#miscellaneous monday

[littlemarianah]

~Miscellaneous Monday ~

tagged by my dear @waywardangel-wilds and @mollywog . Thank you two.

Piece of my fanfic Chronicles Of A Better World (I changed the name, it used to be Deep in the Meadow, but the new one sounds much better) (Well, I know it's always post about the same famfic, but I'm fighting for my life to write another one haha. So far this is the only one that I feel really satisfied with.)

Peeta sat beside me on the bed. His teary eyes sparkled over the little girl. Our little daughter, our gift. His hands were hovering in the air, As if he were about to take her from me. Maybe seeing my terrified expression changed his mind, so he just touched the girl's hairy head and he kindly said "Welcome, Willow." I should have let him hold her earlier, but I was so scared I couldn't let go for hours after I gave birth. When I finally passed her gently into his arms she seemed even smaller. Peeta's hands were huge, and yet he was so careful. He cleaned her body and dressed her in warm clothes. I remember him whispering to her some words, that even after so many years makes my eyes water. He said something like: "I'm your father, and that's your mother. You live in District twelve in a small house up in a meadow. Your name is Willow, because of an old song. You are very loved.” Everything felt right. That immense fear I was feeling slowly subsided and I felt peace

Tagging: @tetheredfeathers @atelierlili

[mollywog]

Miscellaneous Monday

Tagged by @thelettersfromnoone 🫶 (here)

Outtake from Reunion! -> (Go check out THG Comment Feast!)

“You’re sharing a room with Johanna. She’s in therapy now, so we’ve got another half hour until she’s back. Which reminds me, you should watch out for your morphling, they’ve been weaning her off and I wouldn’t put it past her to take yours”

“She can have it.” I don’t particularly like this feeling and how can I mind when she was almost tortured to death by Snow after the Quarter Quell?

“Unfortunately that’s not how medicine works.”

I shrug.

‘I’m serious Katniss. I’m worried about her. She should be out of the hospital by now.”

She had no one before the Quell and now even the other Victors are too preoccupied: Beetee with his work, Finnick with Annie, Haymitch with the two of us. I can’t think about it for too long. “So will Haymitch be adopting her too?”

“Can’t. She’s not a minor. He’d have to marry her to get her assigned to our compartment.”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

He chuckles, “nah, I’m gonna ask Delly to take her on. Did you know she was here?”

Tagging @waywardangel-wilds @atelierlili @typewriteringalaxy @tetheredfeathers @littlemarianah @absnow @thesunpersists

[atelierlili]

Miscellaneous Monday (shhh it's Tuesday for me)

Got tagged by the pookies @mollywog and @littlemarianah <3 Here's a little something from "Where the Jabberjay flies" uwu It's the only project i'm working on right now. So it's really all I have to share lmao

It's a struggle to put on the Mockingjay outfit. It takes at least two people to help me put on the dark trousers and knee pads. It's as frustrating as it is painful. I yelp when a shot of pain shoots up my legs. Someone is trying to shove them into the sleeves of my trousers and my legs aren't cooperating.  My cries make my prep team flinch and whimper. They look horrified. It's a mess. It was so bad, my mother asked Plutarch if the trousers were necessary.

Apparently they are, according to Fulvia Cardew, Plutarch's assistant. In the Capitol, wearing half the costume was the equivalent of being half devoted to a cause, or something like that. As if Capitol sentiments mean anything in a propo for the districts. 

When my prep team is done with me, we are ushered back into the main room. There is something bothering me that I cannot ignore. There is something wrong with my prep team. Initially I thought it was out of exhaustion or nervousness of being in rebel territory. I doubt any capitolite would be welcomed in District 13. But no, it’s much more than that. There’s this desperation and fear in my prep team's eyes that feels so wrong. 

“They’re so scared of everything,” I say to my mother after Venia's shaky hands drops a bag of brushes. "Are they being mistreated?" 

My mother makes a sideline glance at the door, where my guards are standing, then leans down and pretends to be fixing the blanket over my legs. “They were,” my mother confesses. “I do not know the details. It's all classified and I want to protect their privacy. But Peeta saved them from whatever 13 was doing to them. He brought them straight to me. He was yelling so much. I think he even broke a chair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry before."

[lord-aldhelm]

Miscellaneous Monday/Another WIP Game!

Thank you for the tag @thelettersfromnoone!

I must confess I have been so busy with several art projects, making gifsets, and household stuff that I have not had much time to write! I also haven't been feeling too well either. BUT.. The S2 Aldflaed story I have been writing I decided to split into two parts, since I did not fancy rewriting all of season 2. So the first part is going to focus on Aldhelm only, and will be a standalone fic as a kind of prequel to the one I am working on now. Below is the first paragraph of the rewrite.

The ride back to Mercia was grim. It was silent, save the sounds of hoofbeats and the occasional whinny from the tired horses, and the wheels of the cart rolling along the half-frozen ground. The grey, overcast skies mirrored the sentiment from the ealdormen, whose faces were downcast and their eyes set in a hard, distance stare on the road ahead. It was not the death of their king which prompted the solemn mood, although that was part of it. Rather it was what had followed immediately afterward in the court of King Alfred which had decimated their spirits.

No pressure tags (for whoever is writing and wants to participate):

@daethelflaed @gemini-mama @thelettersfromnoone @synintheraven @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

@thenameswinter99 @whitedarkmoonflower

@poetic-fiasco @alexagirlie @sigtryggrswifey @lonnson @itbmojojoejo

@garunsdottir @timetravelingpenguin1066 @bagheerita @solinarimoon @ladyinred2248

@king-alfred @arcielee @st-eve-barnes @foxyanon @holy3cake

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Hello, dears! Here's part 2 to the Vampire Helena AU I'm writing for @loveinthekeyofx! It's a Love and Legends/Havenfall is for Lovers crossover! I do hope some of you will enjoy it ❤️ it is quite lengthy (just under 7k words), so part of it will be under a cut! - Mod Runa

TW: Discussions of insecurities, References to trauma, Body image issues.

You chuckled as yet another tiny spark of fire flew by your head and turned into smoke right before hitting the mirror, making Morgan sigh in frustration as her hand flinched. Smudging an otherwise perfect line of eyeliner.

"Jordan, I swear to everyone that isn't your Father. If you do that ONE more time!"

JD let out the most dramatic groan you had ever heard in your life and slinked a little further off their bed.

"But I'm so booooored. And you won't let me help with anything!"

You could see the reflection of their upside pout in the vanity, which only made you laugh harder. Morgan pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"If you recall.. I gave you one very important job to do, JD.. the outfit. You're the one who decided to come up in here with a black leather bodysuit!"

JD smirked. "I stand by my decision. That bodysuit was fucking hot."

Morgan shook her head, turning her focus back to doing your make-up.

"Do you see what I have to put up with, Frances?"

"Pfft! You love me." JD replied with a wide, charismatic grin.

"They've got you there, Morgan." You chuckled.

"Ohh no.. don't you dare feed into them!"

You laughed before giving JD a tiny wink in the mirror. The last few months in Havenfall had probably been your most interesting thus far. Even without Helena coming into your life, finding out that not only were "monsters" real, but that you'd been living amongst them since you'd moved to the small town was almost too much to process at first. You could still remember the look of utter horror on Morgan's face when a slightly buzzed JD let their true identity slip.. and then how it grew when they proceeded to out everyone else inside Havenfall's Finest. At first you were convinced it was all a joke. The idea that the local bowling alley was run by a djinn and the town Sheriff was actually a werewolf seemed all too preposterous to even imagine, but the moment JD released their wings and shot a fireball off over the lake you knew they'd been telling the truth.

"The Jersey Devil? As in the Jersey Devil??" You had exclaimed.

"The one and only." They'd replied with a smirk.

To be honest it felt like just yesterday that you'd found out, but also that a part of you'd already known. The sleepy Midwestern town had always seemed to hum with unseen magic.

And now, you knew why.

"Alright! All done."

Morgan sat back in her chair and smiled, placing the tube of mascara back onto JD's dresser.

"I still say you should have gone with the bodysuit."

"Hush, Jordan. She looks great."

You couldn't argue with her there, the woman had done a damn fine job on your make-up. The subtle gold eyeshadow and flipped cat's eye accentuated the green and black top she had picked out perfectly. And your breasts had never been propped up higher in your life. You looked… good.

"I'm not saying she doesn't! But who wouldn't want to see those curves wrapped in leather!"

"I wouldn't." You answered with a laugh.

"Pfft.. you're both crazy. I'm going downstairs to check out the buffet- .. I mean, see if Razi needs any help."

"Please, do not add any of your crazy concoctions to the mix, JD."

The devil turned, giving their partner a faux look of hurt and betrayal.

"But.. you said you liked my pickle and mustard pie!"

"Jordan, please. Remember what we talked about."

They sighed, rolling their eyes. "Fineeeeee."

You chuckled as they stomped their way down the stairs to the bowling alley - the sounds and smells of Havenfall's Finest getting everything together wafting through the now open door.

"I hope you weren't too hard on them, Morgan. It's just Helena and I."

Although, "just Helena and you" couldn't be further from the truth. There was nothing "just" about the gorgeous blonde that had waltzed into your life only a few months prior. And even though the two of you had had your fair share of … Visits? Hangouts? Whatevers? ... you were far more nervous than you would ever let on.

"Listen.. I love them dearly, you know that, but if JD had it their way, that table would be filled with the most abominable culinary creations either of you have ever seen. And I don't want Helena getting scared away by Jordan's horrendous taste in food before any of us have even had a chance of getting to know her."

You put your hands up in surrender, chuckling even harder. "Alright, alright."

"Still.. we should probably make our way downstairs before they get any ideas…"

You snorted. "Good thinking."

***

The sun had just started to set when Helena walked out of the front doors to her apartment building, washing the vast Indiana sky in warm hues of oranges, reds and pinks - a stark contrast to the crisp bite that came with the late Autumn evening air. A soft ping from the blonde's phone and the hushed sounds of a stealthy stride were all that were to be heard as she walked down the otherwise empty street. A subtle smile coming to Helena's lips when she finally stops to check the notification on her phone.

Frances: Of course it is! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine :)

She breathed in a sigh of relief. Even though she knew Frances would be understanding, she still felt a little bad for inviting Vanessa along. Unfortunately the vampire knew it was the best opportunity for the Huntress to be able to meet everybody. To be able to tell her if anyone within Havenfall's inner circle had had anything to do with the coven that turned her. For one thing, the Sorceress' keen senses gave her the gnawing feeling that pretty much everyone who had connection with that bowling alley was likely not human - that she was almost certain - but as for the specifics, those she was unclear on.

That's where Vanessa Helsing came in. Coming from a long line of vampire hunters, she had been tracking the same coven as Helena for months, eager to take them down - to wipe them out. She was the only person Helena knew who had seen almost every person of importance within Dagon's coven. So, needless to say the two had quite a bit they could gain from one another.

Helena had told the Huntress to meet her at the bowling alley, and there she stood. Cladded in black leather under a dim street light - her dark hair almost rivaling the night sky above.

"Good evening, Vanessa."

"Evening, Helena. You sure you want to do this?"

The blonde nodded.

"Your knowledge has been immeasurable in my progress, Helsing. Even if we find no accord within, your presence is still appreciated. Frances means a great deal to me. I need to make sure she's protected."

Vanessa smiled before nodding. "Alright, then. After you."

***

"Wait.. what do you mean she's bringing someone? Like, a friend?"

You placed your phone face down onto the counter and shrugged.

"Ah.. more like a colleague, I guess? I don't really know much about her, honestly."

Helena had only mentioned Vanessa once before to you, months ago when she named her as the client she'd met with that day at the bowling alley. (Though, according to Morgan, the two of them never even made it there that day.) But other than that, the specifics of their relationship were a complete mystery to you.

"Mhm.. well, I'm going to be keeping an eye on said colleague."

You were about to tell Morgan not to bother when the doors to the bowling alley abruptly opened, a rush of cold air as Helena and who you presumed was Vanessa walked in. You couldn't help your mouth from falling open a little at the sight. Helena, of course, looked breathtaking - radiant. With a deep cerulean low cut shirt covered in a red blazer. The colors a perfect contrast to her moonlit hair. The woman next her to her, though… I guess when you had thought of the word 'colleague', she wasn't quite what you had in mind. Morgan leaned in a bit, nudging you softly before whispering.

"Oh, I am definitely going to be keeping an eye on her."

You chuckled. "She's allowed to have friends, Morgan."

"Not friends who look like that and dress completely in black leather.. and, is that a bull whip connected to her belt??"

"Heh, my kinda friend." You heard JD mutter under their breath from behind you, which only led to Morgan scowling.

You cleared your throat. "Just.. be cool, guys."

You walked away from the pair before they could say anything else. And they weren't wrong. Vanessa was incredibly beautiful. With hair as inky as a night sky and a body that screamed nothing but self discipline and rigorous routine. But the way Helena's eyes lit up and how her smile widened at the sight of you definitely helped stifle some of the intrusive thoughts that were slowly trying to move in.

"My dear Frances, good evening. A pleasure as always." She exclaimed with a low bow. "This is Vanessa. I appreciate you allowing her to join us tonight."

You nodded. "Of course! Nice to meet you, Vanessa."

"Please, call me Van. And it's nice to meet you as well."

You turned just in time to see the rest of Havenfall's Finest coming up behind you. At least three of them with their mouths fully agape. You had to chuckle, fully aware of the effect Helena tended to have on people.

"Helena.. this is Razi, the owner and proprietor of this fine establishment. Mac, the town's Sheriff. Diego, Havenfall's finest doctor. And, last but not least, JD and Morgan, our resident chaos demon and their loyal girlfriend. Everyone, this is Helena."

Razi and Mac both gave the blonde a very exuberant "Hello!", shaking her hand. You even swore you saw tiniest hue of pink rising to the Sheriff's cheeks as Helena responded with "A pleasure." Diego on the other hand, seemed more anxious than anything, his gaze shifting back and forth between the two women. As for JD and Morgan, while both were as friendly as ever, Jordan wouldn't be Jordan if they didn't do their best to lay on the charm.

"So, this is the woman that's been stealing our friend away from us… not that I can blame her."

Helena, of course, chuckled gracefully. "Much apologies."

"Mhm.. I'm sure."

You gave JD a pleading look, hoping they'd take the hint and stop before they said anything else. Which thankfully they did, giving you a playful wink instead.

"And this is my.. colleague, Vanessa."

The group gave the mysterious woman a unified greeting, all except for Diego who only nodded and JD who whistled low.

"If that's a colleague, I really need to get myself into the security business."

Both Vanessa and Morgan glared in their direction, an act that quickly made the enby rub the back of their neck nervously.

"A-anyways, let's get this party started, shall we?!"

"Very smooth, Jordan." Morgan replied, rolling her eyes.

You had to hand it to them all, the bowling alley looked absolutely enchanting. And while you were well aware that Morgan and JD cared greatly for you, the lengths that the rest of Havenfall's Finest went to to make sure the evening went as smooth as possible was, needless to say, incredibly heartwarming.

The ceiling was strewn with more twinkle lights than you had ever seen and the long table in the center of the main room had just about every guilty pleasure food you could possibly think of. You made sure to make a mental note to thank Razi later for not letting JD have any say in the buffet. Though, you had to laugh when you came across a small, yet very suspicious pie at the bottom of the table with the distinct aroma of mustard coming from it. It was almost crazy to think how in just a few short months this hodgepodge group of cryptids had almost become like a second family to you. Even Mac was dressed in something other than her usual sheriff's uniform.

You were just about to walk over to where Helena and Vanessa were standing when Morgan pulled you aside. Her brow slightly furrowed.

"Hey, I didn't want to say anything in front of JD because they'd just go all detective mode on us, but I know I've seen Vanessa somewhere before. And Diego seemed on edge as soon as she walked in."

Your gaze lingered over to where the two women stood talking, obviously in the middle of a rather serious conversation.

"Hm.. wish I could say I knew more about her. Helena isn't very forthcoming about the ins and outs of her job."

"Yeah. Well, if I think of anything, I'll definitely let you know."

You nodded. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

Morgan gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before wandering off to find JD. Even with the party finally starting to get under swing, your mind couldn't help but begin to drift off to more unsavory thoughts. Just how often did Vanessa frequent Havenfall if both Diego and Morgan seemed to recognize her? Did that mean Helena was meeting with her more often than she'd let on? Were they closer than just colleagues? I mean, you couldn't blame her for choosing someone who looked like Vanessa over someone who looked like.. well.. you..

She was hot.. fit.. beautiful in a way you could never be.

And you were, well.. you.

You subconsciously pulled at the blouse that just a few moments ago had filled you with such confidence, wondering if there was even a point. How could you compete with that? With.. her? How could you be expected to-

"Frances?"

You were jerked abruptly from your thoughts, Helena's pensive face in front of yours.

"Is something the matter? You looked a thousand miles away."

Immediately filled with embarrassment, you quickly shook your head.

"Oh! Yes, no.. I'm fine.. really, I'm fine!" You answered, chuckling nervously.

The blonde hummed low before linking her arm in yours.

"Well, then.. come and accompany us over by the stage, hm?"

The.. stage??

As you followed Helena past the lanes and towards the back of the arcade room, you found that the blonde was right - there was indeed a small platform back there. One that you were certain hadn’t been there before.

"What in the-"

"Ohhh, just wait! You guys are gonna love this!" JD exclaimed as they practically ran over to the two of you. More excited than you'd ever seen them.

"JD.. what.."

"Fuck! Is Razi ever gonna regret buying this." They laughed, holding up a small microphone.

Karaoke. Razi had actually purchased a karaoke machine. Gods, save us all.

The moment JD slipped on their sunglasses, stepped onto the stage and started dancing around it, Morgan's sigh was all too prevalent in your ear as she came to stand beside you - a low baseline coming through steadily from the speakers. You chuckled before turning to her.

"That bad, huh?"

She sighed again. "Jordan's actual singing voice is really quite nice, but of course they'd never be caught dead using it properly in public."

"Ah, gotcha."

You laughed and shook your head, trying to figure out where you had heard that guitar riff before and why it sounded so familiar. You were fairly certain the song choice was of the Metal genre - which would be on par for JD's taste in music - but the underlying melody reminded you of something else. Of something you'd heard a million times before but couldn't quite put your finger on-

Oh.. oh no

JD smirked as the intro diminished, the first lyric sung boastfully from their lungs.

"We're no strangers to looove…"

Morgan groaned immediately. "Jordan! For fucks sake, no!"

"You know the rules, and so do IIII…"

Helena turned to you, obviously a bit amused at the crowd's reaction.

"I am afraid I do not understand the reference. Why are so many people opposed to this song choice?"

JD sang even louder. You wouldn't get this from, any other enbyyyyy."

You did your best to speak loud enough for the blonde to hear you, giving her a quick background of the song and what it meant to be "Rick Rolled". Helena laughed and nodded before turning back to the entertainment, her foot tapping along with the melody.

"Never gonna give, gonna give.. give you up!"

Much to her dismay, you couldn't help but laugh and cheer every time JD pointed to Morgan during the chorus. An act that only made her groan even louder. And the moment the song ended, you could hear Razi yelling from the back of the room.

"I'm docking your pay for that, Jordan!"

The enby bowed dramatically, giving you a little wink before hopping off the stage.

"Mh.. seems that is my queue, little one." Helena whispered to you, giving you a smirk.

"Wha-?"

You stood, a blush already dusting your cheeks and your mouth agape. She was.. she was going to sing???

You took a deep, steadying breath. Completely unaware that the blonde could even carry a note let alone that you would be graced with whatever celestial sounds were about to part from that delicious mouth of hers. But there she was, basked in a kaleidoscope of colors from the lighting above and looking absolutely ethereal.

"Hold steady, Frances."

You swallowed hard, side-eyeing Morgan. "I'll do my best."

And while you had never heard of the song Helena had chosen before, you knew the moment the first note left her lips that you were done for. A hauntingly beautiful melody - smooth Alto notes sang in a soft (what you assumed was her native tongue) German. Your mouth was still open when JD came to stand next to you, nudging you softly in the ribcage.

"Hear something you like? Hm?"

They wiggled their eyebrows at you but all you could do was stare. Of course she sang like a fucking goddess. Of course she was fucking perfect.

Too perfect.

Too fucking perfect.

And here you were, with your mediocre self, expecting her to feel the same? Pssh.

"Psst.. you know what has to happen now, right?" Morgan whispered, her eyes glued to the stage and the incredible being that was on it.

"No."

"Yes! You'd blow her away and you know it."

"No. Not a chance."

"Yess, you have to."

"Are you even listening to her right now? It's-!"

"Don't you dare tell me it's pointless, Frances. Just because she has a gorgeous voice doesn't mean that yours isn't just as hot!"

For the first time since Helena had started singing you looked away from the stage, staring blankly at your friend. "... y-you think… I'm.. ah-"

"Yes, I think, and so does JD… and Razi.. and everyone else in Havenfall who's heard you sing to yourself. So.. you're going to get up there and you're gonna make that woman breathless!"

You sighed, admitting defeat. "Fine, but I choose the song!"

"Fine! Which?"

You smirked. "Rooms on Fire. Good luck finding it."

Morgan smirked even wider and you immediately swallowed. "Bold of you to assume JD hasn't already programmed Stevie Nicks' entire discography into that thing. They've had a thing for her since forever."

You swallowed again. "... Fuck."

***

Helena's body was all a buzz as she stepped down from the small podium. Electrically charged and tingling from the applause of her soon to be peers. She wasn't even sure what had made her get up and do it. And by the look on Frances' face, she was just as stunned. But there was something about being in the round woman's presence that always gave Helena a boost. That gave her the type of courage that made her feel like she could do just about anything. And in that moment, all she wanted to do was to show that warm, delightfully kind woman one of her gifts.

And hopefully - just hopefully - receive some of hers in return.

So you can imagine the look of surprise that sprung to the vampire's face and feeling of elation that rolled over her when Frances stepped up onto the stage. As the same warm light that had just washed over her casted the woman in a brilliant hue, making her look even more beautiful to the Sorceress than she already did.

A brief lapse of time, a single breath of silence before the song started. And it was that moment, when the first flawless note fell from Frances' lips, that Helena knew. Knew why she'd initially been drawn to her and what had kept her so enthralled since.

After all this time, searching between the two realms in which she had inhabited, she had finally found her. A soul as pure and kind as the woman who had saved her from the darkness many years ago. The woman who bore the same face as the one who had stripped her of everything and gave her a life renewed. She had never once, in all her years since leaving the realm she then called home, came across another person who had shone as bright as that woman did.

But here, in that solitary moment of clarity, as the melodic notes rang out from Frances' body and danced across Helena like a lullaby from some other place - like a spell from some archaic time that sang out into the heavens and carved itself into sky - that's when she knew. That's when it all became clear, that Frances was also a keeper of that light - of that bright soul that soothed over the vampire like a celestial balm.

Helena also knew that from that point she'd no longer be able to ignore her feelings for the woman. That her tendencies to mute her emotions and stifle those desires within that seemed to burn with the heat of a thousand suns would no longer be possible.

And as she watched the music take hold of this incredible creature, with all of Frances' curves swaying to the melody - eyes closed and cheeks a gorgeous hue of rose - she made a silent vow to both herself and the woman in front of her. A promise that she would no longer take the coward's way out when it came to her heart and what it deserved. That she would channel that courage she always felt when Frances was around and finally tell her..

Finally tell her that she was, undoubtedly and without measure, falling for her.

***

You opened your eyes as soon as the last note faded off, the crowd before you standing stunned - in awe - almost in disbelief at what they'd just witnessed. And while you were more than used to people's reaction to your voice, you still smiled proudly to yourself. A subtle blush dusting your cheeks as a resounding applause rang out from some of your favorite people.

"Holy shit, Frances. That was incredible!" JD beamed. "You did our girl Stevie some serious justice."

You chuckled. "Thanks, Jordan."

"They ain't lying, friend, that was the best I've ever heard you sing." Added Morgan as she handed you a tiny piece of cloth for your forehead, which you gratefully took.

"Thank you, one might say I was a little inspired."

"Well, inspiration suits you well, then, little one."

Helena's praise caught you off guard, immediately making you turn and face her.

"I- .. uh.. th-thank you? I mean.. ahem.. yeah.. ah, thanks, Helena." You stammered, rubbing the back of your neck.

Helena only nodded but you could tell the blonde had wanted to say more. A fact that must not have been lost on Morgan either as she quickly cleared her throat and hooked her arm into JD's.

"Well, we'll leave you two to talk."

"We will?? But I was just about to ask Frances if she wanted to-"

JD's words stopped mid-sentence the moment their eyes caught Morgan's.

"Oh.. right.. I mean.. we'll leave you two to .. talk."

The enby's subtle tone and small wink was more than enough to fluster you before they sauntered off, your cheeks heating up ever so slightly.

"That Jordan is a rather peculiar person. They remind me of someone I knew back home."

For some reason the thought of Helena being friends with their own version of JD made you feel incredibly warm inside, almost as if an invisible thread had always connected the two of you.

"Really?" You laughed.

"Mh, indeed. His name was Iseul. Your friend Jordan has a very similar spark of mischief to them." She answered, the deep blues of her eyes seeming to wander off in thought for a moment before she continued. "You remind me of someone I once knew as well, Frances."

Now that.. that..

You took a deep, steadying breath as a wash of warmth spread over you like a freshly drawn bath, re-igniting the desire in you that you had, admittedly, done your best to ignore over the past couple of months.

You felt your cheeks heat up a little more before you spoke. "O-oh? Really?"

The blonde hummed, looking almost sad. "She was, until now, the kindest woman I had even known."

You swallowed hard, not even sure how to respond to that information. In all honesty, there was nothing more you wanted to do than grab onto her, hold her close, and scream out into the heavens how much she meant to you. But you also knew that, of all places, the local bowling alley was not the place to make such affections known.

Nor was it the right time…

Probably.

As you collected your thoughts, you took a moment to scan your surroundings. Razi and Mac had seemingly found themselves in a rather heated game of bowling as Diego watched, sipping silently from the tiny flask that he normally kept on him. As for the arcade area, you couldn’t help but chuckle when your gaze landed on JD and Vanessa going head to head in a very excited round of DDR, the sound of Morgan cheering them heard throughout the entire bowling alley.

You swallowed again before smiling and tentatively took the blonde's hand in yours.

"What do you say we take a walk after all of this? There's a place I'd really like to show you, if that's alright with you?"

Helena smiled in turn, her eyes brightening to almost match the color of her shirt. "I would like that very much, little one."

***

The crisp autumn air met Helena like an old friend as she stepped out onto the curb - the wind softly blowing just cold enough to bite at her cheeks, reddening them. With a large moon above them, the Huntress walked silently beside the Vampire, biding her time until they got to her van.

"I want to thank you again for coming, Vanessa." Helena spoke, breaking the silence.

"No worries at all. I had fun actually."

The blonde chuckled. "As did I."

Vanessa shifted nervously from one foot to the other, smiling in a way that made Helena more anxious than she would've liked. The idea of Frances not being safe when she wasn't around.. well, that was a thought that only made the Sorceress' heart sink.

"Out with it." She said plainly.

Vanessa sighed.

"Well, the good news is that I can confidentially tell you that nobody in Frances' immediate circle is part of Dagon's coven."

Helena nodded. "That is good, at least."

"That being said, I can also tell you that most of the people within that circle.. aren't human. And that at least one of them is a vampire."

Helena's gaze shifted quickly. "Which?"

"Diego."

The blonde hummed in thought.

"What about JD and Morgan?"

"Morgan is human as far as I can tell. JD is.. well, I'm not exactly sure what JD is, but it's an energy I've never encountered before. So, whatever they are, it's something rare."

Helena chuckled to herself, recalling the time when Frances had called JD 'one of a kind'.

"That does not surprise me. In your opinion, though, would you say that Frances is safe?"

Helena asked the question simply, for that was the most important thing. Everything else was secondary. Everything else could be discussed at a later time. On a night when the air wasn't so clear and she didn't have that incredible woman waiting for her.

The Huntress nodded, a curtain of dark hair falling into her face.

"I do. At this point anyways. I still have some digging to do, but I'll contact you if I find anything that makes me feel otherwise."

"You have my gratitude, Helsing. Thank you."

"Anytime. You just leave all the boring stuff to me and enjoy the rest of your night." Vanessa replied with a wink before climbing into her van.

The blonde smirked. "Oh, that I intend to."

***

To be perfectly honest, you'd been planning on taking Helena to the lake ever since the plans for that evening were first made. And when Jordan had found out, the spark of mischief and excitement in their eyes was so bright it almost lit up the whole room. Even before you had left the bowling alley they pulled you aside.

"You're still taking her to the lake, yeah?"

A cheeky wink and subtle smirk was all you got in reply when you answered 'yes', which only made you slightly nervous. You knew deep down that if JD had some sort of surprise in the works, it would only be in your favor. They knew how much Helena had meant to you. And honestly, other than Morgan, they'd been the most supportive through it all.

The sky was littered with thousands of twinkling stars as you pulled up to the lake, all paying homage to the bright moon that hung among them. That casted a brilliant reflection into the still water and made you all the more confident in your decision to bring her there. It was beautiful, just like Helena. Almost so that it almost seemed too luminous to be real…

… Just like Helena.

"I see why you like this place, little one." The blonde said, closing her door.

"Oh?"

"Mh, on a night like tonight, it almost looks like a painting."

You smiled, wanting to say more than a quiet "That, it does." As if any sight could compete with how the moonlight danced upon Helena's rosen cheeks and frolicked throughout her hair. How her eyes sparkled and gleamed, making the stars above only pale in comparison. She was a literal work of art, a masterpiece within herself. A goddess walking on earth. She was-

"Frances?"

Her soft tone caught you off guard, and when her gaze met yours you'd almost forgotten how to speak entirely. She looked at you in a way no other person had, as if you were a lifeline and she were a rope. Tethered and frayed and yet oh so beautiful.

"Ah, sorry.. was I staring?"

"Mh.. a little." She chuckled.

"S-sorry."

When you rubbed the back of your neck subconsciously she took your other hand.

"Do not be."

Her voice was soft but the look in her eyes was even softer. A subtle heat coming to your cheeks as she took your other hand in hers, leaning in ever so slightly.

Did she want to-

Was she going to-

Helena took another step closer and you almost immediately fell back, moving away with such abruptness that you nearly toppled over the hood of your car. But, of course, Helena caught you.

"Fuck. Sorry. I.. ah.. shit."

"It is I who should be sorry, little one. I should not have assumed."

For the first time since you'd met her, the blonde looked embarrassed. Which honestly only made you feel worse. You shook your head vehemently.

"No, no. Please. Fuck. You did nothing wrong, Helena. It's just.. ah.. there's some things about me we should probably talk about before this goes any further."

With that Helena took a step back, looking at you thoughtfully and nodded.

"By all means. I am, as they say, all ears."

Before a single word had even fallen from your lips you could feel the subtle sting of tears - pooling at the corners of your eyes and betraying your emotions. You hated this part. You always had. When the love interest finds out your secret and opts for just being friends instead. Though, admittedly, you had genuinely hoped for just a little more time before having to say goodbye to Helena.

"Frances." She said softly, your hands still in hers. "There is, without doubt, not a single thing you could tell me about yourself that I would not be able to accept."

There was a shadow of something darker that lurked within the blonde's gaze that instantly made you believe her. Her eyes a stormier blue than you'd seen before - heavier, sullen - as if they held an untold story of long ago. You took a deep, calming breath - for you knew that, despite your fears, there was nothing in the world you wanted more than to trust her.

"Alright, well.. you see, I'm.. demisexual."

You could tell by the look on her face that it was a phrase Helena hadn't heard before, her eyes giving you a once over.

"I apologize, Frances. I have not.. is this something similar to a demigod?"

At this you couldn't help but laugh, an act that was honestly much needed and actually made you feel a lot more relaxed.

You snorted. "I wish. I'm afraid the only "super power" it gives me is being somewhat sexually stunted."

Helena moved to stand next to you, leaning back against the front of your car - her gaze looking out thoughtfully onto the water.

"Would it help you to know, little one, that, in my own way, that is something I quite understand."

You turned to face her, fingers still locked in hers and resting on the hood of the car. She looked so open, so attentive to whatever it was that you had to tell her. Her eyes shimmering in a way that almost seemed magical. You took another deep breath and pushed back the tears that still were begging to be released.

"Alright.. here goes nothing.." You let out a heavy sigh and felt Helena squeeze your hand a little tighter. "Being demi.. basically means that without a strong emotional bond with a person, my sexual desire for them will be… lack thereof."

The blonde stood quietly, only listening, so you continued.

"While being demi is a spectrum, and some people may only need a strong friendship connection to feel that, for me… well.. it's usually always taken a very strong.. and albeit long.. romantic connection for me to feel, well, aroused with someone."

Helena nodded. "I understand."

"That being said.. you, Helena.. you've made me feel things that I very rarely ever feel, almost immediately.. and to say that I haven't thought of or wouldn't like to sleep with you already is well.. ah.." You felt your cheeks immediately redden and chuckled, shaking your head. "Here I am just assuming that's something you'd actually want from me."

Helena looked at you silently for a moment before speaking."... You assume correctly, Frances. I find myself very attracted to you."

And now you were blushing even harder.

"O-oh."

Helena chuckled. "You are an incredible woman, Frances."

"I.. well.." You took yet another deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts within the chaos of your mind. As if saying what you had to say wasn't hard enough already. "But see.. that's the thing, Helena.. like, you're so beautiful and kind and intriguing and sexy and to say I haven't thought of us together more than a few times in the last few months is well.. it's different for me and I... ahh-"

The blonde inched herself a little closer to you and hummed. "Breathe, little one."

And you did, deeply. Closing your eyes as you let the crisp Fall air and subtle undertones of juniper that rolled off of Helena wash over you.

"Attraction aside…" You exhaled, ".. with how my sexual desire works.. I have no clue when that would actually happen for us."

Helena nodded again. "I understand."

"And so, this is probably where you leave. And I can't even blame you.. 'cause who wants to wait months or even years before becoming sexually intimate with someone? Other than me, that is, but I'm an outlier and shouldn't be counted."

"My dear Frances, you should always be counted."

"Well, that.."

You grinned all too widely and looked down at your hands that were still interlocked. The subtle pink that dusted your round cheeks swiftly deepening and painting them in a warm crimson.

"And as it was, little one, I have absolutely no intention of leaving you. When I say that I find myself very attracted to you.. it is not solely on a physical level. You see, my soul feels lighter when you are near. My thoughts warm when I think of you and my heart seems to ache when I have not had the pleasure of your company for awhile. I believe that I am, wholey and without doubt, falling for you, Frances."

You stared at her blankly for a moment, no words to be had.

"As for my own shortcomings.. sexual and emotional trauma finds me on a similar acumen as you. So, please, do not feel as if we are far apart on these understandings."

You immediately almost felt angry at the thought of anyone mistreating her. This goddess of a woman who deserved to feel nothing but love and compassion for her rest of her days.

"Fuck, I am.. I'm so sorry to hear that, Helena."

The blonde waved her hand dismissively and closed the last bit of distance between you.

"It is a lifetime ago and a story for another night."

You nodded. "Just know I'm always here to listen whenever you're ready to talk about it."

"I know, dear one." Helena smiled, so openly and warmly that you felt your heart lurch a little. The subtle lines in the corners of her eyes creasing as she leaned in closer to cup your cheek. "May I kiss you?"

You felt your cheeks warm beneath the cool touch of her fingers, soft tears forming in your eyes and a laugh upon your lips. "Yes, Helena. You may."

And as her lips touched yours, fireworks lit up the world around you. Not just metaphorically - but physically. Bright and untamed - fire in the sky - that reached out across the heavens above you.

JD's surprise.

It had to be.

You smiled even wider as your kiss deepened. As sparkling embers rained from the sky and your hands came to frame Helena's face. You kissed her softly - tenderly - wanting nothing more than for her to feel just how absolutely precious she was to you. And when the kiss finally broke, you were both crying. Happy tears of emotions long felt. With bright bursts of reds and blues, of oranges and yellows, reflecting across the still of the water as the two of you embraced.

"I'm so glad you came tonight, Helena."

"Mh.. as am I. It was a lovely evening."

"Heh, that it was."

"And who would have thought, that all this time I was in the presence of such a remarkable vocalist."

Helena smirked, making you blush.

"Psh, speak for yourself! That song you sang was beautiful."

The blonde hummed, smiling. "Thank you, little one. It is named 'Diese kalte Nacht'. It is by the band Faun. I am rather fond of them."

You chuckled to yourself. You knew if JD were there they would have made one of their legendary puns right about now.. "Oh, so you'd say you're... FAUNd of them?"

"Well, I can't say that I understood any of it, but you sang it beautifully."

"As did you, Frances. I do not know of this Stevie Nicks, but I have to wonder if her voice is anywhere near comparable to yours."

You looked at her for a moment, mouth agape.

"Oh, that's it. We are so having a Stevie Nicks night at my place!"

"Mh.. consider it a date."

***

You had just crawled into bed when your phone went off.

Morgan: Yoooo.. you awake?

You: Yep! Just got home, actually lol.

Morgan: Oh? How'd it go??

You: Really, really good. We uh.. we kissed.

Morgan: I knew it! We knew she liked you! Jordan is gonna be fucking ecstatic when I tell them.

You: lol You guys are the best.

Morgan: Well, you deserve it :]

You: Thanks lol

Morgan: Ah.. not to add some unwanted mystery to the evening... but I figured out why Vanessa looked so familiar. Had a little chat with Diego after you left.

You: Oh????

Morgan: Um.. yeah.. she's a fucking vampire hunter.

You: A.. WHAT?!

[cherrycolacookie]

Friendly neighborhood…you know the rest. 💙❤️

[weepingfoxfury]

The man on the radio is not the usual man on the radio ... particularly because it's a woman on the radio. She has dulcet tones and knows where all the buttons are. The newspaper person did not bring in today's newspapers, which led to the woman on the radio scouring for things online only to come up against paywalls. Headlines only and no traffic lady today.

Weatherwise ... someone must have blinked! Cloudy all the way, hope you enjoyed those couple of days sunshine folks.

Slept better but still clutching my coffee cup ... and the pot.

Ever set up a tent and come back to find others have occupied it? A couple of friends of mine went to a festival ... set up their 4 man tent in a 'We like it just so' kind of manner and then headed off for an hour.

On their return, it was to find 8 people inside their tent. As they poked their heads in further, they realised there was now mud throughout, the uninvited 'guests' were eating their food and drinking their drinks ... and one of them turned to my friends and said 'no more room in here mate.'

I will leave to your imagination how blue the air got. One of the two friends has quite some temperament and let the 'guests' know in no uncertain terms that twas time to leave.

Festival etiquette ... half smiling to myself imagining if it was applied to anytime and anywhere. You just pulled in on your way home and the first unoccupied house you came to was yours for the night.

Utter chaos and a free for all and you could be driving for miles in search of a free house ... plus, you could get home to find someone else had helped themselves to your coffee pot! I mean ... I'm all for sharing, but that's a step too far ;-)

[chaotic-sproutlet]

I don’t know why but my friends decided to argue on the group chat (at 3AM) about which day of the week is physically the strongest…

….

[cdreambur]

real music

[riwrite]

its probably been pretty obvious at this point but ive been really struggling with rp lately. ive just felt stuck, like i dont know how to do this anymore. i really struggle to keep the handful of threads i can get and i posted an inbox call two weeks ago and i havent sent out a single ask for it. i dont mean this post to come across as much of a vent post or anything, it's mostly just me acknowledging this. i really want to write with and even befriend you guys but i feel like i've forgotten how for some reason. so i guess thanks for sticking around even though ive failed to actually write smth for a while, it means a lot <3 i do want get back on my feet bc i love this hobby dearly and honestly? i miss it. which feels silly considering how often im actually on this blog but i do really miss it and im doing my best to figure this out

[miscellaneousjay]

GO MEGAN GO MEGAN GO!!!!!!!💪🏾🥰

theestallion: Like A G6 Freestyle for thee fun hotties lol

[mollywog]

Miscellaneous Monday!

Thank you for the tag @thelettersfromnoone 🩶

They head to the justice building two days later with all the usual fanfare of a [District 12 word for Shotgun-wedding] wedding. There’s no rented gown or party to greet them outside, just an old reaping dress and two required witnesses.

She forbade Prim from coming, as if anyone seeing the three together would determine the truth right away, with her sister’s peaked complexion and the miss-matched bride and groom. Instead her mother and the old Victor accompany them up the marvel stairs.

Please send suggestions for what the [orange] should be (my brain cannot move past past this synonym)

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt II

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, single motherhood, kindergarten teacher AU, school field trip, awkward bashful stevie, ONE use of y/n bc the story called for it sorry i don’t make the rules, mention of parent death

AN - here’s part two! I’m so thankful for the love and support you all showed on the first part and continue to show on all my works. It means so much that you guys enjoy my silly little delusions that i happened to turn into silly little stories!

Much love ~ emma

“Well, she’s excelling in English and reading, but struggling a bit with our math unit,” your daughter’s new kindergarten teacher informs you across a maplewood desk clad with plenty of miscellaneous trinkets; Abbey sits on a plastic chair next to you. Normally, it’s not recommended to bring your child to a parent/teacher conference, but with the cost of hiring a sitter lately, this was your only feasible option.

“That being said,” he continues optimistically, “I have plenty of practice worksheets I can send home with you, and if she’s still not getting it in a few weeks, I'm more than willing to stay after hours to work with her.”

You cringe at the idea of him working overtime for you or Abbey, even if it’s literally his job.

“That’s very generous, Mr. H, but–”

He cuts you off, speaking your name in a reassuring tone, “I promise, I’m happy to. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to be,” he chuckles, gesturing to the empty room where you sit.

He senses your hesitation but continues anyway, “Look, I’ll give you the worksheets, and check back in next week. Deal?” he’s clearly asking you, but Abbey beats you to the punch, “Can I use my crayons?”

“Obviously,” he phrases it as though he would expect nothing less.

Abbey gives a barely noticeable little pump of her fist. She’s wriggling around in her seat and you can tell she’s getting antsy with all the ‘grownup talk’. Steve rises first and sticks his hand out for you to shake and when you return the gesture, he takes your palm in both of his.

“Hey, Abbey’s doing great, seriously. You have nothing to worry about,” maybe you look anxious at the prospect of your child struggling in a subject because you somehow weren’t attentive enough, or maybe he can just read you like a book. Either way, his hands on you are dizzying.

“I appreciate that,” you offer him a tender smile as he releases you from his grasp. “What do you say, Abbey? Wanna head home?”

She immediately deflates at the question. School has been in session for barely two months, and all she can seem to talk about is her new teacher. The car rides home and dinners at the table are spent telling tales of his Star Wars impressions, or how he hangs up every picture he’s given on the corkboard behind his desk– how he lets the class have extra recess time if they behave all day long, and how he ‘never ever’ raises his voice.

You can always picture it so easily. There’s something naturally whimsical about him, and anyone can tell he was made for this career. There’s a distant fear that the infatuation Abbey seems to have with him is caused by the absence of her own father, and you wish constantly to be able to give her that– to be two parents for the price of one– but as much as she adores you, there’s always going to be a void in her life that you alone can’t fill. It makes you ache to dwell on it for too long.

“Can’t we stay just a little bit longer?” She pleads with glistening eyes.

“I’m sure Mr. H wants to get home too, Ab,” at that, her features twist into a pout.

Steve kneels in front of her, “I’m gonna see you on Monday though, right?” She tearfully nods, “Good,” he grins and gives her hair a little ruffle when he stands.

“You two have a good weekend, and drive home safe, okay?”

You send him a shy wave, “You too, Mr. H,”

As you’re making your way down the hallway towards the exit with Abbey's hand clasped tightly in yours, you hear a voice along with heavy footfall echo after you, “Wait!--”

When you turn around, Steve’s lightly jogging towards you with a flyer in his hand, “I forgot to give you this,” he pants when he catches up. He hands you a colorful paper advertising a class field trip to Spiller Farm– an orchard a few miles outside of town.

He runs a hand through his hair, mussed from a stressful day doing exactly that, “We still need a few more chaperones, I wanted to ask if you’d be able to?”

Abbey’s demeanor becomes instantly lighter as she begins tugging on your arm, “Please, mommy?!” she begs, as if she’d even have to. “Definitely! Let me double check my schedule and make sure I’m not working,” you smile kindly, “I’ll let you know on Monday when I drop her off,”

For a split second, Steve considers just giving you his number before he thinks better of it. You barely know him, for Christ’s sake. I’d look like a complete creep, He thinks.

“Y-yeah– that’s fine,” he winces at his own awkwardness, “Trip’s on Wednesday,” again feeling like a blundering idiot, as the flyer he just handed you clearly states as much.

If you notice though, you don’t mention it. You simply say,

 “See you Monday,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Abbey seemed to be in better spirits by the time you made it home and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. You’ve always envied the rebound rate of her sour moods; maybe you should take a page out of her book.

She sits at the table playing with two perfectly groomed Barbie Dolls. Her other toys were a different story– baby doll’s with botched haircuts, stuffed animals with unidentifiable stains and the occasional hole, but her Barbies were always considered with the utmost care a five-year-old could offer.

“Mr. H says his favorite pizza is pepperoni,” she says from where she sits behind you, “is that what kind we’re having?”

“No, silly goose, you don’t like pepperoni,” you remind her, “you always say it’s too spicy,”

“Oh, okay,” she sounds indifferent; she trusts you to remember what she likes and dislikes on her behalf, sparing no room in her growing brain for such trivial facts.

“Can I have four slices?” She asks sweetly. You hum and pretend to give it some thought before bargaining, “How about I give you one slice first, and then if you’re still hungry, you can have more?”

She nods, taking the bait. You eventually make it to the table, plates in hand, and eat the greasy slices in a comfortable silence until Abbey asks,

“What kind of pizza did my daddy like?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked questions about Jeremy, and you know it won’t be the last, but your heart still sinks a little every time she does.

“Your dad liked hawaiian pizza, that was his favorite,”

“‘ha-way-en’?” she mispronounces, “what’s that?” her little features contort with confusion.

You correct her pronunciation and reply, “Well, technically It’s a state, but hawaiian pizza has ham and pineapple on it,”

Her confusion morphs to disgust and she giggles, “Ew!”

“I know,” her laughter is contagious, “I don’t like it either,” you wave your hand in front of your nose in a ‘P.U’ gesture.

Her father is no longer a topic of conversation after that. It was always like this– the questions generally mundane and inconsequential, not realizing that the images she’s conjuring are covered in cobwebs and dust; buried deep in the forgotten corners of your subconscious.

When you’re a kid, nothing holds that kind of weight. Petty things like broken toys or an early bedtime are the most of her worries and memories aren’t so burdening– yet another thing you envy of her youth.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next few days go by without a hitch– school, ballet class and homemade dinners every night– that is until Wednesday morning when you wake up and are immediately confronted with the sun cascading through your curtains, and your alarm that's been beeping for thirty minutes longer than it normally does.

Abbey is straddling your lap and vigorously shaking your shoulders, “Mom! Mom, we have to go!” The panic you feel outweighs the embarrassment of being woken up late by your own child, and you rush to slip on a pair of jeans and the first sweater you make out on top of your hamper.

A sideways glance at the clock tells you that you have exactly three minutes to get out the door– it appears that your go-to look lately is bags under your eyes and your hair scooped up into the nearest claw clip. The trend continues today, though you’re able to dab on a little concealer while Abbey puts her boots on in the mudroom.

You’re both shocked and amazed that she’s dressed– her outfit even mostly coordinating. Unfortunately, the remains of what was supposed to be a ham and cheese sandwich are littered all over the counter. Crackers for lunch today it is.

Grabbing her mostly empty backpack, you ask, “You got everything, Ab?”

“Yep!” She shouts, mostly because she was already outside and standing in the driveway, waiting for you to unlock the car for her.

When you get to the school, several golden buses are parked in a single file line and opening their doors for dozens of children to pour in.  A little mortified, you realize you’re the last parent here, and silently pray that there’ll still be a seat for you and Abbey on the bus.

You’re searching for Steve, albeit unconsciously. You aren’t acquainted with any of the other teachers, and he’s your life raft in this sea of chaos and PTA soccer moms. You don’t have to look for very long though, before your name is being shouted from a few feet away on the tarmac. Grasping Abbey’s wrist, you shoulder your way over to where he stands waiting.

“Hey–I’m so sorry, I somehow slept through my alarm this morning,” you blush and muss Abbey’s hair, “this little gremlin woke me up, actually,”

She shakes your hand off her head, “Hey!” she frowns.         

“You’re good, promise. I saved you a seat, and Abbey,” he redirects his attention, “Clarissa B. asked to sit with you, is that okay?”

She’s too excited to bother responding, instead dashing inside in an attempt to find her friend. You hear a muffled warning of ‘no running!’, eliciting a shared laugh between the two of you.

“After you,” Steve steps back to let you in first. You spot the only available seat which is dead in the front of the bus– and when you sit down, Steve sits down next to you.

“Well, uh,” he scratches his neck nervously when you scoot to make room for him, “I saved us a seat. Is what I meant.”

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring breath of laughter, “I don’t mind,”

“Right,” he clears his throat and you feel the bus shift gears to make its way towards the

orchard.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You’ve never been this close to Steve before and right away the space is enveloped with whatever cologne he’s wearing and the spearmint scent of the gum he’s been absentmindedly chewing. He smells of cedar and something musky; cinnamon and spice. You notice now all of the freckles and moles that form constellations over his forearms and neck.

When the silence between you becomes a little too stiff– pleasantries about the weather having subsided nearly ten minutes ago– he asks, “Have you ever been to Spiller Farm?”

“Yeah I– I have,” you say, unsure why you’re suddenly nervous, “My parents used to take me every year when I was Abbey’s age to go apple picking. Have you?”

“Oh, no,” he’s fixated on his hands folded in his lap, shaking his head, “this’ll be my first time, I actually grew up in Indiana,”

“Indianapolis?” You question curiously.

He gave a humorless laugh, “I wish. It was a uh…much smaller town,” he finally looks at you then, faces much closer than you realized in the cramped bus seat, “I came to Maine for college, liked it so much I guess I didn’t want to leave.” This time when he smiles, it looks genuine.

He clears his throat and continues, “Abbey tells me you work in a hospital– RN?

It was remarkable how much you knew about each other despite having very little conversations that didn’t surround Abbey; thanks to your oversharing kindergartener.

You wish that you could tell him you were a nurse, feeling increasingly embarrassed at your lack of a college education, but instead you reply, “Reception,” with a tight lipped smile. Having Abbey so young, and doing it alone at that, left no time for degrees or prestigious jobs.

You expect a sympathetic expression in response, maybe even distaste, but you find only sincerity etched across his features when he says, “That’s really neat, I could never do that. Hospitals they…kinda give me the heebie jeebies,”

“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart,” you agree, “I have so many crazy stories,”

“Well, I’d love to hear them sometime,” he smiles at you so tenderly that it makes you want to disintegrate and float away among the air that breezes through the open bus windows.

“Yeah, I’d like that”, you say, distracted by the hazel flecks in what you had previously thought were brown eyes. Luckily, the distinct jolt of tire on gravel bails you out of more awkward silence and before you know it, you’re filing off the bus and breathing in the scent of freshly picked apples and cow manure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You foolishly forget that Steve isn’t just here with you and your daughter on his own accord, and does actually have to do his job of wrangling children and organizing the day's activities. He proceeds to do a headcount, looking like he means business with one hand propped on his hip and a clipboard gripped in the other.

He captures everyone’s attention with ease as he does a quick call and response gesture, ‘Clap, Clap, Clap Clap Clap,’ you’re shocked at how efficiently it works to halt their chattering.

“Good morning, everyone!” He beams and the class responds with a choir of high-pitched ‘Good Morning, Mr. H!’’s, he continues, “Alright, so, I’m going to be splitting everyone into small groups. Each parent will have about five kiddos, and I’ll just be floating around to make sure everything goes smoothly. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone agrees in a sea of nods and murmurs and the kids bounce with anticipation– hoping that they might get placed in the same group as their friends. Finally, you hear your name called and Steve pairs you with five children: your own daughter, her friend Clarissa B., a little boy named Beck, his younger sister and a timid little girl named Sophia. You breathe a sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding when it becomes obvious that all the kids you were assigned seemed to be fairly reserved and not too rowdy.

You lead your little flock over to the barn, where several farm hands are waiting to assist the children in petting the cows, pigs and other various animals. There are red buckets full of pellets that you assume is feed for the goats scattered along the ground, and you can practically feel Abbey buzzing with excitement beside you. She had been begging you for a pet practically the second after she said her first word.

Steve makes his way over to you from the rows of apple trees in the orchard section of the farm while you supervise the kids holding their tiny palms out to the ravenous livestock– slightly anxious that one of them might lose a finger.

You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t wanna pet a dirt-covered sheep?” Steve quips when he reaches you.

“Not particularly,” you huff a laugh, “I was never really a ‘farm animal’ person. I think a dog would suit me just fine,”

“Do you have one?”

“Oh, no. Abbey’s been asking me for one since she was, like, two? I think? I just don’t have the time, you know?”

“Believe me, I get it.” He seems pensive when he responds, looking out over the expanse of the farm, “I never had a pet growing up, either,”

Before you have the chance to express your remorse, Abbey calls, “Mommy, look! Come pet the goat!”

“Be right there!” You call back with thinly veiled reluctance.

“You heard the girl,” Steve pats your shoulder where his hand had been as if to say ‘Go on’. He has an amused if not smug expression when you turn to face him.

“Why don’t you go pet the goat, Mr. H,”

“Hey, she asked for you! Don’t shoot the messenger,” He laughs, “Don’t worry, I'll take over supervising for a minute,” he sends you a wink and it makes your stomach drop, just a bit, like when you miss a step on a staircase but catch yourself just before you fall.

A similar feeling strikes you when you actually do fall, slipping on a particularly slick patch of mud and landing flat on your back. It temporarily knocks the wind out of you, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a white hot embarrassment. Steve’s at your side in an instant, albeit poorly concealing a laugh, “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, a little bewildered as he kneels down to help you up and getting his own jeans muddy in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.

You groan, out of discomfort or humiliation, you’re not sure. He wraps two calloused hands around your biceps and hoists you up with a surprising amount of strength. By the time you’re on your feet again, Abbey’s also rushing towards you.

“Mommy, you have mud on your butt,” she giggles. Always Captain Obvious, your daughter.

“Thanks baby, I see that,”

She’s trying to shrug off her jacket to tie around your waist, even if she finds your current predicament rather amusing, but you stop her before she can get very far, “Keep it, Ab, it’s chilly out. I’m okay,” you falsely promise.

“Here, you can have mine,” Steve takes his windbreaker off to hand to you.

“Oh– you don’t have to do that, Steve,” feeling guilty that he’s even offering, “I’ll get mud all over it– and won’t you be cold?”

“Nah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I run warm, plus I hear they just came out with these cool things that clean your clothes for you when they get dirty– washing machines I think they’re called?”

You playfully smack his arm and he smirks, “Don’t get smart, Harrington,” taking the jacket from him nonetheless, “Thank you. I’ll wash it for you tonight,”

He shoves his hands in his pockets after you take the garment, unsure what to do with them now that they’re empty, “Don’t mention it,” and there's that damned smile again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You promised Abbey yesterday that you could pick a bag of apples to make a pie together, so once everyone is satisfied with the time spent at the barn, you all make your way to the dozens of rows of trees, adorned with fresh, bright red fruit for plucking.

“What kind of apples do you think, Ab?” you look down to ask her, “They have Gala, Empire, Granny Smith,” you read off the signs marking each aisle.

“Whichever is the most juicy!”

“That would probably be HoneyCrisp, those are over this way, I think,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the right direction.

Abbey does more eating than picking, leaving you with all the heavy lifting, despite the numerous ‘No Eating’ signs. You just can’t bring yourself to stop her– not when she looks at you with so much unbridled joy. Eating the apples straight off the tree had always been your favorite part, too.

A row over from the one you were in, you watch as Steve lifts another student onto his shoulders so he can pick the specific apple he was jumping for, and you have to fight the corners of your lips from quirking up into a smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There was a small wooden cabin near the gravel parking lot that doubled as a gift shop, and the shelves were stocked full of handmade knick knacks, glass bottles of maple syrup, and all sorts of treats. It smelled wonderfully of freshly baked fritters and cinnamon.

“Can I get this candy apple, mom?”

“I don’t know, baby, we have to make sure it doesn’t have any peanuts,”

Petulant whining follows before a cheerful, silvery voice declares, “Don’t worry, dear, It doesn’t.” When you turn to find the source, you’re met with an older, stout woman with grey hair adorned in a bandana– the owner, you presume.

“Can I, mommy?”

“Alright, okay. Put it on the counter with the bag of apples,”

She makes a beeline to the wooden counter, barely able to reach over the top as she slams the treat down, sporting a toothy grin.

“Thank you–” you search for her nametag but find nothing.

She fills in the blank for you, “Dorothy,” her lips wobble just a little when she smiles, face wrinkling from decades of laughter and grinning.

“Any time, honey. You two take care now,” she says when she finishes checking out your items. She wags a finger at Abbey, “You be good for your momma, missy,”

“Yes ma’am,” Abbey replies politely.

She skips in front of you contentedly, apple in hand, out of the shop and towards the rest of the waiting students.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back on the bus, Abbey naps against your chest despite being slightly too big and the candy apple she begged you for is now getting stuck to your sleeve, but you don’t dare disturb her. Steve sits beside you again and this time the silence is much more tolerable; both of you exhausted from a day of governing twenty children, give or take.

“Abbey, uhm, told me about her dad,” he says timidly, nervous that the subject might cross a boundary, “I wanted to offer my condolences.”

You’d already resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have this conversation eventually– especially with Abbey being school aged now.

“I appreciate that,” you reassure, “It was a long time ago, I don’t think Abbey even remembers anything about him.” You realize in real time that this is the reason her questioning of her father has increased in the past few weeks.

He nods and pauses before he continues; contemplating, “Can I ask what happened?”

You turn only your head to look at him and he clarifies, “Abbey only said he ‘went to heaven’,”

“He, uh– car accident.” you answer simply, returning your gaze back to the crown of Abbey’s head resting peacefully on your chest, “She was just about a year old,”

The expression twisting his features urges you to reiterate that you’re okay– you’re both okay. You’ve had nearly six years to reconcile the loss of Jeremy; you’ve mourned, you’ve grieved and you’ve placed his memory tight in a sector of your heart that was designated just for him. But you didn’t want the pity anymore– you didn’t want to be the widow.

He seems to comprehend this despite you having said very little, and decides to drop the topic for now.

“She talks about you all the time, you know.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he becomes suddenly shy– a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

“She talks about you all the time,” he counters, “just goes on and on about how her mom makes the best boxed mac and cheese, and always plays make believe with her– even when she says she’s tired.”

You feel the sting of unwanted tears welling behind your eyes, “Well, I–”

“--You do the best you can, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” he interrupts before you have the chance to discount yourself, “You’re a great mom, Y/N.”

One of the aforementioned tears breaches the edge of your lash line and falls rapidly down our cheek, dropping onto the soft cushion of Abbey’s hair. When the bus abruptly stops, you wipe your face quickly and smear the salty trail it left in its wake.

You harshly clear your throat, “Thanks, Steve,”

“You do that a lot,”

“I feel it a lot.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Back at home, you set Abbey up in front of the television and peel your mud stained jeans off to throw them immediately in the wash, along with Steve’s jacket; not bothering with the hamper.

Once you’ve taken a quick shower to rinse the remaining crusted dirt off your thighs, you make your way back into the dimly lit living room to find Abbey asleep, once again, with her knees tucked into her chest, and the technicolor screen illuminating her features in tones of muted blue.

You strain your back to pick her up, but it’ll be worth it when she’s no longer small enough to carry bridal style into her all pink bedroom, and set atop her princess sheets. You’re thankful to have gotten her into her pajamas already– foreseeing this would happen.

There’s a dull longing in the center of your chest as you kiss her forehead and tuck the comforter up to her chin. It’s that same tug you felt after Jeremy died, when you realized you’d be putting your daughter to bed alone from that point on. It festered and grew until one day it became so routine that you didn’t remember what it felt like to have your partner there next to you, and then it dissipated completely.

Until tonight.

Except for this time the longing wasn’t for Jeremy. It wasn’t even for that ‘perfect man’ you’d sometimes conjure up in your mind’s eye just before you fell asleep at night.

It was for someone new.

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

tag list - @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @cali-888 @jamdoughnutmagician @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian

[luveline]

JADEEE I'M THE ONE WHO REQUESTED SPENCER X BADASS READER (the one where they read a book together). I LOVE IT😭😭 may I share some request again? maybe it is a day off and one of the bau member saw reader and spencer spend their day off together like a couple?? maybe they bump into them at the alley of supermarket because reader and spencer is going to cook dinner together???

thank you for requesting gorgeous!! ♡ fem!reader

Derek supposes he shouldn't be shocked. He knows you and Spencer are making a go of going steady, knows you see each other outside of work, even knows you're sleeping at one another's places between cases (Here, you forgot your badge last night, Spence). 

It's hard to align his view of you with what he's seeing, is all. You're not spiteful, only stoic. Never cruel, but stern. And there you are on your knees by the cantaloupes tying Spencer's shoelace, mumbling something too quiet to hear. 

"Do you like honeydew?" Spencer asks, thumbing along your forehead gently. 

Derek's proud of him through the boggled haze. He always knew Spencer was a kind, loving man, and seeing him display that through small gestures has a brotherly pride swelling in his chest. 

You tap Spencer's ankle and climb to your feet. You keep some of your usual attitude even with Spencer, refusing his helping hand. "I like it if you like it." 

"That's not an answer." Spencer points to the dropping shelf of watermelon, their green stripes like shining emeralds, freshly misted. "We need one of these." 

"We don't need one. You just liked when I cut them up for us." 

"Yeah, I did. In Egypt they serve sliced watermelon with feta cheese." 

"Yeah?" you ask, reaching for a melon. You turn it around to examine the bottom, looking for a yellowed spot where the watermelon would've laid in the field. "That's a choice. Doesn't sound as nice as our chocolate fondue."  

"The first ever record of watermelons were in Egypt, so they'd know best." 

You smile at him with lips pressed together, your eyes soft with fondness. All the women in Derek's life are beauties, but he thinks love has made you prettier still. He isn't surprised when Spencer reaches out and strokes the back of your hand. 

"Hey, lovebirds," Derek croons. 

Your shoulders don't stiffen, exactly, but you lose the relaxed droop you'd acquired as you and Spencer both turn to face him. 

"Hey," Spencer says, "what are you doing here? I thought this place was too 'hokey-pokey' for you?" 

"Hey, their coupons never work. What are you guys up to? Plans tonight?" 

You withhold the typical None of your business, confessing, "Spencer and I are making breakfast for dinner." 

You have your secrets, but you don't hide Reid. It's why Derek doesn't mind the occasional snap or frosty smile; your coldness is a shield rather than a weapon. 

"And you guys eat watermelon and…" He peers into your shopping cart, miscellaneous items scattered throughout. "Massage oil?" 

You glare at him. "Don't get any ideas. It's for his knee."

Derek smirks. "Breakfast of champions." 

"We only just got here," Spencer explains your empty kart. 

"Yeah, well if what I just saw is the norm, we can expect you'll both be home sometime tomorrow morning. He'll talk your ear off if you let him, you know?" Derek asks you. 

Your glare softens. Derek might even say you're smiling at him. "I'd let him," you say. 

"He's a lucky guy," Derek says. He gives Spencer a clap on the shoulder. "I'll see you kids Monday." 

"See you, Morgan," Spencer says. 

Derek walks away, basket in hand and determined to grab a carton of eggs and get out of here, but he slows when he hears Spencer talking again. 

"Why do you act like you don't like him?"

You're too quiet for the untrained ear. Thankfully, Derek's highly trained. "I don't. Derek knows I like him. I just didn't want there to be any confusion."

"Confusion about what?" 

"About who I want." You say it simply. Derek can imagine the steam funnelling out of poor Spencer's ears. "You can be easily deterred, Spence. I wanted you to know I liked you." 

"I know now. You and Morgan would get along really well if you let him talk to you, you both care about–" 

"You?" you ask. "Let's go look for that weird miniature toast you wanted, or we really will be here all night." 

"It's not miniature toast, it's melba toast, and it's actually a kind of rusk–" His babbling fades out of range. Derek snorts and grabs a small carton of eggs. He knew you liked him. 

Not as much as you like Spencer, that's for sure.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Ruelle covertly (or not so covertly) ruining Vo’s day (by which i mean life) whenever Piama is upset by Vo overlooking her or treating her like crap. Then returns to Piama and pretends nothing happened and what do you mean it isn’t my fault that happened and gets some tsundere fluffing? With or without MC in the relationship as well (can decide if poly or just ruelle x piama)

Written by: Squirrel

Being invisible has its perks. Ruelle has never taken this for granted. Albeit wanting to disappear from a situation or not be seen due to her introverted nature, her ability to vanish from sight has always been a blessing. But never before has it been used so nefariously. Not even in mistress Xenia’s most devious schemes.

Ruelle had been sent to find MC. She found the queen in her chamber with Piama who was trying, and failing, to explain that she hadn’t been crying. With her usual civility and good nature MC let the obvious charade go and instead focused on soothing her friend. Meanwhile, Ruelle took careful note of Piama’s every word.

Second only to Xenia’s, Ruelle’s mind is like a steel trap. What she hears she can recite word for word. Unfortunately for lady Vo.

Galen looks from Ruelle to the box as Mako personally, carefully unloads it. It’s a rare day when the quartermaster is so quiet and cautious. The starseeker looks at the box, then at the princess, “You’ll need to put them somewhere cold before they wake up, smoke doesn’t keep them calm.”

“I know,” Ruelle replies.

Curiosity killed the cat, not the pirate. Galen pockets the coin just in case Ruelle has any second thoughts, “What are these bees for, dare I ask?”

“I never mentioned bees. You never sold any bees. Bees never came through her majesty’s port. That’s why I paid you double,” Ruelle says grimly. Upon remembering her plan, however, she smirks just a little, “You’ll hear about it. Give it a couple of days.”

“Hopefully not at your funeral.”

The following morning Ruelle is sitting at breakfast with MC, Amara, and Lyris. Piama comes in looking rather frenzied. She takes her seat and Lyris pours her favorite tea.

“Good morning.”

“Not for Vo it isn’t. She was attacked by a horde of mountain bees yesterday evening,” Piama says. Her expression is strange because it is a perfect border between being appropriately delighted the old woman got what she deserved and upholding appearances that her aunt is bedridden for the foreseeable future.

MC grimaces, “Mountain bees are wicked. Do they come to Lysende often?”

“Not unless they are brought here,” Amara remarks, “I’ve been trying to trace their origins since last night with no success.”

Ruelle feels eyes on her. Sure enough Lyris is looking at her out of the corner of his eye. It is no accident that she’s at breakfast with them this morning. Usually the autumn princess is deeply engrossed in running errands for the spy mistress. Lyris isn’t stupid. He sees the correlation. Everyone else is simply too blinded by concern, not for Vo’s welfare, for the safety of the rest of the population.

“Who else was hurt?”

Piama has to finish chewing a bite of pastry, “That’s what’s so odd! Only aunt Vo was attacked. Everyone else was fine.”

“Gideon determined her dress had been sprayed with a honey perfume. No one would have detected it but the bees,” Amara chimes in.

“How odd. Ruelle, don't you wear honey perfume?” Lyris smirks, tossing a very pointed look in her direction. Ruelle doesn’t so much as flinch. She rolls her eyes, “I don’t wear perfume. What’s the point of being invisible if they can smell you from across the corridor?”

So the mystery of the mountain bees was never solved. But more importantly, Vo never learned.

They’d courted. Dated. Kissed. But that had all lead up to one thing: the end. Piama had determined they weren’t meant to be. Something Ruelle respected, with much effort and agonizing. The twinges in her chest aren’t ghosts haunting her. It feels too familiar knocking on Piama’s door the night of some fancy event for spring.

“Piama?”

The door opens just a crack. Piama huffs, “What do you want?”

It’s a mood and a tone no one knows better. Ruelle gently leans her hand on the door. It’s gentle enough Piama could easily hold her back but the same pressure lets the princess know Ruelle wants to be let in. The door swings open just enough for Ruelle to slip inside.

There is no dress laid out on the bed. The balcony doors are open and there’s a multitude of papers and books on the bedspread. Some of which Piama hastily turns over so they can’t be read. Ruelle can’t help her rugged smile knowing full well what they are.

“What are you doing up here alone? There’s some fancy shmancy to do in spring-”

“Vo didn’t invite me.”

“Okay-”

“No Ruelle. It’s not like autumn where everyone just shows up anyway because there’s only a few of you. Unless you were invited you don’t show up to spring events. You look desperate and uncooth.”

Like a match on kerosene Ruelle’s sense of justice is burning again. But she suppresses her wicked imagination for now.

“Put on the dress you would have worn. Fix your face and your hair, however you think it looks pretty. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Piama squints at her, “Why? What are you planning?”

Ruelle pauses on her way out, “You couldn’t have gone to Vo’s thing because you are attending a very important, private date with a suitor who shall remain nameless. I’m off to find a potion and Sevastian and we’re going to make sure everybody knows about it.”

Once Ruelle is gone Piama bites her thumb. She looks at the poetry she’d been pondering and unfortunately it all seems quite clear. She’d been so bored she was organizing her poetry, some of it safe for mixed company some of it not. But one common strand connected all of it. It all conjured the same welling of emotion and mental imagery. 

Before, Piama hadn’t been able to work it out. She just couldn’t put her finger on who it was her heart was pining for. A tall dark stranger had never been her type. But, Ruelle isn’t a stranger and she’s not all that tall.

In the morning Ruelle doesn’t appear at breakfast. She doesn’t want it to become obvious. She’s fairly sure Galen, Lyris, and Sevastian are onto her as it is but being the good friends of Piama that they are, they've been enjoying playing their parts.

Instead Ruelle remains invisible nearby enjoying the idle chatter with a bittersweet smile. She’d told Piama the person she was with all evening was Sevastian who had consumed a potion to appear as someone else. In reality Sevastian was predisposed so it had been her. Of course she’s not about to disturb Piama so the painful truth will only plague her.

Chatter fades to silence as lady Vo makes her way over.

“Good morning.”

It was, Ruelle thinks to herself.

“Good morning.”

“Piama, may I speak to you?” Vo seems passably civil. That’s as close to pleasant as she gets without being overtly sickeningly sweet. 

The two leave and Ruelle follows. They aren’t fully out of earshot when Vo turns on her niece.

“Do you think you’re clever? Making up a ruse about some suitor?”

“I was with someone all night-”

“Wonderful! Just what I need, my niece not only being a fool but an easy one at that,” Vo hisses, “I did not invite you because I needed you at home not making a disgrace of our family.”

Piama’s face is red hot with anger. Her hands ball into fists full of her skirt, “I was dancing with them all night. They went to my door and no further. Guards saw us-”

“Yes, so did Duchess Luana. It was no one important, just one of your friends in disguise. Honestly, are you trying to make yourself as unattractive as possible?”

Footsteps grow closer, quickly. Ruelle has to put effort into making noise she’s so accustomed to moving silently. As soon as she rounds the bookshelf Vo looks completely composed as if she wasn’t spitting venom just moments ago.

“Speak of the devil-”

“And she’s already here,” Ruelle cuts Vo off, “Her majesty is summoning you both.”

As they round the corner the hate Vo was just spitting is nothing compared to the collective loathing of every person at brunch. That collective loathing is nothing compared to the cavernous pit of animosity that is growing ever deeper within Ruelle. 

Piama is sadly accustomed to this. What would have any other spring princess in tears, Piama proudly shrugs off and hides just how hurt she really is. But her friends can see it. They can see it in the little tilt of her eyebrows when she tries to smile and the way her mouth becomes narrower as she fights back tears. Her hands clasp together and her posture becomes absolutely perfect, for a time.

At dinner Amara makes her way to the table.

“What is it Amara?”

“Lady Vo has been poisoned.”

“Oh no-”

“It’s nothing fatal, just uncomfortable,” Amara hesitates, “She’s coughing up frogs.”

“Frogs?” MC asks. Meanwhile Lyris grabs for a drink to hide his smile. Sevastian doesn’t care and smirks openly.

The captain of the guard nods, “And the occasional snake. Again, nothing dangerous just unusual. Gideon is scrambling for a cure.”

“It sounds magical.”

“He thinks your magic might be able to help.”

MC doesn’t want to help. Objectively spring and Altadellys might be better off without Vo but MC is the queen. She can’t be making that harsh a judgement. She doesn’t want to be known for being ruthless. So she’ll heal the old woman and advise her to speak less. That is how Vo seems to do her worst damage.

Slipping away nonchalantly Piama makes her way to mistress Xenia’s door. She shudders but knocks anyway. The spymistress cocks her head slightly when she opens the door, “Princess Piama. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Ruelle.”

“It just so happens I am as well. If I find her you’ll be the first to know.”

Piama goes to her room and ties a ribbon to the balcony window. It’s an old method of communication they used to use. In mere minutes, Ruelle is climbing in with the ribbon in hand.

“What’s wrong?” Different colors mean different things. Pink is the utmost urgent and usually a safety issue.

Closing the balcony doors Piama pins Ruelle with her eyes, “You’ve been poisoning Vo.”

“Why would I do that?”

“She’s been particularly unpleasant lately. But that’s nothing new, it’s just what she does sometimes. She’ll stop-” Piama cuts herself off, “Don’t try to change the subject. I know it’s you.”

Ruelle sets the ribbon on Piama’s vanity and sits on the end of her bed with a smirk, “You have proof?”

Frost that smile, Piama fights not to bite her lip. She can’t help how flustered she gets and nobody does that better than Ruelle.

“When we were younger you said if you ever really hated anybody you’d make them cough up frogs. It was one of the first spells you ever learned. Now Vo is coughing up frogs.”

“Don’t forget snakes.”

“It is you!”

“I deny everything. Mistress Xenia can attest to it, plenty of people can conjure up that sort of trick. Besides, if I did then you’re suggesting I’m doing it to defend you,” Ruelle stands, “And you don’t need defending flower power. Your bark is just as bad as your bite.”

Piama’s whole face flushes in a mix of emotions too complex to pick apart even if she had time. She points at Ruelle accusingly only to have the autumn princess chuckle softly. On her way back to the balcony  Ruelle touches Piama’s cheek, “Don’t worry, I’m sure when Vo learns to be sweeter she’ll stop coughing up frogs.”

“That won’t happen-!”

But when Piama turns, Ruelle is gone and the balcony door is open. All that’s left is a tattered purple ribbon tied to the door handle. One that Ruelle has obviously held onto for some time. The thought makes Piama’s stomach flutter, and her heart warm.

[lordsardine]

.