

Takeru: Oh no, I haven't done anything yet. Did I scare you?

Ito: Not at all. I just thought that you are really pretty.…..

Takeru: Oh my.

I expressed my thoughts without any twist. It’s as if I was just spilling out the contents inside of my head. Mikado-san suddenly flashed a smile.

Takeru: I’m pretty fond of honest girl like you, thank you.

Takeru: Once again, I'm Mikado from the Watchdog Dept. Feel free to call me Mika-san.

Nice to meet you. Ito.

Chapter 4

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.” 

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

~

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing. 

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man. 

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

~

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding. 

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

~

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner. 

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

~

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip. 

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

~

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

[cherrycheridarling]

lockscreen | t.h.

tom holland x famous!reader

warnings: none just fluff

summary: tom goes on jimmy fallon for a game of 'show me your phone'. being the oblivious child he is, tom forgets about his lockscreen.

wc: 1.4k

"Welcome back! We're here again with the star of the Spider-Man series, Tom Holland!" Jimmy's announcement drew cheers from the audience. "Tonight, we are going to be playing a game called 'Show Me Your Phone'."

Jimmy went on to explain the game to the crowd as Tom sat across from him patiently waiting. Jimmy pressed on the button first and ended up showing the world that his last photo was a selfie taken minutes ago in the washroom. That gained a lot of laughs. Then it was Tom's turn.

"I'm terrified. I don't even know what's on my phone." Tom shook his hands before firmly pushing the button. It landed on the iMessage icon. "Oh? My last text message convo?" he began to unlock his phone. Eyes skimming over his lockscreen.

"Yup, and once it's locked in, you can't touch it." Jimmy reminded him of the rules as Tom quickly skimmed through his last conversation.

Tom ran a hand down his face before chuckling, "Oh, geez. Alright, some context, I needed help picking a tie for tonight and my mate, Harrison, is nowhere near helpful."

He placed his phone in front of the camera as the conversation appeared for the audience to read.

Tom: haz what tie? red or blue?

Harrison: youre ugly either way

Tom: you look like dolores umbridge. pick a tie ffs

Harrison: mm my babe umbridge. jokes. i'd say purple

Tom: you're gross and no help at all

Harrison: have fun babe the bed is waiting for you

Tom: don't make me puke before i go on the show

Harrison: puke on me daddy

The crowd bursted out into laughter along with Jimmy as Tom covered his beet red face in embarrassment. "He is going to kill me for showing that." Tom was laughing as he spoke.

"That's hilarious! Okay, my turn." Jimmy ended up sharing a voice memo of him reminding himself to do chores around the house.

Tom wiped his hands on his pants before pushing the large button again. It landed on the lock icon. "What does that mean?"

"You have to share your lockscreen."

Tom's posture visibly stiffened at the information given. He wished he had gotten some warning before coming on the show. A caution sign telling him to erase everything on the iPhone.

His lockscreen was a memory. A keepsake. You. A piece of his heart. A reminder of happiness and the loving moments you shared with one another. It was taken a little over a year ago at Zendaya's house for a get-together with a few close friends.

You were propped up on the kitchen island, a wide smile on your face. Tom standing in between your legs with his back to your chest. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he tilted his head and placed a kiss on your cheek. Jacob Batalon had captured the moment. A heartwarming interaction that you had both done an outstanding job at keeping under wraps.

You had been dating for nearly two years. How you had managed to keep it hidden for such an extended amount of time was a wonder to everyone who knew, including yourselves. It wasn't that you were both set on no one ever finding out, you just never saw the need to. It was your relationship, only meant to be shared between the two of you.

Tom hoped you wouldn't be mad if the world found out, but he enjoyed the privacy and the feeling of having something that was only his. Something he didn't have to share with the globe. Tom debated on his options. Showing the picture and making headlines for the next week or refusing to do so and ruining the game while making everyone suspicious of him.

The former won.

"Okay, um." Tom nervously let out a laugh, "Surprise?"

With shaking hands, he placed his locked phone on the stand and avoided looking into the crowd as reactions varied throughout the studio. Gasps, cheers, 'aww's, even some screams. Both of his hands shielded his expression from the cameras as he allowed the audience to examine the photo.

"Oh, my god! W-what?!" Jimmy stammered, shocked what his eyes saw, "That's Y/N Y/L/N! A-are you two?" his eyes flicked from the phone to Tom.

Tom nodded slowly, "Yeah, yeah. It is and we are. Nearly two years steady." this intel drew more shocked reactions from the habitants of the studio.

"This is amazing! We love Y/N! But wow, how did no one know?!" Jimmy was still in disbelief.

Tom smiled at your name, "I may be loose-lipped with movie spoilers, but this is proof that I can keep secrets."

Jimmy's mouth was agape, "I have so many questions and you are so lucky that we are out of time."

Tom released a breath he didn't know he was holding as Jimmy said goodbye to the cameras and they stopped recording.

As Tom made his way backstage to head to his hotel, his heart began to beat out of his chest as he thought about your reaction.

-

Lounging on his hotel comforter, Tom pulled out his phone once again and clicked on your contact. m'lady. Pressing the FaceTime icon.

Your bright smile lit up the screen, illuminating his mood like the sun on a stormy day.

"Hello, lover. To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night call?" you chuckled while sitting up against the headboard of your bed, Tessa laying beside you.

Tom couldn't suppress his grin at your presence even if it was through a screen, "Hi, darling. I didn't know if you would be awake. Isn't it nearly three in the morning there?"

You nodded and pushed your glasses up on your nose, "Had to run some lines with Tess before filming tomorrow. She's a great actress." you panned the camera over to the sleeping pup.

"Sometimes I think you're only with me for my dog." he joked with a light laugh.

"Shoot. I thought I had you fooled." you teased back, "Why did you call, bum?"

He scratched the back of neck and avoided looking at the screen. That was enough for you to know that something was up.

"What part of your movie did you spoil this time?" you chuckled.

Tom shook his head with a smile, brown curls flopping on his head, "Nothing about my film, love. More or less about us." he mumbled the last bit, but you heard it.

Your shoulders tensed involuntarily, "I'm gonna need more information than that."

"We were playing a game where you have to show certain things on your phone and I had to show my lockscreen and, well, you know what my lockscreen is." his nerves grew with every second that your face stayed expressionless.

"Okay. How did they react?" you stifled a yawn.

Tom's eyebrows furrowed at your response, "Y-you're not mad?"

You chuckled, "Do you want me to be mad?"

"No, no, no." he quickly protested, "I just didn't know if you were ready to tell the world about us and I'm sorry for not informing you before making that big of a step in our relationship."

You smiled at the caring boy in your life. His thoughtfulness overpowering any negative emotions that could've surfaced. You weren't mad at all. Two years was a long time to keep a relationship hidden especially when both of the parties are well known to the public.

"No need to apologize, mi amor. It was about time everyone found out. Long overdue if you ask me. I would've appreciated a heads up, but I'm not mad." you insisted, and it was true.

Tom visibly relaxed at your words, "The audience was shocked and some gushed and screamed. Can't wait to see the headlines and news articles tomorrow."

"I can see it now: 'Spider-Man Actor, Tom Holland and Actress, Y/N Y/L/N's Hidden Love'." you spoke in a mocking voice making your boyfriend laugh.

"Can't forget; 'All the evidence of their relationship that the public overlooked'." he joked in the same tone as you both laughed together joyously.

Your laughter died down while a peaceful smile lingered on your lips, "I'm glad you had fun tonight. I should get some rest. Need to be in hair and makeup at seven."

He nodded understandingly, "Have fun on set, darling. I'll talk to you later. Goodnight, sleep tight, sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, sleep tight, sweet dreams, lover." you gave a little wave before ending the call.

[grokebaby]

It had been another gloomy day in the dark forest for the magnificent Tigerstar. He was almost getting bored with plotting starclans demise, but seeing a certain familiar face reignited his spark.

"Evening, Brokenstar" he said smoothly after not-so-subtly jogging up to the massive piece of fur cleaning his face by a tree. His foggy eyes turned to the ochre tabby, seeming completely uninterested until a light bulb went up and he recognized who was addressing him.

"Ah, my successor.. You didn't do half bad for a Thunderclan cat. But then again, a lobotomized rat would've been a better alternative to Nightpelt.." Brokenstar mused quietly. Tigerstar chuckled, welcoming the compliment nonetheless. "You know, it's a shame we didn't get to properly talk during our life, don't you think? Of course by the clan rules we shouldn't have even been talking, but I felt sorely disappointed to have you die without hearing more from you" Tigerstar meowed, calmly measuring up his claws in an effort to not seem like what Darkstripe felt to him. Brokenstar twitched his ear, stopping his grooming as a visual que to ask Tigerstar to elaborate on that. He found the Tom's sudden desire to socialize more off-putting, but figured it had something to do with their alliance

Tigerstar continued. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you about your legendary rise to power, right? Sure, the ruling part could've.. Gone smoother, but you did impressive work given your circumstances, and that pesky medic hag having some sort of agenda against you.." Brokenstars fur bristled as the words hit him. Having recently died, the burning of deathberries in his throat was still fresh. He was taken back to his death bed, momentarily reliving that flood of pure ice through his veins as Yellowfang had told him the truth about his kithood.

"You.. Do not talk to me, about Yellowfang, you egotistical piece of-!" He jumped up, hissing in Tigerstars face. Dazed by the sudden outburst, Tigerstar took a few steps back, not wanting to be trampled by the sizeable shadowclan cat. Once getting more personal space, Brokenstar turned his back to him. Trembling with rage, and grappling with that strange scary feeling that had overtaken him, it took a moment to register that Tigerstar apologized right after.

"What.. Did you say?" he rasped, glaring back to the other. Tigerstar swallowed any semblance of fear and reworded his statement. "I'm sure whatever.. She had to say about you couldn't have been bad enough to phase a mighty leader like yourself. I wasn't implying anything of the sort." he replied, regathering his charisma. Brokenstar scoffed. "Sorta like that annoying little thunderclan cat, what was it - Fireheart? I wasn't the only one with flies buzzing around me, just saying.."

Tigerstar gritted his teeth at the mention, but he stopped himself from lashing out similarly. His smooth negotiation skills had taken him far in life, and he wasn't about to be hit by whatever Brokenstar had to throw at him. "Yes, true.. But he will be taken care of eventually." Tiger replied, smoothing down his chest fur. "Well, was that all you wanted to say?" Brokenstar asked after a small moment of silence. Tigerstar hurried to get the conversation back on track. "No, no of course not. I simply came here to, let's say, bask in your presence." Brokenstar rolled his eyes at that. "It's true, Brokenstar. You don't have to believe me but I've always felt that my heart belonged in Shadowclan, and your reign was breathtaking while it lasted. How did you do it? What would you tell a less initiated cat?" he asked, not letting his admiration shine through entirely. He was willing to use flattery to get what he wanted, but his dignity weighed more than that.

Brokenstar sized him up from head to toe. Tigerstar was a strong, athletic cat, and a skilled fighter. And talker.. He thought, looking at the toms smug face. In his eyes he could see sprinkles of kit-like awe, but there was more. He wasn't willing to look deeper than that right now, not with his foggy vision. "You and me Tigerstar, we're vicious, strong-willed cats. I doubt you need tips from me" he meowed softly, though his tone wasn't particularly kind despite the praise. Tigerstar opened his mouth, but shut it again as Brokenstar breathed audibly. "However.." he continued, side-eyeing the fellow leader. "What you lack is independence." Brokenstar stated. Tigerstar scoffed, words stumbling up as they tried to leave his mouth. "Excuse me? I don't hang onto others tails, I am a leader! You cannot rule if nobody follows after you" he gritted his teeth. Brokenstar nonchalantly licked his paw a few times, wiping it over his face. "Obviously. What I'm talking about, is your emotional dependencies, Tigerstar." he replied, now leaving Tigerstar taken aback in silence. Before he could ask, he elaborated. "Your mate. And kits. You had those, didn't you? Your son.. Looks just like you" he meowed with a deep voice. Tigerstar breathed in disbelief, his tail twitching uncomfortably. What was he implying with that?

".. Yes, and? Are-are you saying that's a negative? Of course a great leader must have an heir!" Tigerstar exclaimed, wanting to know where this is was going. He was aware that Brokenstar never took a mate, and quite obviously wasn't great with kits..

"A great leader's heir is his legacy! His glory stands long after his death! Not some other cat! Kits are absolutely not vital to a great leader, kits are.. Useless!" Brokenstar spit out the last part, having full confidence in his statement. Tigerstar looked at him doubtfully for a moment. While he had a good point, Tigerstar never saw fatherhood as a stumbling block in his road to success. Quite the opposite, actually. And Goldenflower, despite her leaving him to fend for himself during his exile, was someone he had loved deeply. Had, and possibly still did..

He spit in frustration and held his head higher, tucking his tail tightly over his paws to seem dignified and untouched. "My family isn't a weakness to me. I don't need their help to achieve glory. And besides, my kits aren't just any snotty brats, they take after me, and Goldenflower, in the ways it matters! I have big plans for them." Tigerstar explained snobbishly. Brokenstar let out a sizzling breath, seeming thoughtful. And not Convinced.

"Not a weakness, you say..? Not even when Thunderclans camp burnt down? That tree was engulfed in flames.." Brokenstar spoke quietly under his breath, like a ghost. Tigerstar felt a chill run over his bones. Had Brokenstar been watching him from the afterlife? And how much? He vividly remembered the intense mixture of relief and visceral hatred seeing Fireheart hop down that tree with Bramblekit in his jaws. His enemy, whisking off his dear kit into safety, despite everything that happened. He must think he's so pure, above everyone else. A spoiled kittypet, snaking into clan life where he didn't belong. Ruining Tigerstars careful plans. He dug his claws into the mulch beneath him, wishing it was the orange little nuisance instead.

Brokenstar exhaled, as if in response to something, snapping Tigerstar back to the moment. "My point seems proven.." he rasped. Tigerstar looked at him in disbelief, offended. "You haven't proven anything! My mate betrayed me, betrayed my trust, and fought against me in the great battle! Me and her are over." he hissed. "As if you had never depended on anyone with your plans of conquest.." he added more murkily, voice full of salt. Brokenstar hummed dismissively.

"Obviously I need to be capable of working with other cats to get anywhere, but I didn't get attached to any of them." he exposited, untangling a few knots from his side. Tigerstar rolled his eyes. "Well you sure sound like a great reliable ally.." he muttered. Brokenstar snorted a laugh. "Don't talk to me about great and reliable down in the dark forest, Tigerstar! As if I need to like someone to work with them anyway.." he chuckled coarsely. Something about getting to hear that from the cat he'd looked up to for some time felt like a splash of cold water to Tigerstar. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"What were your plans with those kits anyway?" Brokenstar broke the silence, feeling the slightest tinge of curiosity. Tigerstar perked up, a droplet of pride trickling down his chest. "Oh am I glad you asked.."

[babyboibucky]

Birthday Tiara

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You weren’t enjoying your birthday until Bucky comes along.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: SMUUUT, oral (m receiving), p in v penetration, unprotected sex

A/N: This is dedicated to our birthday girl @whoth3hellisbucky 🥰 I’m so happy and flattered that you sent me this request!!! I wrote and finished this piece as soon as I got your request lmao that’s how excited I was. I really hope you’d enjoy this!!! Happy Birthday and have a great one, lovely!!! 😘

MAIN MASTERLIST

How in the fresh hell did you end up being in someone else’s birthday party during your own birthday? You have no idea in all honesty. Was it fun? Yeah sure, free unli-booze for you and your friends.

Were you having fun though? Not really.

This was supposed to be your day, and initially it was. You’d taken your girl friends out to dinner, did some pre-gaming at a nice bar and then went from one club to another. Everything was peachy and going as planned until one of your friends saw her co-worker who happened to be on her way to another friend’s house for a party.

One thing led to another and now you were here, in a stranger’s house and all by yourself because your so-called friends were too drunk to even remember why all of you were out together in the first place.

“Best birthday ever.” You harrumphed sarcastically as you stepped out into the backyard.

You shivered at the cold wind that welcomed you and wrapped your arms around yourself. Letting out a melancholic sigh, you began to kick at the ground in disappointment at how the night went.

Looking up, you found yourself staring into a pair of ocean blue eyes. You didn’t know whether you had looked at each other at the same time or if he had been watching you ever since.

He was standing a few meters away from you, with two other ladies who were chatting with each other. The man was tall and handsome, you could see that even in the dark. Brunette locks and a five day old stubble, donning a jacket with a wool collar— very, very handsome.

As if his physical appearance wasn’t attention-grabbing enough, he even had a plastic tiara on his head and you have no idea why.

The two of you continued eye fucking each other but neither of you decided to make any move. Despite the guy engaging in a conversation with the girls, his eyes kept going back to yours. You smirked when he winked at you before taking a long sip from his drink.

His eyes were glued onto you even as he brought a blunt up to his lips, taking a quick drag from it before handing it over to the girl in front of him.

And then he made a face at you, his hands gesturing as if he was telling you what the fuck are these girls even talking about?

You chuckled at his face and shook your head. Deciding that maybe, it was time to go home, you waved at the guy and walked away.

“I was asking you to come and rescue me out there, not leave me behind.”

Turning around, you found that the guy was already standing in front of you. Now that he was closer, you realized how tall and well-built he was. Your eyes automatically scanned him, from his wide chest down to his—

“Bucky.” He said, interrupting your thoughts.

“Bucky?” You repeated in question.

He nodded, “That’s my name. And you are?”

You eyed him suspiciously, trying to read his expression but he was just smiling at you and waiting for an introduction. You told him your name and shook his hand before the both of you started walking around aimlessly.

���What brought you here?” Bucky asked, hands inside the pockets of his jeans.

You shrugged, “Beats me. You?”

He mimicked your gesture, “Got dragged by a friend and now I can’t find him.”

You snorted, “Tell me about it. I was out with my friends to celebrate my birthday and now I’m alone.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks and tugged you back, his hand around your arm sending shivers down your spine.

“Hold on, it’s your birthday?” He asked with amusement. “As in today?”

You nodded, “Yup.”

Bucky licked his lips as he stared down at you, “You got a couple hours left to make the most out of it.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly how you want to make the most out of it. Bucky was an attractive guy, you weren’t going to deny that. And he seemed to be insinuating at something too and honestly, you were up for it.

You were pissed off at your friends for ditching you for someone else’s party. At this point, you’d do anything to turn the tables around and make your birthday memorable at the last minute.

“Have any suggestions on how I can do that?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

Bucky smirked, taking off his tiara and then placing it on your head.

“I’ve some things in mind that I can show you, princess.”

-

Bucky had you pinned against the door of whoever’s bedroom it was that the both of you first stumbled in. His lips were bruising yours as he kissed you fervently, hands wandering all over your body, cupping, squeezing whatever he can.

“Whose room is this?” You panted against Bucky’s lips as you pushed his jacket off his broad shoulders.

Bucky licked your lips and then began kissing his way from your jaw down to your collarbones, “No fuckin’ idea and I don’t care.” He huffed against your skin, tugging at the straps of your dress.

Your hands fumbled with the buttons of his top, almost popping them off with urgency when you felt a hand brush your folds through the thin material of your lace underwear.

“Shit, wet already.” Bucky grunted before grabbing the hem of your panties, pulling it down your legs.

Finally, you managed to completely remove Bucky’s shirt, revealing his more than average body beneath all his clothing.

“Fuck, happy birthday to me.” You moaned before pushing Bucky towards the bed, climbing over him and straddling him.

Bucky groaned when you sat on him, your bare cunt pressed against his clothed erection. He watched you with lust-filled eyes as you reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it off and then throwing it aside. He chuckled when you fixed the tiara on your head, straightening it up.

Bucky’s hand slid from your thighs up to your waist, his rough palms leaving goosebumps in its wake until he reached your breasts. He cupped them before he unclasped your bra behind you, revealing your entire body to him.

He sat up and licked a nipple, eliciting a breathy moan from you as your hips began to grind against the rough material of his jeans.

“Fuck, baby. You messed up my jeans.” He chuckled, noticing the damp spot on his crotch.

You couldn’t care less anymore, you needed Bucky right now. You wanted to feel him against you, inside of you. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or the sheer disappointment how your birthday went down, but you were desperate to get laid.

Bucky sucked your other nipple, his tongue laving at it playfully as your hands grabbed at his fluffy hair.

You moaned out his name when he pulled away, laying back down but leaving his hands on top of your thighs.

“Come get your present, birthday girl.” He rasped, head tipping towards the impressive tent on his pants.

You practically purred and wasted no time to unzip him, quickly pulling his pants down together with his black boxer briefs. His cock sprang free, slapping against his abs and you salivated at the sight of it— hard, red and weeping.

Taking his shaft in your hand, you bent down and licked a thick stripe from his balls up until the tip, tongue twirling around his crown earning a low groan from him.

“I’m not even sure if it’s still your birthday we’re celebrating or mine.” Bucky quipped breathlessly when you repeated the action.

You took the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking on it and letting your tongue flick against his slit while your hand began to give him slow but firm strokes. Bucky lifted his head up to watch you, hands framing your face before he decided to fix the tiara that was still tangled into your hair.

“Look at you, baby. Lookin’ like a dirty little princess with my cock in her pretty mouth.” He grunted, moving his hips to get more of his cock into your mouth.

You hummed around Bucky’s length, relaxing your jaw as you tried to take all of him. He was too big and girthy but god, he tasted magnificent. Even without touching yourself, you could feel your wetness gush out of your throbbing cunt.

The kind of throb that needed to be addressed as soon as possible.

Bobbing your head, you squeezed Bucky’s balls making his hips thrust upwards before you released him with a lewd pop.

“Wanna fuck you now, princess. Come here.” Bucky said and took your face in his hands when you climbed back up, pulling you down into an urgent kiss.

You whimpered into the kiss when you felt Bucky line his cock into your entrance, pushing his hips upwards until the head was in. Straightening up, you placed your hands on his chest and carefully sunk down on his length.

Both of you moaned in unison when he bottomed out, the heat in your abdomen growing and growing until you felt like your entire body was on fire.

“Go on, princess. I’m all yours, take what you need.” Bucky urged, holding onto your hips and guiding you to grind down on his cock.

The slow, deliberate roll of your hips against Bucky’s turned desperate, with you moaning out his name as you bounced on his erection. You watched Bucky throw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he growled at the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around his cock.

You grabbed one hand on your hips and brought it up to your breast, letting him fondle it as you rode Bucky. He let the pad of his thumb brush against your nipple before pinching down on it, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Bucky, fuck! I’m close...” you whimpered, legs burning but never stopping as you chased your high.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to him before rolling over until he was on top. His hips pummeled into you hard and fast, lips attaching onto your own and swallowing your whines.

“Cum for me, princess. Come on.” Bucky growled against your lips.

A certain snap of his hips allowed his cock to hit your sweet spot, sending you into a spiral of pleasure. Your body went rigid as you climaxed, your toes curling and your fingers digging deep into Bucky’s ass as your pussy clenched around him.

Bucky kept on thrusting, his breaths mingling with yours until he too came with a low grunt. You hummed at the feeling of his warm release filling you up.

“Fuck.” Bucky breathed out, his body going limp against yours.

You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, catching up on your breath before you let out a chirpy chuckle.

“I feel bad for the person who owns this room.” You admitted.

Bucky pressed a gentle kiss on the side of your throat before lifting himself up with his forearms.

“I don’t.” He said before leaning down to kiss your lips.

“Happy birthday, princess.” He greeted again before removing the tiara on your head.

“Like I said, I had a couple of ideas on how you can make the most out of your birthday. We just checked the first one on the list.”

You made a face, unable to believe that Bucky wasn’t done with you yet. Before you could even protest, Bucky beat you to it by flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Lay down and let me show you how a princess should be treated.”

-

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