#my sister's cat insists on sleeping curled up in my sister's arms every night

[curiosity-killed]

i know i’ve rambled about this before but I think about it a lot with the various like “can reptiles/fish/non cat/dog pets ACTUALLY love you back” posts and articles about how to tell when your cat loves you and I just sometimes think it’s a little silly to act like love is both this grand ineffable mystery in regards to pets (or people) and something to be measured and assessed

like does Baloo let me hold her paw for a long time (a Measure of Trust according to many articles)? No, she doesn’t really like having her paws touched. But when she gets her head stuck in the back of a chair or her scarf’s caught on something, she stills the moment I touch her head and lets me—a big, strange creature (who frankly often runs into furniture and doorframes)—manipulate the most fragile and vital part of her body in order to help her.

love is an action imo. your dog doesn’t need to be able to comprehend the words ‘I love you’ to feel loved, and your snake doesn’t need to purr to show that it trusts you and likes being around you. love is going to look a little different in every setting and trying to both box it in and demand it meet certain criteria is just...kind of dumb

[eternalglitch]

Can you tell me about your rats? You have any favourite pictures of the? ^^

My phone storage is half rat photos. I'll go into the creatures under the read more.

I brought home Kili and Ori in early August, 2021. They were sisters, and my intended 7th and 8th rats after a break from owning any due to college.

Unfortunately, there was a slight mishap where their litter sexually matured a week early and surprise... I ended up with eight extra rats two weeks later.

Although Ori took to motherhood without an issue, Kili's three (rat) kittens did not make it past the first 24 hours. As a result, the breeder and I decided to give back Ori to raise her litter until they could be adopted that October.

Rats are not usually able to be kept alone, however, and Kili had been huddled in a corner, unresponsive, after her loss. In an attempt to help her, Thorin was adopted and introduced as my 9th rat while Ori was MIA.

(^ day 1 of Thorin and Kili being introduced.)

They bonded very quickly, and when reintroduced to Ori two months later, all three got along great.

Personality wise, they're all fairly distinct, although the sisters resemble each other a bit more for obvious reasons.

Ori is the most excited to be picked up and held, and will come running for any attention. She is the common culprit that chews holes in my clothes, and has the least interest in high energy activities (I've never seen her use the wheel in their cage.) She enjoys splashing around in their water bowl with her paws and making a mess. She'll also insist on taking all of the bedding at the bottom of the cage and stuffing it in the hammocks.

Kili is the most cuddly of my trio, and I rarely get pictures of just her because she is often curled up with one of the other two rats. She's the most likely to come sleep on my lap when I have them out at night, and boggles the most. She has a funny habit of squirreling away all of the food, so when I feed them in the morning she takes all of the food, puts it in a corner, and the other two just know to go take from her storage. Lately the others have been overgrooming her a bit so she's often missing patches of fur on her shoulder blades despite my best attempts.

Finally we have Thorin, who is the most unique rat I've ever had both markings-wise and personality-wise. She's a bit more like a cat while the other two are more like pocket dogs; she detests being picked up and will only briefly tolerate it to be moved to the play area, and is not particularly interested in being pet, either. What she does do is come running over to lick my hands and arms. It's not unusual for me to be minding my own business and she'll grab my hand / bite my finger to drag it closer to her so she can start grooming me. Incredibly silly animal. She spends hours on the wheel in their cage every night and is half of the weight of Ori, so I can always tell when she's the one perched on my leg.

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

[16] 33's Coming Home With Me (Tim Riggins x OFC)

MASTERLIST | DWHI MASTERLIST

Warnings: none

Words: 2k

Panthers fans gathered around the team's bus while the football team mingled with family. Everyone was hyped to be going to State again and the energy surged through the gathering.

"Are you ridin' with us, Catherine?" Mrs. Taylor came over to me with Julie.

I nodded. "If you're still okay with it."

"Of course! We love your company."

Julie smiled. "We can talk about Matt and Tim."

I glanced at Mrs. Taylor, remembering the day Coach walked in on his daughter and Matt. Julie was horrified, but her parents were mortified. I didn't want our conversation to go down that path for her mom's sake. 

"Uh, yeah. We can talk about how great they're gonna do at the game and only that, Jules." I shifted my eyes over to Mrs. Taylor so she would catch the hint.

Julie rolled her eyes.

Both women looked past me and Julie grinned just as arms snaked around my middle.

"Hey, Tim," she said. Mrs. Taylor greeted him, too, though less enthusiastically as her daughter.

"Hey," he said back, kissing the side of my head.

I was so happy when Julie and her mom gave us some privacy.

"Julie's insistent that we talk about you and Saracen on our way to the stadium." I turned in his hold, brushing his hair back.

"Yeah?"

"My guess is we'll talk about Matt the most." My lips curled up into a smirk. "Saracen isn't too bad on the eyes, ya know."

Tim's lips neared my ear. "I would hate to miss my bus because I had to remind my girlfriend who she goes to bed with every night."

Laughing, I molded my mouth to his. "Don't worry, Riggins. She knows who he is and is very happy."

"Good."

I straightened Tim's shirt. "Are you excited? Senior year and y'all are off to State for a second time."

"It's great." His smile was sweet.

"I thought you'd be more excited," I said.

"Yeah, well I've gotta save the excitement for the game." He kissed my forehead. "I've gotta make sure I have enough energy to show off for my girl."

I rolled my eyes and hugged him. "I'll see you at the hotel, yeah?"

"You bet."

We kissed once more before we split off to our respective rides.

*****

"Who are you stayin' with, Catherine?" Mrs. Taylor asked, peering at me through the rearview mirror.

"Tyra is supposed to be my roommate, but she's working on her application essay. I think Landry is trying to get her to come to the game. If he can't, then I won't be rooming with anyone else."

"Are you thinkin' of sharin' with Tim Riggins?"

Heat rose up my neck and settled on my cheeks. "Um, he has a room to stay in, Mrs. Taylor."

"Mom," Julie whined. "Who cares if they share a room? They love each other, right Cat? I mean, they basically live together."

"Yeah, but there are rules, Jules. It doesn't matter if we love each other, we shouldn't share a room during a school trip," I said.

Mrs. Taylor glanced at me again. "And Tim is okay with obeyin' the rules?"

"He doesn't care much for them, but he cares about me, so he promised to behave."

"He stayed with you last time we were at State," Julie said. "You looked so cute sleeping together."

"That was different. We weren't datin'."

"So it's different that you are now?" Mrs. Taylor asked.

"Uh, yeah. Very different." I could see the realization cross over her face.

"Are you bein' safe?"

Julie groaned.

"Yes, ma'am. Always."

"Do you use whatever it is the right way every time?"

I couldn't keep my half-smile off my face. "I mean no disrespect, Mrs. T., but we are talkin' about Tim Riggins who's been with a lot of girls. He didn't get any of them pregnant, so I'm confident we're using protection correctly." I smiled at her through the mirror. "I appreciate your concern. It's nice to know someone is lookin' out for me."

"You're welcome, Catherine."

The Taylors were a family I adopted as my own once I figured out my own family wasn't close. I didn't come to Mrs. Taylor for life advice, but I listened to what she had to say to me as if she was my own mom. Julie was like a little sister I felt obligated to protect as she grew up. It pained me that she was trying to push her parents away. I hoped Eric and Tami saw me as someone who could mentor their daughter if she kept going down her rebellious teenage path.

"What's that smile about?" Julie asked. "Thinking about Tim?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm thinkin' about you and your family and how much y'all mean to me. Thanks for being my second family."

Julie instantly teared up and Mrs. Taylor smiled through the mirror.

"We'll always be here when you need us," Julie's mom said. "No matter where you go, we'll be here."

"I'm glad."

*****

I gazed at the sign I made. Before the game, me, Tyra, and Julie gathered in our hotel room with poster paper and all sorts of markers and photos. At the time, I loved what I put together for the game. Once I was sitting in my seat next to the girls, I felt like I pushed it too far.

"I can't believe I wrote this on a sign," I said to Tyra.

"You were pretty excited about it this afternoon." Tyra smirked at it on my lap. "I think it's cute."

In bold blue and yellow lettering, I wrote out, "33 is coming home with me." I even had a photo of Tim in his uniform on the poster. It was pretty embarrassing considering we were in a huge stadium where several hundred people would be filling the seats within the hour.

"I'm pretty sure I had a lapse in judgment. There's no way I can hold this up. What if people see it?" I curled it around itself.

Julie laughed. "I think that's the point."

I peeked at it again. "Do you think Tim will hate it?"

"The fact that it hints you're sleepin' with him, he'll love it." Tyra leaned back in her seat. "If you don't hold that up during the game, we won't be friends anymore."

"It does not hint at that and that's a little aggressive, Tyra."

She shrugged. "It definitely does. If it makes you feel better, hold it up when they come runnin' out. Tim might actually see it."

"Then you don't have to hold it up again," Julie said. "You are wearing his jersey."

And it was easy to tell it didn't belong to me. Even with it tucked into my jeans, it spilled over my waistband, covering my pockets. Tim thought it was adorable when he picked me up from my room for breakfast. Tyra and Julie thought it was hilarious.

"Fine. I still can't believe I made this."

"The girls need to know he's spoken for, right?" Julie grinned.

I sighed and leaned forward to look past Julie at Tyra. "I know I should have asked you a while ago, but are you okay with this? Tim and I, I mean."

Tyra waved it off. "I had a thing for Riggins a long time ago. I don't mind you datin' him at all. Y'all have been together so long that it seems weird I ever had something with him."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You guys work together. Better than me and him and I'd say better than him and Lyla Garrity."

"You don't like Lyla very much," Julie pointed out. "Of course you'd pair Tim and Cat together before him and Lyla."

"Yeah, well..."

I chuckled and leaned back in my seat.

*****

I was on the edge of my seat the entire game. My voice was nearly gone as I screamed at them to get the football down the field. The Panthers were holding their own even with the scores even. Unfortunately, the game didn't end in the Panthers' favor. The stadium's volume cut in half as we felt the disappointment.

Mrs. Taylor led us into the locker room at the request of her husband once the team got in there. Friends and family of all the players gathered around the team still in their gear. It was quiet. Coach Taylor stood in front of everyone.

"Your friends and family are here because you played a great game." His eyes scanned over everyone. "We are proud of each and every one of you. We are proud of the way you played out there. Y'all should be proud of yourselves."

It warmed my heart when we applauded them. Some of the football players got teary-eyed at the praise. They made it to State because they worked hard. No one could deny their dedication.

Before Coach asked us to leave, I squeezed past a few players to get to Tim. He was still sitting on the bench with a forlorn stare. It went away the moment he saw me, a brilliant smile on his face.

"What a game," I said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. "I'm really proud to call myself Tim Riggins' girlfriend."

His hugged my middle and rested his chin on my stomach. "Thanks."

"Are you okay? I know it's not quite how you wanted to end the season."

"Yeah, I'm okay." Tim's lips pressed against my stomach. "By the way, I liked your sign. I'm glad you want me goin' home with ya."

I blushed. "Ugh. I hoped you wouldn't notice. It's so embarrassing."

He chuckled.

Coach Taylor started ushering people out, so Tim kissed me shortly. "I'll see you later, Cat."

"Bye, Tim."

*****

Everyone went home after the game since there wasn't a party to celebrate. No one complained about it, ready to sleep off the loss.

Mrs. Taylor dropped me off at school, so I could catch a ride home with Tim. She bid me a good night before driving away with a sleeping Julie.

The team bus was in front of the locker room door and Tim was already heading over to me. He seemed a lot happier than when he first got on the bus.

"Good ride back?"

Tim pushed me back against his truck and captured my mouth. He grabbed my head, tilting it to deepen our kiss. I got caught up in the moment, pulling him by his waist so we were flush against each other. I zeroed in on how soft his lips were, how he knew exactly what to do with them to make my brain malfunction. It was one of the best kisses he ever gave me. My eyes took a few seconds longer to open when he pulled his lips away.

"What was that for?" I asked, trying to catch my breath.

"I love football and everything about it." He kissed me again. "Now football is over."

"Yeah, it is."

"I'm madly in love with you and everything you are. I want everything to be about you now. About us."

"Really? You're want to drop football just like that?"

"I've got something better right here."

A slow kiss.

"Okay. Let's focus on us."

"You are gonna focus on college, Barton, and I'm going to focus on you and making your life easier."

"No college for you?"

He shook his head. "I don't like school now and I don't expect I'll like it in college. I'm sick of caring about my grades."

"You don't care about them now," I giggled.

"Exactly."

"Okay." I stood on my toes to kiss him again. "I support your choice."

"Can I go home with you now?"

I nodded and gently pushed Tim away from me. I laughed when his hand brushed against my butt. He tried looking innocent, but the glint in his eyes gave him away.

Tim took my hand the second our doors shut. I leaned over to kiss him before he pulled out of the parking lot.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Words: 1900+

Rating: T

Pairing: Benimaru (TSSK) x Reader

Summary: Apparently alcohol makes Benimaru more honest about his feelings. And what he wants for the future.

AO3

Following your success with the Yuki-Oni, Rimuru-sama decided to send you on more ambassador excursions throughout the land.

You had been surprised, but warmed by his faith in you, and took your role very seriously everywhere you went. It was all very exciting. Seeing new places. Meeting new, important people. Sometimes you went with Benimaru, as you did before, but with his own important duties as Commander of the Jura forces, he couldn’t always go with you. It was difficult to be apart, but you made do for the good of your nation and whatever partner you had been paired with for your journey.

This time, it had been Shuna. You and your sister had enjoyed your visit to the coast, to visit the seaside kingdom that lay on its shores. It was the first time either of you had seen the ocean. It was incredible. It was also nice to get away from the excitement of Rimuru, if only for a little while. You loved all your friends, its people, your family. However, you would be the first to admit they could be a bit over the top sometimes.

Like the feast they had insisted on throwing for you both upon your return.

“I don’t see why they’ve decided to throw a party for us.”

“You and Shuna were missed.” Rimuru-sama answered when you, playfully, bemoaned all the ruckus. So much for your peaceful, seaside atmosphere. “It’s been dark days in Rimuru without either of you to brighten them up. I’m sure everyone wants you both to know how much they appreciate you.”

“Flatterer,” you mutter at the humanoid slime, who just smiled at you with that cheeky little grin of his.

Rimuru-sama asked you to speak with him before going to the party. He wanted to get the details of your visit, and treaty with your new allies, down before they got lost in the shuffle. You were happy to oblige. You did wish you could see Benimaru first though. You had missed him so. You’d only got to see each other for a moment upon your return before you were pulled in opposite directions again. It was hard being a power couple.

By the time you and Rimuru-sama were done, it was getting very late.

The party was in full swing. Music, dancing, food and drink, all filled the center courtyard as people gathered to enjoy the festivities without a care. But where was Benimaru?

“[Y/N]!!”

Oh dear….

Benimaru repeated your name a few more times on a loop as he tried to stand. Eventually getting to his feet, even if you have to come over to him to help keep him there. “Ah~! It’s my wife!”

“Yes dear.” You tell him. Trying not to laugh at his hilariously intoxicated state.

“Where have you been?” He questioned with a small pout. His expression made even more adorable by his flushed cheeks. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

“And the last place you looked was at the bottom of a sake bottle?” Benimaru grinned wide at having been caught, but seems to understand, even in his clouded mind, that you were joking. “Rimuru-sama needed me for something, so I was delayed to the party. Honestly. I leave you alone for a few moments and this is what happens.”

“It’s not my fault!!” The ogre whined. The usually regal, serious leader of the Jura forces arguing with you like a child. “The dwarves! It’s the dwarves’ fault! They challenged me to a drinking contest and I couldn’t refuse. My honor was only line!”

“It most certainly was not!” You tell him. Genuinely irritated this time. He should know better than to challenge dwarves to drinking contests. Their stomachs were as bottomless as Rimuru-sama’s when it came to ale. “Come on. Let’s get you back home to sleep it off. The rest of you, this contest is over. By order of Rimuru-sama and his advisory.” The last sober one standing anyway.

“Hehe! That’s my wife! Rimuru-sama and I are so lucky to have such a capable woman in our lives. Have a drink with me to celebrate!”

“What did I just say?!”

It took a little bit more fumbling and dragging on your part, but eventually you pull Benimaru away from the party and back home. Not helped in the least by his stumbling feet, him banging into various walls, and nearly knocking you down every time he tried to lean on you.

“[Y/N], I don’t feel so good.”

“Not surprising. Since you drank a small lake’s worth of sake.”

The ogre grinned again. Squatting down to meet eye level with you with a drunken smile as you tried to get his outer coat off. “It was good though!”

“Most bad decision are at the time my love.”

He fell to his knees at that moment, so fast that you thought they had given out, but you realize it was intentional once he wrapped his arms around your middle and nuzzled the side of his face into your stomach. “Ah~ I love it when you call me ‘my love’. It makes me so happy. I love you so much too!”

You chuckle softly. Both in amusement and a little nervously. It was cute how honest he was being with his feelings, but you were a little concerned with how he was nuzzling his head against you that he might gore you a little with his horns. It hadn’t happened before. But there was a first time for everything.

“Yes, yes. I love you too.” You tell him as you place your hand on his head. Getting him to stop rubbing on you like a cat for a moment. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Ney, [Y/N], let’s make a baby.” Benimaru had turned to look up at you. Eyes glassy and unfocused, with a sort of soft innocents that didn’t really go with this conversation.

You don’t think for a moment he was being serious. Assuming he meant ‘make a baby’ as in ‘having sex’. So your reply was obviously, “I don’t think it would be very honorable for me to take advantage of you in this state.”

“No! Not that! I really wanna have a baby with you!” Apparently, he was serious. His expression shifted from soft, blank innocence to fierce determination (or as much as a drunk person could muster) so fast it made your head spin. And you hadn’t even been drinking.

“Benimaru, surely you can’t mean that. We can’t have a baby right now.”

“Sure we can! I can put a baby in you right now.” His arms untangle from you, but only far enough to start fumbling with the tie of your dress at your hips.

You let out a squeak and give him a good whack on the head. Rimuru-sama called it a ‘karate chop’ when he taught you. It seemed to do the trick as your husband flinched and fell back off of his knees onto his butt. “[Y/N]-chan doesn’t want to have a baby with me…..” Benimaru bemoaned sadly, rubbing his head.

“I…I didn’t say that!” You snap at him. Cheeks pink yourself now, and incredibly flustered. “I just don’t know where this is coming from all of a sudden. You’ve never said you wanted to have children before.”

“Of course, I want to have children with you. You’re my wife and the woman I love. Why wouldn’t I want to have children with you?” He replied, seeming to bounce back from being sad fairly quickly. How was he not getting a headache from all these sudden emotional shifts?

Taken aback by his soft words, you don’t say anything at first and Benimaru got back up on his knees to re-wrap his arms around you. “I want us to have strong sons to carry on my name. Girls too. I wanna have daughters as pretty as their mother. I wanna have enough kids to start a little ogre army. I wanna watch your belly swell as they grow inside you. Hold you while you carry my child.” You feel his lips press to your stomach near your navel. Clearly already picturing you ripe with child. “We can rebuild the ogre tribe that was taken from us. We can have a family.”

“I’m not giving you a village or a small army Benimaru.” You don’t have the heart to correct him on the ogre tribe being taken you. It had been taken from him, not ‘us’. A fact that you know still weighed heavy on his heart. He’d accomplished so much. Protected so many now. But his failure in his early life still haunted him. You or no one can give that back to him. “But…I wouldn’t mind starting a family.” A boy and a girl, with your eyes and his flaming red hair, would be nice.

The ogre looked up at you and beamed. He practically jumped to his feet and leaned in to kiss you. “Ah, ah! Not now! When you’re sober.” You tell him with your hand against his lips.

Benimaru pouted for a second before he grinned and nipped at your fingertips foolishly at his lips. “There’s no harm in practicing now.”

“You’re drunk.” You remind him.

“Not as much as I was a little bit a go.” An outright lie. “Besides, as Rimuru-sama says ‘practice makes perfect’.”

“I repeat: you are drunk.” You say again. Bating his clinging hands away from your form. “Besides, besides, I don’t think you could even preform in this state with how much sake you drank.”

“You question my virility at your own peril woman.” Benimaru ‘warned’ and you karate chop him on the head again. Lighter, this time. More to stop that train of thought than stop him in his tracks.

“Keep it up and I’ll be sleeping in Shuna’s room for the night, and you’ll be sleeping in the barracks for the rest of the week.” The terrifying flame lord looked mortified with his mouth ajar, before shook his head and beg you to let him stay. “Can you behave now and go to bed amicably with your hands to yourself?” He nodded furiously. Just seeming happy to be allowed to stay.

You both get into bed and Benimaru shyly asked if he could at least hold you. He said he agreed to keep his hands to himself, but didn’t know what that all meant, and he missed you with you so far away. So far away being: the other side of the bed. You scoff once and shook your head before you curl into him. Resting your head against his chest.

Your husband seemed to immediately relax and fall asleep when your head touched him. His breathing even under your ear as your ‘pillow’ rose & fell. You lay awake for a little while longer. Thinking about your conversation. You have to wonder if he was serious. But, then again, he seemed serious enough. And as they say, in wine there is truth. There was a possibility though that the ‘liquid courage’ had also made him more ready for children than he really was.

Your hand trailed away from Benimaru’s chest to your own stomach. You picture a bump there. The start of your child flourishing inside you. Your husband’s face, soft with adoration, as it pressed against your stomach to listen to their heart beat when it had grown and was almost ready to be born. The thought made your own expression glow in adoration. Maybe it was time for you both to start considering the future.

“Goodnight….Daddy.” You whisper to Benimaru, who only grumbles in his unconscious state back when you kiss him. “You’re going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning.”

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 9 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.3k

Part 9 - Never trust a Snake

Tom’s dorm was the nicest one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. Single bedrooms were offered to head boys and girls only, as a further reward to their title. His room was the size of a normal five-bedroom, but instead of four additional beds, it was furnished with a welcoming couch, a nice wooden desk and chair, a fireplace and provided overall much more space. It wasn’t located next to the other dorms either, which had its virtues and disadvantages. The good thing was that you didn’t have to walk through the hallway of all the Slytherin boys’ dorms to get there. The bad thing was that Tom’s room was right next to Freda’s, so you had seen her a couple more times than you had wanted to. She had never said anything though and usually stomped off right away, brows knitted and red in the face.

Tom had ordered you to his room the day after Slughorn’s party, which was a privilege not many students were granted. Maybe not that much of a privilege if one was engaged to him. But thinking of it from your perspective, his fiancée, who he hadn’t even proposed to, who he wasn’t even in love with when the engagement took place, it certainly felt special. And like he wanted you to be there. He let you study there even when he had to attend to his duties as head boy, which took up quite a bit of his time.

And then there was the Moly. A magical flower, used to counteract enchantments, that Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, had given to pairs of students to take care of. They were weakest the last days before blooming and needed tending multiple times a day. It was a tricky task to keep them alive, so Beery had promised to give everyone who could manage it extra points for the Herbology N.E.W.T.s in advance. 

Tom had suggested keeping the Moly that had been given to the two of you in his room, as it would increase the chances of keeping it in good condition, seeing that no one else could get their fingers on it. Even though the plant looked quite healthy, he insisted on your help to look after it, as he was not willing to share points if you wouldn’t. So you had come to his room every day, only for the Moly of course.

Other times, when you were just reading or writing another Charm’s essay there, Tom used to stay nearby. He didn’t talk much, as per usual, and rather stared at you from across the room, but the fact that he never told you to leave and always asked when you would come back, for the Moly obviously, made it quite clear that he enjoyed your presence.

And you did too. So much that you had even spent the night accidentally. Accidentally, as in, you had stayed up way too long reading and making notes in your Guide To Advanced Transfiguration textbook, had really, absolutely, doubtlessly planned to go back to your own dorm, but couldn’t be bothered to get up from the sofa until you had finally fallen asleep. 

You woke up in Tom’s bed, not remembering how you had ended up there and sat up slowly, looking around, until you noticed him sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Have I overslept?” you asked, hastily fixing your hair and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“It’s Saturday,” Tom answered, grinning at your attempts of getting up. “8 a.m. You can sleep a bit longer if you want.”

“Oh, Saturday, yes. How did I… What happened last night?”

“You fell asleep on the couch. It didn’t look comfortable, you were all sprawled out and twisted. So I put you into bed.”

You swallowed thickly. He had put you into his bed? 

“Did you-”

“No,” Tom shook his head. “I took the couch.”

“Noble,” you said sarcastically, leading him to roll his eyes at you. “Why can’t I remember how I got into bed?”

“I used a Levitation Charm.”

“Oh. Weren’t you afraid I might’ve ended up on the floor?”

He chuckled, shaking his head as if doubting his skills wasn’t a thing Tom Riddle would do. “I tend to know what I’m capable of before I do it.”

“I see,” you answered. “Come here then?”

Tom looked at you questioningly before you reached out your hand, holding it in the air for him to take it. He did and you slowly pulled him closer, until he lay down next to you.

Your hand went up to his face and you ran your fingers through his hair, to which he closed his eyes, letting you play with his locks for a while. 

Now that you were fully aware of where you were, you noticed how different Tom’s linen smelled compared to your own. They had his clean, warm scent, of tangy embers dying in the fireplace, mixed with leather and something fresh like dewy iron. The scent had rubbed off on you while you had slept there and it felt like he had marked you, without even coming close.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” you whispered.

His eyes opened again. “You were completely knocked out. That would have felt off.”

“Well, for next time then,” you smiled, took his chin between your fingers and pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’re engaged after all. Have you forgotten?”

“Oh piss off,” he scoffed and pulled you in for another kiss.

Some hours later, when you were tending to the Moly, you looked over towards the fireplace, where Nagini was sleeping in front of. At least you assumed she was sleeping. Her eyes were open and her tongue flicked out of her mouth every now and then, but she seemed calm. You laughed to yourself at the sight, as it reminded you of a cat seeking warmth. Well, a pet was a pet, you figured.

“How’s the Moly doing?” Tom asked and went up to inspect it.

“Good. Great actually,” you said. “I think we’re going to earn those extra points from Beery.”

“Don’t you think it looks a bit sickly?” he asked, holding the thin black stem between his fingers.

“No, it’s alright.”

He uttered a humph. “You don’t have the book on you, the one I gave you for Christmas, do you?”

“No, it’s in my dorm. Why would you need that now?”

“Have you read through it? All the way?”

“No, I haven’t yet. I just flicked through it and read some recipes that sounded interesting,” you answered, not knowing what he had in mind. “I wanted to try one of the Potions after we’re done with school. They all seem to take a while.”

“Which one?”

“The Vial of Auras for starters. Why?”

He nodded, still looking at the Moly. “I think there’s a recipe for plant cultivation in there. Could be of use.”

“But it looks fine, why-”

He turned his face toward you, looking into your eyes. “Just bring the book next time.”

“Okay,” you said, although it sounded more like a question. “I can bring it tonight. I’m going out to Hogsmeade with Camille in the afternoon. I’ll be back around 7 I guess.”

“That’ll do,” he said and smiled, finally sounding satisfied.

It was five minutes past seven when you returned to Tom’s room. The date with Camille had been wonderful, although you had had one too many toffees at the sweet shop. You had also gotten the Potions book from your dorm, still wondering why the Moly would need extra support. It looked totally fine to you. 

Tom’s room was empty, aside from Nagini, who had curled herself around one of the bedposts. You went over to the desk, where the Moly was standing and put the book beside it. Next to the plant lay a handwritten note:

“Coming back soon - Dippet needs me for head boy duties”

Killing time it was, then. You took Tom’s Charms book from the stack and practised a few spells for a while, trying to revise those that would most likely be tested in the N.E.W.T.s. About ten minutes later, the door opened and Tom entered the room. He dragged his feet as he shuffled in and was slightly out of breath.

“Are you alright?” you asked while putting the Charms book away.

He nodded. You walked over and took a seat on the couch, patting the space next to you for Tom to join you.

“I brought the book,” you said and pointed towards the desk.

Tom sat down, looked at it from afar and squinted. “The book?”

“The Potions book you asked me to bring. Don’t you remember?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, I totally forgot.”

You frowned, slightly worried. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tom nodded and scratched the side of his face. “Yes, yes. I’m just a bit tired.”

Tired wasn’t exactly what you would have described the state of him. He seemed nervous and completely out of it, his shoulders hanging down limply. 

“Did something happen? What did you have to do for Dippet?” you asked.

His eyes roamed the floor while he pondered. “Nothing important. Just some scheduling for the prefects.”

Something cold rubbed against your foot and when you looked down, you saw Nagini, who had slithered over. She placed herself between Tom and you on the floor, her hisses a tad louder than usual.

“What does she want?” you asked.

Tom stared at Nagini vacantly and didn’t answer.

“Tom?” 

“Hm?”

“What is she saying?”

“She’s hungry.”

“Hungry? We’ve just fed her recently. Strange,” you said and bent down to pat her head. “I’m going to get you some more mice soon, don’t worry.”

Tom’s gaze roamed the room as if he was looking for something.

“Do you want to take a look at the book now? For the Moly?” you asked.

“No,” he answered. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead then.”

“You remember the day we got engaged, right?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, it was obviously an arrangement between our families,” he stated, waiting for you to confirm. 

“Yes.”

“So I was wondering… What’s in it for you?”

Your stomach dropped. What did he mean ‘what’s in it for you’? Your sister’s curse was the most evident thing in this whole situation.

“You know exactly what’s in it for me,” you said while folding your arms. “Actually, I could ask you the same thing. Don’t tell me you forgot why we’re doing this.”

He took a moment to think before answering. “Of course I haven’t. I just thought there could be something else. Like, perhaps your parents bribed my family.”

You blinked irritatedly. He had not just said that.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked. “You’re suggesting my parents took advantage of the situation, went and killed two birds with one stone? So that they could marry me off and make me your problem?”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then retracted. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“Because I’ll have you know, my family would never do such a thing,” you interrupted him. “I know yours probably would, but my parents are not like that, believe it or not. I thought you knew that by now.”

“I was just wondering. No need to make a fuss about it.”

“You know what?” you said and got up from the couch, making sure not to step on Nagini. “You sound exactly like Ben. Only more rude. And I thought you didn’t trust him. But it seems that you don’t trust me either all of a sudden.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tom said and followed you. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We’re done here,” you huffed, making your way to the door, followed closely by Nagini, until Tom grabbed your hand.

“Don’t leave now,” he said, pulled you in a bit closer and a whiff of cologne wafted your way. He reeked of sweat and coughed so loudly you thought he might throw up any moment.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Tom,” you answered, your hand still in his. “Maybe you have a cold coming on or something because you don’t seem like you’re in your right mind. Now let me go.”

“No,” he said but turned his face away from you.

Suddenly the door flew open and you sucked in a sharp breath when you saw who it was. Tiernan Lestrange. And next to him was... Tom? Standing in the door frame, his eyes darting back and forth between you and… You looked to your left, to the person next to you and saw that Emlyn Avery was standing in Tom’s place, still holding your hand.

You wrenched your hand out of his grip and took several steps backwards.

“Avery?” you asked. “What is going on?”

Tom, the real Tom, still stared at you, a fire burning behind his eyes as he quickly walked into the room. Lestrange followed and closed the door behind himself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tom hissed, both at Avery and you.

Avery kept silent, a nasty grin forming on his face.

“He… You,” you stammered.

“You two? Holding hands in my room?” Tom yelled, his chest heaving. “Are you kidding me?”

“I can explain.”

Could you really?

“Well, I hope you can. Taking Avery into my room to do who knows what? Care to explain that?”

“He was you!” you said, only then noticing how crazy you must have sounded. 

Tom shot you a look that told you better not to take him for a fool. His thoughts must have raced at top speed inside his head, as you could practically see him thinking. His eyes scurried from your hand to Avery’s, then up to his face. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he clenched his fists and he couldn’t seem to stand still. You wondered what his next move would be. Punch Avery in the nose, curse the two of you, or rush out of the room? It reminded you of the time he had seen Ben and you at the Black Lake. 

“Please,” you whispered. “Let me explain.”

Tom sighed and avoided looking at you. He shook his head as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. It almost looked painful. Finally, he went up to Avery, pointing his wand right below the boy’s chin.

“Sit down,” Tom spat. “You too Lestrange! And I don’t want to hear a single word from either of you.”

They did as he said and Tom led you to the other side of the room, followed by Nagini. He cast a Muffliato Charm on the two boys so that they wouldn’t be able to hear what you had to say. 

“Go on,” Tom then said, still avoiding eye contact.

“I came here around seven, as we agreed. I brought the book but you weren’t here. Then I saw your note on the table and waited for you. You, I mean Avery, came in shortly after. But he looked exactly like you. Just until you showed up right now. I swear to Merlin.”

“What do you mean he looked like me?” Tom asked, an annoyed frown on his face.

“He looked and sounded just like you. I thought he was you. He acted weird and I didn’t trust him, but I thought you were just stressed out. The only way I could possibly explain this would be Polyjuice Potion.”

“You don’t really think one of them would be able to brew that correctly, do you?”

“I don’t,” you mumbled. “But how else would it be possible? You have to believe me. I would have never brought him here. Or anyone.”

He looked at you now, so intensely, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, trying to see if you were lying to him.

“Why would he do that?” he then asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered and gave it a good thought. “He asked me about some things. About the engagement. Maybe he was trying to convict me. They haven’t trusted me ever since the school year began, remember?”

Tom nodded and exhaled strongly, walking in circles around you.

“Did he touch you?” he asked.

“No. He just held me back when I wanted to leave. Just my hand, nothing else.”

“Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. If he touched you, I swear I’m going to-”

“No. He didn’t.”

Silence. Nagini’s quiet hisses disrupted your thoughts and you noticed that Tom seemed a lot calmer now.

“Why was Lestrange with you?” you asked.

“He came up to me when I was done at Dippet’s. Tried to babble on for ages about assignments.”

“That makes sense. So you wouldn’t disrupt their plan.”

“What did Avery ask you exactly?”

“If my parents had bribed your family. So we would get married.”

“Idiot,” Tom muttered.

“That’s what I thought too.”

Tom eventually stopped circling you, placed himself beside you and you both watched Lestrange and Avery sitting next to each other on the sofa. They didn’t dare look back at you and simply stared down at the floor like two ten-year-olds waiting for their parents

to punish them.

“Oh, and another thing,” you began. “Avery stinks.”

Tom, to your surprise, laughed.

That made you a bit more confident, so you asked: “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

He did? You looked at him, taken aback.

“Nagini,” Tom said to you while watching as the snake’s head reared up. “She’s your witness. She confirmed you’re telling the truth.” 

“Good girl,” you said and smiled at her, to which she hissed happily. You really had to get her some more mice. “Now, what were they thinking? What point were they trying to prove?”

“Let’s ask them,” he said, broke the Muffliato Charm with a swift motion of his wand and walked over towards the couch.

“I’m going to ask you some things,” he said to them. “And don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can tell. You’re lucky you caught me on a good day, actually.”

They both nodded.

“Polyjuice Potion?” Tom asked.

Avery looked over to Lestrange. They both nodded again.

“Where did you get that from?”

“Stole it from Slughorn,” Avery mumbled so lowly, you could hardly understand.

“Speak up!” Tom ordered.

“We stole it from Slughorn’s stock,” Avery repeated. “At the party, when everyone was dancing.”

Tom sighed and pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose. Of course they hadn’t brewed it themselves. They were far too daft.

“Why?” Tom went on. “What’s the reason for all that?”

“Well,” Lestrange cleared his throat. “We were only doing it for you, Tom. To make sure she’s not betraying you. To find out if she and her family were using you, you know.”

“So we could help you,” Avery added and nodded vehemently.

Tom grinned coldly. “And you thought I wouldn’t have found this out myself by now? That I would need your help? Seriously?”

“We thought-”

“No! You didn’t think at all,” Tom interrupted. “You went behind my back, stole from a teacher and disrespected my fiancée. You’re both an embarrassment for Slytherin and I swear, if I ever see one of you just looking her way, it’s not going to end this lightly.”

Both of them nodded again and looked down onto the floor, not saying anything.

“Now follow me,” Tom said, still angry with them.

“Where are we going?” Avery asked as he got up.

“I’m going to report you to the headmaster of course. And trust me, you’ll be glad Dippet is going to choose your punishment and not me.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Phew, this chapter was exciting to write!  Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Let me know if you want to be tagged, or untagged. Thank you for reading!

Permanent tags: @geeksareunique @ren-ela @marauderskeeper @way-obsessed5 @oreofrappiewithblueberry @draqcnheartstrinq @dogfatherpads @obscurilicious @maralisa124 @theseuscmander @lumos-barnes @theboywhocriedlupin @igotmadskills @jamcspotters @thisismysecrethappyplace @vulpecula-minor @snarledblack @swellwriting @carolinesbookworld @fandomtravels @heartbeats-wildly @clockworkherondale @aikeia @i-padfootblack-things @emmamass24 @sleep-i-ness @miss-theya @gruffle1 @pcseidcnsvoid @buckysblueeyes-18 

Promised tags: @superblyspeedydragon @angeli-fucking-cat @cyarikaaa @hp-slaps​ @prettylittlehiddles @katjusja @elderwilliams @-thatgirloverthere- @1950schick​ @kissing-violet-wings @accio-boys​ @mythicalamphitrite​ @aqswdefrgthzjukilop​ @always394patronus​ @nesseldee​ @peachyserenade @iliveforthefandom04​ @chr0nicbackpain​ @truly-insatiable​ @blushingpogue​ @scarlet-says-hi​ @staplerrrr​ @uglipotata72829​ @muralskins​ @noobmaster696969​ @urbankite2 @prettysatan @april-showers-and-flowers​ @etherrxall​ @slytherclawmalfoy​ @thoseofgreatambition​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @lettersfromtheocean​ @whyisallthecoolstufftaken​ @eternitydarkling​ @blisfvll​ @hufflautia​ @weasleybees​

If your tags don’t work, please check if your email is verified on tumblr!

[winterscaptain]

emergency.

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

a/n: credit for this awesome idea goes to snow (@agenthotchner original post linked here)! 

warnings: there’s some description of a decent-sized cut across the palm of the hand and the treatment of said cut in an emergency room, as well as some swearing rating/word count: t / 2096

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Open!

+++

“Really, I’m alright,” you assured your (very well-meaning) neighbor. She was dead-set on getting you checked in at the emergency room, even though you insisted you could stitch yourself up at home. You brought your medical packet with you – including all the intake forms, copies of your credentials, and your emergency contact information. Your go bag was at your side, packed and ready with three days’ worth of clothes.

Your neighbor stayed with you until she was sure you wouldn’t bolt, leaving you as soon as someone called you to the back.

Another Tuesday night, another kitchen accident. You’d sliced your hand open while cutting an avocado for a late-night snack. Fortunately, it was your non-dominant hand. Unfortunately, your neighbor caught you as you scuttled to your car for your first aid kit.

So here you were, sitting on the edge of a bed in one of the private emergency rooms while a nurse flushed the wound and prepared it for stitches.

+++

“Hotchner.” Aaron sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Am I speaking to Aaron Hotchner?”

“Yes. May I ask who’s calling?”

As he listened to the emergency room admin tell him about your incident, he threw on a pair of jeans and a black v-neck from the drawer. He called Jessica as soon as the nurse finished relaying the address to the ER closest to your home. Jess was in the neighborhood, coming from a girl’s night with friends, thank God.

With a kiss to his sister-in-law’s cheek and an earnest “Thank you,” he was in the car and on the way.

+++

There was some kind of commotion right outside your door, but you were busy watching the nurse as she applied local anesthetic to your hand and wrist. The bleeding had slowed enough for the nurse to maintain it with a few swipes every minute or so, and you could see the extent of the damage.

You’re a fucking moron, you know that?

You rolled your eyes at yourself and was only a little startled when the door flew open.

“Hotch?”

He checked in with the nurse, who smiled and nodded at him over your hand. Suddenly, he was sitting right next to you, looking over your intake paperwork. “They called me. I got here as fast as I could.”

Shit. “God, I’m so sorry. I forget you’re the first on my emergency contact list.” You bit your lip. “I really should make it Emily or Penelope or someone who doesn’t have kids.” You said it more to yourself than him.

To your surprise, he laughed. “No, it’s okay. Jess was in town, and Jack is still sleeping. I’m glad I can be here for you.”

+++

When they pulled out the suturing material, you paled and blindly reached for Hotch’s hand. Instead of just taking it, he tucked your head into his chest, holding you there with one hand while he rubbed soothing circles on the back of your free hand with his thumb.

You probably looked silly, tucked into your friend’s chest while your arm was fully extended to your side, under a blindingly bright light. You couldn’t feel the stitches, but it still squicked you out.

Hotch’s voice rumbled through you as he spoke close to your ear. “You’re okay. Breathe with me.”

“Hotch...” It came out as a bit of a panicked whine as you heard the doctor shuffle some tools around.

“Aaron.” He squeezed your hand. “Aaron’s just fine. It’ll be over soon. Just a little while longer.”

You took a few shaky breaths in time with his, but your hand was still a vice grip around his. He smelled really good. You knew that already, having sat next to him on the plane more than once, but it was different without the professional boundaries.

And without the suit.

“You’re doing great. Squeeze as hard as you can and keep breathing with me.” His voice was gentle and constant. It was sufficiently distracting.

Oh, right. He’s coached someone through literal childbirth before.

God, you’re such a baby.

“I’m sorry I’m such a baby.”

He laughed, taking care not to jostle you. “We’re all babies over something.”

“You’re not a baby over anything.” It came out as a grouchy gripe, your humor not strong enough to get past the tightness of your jaw.

After a moment, he shrugged around you. “Spiders. I hate them.”

You lifted your head, keeping your arm steady. The hand holding you to him dropped to your waist, where his protective grip kept you centered. “Really?”

Brown eyes smiled down at you. “Really. Jack takes after his mother and thinks it’s hilarious. ”

A shaky smile crossed your face, and you heard the telltale rasp of ripping gauze.

“All done,” the nurse said. “You’re good to go. Change the dressings daily and take care not to rip the stitches. They will dissolve on their own in about a week.”

+++

“Hotch, I can really manage on my own.”

“You have your go bag, and I know for a fact you’ll rip the stitches in your haste to grab something on your way out the door tomorrow morning.”

You couldn’t argue with him there. He pulled into his driveway and helped you out of the car.

When you were safely inside with Jessica headed home, you took your pain meds while Aaron locked his gun away.

“Oh shit,” you said, checking your bag. “I don’t have my gun. It’s in my safe at home.”

“You can use my second. I know you prefer the Glock 26, but my 17 is about the same weight in the trigger.” He handed you a mug of tea and plopped down on the couch. “I can have Anderson grab yours during the day tomorrow if we get called out on a case.”

“Thanks.” The gesture didn’t go unnoticed – offering his second gun was like offering his right arm. You settled down beside him, tucking your feet under you. “I can make up the couch, so you can head to bed. I’ve kept you up long enough.”

“You know where the linens are?” He asked, one eyebrow aloft.

“I have built many a fort with Jack, and I pay enough attention to get around.” At his dubious glance, you continued. “Second hall closet, third shelf. Blankets, sheets, and an extra pillow.” You smiled at him over your mug.

“You know...” he swallowed and seemed to struggle with his words. “You don’t have to make up the couch if you’d be more comfortable in my room.”

“Trying to get me in bed, Hotchner?”

He floundered for a moment, and you laughed softly.

“I’m kidding.” You set your mug on the coffee table and brushed his hair back with your good hand. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on it.”

“I definitely don’t mind.” He leaned into your touch like a cat.

He’s adorable.

“Thank you for staying with me tonight.” Your hand fell to his jaw, where your thumb brushed back and forth on his cheekbone.

Careful, don’t want to cut your other hand on that.

His eyes closed as you took more of his weight into your hand. “Of course.” He turned his head and kissed your palm.

Your heart jumped into your throat. He gently picked up your injured hand in his and pressed a kiss to your gauze covered knuckles. That particular act didn’t do anything to lower your heart rate. He released your hands, soft and gentle, and led the way down the hallway toward his room.

Jack’s door was open, and you saw his little sleeping form by the glow of his nightlight, curled in a ball. You wondered if the Hotchner boys slept the same way.

You’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?

Jesus.

“You can borrow one of my shirts,” Hotch said, closing the door quietly behind you, “since yours is...” He gestured to your t-shirt, and you note the blood down the front of it.

“Damn. I liked this one.”

Hotch smiled with one side of his mouth. “I’ll soak it overnight. We’ll probably be able to save it.” He turned and shuffled through his drawer, pulling out what looked to be a worn-in FBI Academy shirt and some flannel pajama pants. “These should cinch enough for you.”

You took them from him with your good hand. “Thanks, Aaron.”

His hands lingered over yours under the soft fabric. “Bathroom’s through that door – take your time. There are extra toothbrushes in the cabinet to the left of the sink. Make yourself at home.”

You settled into the en suite bathroom as he padded down the hall. You changed quickly, brushed your teeth (twice), and draped your bloodied shirt and pants on the edge of the sink.

Hotch was pulling back the covers and checking his email when you walked back out. He looked up and smiled at you.

When he brushed past you to soak your clothes in the sink, your heart caught in your throat again.

You slipped into bed, your back to the bathroom door. You closed your eyes and tried in vain to fall asleep before he returned.

You failed.

The lights in the room went out, leaving the blue cast of moonlight in front of your eyelids. You felt the bed dip as Hotch tucked in beside you.

“You’re terrible at pretending to sleep,” he whispered.

You could tell he was close to you, but when you opened your eyes you saw how close. His face was peaceful in the dark, his mouth and brow relaxed (for once).

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“Mhmm. Sure.”

You rolled your eyes and shut them again, insistent this time. “I’m ignoring you, Hotch.”

“Oh, so it’s Hotch now?”

“It is when it's nearly two in the morning and we have to leave for work in six hours,” you grumbled.

He chuckled, and his minty breath fanned over your face. You could feel him sober, and you opened your eyes. His face was pensive, and you were caught off guard by how open and expressive he was at home. You could read everything on his face as if it was printed out and handed to you.

“I don’t-“ he stopped, and his mouth pressed into a thin line for a moment. “I know we’re both adults who can share a bed without anything going on.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, doing your best to hide your amusement.

“What I mean is, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or –“

You pressed a finger to his lips. “Aaron, shh.” You let your smile shine through for a moment. “I’m here because I want to be, and I’m next to you because I want to be, okay?”

He nodded, still watching you carefully. You removed your finger from his mouth, ignoring the thrill it sent through you.

Adults. Adults who can share a bed without anything going on.

You rolled over and got comfortable, smooshing the pillow underneath your head. With your good hand, you reached behind you and searched until you found Aaron’s shirt.

“C’mere.”

He huffed a laugh and curled up behind you, snug from shoulders to calves. His arm hovered over your waist for a moment. You squished it to you, lacing your fingers with his over your belly.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

He hummed and tucked his face into your shoulder. “Anytime.”

“If you want...” you trailed off, your bravery evaporating when you actually processed what was about to come out of your mouth.

“If I want...” he echoed. You could hear the smile.

“You could – You could kiss me if you wanted to.”

Well, there it was.

You felt lips press to the soft fabric over your shoulder, trailing up to the sensitive skin near the collar.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, and you suddenly felt fully and pleasantly warm.

When you turned your head, he was waiting for you. Yes, the angle was awkward and it was dark, but maybe laughing into each other’s mouths wasn’t as embarrassing as it seemed.

He kissed you once, twice, three times. There was a sweetness, a chasteness about it. You’d both waited a long time, and it wasn’t like you didn’t want to jump his bones, but now was decidedly not the time.

You turned back around and pressed back against him as to not miss out on a single millimeter of contact.

Your sleep took you quickly, and you nearly forgot about the nine stitches in your palm.

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @happyhotchner @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @octothorpetopus @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts

[sophfic27]

Questions (Have You Ever Wanted to be a Fly on the Wall?)

Summary: By now, you probably know the drill (his name is Bill), on their tenth birthday, the first words a person’s soulmate will say to them appears somewhere on their body. The word "hello" is one of the most common phrases in the world, so when Roman ends up with it on his wrist he decides to get creative. Everyone he meets who greets him with a "hello" he asks them a question. And he'll keep doing this until it's on someone's arm. This is literally my first ever fanfiction that I've finished and posted, so here's hoping you like it.

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality (background-ish), Dukeceit (background)

Word Count: 2870

Warnings: One instance of an F bomb, I think that’s it, let me know if it’s not

Notes:  I got the idea to write this after scrolling through soulmate POVs on TikTok with my sister for fun. We discussed how one could solve the problem of having a really common phrase, and she said "I'd just ask weird questions, because I'm really good at that." So I decided to write this. Most of the questions Roman asks in this I stole from my sister, because, yes, she really does randomly ask these wackadoo questions unprompted. She's great. Enjoy.

Read on AO3

If anyone was going to describe Roman as anything, it was fanciful. Of course most kids were excited by the prospect of getting their soulmark and meeting their soulmate, but Roman had very big plans for how he was going to meet his soulmate. He grew up with Disney movies telling stories of soulmates and star-crossed lovers and found himself mesmerized by the power of soulmates. The lovely tale of the Little Mermaid, and Ariel trying to somehow convey to the prince that he was her soulmate when she had no voice. The story of Aladdin doing all he could to survive and be worthy of his princess soulmate. When he was eight, he saw Anastasia, a story of soulmates who met before their words appeared. When she lost her memory, she couldn’t have known the boy who saved her was her soulmate, and he knew but thought that she must have died until fate brought them together again. Roman was amazed. With only two years until his words appeared, he fantasized about all the ways he would meet and woo his soulmate, what unique phrase would change his life forever. Maybe he already knew his soulmate and just didn’t know it was them! Roman counted the days until he got his words with impatient anticipation.

Roman was younger than his twin, Remus by seventeen minutes exactly. So there they were, huddling on the bottom bunk with flashlights at 3:11 am only two minutes left until Remus is exactly 10 years old and he receives his soulmark. “It’s going to be something really lame, like ‘you’re annoying’ or something,” Roman insisted. Having grown up with Remus, he found it hard to think he could even have a soulmate, but they both knew he was just giving him a hard time. “Nuh-uh,” Remus squawked in a mocking tone. “Yuh-huh,” came Roman’s equally childish reply. “NUH-UH!” “Shut up, or Mom and Dad will yell at us again!” Roman socked his twin with a pillow. He tapped the screen of the tablet they had snuck into their room from the living room. 3:12:31. They’d been checking the time obsessively, but now there was only half a minute left. They exchanged a sort of giddy look as the clock ticked closer and closer. “10, 9, 8” Remus started to count as the time came upon them. Roman joined quickly, “7, 6, 5, 4.” “3.” “2.” “1.”

They watched as two words drew themselves onto Remus’s wrist: “Um, wow.” The twins blinked at the words for a minute, until Roman broke the silence, “nice going, doofus, you’re going to weird out your soulmate immediately.” “You don’t know that! Maybe it's a good ‘um, wow,’” Remus protested. “How would that be good? ‘Um, wow, you’re so handsome, ooooh,’” Roman made a mocking kissy-face and was promptly knocked over by another projectile pillow. He laughed, “face it, you’re a weirdo, ‘um, wow’ is not a good thing.” The door swung open with a whoosh and their mother stood there, staring at them. Roman covered the tablet with a pillow to hide the stolen device, and Remus scrambled off of the bunk. “I told you boys NOT to stay up like this,” Carla snapped. Her hair was up in curlers and she had hastily pulled a bathrobe over her pajamas. “But, Mama, our soulmates!” Roman whined. “Yeah, I got my words,” Remus waved his arm around even though the light was too dim for their mother to read the words and she was too tired to humor them. “That’s nice, Remus, but I told you, Papa and I have to work tomorrow, you can’t be keeping us up like this, I told you we’d look at your words in the morning,” she rubbed her eyes, still bleary from the sleep she wanted desperately to return to. “But it is morning!” Roman cried indignantly. Carla fixed her son with a pointed glare and he looked down and climbed under his sheets. Carla sighed, “thank you. Now, you can tell me what your words are in the morning when Papa is awake, but right now I need you, boys, to go to sleep, okay?” “Okay, Mama,” the twins replied in unison. Remus climbed back up to his bunk and got under his covers. Carla nodded and departed the room for her own, her slippers making light scuff sounds down the hall. As soon as the door clicked closed at the end of the hall, Remus poked his head over the edge of his bunk and looked down at his twin, “how much time is left?” he whispered. Roman uncovered the tablet and woke the screen, “ten minutes,” he whispered back. The next ten minutes crawled by painfully slow. Roman lost track of whatever his brother was saying as his thoughts turned to what his words would be. He was pulled out of his trance when Remus broke his silence to ask “how long?” again. This time, when Roman woke the tablet, he saw that it was 3:29:22, and he became overwhelmed by the fact that there was less than a minute left. He reported to his twin and went back to staring intently at the digital clock. Each second felt like an eternity, but they dragged him eagerly forward until- The grandfather clock down the hall chimed the half-hour, and Roman tugged his pajama sleeve down excitedly and turned the flashlight onto his wrist. There a beat of silence until, “so? What does it say?” Remus asked eagerly. Roman sighed, “it says ‘hello.’” Remus stayed quiet for a second, “that’s going to be hard to find,” he offered. Roman collapsed back into his pillow. “Well, I’m going to sleep. Night, bro,” Remus mumbled from above. “Night,” Roman murmured. He looked at the singular word again and switched off the flashlight. “Hello” was one of, if not the most common soulmark in the world, because it was the most common greeting, regardless of language. At least there was that, Roman considered, his soulmate probably spoke English. But that wasn’t helpful. Remus was right, it was going to be hard to find his soulmate. Roman sighed and turned over onto his side. Okay, thought Roman, then I’ll just have to get creative.

It was common practice to try to use unique and specific greetings when meeting someone for the first time to cheat destiny and ensure an easier time finding their soulmate, but with as common a phrase as “hello”, Roman had to scrap all of his fantasies of grand romantic gestures and fairy tale meetings in favor of a way to guarantee his soulmate would recognize him. The plan was simple, if he was talking first to someone new, he stated his name first and foremost. Anyone he approached first, he greeted with “my name is Roman, nice to meet you.” The part where he got creative was with anyone who approached him first by saying “hello.” “Hello!” chirped his friendly new classmate in sixth grade. “If you were an insect, how long would it take you to die?” Roman asked immediately. The girl stared at him before replying shyly, “I don’t… know?” “Darn.” He always made sure to explain his tactic after using it to avoid further alienating new acquaintances. And thus he continued this way with every new person he met, always with a new and random question.

“Hello.” “If you could time travel, who would you meet?” “…Abraham Lincoln.” “Okay.”

“Hello.” “If you could make a new type of snowman that wasn’t made of snow, what would it be made of?” “Uh. Oranges?” “Cool.”

“Hello.” “If a bat flew into your house speaking with the voice of a cartoon, but claiming to be your best friend, what would you do?” “…What?”

Sophomore year, Roman and Remus were fifteen years old. Remus had already met his soulmate, Janus, and naturally, “um, wow” had been a response to Remus weirding him out, in addition to the realization that Remus was his soulmate. Roman, on the other hand was still trying to find his soulmate with random questions, but to no avail. The second semester had begun and Roman’s physics class was changing seats. Roman collapsed into his new spot next to a boy he knew to be Patton, but with whom he had not actually talked yet. Patton was wearing a blue t-shirt with a repeating cat pattern across it. His honey-brown hair was lightly curled, and a pair of round glasses were balanced on his freckle-covered nose. He smiled warmly at Roman. The teacher finished giving his instructions and let the class go to meet their new partners and get to work on their assignments. And thus the cycle began anew. Patton turned to Roman with a grin, “hello!” Roman huffed slightly as he quickly summoned a new question, “what’s your favorite musical?” he asked in lieu of a real greeting. Patton stared at Roman for a beat before raising a hand to his chin thoughtfully, and Roman knew that the boy probably didn’t have his question on his wrist. “Mamma Mia,” he answered finally. “ABBA. Good choice,” Roman chuckled. Patton giggled back, “Why do you ask anyway?” Roman showed Patton his wrist, and he nodded wonderingly, “I get it, you’re trying to have a unique greeting, because yours is so common.” “Bingo,” Roman said, slightly relieved that he didn’t have to explain it all again. “I’m guessing you don’t have my phrase, right?” Patton’s hair bounced as he shook his head. He presented his own wrist, marked with the word “Salutations” in unusually crisp font. “Ooh, you have a fancy soulmate,” Roman said, “that, or they’re a nerd. I’ve never seen such a professional-looking font.” “Me neither,” Patton giggled again. “At least ‘salutations’ isn’t a very frequently used greeting.” Roman nodded, “yes, a nerd like that will be easy to spot,” Roman joked. “I’m Roman by the way,” he said, suddenly unsure if Patton knew who he was or not. “Patton!” he replied with a quirk of his head and a broad smile. “Nice to meet you,” he was aware of the teacher surveying the class to see who was working and quickly added, “maybe we should get started.” Patton nodded and they set to work reading instructions and becoming friends.

Half-way through the first semester of senior year, Patton introduced Roman to his recently discovered soulmate, Logan. Upon meeting him, Roman remarked that he was exactly the kind of nerd he had expected when he had seen Patton’s “salutations” soulmark. He then lamented that he was once again left surrounded with people who had soulmates when he didn’t, at which point Logan informed his that “statistically speaking, most people meet their soulmates in their twenties or thirties.” “Thanks, pocket-protector, but that’s barely comforting. I have the most common phrase in the English language,” Roman complained. “Actually, according to most studies performed in the last 20 years, the most common phrase currently is ‘hi,’” Logan corrected him with a push of his glasses. Roman stared at him in disbelief and Patton giggled at his side.

“I’m telling you Roman, he’s actually really nice,” Patton assured him as they walked down the path towards Roman’s house. Both boys were bundled up in coats, their hands stuffed firmly in pockets to protect against the biting winter wind. Roman had a Christmas party coming up in a few days, and Patton was trying to convince him to invite the fairly anti-social kid who never got of his emo phase, Virgil. In all honesty, Roman didn’t care if Virgil came or not, plenty of Remus’s friends, who he didn’t know, were going, but Patton was determined to make Roman and Virgil friends, and as it was, Roman didn’t think he had anything in common with the emo. “I’m sure he is, Pat, but…” he hesitated, searching for some way to appease his friend without giving in. “But what?” Patton pressed, meanwhile physically pressing against his shoulder. “But you get along with everyone, and everyone loves you. You can find something in common with anyone no matter what,” Roman stalled. Patton’s eyes bore into him. “I on the other hand, don’t think I have anything in common with Virgil. I mean, he’s all surly and dark, and I’m a theater kid straight out of High School Musical,” he gestured grandly before his hand quickly retreated to the warmth of his pocket again. “Have you ever even talked to the guy?” “Well, no, but-” “Then how do you know you have nothing in common?” Patton’s voice lilted. He always gave off the vibe of a dad trying to get his child to try a new food or something. Roman shot him a side-eyed look, and Patton continued, “you like Disney, right? Well, it just so happens Virgil is into Disney, too! See? There is something you have in common?” “Yeah, sure, but… I mean, who doesn’t like Disney?” Patton just shrugged. Roman was being stubborn, but Patton knew he’d practically won. “All I ask is you let me introduce you to him at the party, okay? Just let him say hello. You can even ask him one of your weird questions.” Patton waved a gloved hand vaguely. Roman was suddenly aware that he seemed to know something Roman didn’t, but he ignored the feeling in favor of a childish groan. “Fine, you can bring him to party and introduce him to me,” defeat dripped from his voice, and Patton clapped in delight and cheered as they arrived on the doorstep of the house.

Some pop rendition of Jingle Bells played through the house as Roman made his way to the snack table. The table was draped with a festive table cloth covered in reindeer and sleighs, and it featured an impressive array of cookies and cupcakes and other holiday-themed treats. Most claimed that Roman and Remus overdid the party thing, but in truth it was mostly Roman. Classmates and friends milled around dancing, eating, and chatting happily. Roman picked out a tree-shaped cookie that he had made and started to make his way into the living room when he heard someone call his name. Roman turned to see Patton dragging a boy toward him, a broad grin decorated his face and, as usual, outshone the blinking Christmas light necklace he was wearing. They met just to the side of the entryway into the living room. “I know you said you hadn’t met yet, so Roman, this is Virgil,” he gestured to the boy standing next to him. His dyed purple bangs draped just down to his eyes, and he was wearing a dark purple sweater in place of his usual patchwork hoodie. Virgil watched Patton carefully, only looking at Roman when introduced by name. Virgil gave a wave so slight, Roman would have missed it if it was any smaller. His low voice was soft, and yet carried easily over the din of the party, “hello.” “Have you ever wanted to be a fly on the wall?” Roman said. His response was automatic. Replying to “hello” with a question had become an unconscious habit after doing it for so many years. Virgil stared. That was a standard reaction to Roman, he had hardly registered the question that had come out of his mouth. Patton’s further widening smile, however, was not a standard reaction. Roman then realized that Virgil’s stare was different from others as well. His gray eyes shone with shock instead of the confusion Roman was accustomed to. Suddenly becoming uncomfortable with the silence, he said “… What?” “… I’ve always wanted to ask, and I mean this sincerely, what the fuck kind of greeting is that” Virgil said finally as he started to tug down his sleeve, revealing the words on his wrist. Roman’s face lit up with astonishment and excitement. “No, I’ve never wanted to be a fly on the wall, but thanks to you, I’ve thought about it bordering on obsessively for almost eight years.” Roman finally broke out of his trance. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it worked,” he exclaimed as Virgil stared quizzically at him. Roman showed him his own wrist and explained the logic behind his seemingly random question. Suddenly a thought occurred to him, and he whirled on Patton. “You knew about this, didn’t you?” He shrugged innocently. “I knew that Virgil had a weird question on his wrist and that you have a tendency to ask such questions,” He grinned slyly, “I couldn’t be certain, but it was a pretty fair bet.” “You’re a mad genius,” Virgil cocked his head at Patton. Patton smiled brightly again, “I don’t know what you mean, kiddo, I’m just helping out where I can.” Roman shook his head and laughed, “alright, Pat, I’m sorry I ever doubted you.” “That’s fine, Roman,” Patton clapped him on the shoulder, “I’ve got to go find Logan, so you guys get to know each other,” Patton waved as he stepped away. Roman and Virgil turned to face one another and stared at each other in silence for a few moments. Roman wracked his brain for what to do next, and all he could come up with was, “So… Disney?”

[captainjimothycarter]

Steve & Peggy tell their kid (or kids) that they’re having another baby

Steve was the worst had kept secrets. He barely kept his proposal to Peggy hidden and in the end, she’d been knowing for weeks because she saw the ring he kept hidden in the false bottom of his bedside table. He was the worst at lying too, the tips of his ears turned red or he found himself looking everywhere but at the person, he was talking to. All the signs were there, Steve would make a terrible spy.

Now Peggy? Peggy, his beautiful, amazing wife, and father of his child, of their beautiful daughter Sarah Elizabeth, was a spy through and through. That was her job after all, but Steve? It wasn’t his job at all. He was a stay at home father and still could never bring it in himself to lie to his daughter, even if it was just a little white lie.

“Daaaaad,” six-year-old Sarah sighed in the overdramatic way she mirrored from her mother. Eyes rolled back and even stomping her foot along the gravel of their driveway. “Where are we going? And don’t lie! Mummy says it’s bad to lie!”

“Of course she does,” Steve chuckled, picking little Sarah up and strapping her into her car seat. “We’re going to meet Mummy at the park for lunch.”

Sarah’s head cocked to the side, head full of Steve’s blonde curls but Peggy’s beautiful eyes and smiles. He saw so much of her and so little of him, not that it mattered. “But Mummy went to work.”

“And now she’s off. She’s spending the whole day with us.” 

Peggy had found a beautiful spot in the local park, Steve noted. Right in the warm sunshine, the trees offering plenty of shade. A large blanket was spread out to offer comfort on the ground and a beautiful array of carefully packed food and drinks awaited them. 

And she looked like a goddess herself, laying on the blankets, book in the hand. Her one hand unconsciously cradled her stomach, not even too much showing yet and she was already tenderly touching it, like how she did when Sarah was there.

Sarah squealed when she saw her mum, running straight across the park and sliding and tumbling into the blanket so she could fall into her arms. Their laughter carried over the park as he eventually joined them, setting down the wrapped present beside the basket.

The shiny, silver paper immediately caught Sarah’s attention, her mouth turning into a perfect ‘o’.

“But it’s not my birthday,” she noticed, the curious note in her eyes making Steve grin as he bent down to kiss his wife in greeting. “Or Mummy’s or yours, Daddy. Why is there a present?”

“No, it’s not,” Peggy agreed, stroking those unruly curls from Sarah’s face. “It’s no one’s birthday, not yet. There doesn’t have to be a birthday to get a present.”

The little girl’s face turned completely serious as she thought this over, mouth now pressed into a firm line that was all Peggy right there. Steve tried not to laugh as he carefully opened the basket to pull out the already made plate.

“Okay,” Sarah eventually said, taking the plate and leaning into her mummy’s chest after Steve helped her sit up. “Is it mine? Can I have it? What is it?”

“Darling,” Peggy laughed, shaking her head as she took the cover off of Sarah’s food and handed her a fork. “Eat first, okay? We don’t want the nice food daddy made us go to waste, do we? Look, we have your favorite! Even chocolate cake for dessert.”

“But mummy that’s your favorite.”

“Yeah, mummy,” Steve snickered. “That’s yours. It’s yours too, Sarah.”

“Uh-huh. Cause it’s yummy and cause Mr. Jarvis makes a better cake than you, daddy.” She paused to consider her words, mouth stuffed full of rice. “Sorry.”

Peggy snorted into her hand a Steve feigned hurt, rolling her eyes. “Now, now, darling it’s okay. Let’s eat. I’m starving. And daddy insists on dinner before dessert.”

“If you had it your way, it be dessert all the time,” Steve pointed out, pointing his fork at his wife’s face.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Of course, I would. Dessert is amazing.”

“You would make yourself sick! Regular food is amazing too.”

“Only when you don’t burn it.” She childishly stuck her tongue out at Steve, her husband just smirking around his fork. “And I would not. In a perfect world, dessert would be for every meal. All the cake and ice cream one could want.”

“Am I not in your perfect world?”

“Oh, darling, you always are. You and Sarah both make my world perfect every day.”

“You giant sap,” Steve sighed as he leaned into his wife and pulled her into his side, kissing her cheek softly. 

Their little girl was none the wiser to her parents above them, refusing to take eyes off one another while Steve insistingly fed his wife bites of food. Sarah’s eyes were on the prize of the present waiting for her.

“Can I open it now?” she sighed, once the meal had been handled and Steve was cutting up the cake. 

He saw her eyes were locked onto the cake, bright and wide when he pulled out large slices for them. Sarah would be hyper but screw it they were celebrating. The cake only distracted her for point two seconds, long enough for everyone to finish off a slice. 

“Daaaaaddy,” she sighed when Steve was taking far too long to clean up their mess. “Can we open the present now?”

“There she goes with your patience,” Peggy chuckled, hugging Sarah to her chest before slipping her to the blanket and taking the present.

“My patience? That’s your patience, shoot first, ask questions later,” Steve snorted, rolling his eyes as he sat back down beside his little girl. “Alright, Sarah, I know you’re curious about what this is but...it’s important mommy and daddy explain something to you.”

Now there was her mother when she tilted her head up to look at her parents, a pout on those pink lips. “What’s important?” She was quiet for a moment, taking hold of the box but not removing the paper. She had patience, that kid, just when she wanted to use it.

“You’re pregnant,” Sarah said, looking at her mom.

Peggy’s eyes widened, sharing a look with Steve. “How did you know?” She wasn’t upset, if anything she looked amused while holding her stomach. Very amused.

Sarah’s little shoulders shrugged. “Daddy. He can’t lie. And I saw Daddy painting the bedroom I’m not allowed in and saw the names painted on the wall like mine are.”

“Names,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. “I shoulda locked the door.”

“You really should’ve,” Peggy mused, kissing her husband’s cheek. “Well, that cats out of the bag now. Go ahead and open it, darling.”

That’s the sign Sarah was waiting for, tearing the package open and grinning ear to ear when she saw what laid inside. Two fuzzy, brown teddybears with baby blue ribbons around their necks laid in the box. Each ribbon had one name printed on it, James and Michael.

“You’re having two?!” She looked so puzzled, down to her belly, and back up to her mama. 

“Twins,” Peggy confirmed, taking one bear out to show her the sonogram photo that was encased in the bear’s plastic stomach to protect it. “You’re gonna be a big sister!”

They weren’t sure how Sarah would react, honestly. Given the fact, Steve was a single child and Peggy was the youngest in the family, they had nothing to compare their reactions too. Yet, Steve prepared for the worst. He prepared for a fight, a tantrum, demanding to stay the single kid and crying, but instead, Sarah’s eyes lit up and she hugged one bear, then the other before crushing them against her and her mama’s belly. 

“Hi, James and Mikey!” She breathed, touching her belly. “I was inside mummy too! But now you are and I’m gonna be your big sister! I can’t wait to meet you!”

--

Steve smiled at the sight that welcomed him when he stepped out of the bathroom, steam pouring out behind him. Sarah laid on her mama’s side, asleep, one hand laid on her belly, the other with her thumb in her mouth. A habit that never seemed to break.

“She fell asleep talking to the boys,” Peggy laughed as Steve slowly climbed into the bed. “We shouldn’t let her sleep with us.”

They were going to anyway, not when Sarah wanted to be with her brothers. What’s one night?

“She already loves them so much,” he sighed, turning the lights off and getting under the covers. “You’re not mad that I accidentally spoiled the surprise?”

“Darling,” Peggy laughed. “She’s our child. She has my wits and your smarts and everything in between. She’s going to find out what she wants to find out. I know one thing…” She kissed him while her hand rubbed at Sarah’s back. “She’s going to be an amazing big sister, I just know it.”

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 11

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Heyyyyyaaaaaaa. I’m going to be honest with y’all. I have not been working on this story like I should have since I started posting. That being said, I do have a few more chapters completed but then things get a littleeeeee fuzzy bc I’ve been slacking. I’m going to try to keep up with the posting schedule I have rn, but if that doesn’t work out, please forgive me. I may need to pause for a few weeks to stack up some more chapters. BUT CROSS YOUR FINGERS I GET MY SHIT TOGETHER. As always, please like and reblog and leave me an ask if you can. :’) When you’re done reading, I would love for you guys to go find a petition you haven’t signed yet. All of my love. Xx

Melody still had nightmares. Horrible ones. Awful, haunting dreams that pressed at the edges of reality, blurring lines between sleeping and waking. But they somehow became less constant and more bearable within the next few weeks. Whether it was due to Harry’s constant, tender touches as she fell asleep every night, or to the ugly, unartistic paintings and incoherent writing she’d forced out, there were no clues. She thought Harry deserved the credit, but he thought it could be a mix of both.

Early snow dusted the city like powdered sugar, lightly enough to look pretty without making traffic a mess. Melody felt the cold dampen her mood, but Harry only seemed to brighten at the prospect of a blizzard warning. Snow dazzled him. Despite everything he’d experienced in his relatively short life, somehow winter had always remained a sort of sanctuary for him. And he’d softened himself toward everyone as a result.

“Ugh, do I have to go?” Melody asked aloud when she reentered the bedroom to find him laid out on her bed. He looked so cozy and warm in a pair of sweats with his hair mussed atop his head. She bent over him to plant a chaste kiss to his lips.

“No,” Harry said, “yeh don’.”

She smiled ruefully and stole another soft kiss from him. “Yes, I do.”

“Yeh don’ have to. Could stay here with me.”

“Harry.” Melody accepted his return kisses as he sat himself up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress.

“Melody.” He ran a thumb over the curve of her chin and sighed.

“I need to go. Please, be nice to Bea.”

“Always am.”

“Sure you are.” She pressed her lips to his one final time and let them linger a few moments too long, until she felt his fingers sneaking around the back of her neck. If she let him touch her too much she’d end up late to her own match. “Okay, I’m leaving,” she insisted as she backed away. “I’m going. Bye.”

Harry watched her slip out of the room, collecting her gym bag on the way. He was relieved that she hadn’t told him she loved him. Every time he heard the words on her tongue he felt his very organs shift, felt them contort and fold in on themselves. He would never, ever tell her the way it made him feel, but he hoped that eventually, when he still wasn’t saying it back, she might just let the sentiment die. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Let’s go, Harry!” Bea called from the living room.

He sighed as he rose to his feet and lumbered out of the bedroom, his cane clicking on the hardwood. The door to the apartment closed before he made it past the threshold of the room. It was only him and Bea left. There was still an awkward air between them, but it was beginning to thin. Harry thought it was because of his help with Melody’s nightmares. He didn’t like the idea that Bea had ever thought he’d be useless in a situation like that. He didn’t like that doing the bare minimum to comfort Melody had somehow made Bea more open to him.

“You don’t look enthused.”

“I don’ like to bullshit,” Harry responded.

Bea grinned. She patted the cushion beside her and waited for him to sit. She didn’t seem bothered that he sat farther from her than necessary.

“Aren’t you wondering what we’re gonna watch?” Bea asked.

Harry shrugged. “Not really.”

“What if I picked a chick flick?”

“Then I’d just fall asleep.”

“You’re not falling asleep tonight,” Bea stated. “We’re watching The Silence of the Lambs.”

Harry’s lack of reaction seemed to deflate her. She clicked a button on the remote and the opening credits of the film began to roll.

“I have no clue how you’re with someone who writes and paints,” Bea murmured.

“If yeh figure it out, let me know.”

The pair lapsed into silence as the movie started. And didn’t even exchange a glance when Queenie appeared, curling up on the cushion between them.

Bea paused after a bit to take a call from Josie and microwave a bag of popcorn, and when she returned she found her cat sprawled across Harry’s lap, purring loudly, much to Harry’s chagrin. She had to consciously stop herself from spitting out laughter. Instead, she sat back in her seat and slid the bowl of popcorn into the spot that Queenie had abandoned.

***

“That was fucked up,” Harry eventually said, when the end credits of the movie had been rolling for a few minutes.

“Yes.”

“He wore the guy’s face.”

“He eats people. I feel like that’s the more fucked up of the two.”

Harry shook his limbs, as though he could expel the disturbing parts of the movie from his memory. Queenie, who hadn’t moved since she settled into his lap, took unkindly to his movement, stretched to the floor, and bounded into Bea’s bedroom.

“Glad Melody didn’t watch this one.”

Bea drew in a deep breath and shook her head. “Melody loves scary movies,” she informed him. "But that’s because she knows they’re not real. She’s not—It’s different when you live it, right?”

Harry fell silent. Whether she agreed or not, he was the one that had dragged Melody into a horror film of her own. Now she could barely sleep in her own bed because of his brother. And he didn’t know how else he could help, how else he could ward off the monsters.

“Speak of the devil,” Bea said as she caught sight of Harry’s phone, where it buzzed on the coffee table. “Mel” was spelled across the screen. Harry leaned forward to answer the call and bring the phone to his ear.

“Hi.”

“Hey, man.”

Sean’s voice sounded muffled and uneasy. Harry felt himself stiffen almost immediately, and his body language conveyed something to Bea. She unfolded her legs to place her feet flat on the floorboards.

“Wha’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

“Because yeh’re callin’ me from Melody’s phone and yeh sound like yeh’re about to get in trouble. Don’ fuck with me.”

There was a brief hiccup of a chuckle on the other end of the line. It was a nervous sound. Harry didn’t like it one bit.

“Uh, she lost her match.” Sean cleared his throat before he went on. “She’s about to get an X-ray of her torso done right now. I’m sure it’s just—”

“Fuckin’ Christ, Sean! Yeh could’ve led with that.” Harry was already on his feet, reaching for the arm of the sofa to keep his balance when he realized he was forgetting his cane. He doubled back and waved off Bea’s desperate vie for information.

“She’s probably fine!” Sean defended. “I don’t think she broke anything or she would’ve been a little more hysterical.”

“For fuck’s sake. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Harry hung up before Sean could respond. “She’s gettin’ X-rays at the hospital,” he spat at Bea, who was following him around and demanding to know what was going on. “Might have a broken rib or somethin’.”

So much for this strange bonding experience that Melody had insisted on. It felt more like something sorority sisters might do on the weekends than anything else, anyway. And Harry didn’t wait for Bea as he hobbled down the complex stairs, struggling into a jacket while supporting himself with his cane. But somehow she ended up in the cab with him, and their mutual silence felt unifying.

***

“Floor two,” the woman at the lobby’s desk said. Harry was already crossing to the elevators, so she nearly shouted the room number to him. Bea, despite being in perfect health, had to rush to keep up with him. Her curls bounced with every hurried step.

“Harry, I’m sure she’s okay.” She tugged the zipper down on her jacket as they waited for an elevator and tried to catch her breath. This felt like exercise, and Bea hated exercise. “Not that you shouldn’t be worried,” she continued, “but don’t act like she’s on the brink of death. She’s used to injuries.”

Harry snorted humorlessly. Melody didn’t know what injuries were. She told him once that she’d never been to the hospital for herself. It was always a cousin giving birth or her father getting stitches. She had never split her skin open far enough to get stitched up herself, or been hit so hard that her insides were bleeding, or snapped a bone.

There was a musical ding as an elevator reached the ground floor. Harry didn’t wait for the family on it to exit before he shouldered past them and jammed his thumb into the button for the second story. Bea was more patient. She allowed everyone out before she stepped in beside Harry and watched him smash the button to close the elevator doors. It was almost endearing to see him so concerned, but it was also too intense for her tastes.

There was no elevator music to lull the pair of them. They waited in silence until they reached the floor that Melody was on and then navigated through the halls quickly until they found the correct room number. Sean was just inside the door.

“Ah, I thought you’d gotten lost or—”

“Fuck you,” Harry snapped as he stepped past his friend. Melody was laying in a hospital bed. This setting was so familiar to Harry, but with the roles reversed, it felt like he was having a nightmare of his own.

“You don’t have to be rude to him, you know,” Melody muttered.

She had an awful, swelling bruise on her forehead, so close to her temple that it could’ve made Harry sick. She was in a sports bra, and for the first time he noticed Vanessa, who was meticulously wrapping up Melody’s ribcage.

“‘S not broken?” was the first thing Harry said.

“No,” Vanessa answered.

“Bruised.” Sean took a step forward, trying to insert himself back into the conversation that he had been ejected from. “She was doing really well and then—”

“I don’ wanna hear from you,” Harry interrupted. Melody rolled her eyes. Sean sighed.

“Fine, I guess I’ll go home,” he said. “I’ll let Goodman know you’re out for at least a month.”

Melody’s eyes widened and when she moved, the pressure on her ribs made her flinch. “A month?”

“At least,” Sean repeated.

“It’s a bruise.”

“‘S a bruised rib, Melody,” Harry snapped.

Sean left without any goodbyes. Bea leaned up against the wall where he’d been standing and lifted an eyebrow. “Thought you had defenses like a brick wall,” she teased.

“Shut up,” Melody mumbled as Vanessa finished her work. The room fell silent.

“Do you want some ice for your face?” Vanessa asked eventually, when Melody had been avoiding everyone’s eyes and the rest of them were sick of looking at each other.

“No, I can just—”

“Yes, she’ll take some ice,” Harry cut in.

“You tend to interrupt people,” Melody informed him. She laid back gently against the pillows that had been propped up behind her. “Have you noticed?”

Bea snorted. “Pretty sure he does it on purpose,” she said before wandering out of the room. Vanessa glanced between Harry and Melody and then followed Bea. The tension that had already filled the air seemed to thicken, settling over the two of them like an unnavigable fog. Harry sliced through it first.

“This is why I don’ want yeh fighting,” he said.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Harry,” she muttered. Then her voice rose. “If you were still in the ring you’d be getting injured, too. And I—”

Harry ignored the sting that he felt, the knowledge that he couldn’t box in his current condition. What if she wasn’t able to write? These days it seemed just that she didn’t want to, but if she wasn’t able to, wouldn’t she feel this same sort of despair? “Mel, yeh bruised your fuckin’ rib.” He took a step further into the room. “A little more pressure and it breaks. A little less luck and it punctures a fuckin’ lung and yeh’re chokin’ on blood. These are not just injuries. Yeh didn’ just fall off a bike and scrape your knee.”

Melody paused. She didn’t know how to respond. That sounded like her own fears spit back in her face. A half inch to the left and that bullet would’ve killed you.

“Are you going to keep yelling?”

“‘M not fuckin’ yelling. Do yeh want me to yell?” Harry’s brows knitted together and he shook his head. “What did yeh expect, me to lay down next to yeh and tell yeh ‘m so glad yeh’re okay? ‘S not happenin’. Think I’ve made my feelings pretty clear when it comes to this.”

“Actually, I didn’t expect anything. I didn’t want to call you.” Melody licked her lips as she studied the anger etched into the lines of Harry’s face, and then the minuscule shift as he realized that Sean was on his side. At least in this moment. “It comes with being a boxer,” she said after a pause. “You told me that once.”

Harry sighed. “Yeh’re not a fuckin’ boxer, Mel. Yeh’re a writer. Yeh’re a painter.”

“I can be whatever the fuck I want to be, Harry. And you’re not going to tell me what that is.”

His features hardened for a moment and then he glanced out the window. There was snow falling, slowly and gently, without the force of the brutal wind that would arrive in the coming weeks. It was so peaceful out there, and Harry wondered how he’d let himself become so resentful.

He stared outside for a few long minutes and then let his eyes wander back to Melody, who was already picking absentmindedly at the wrappings of her ribcage. His legs were growing weary and he was on the verge of needing to sit. Melody glanced up when she felt the weight of his gaze.

“Can we go home now?” she asked, and her voice was so soft, so at odds with the way she’d spoken her last sentence, that Harry could feel himself physically jarred by the shift.

“I can’ help yeh walk,” he said, though the words tasted like acid. “Yeh’re gonna need Bea and I dunno where she went off to.”

Melody chewed on her lower lip. She felt guilty for the short argument they’d had, and she could see that same feeling reflected back at her. The match had tired her out, her bruised rib hurt with every expansive breath. In vain, tears began to collect at the corners of her reddening eyes.

“Don’,” Harry said, taking a shaky step forward. He could sense the shift even before he saw her chin trembling. “Please, don’.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” she murmured, pressing her fingers to her eyelids, as if they could keep the water back like a dam. “Uh, how was the movie?”

“It was good,” Harry assured her, surprising himself. He hadn’t known that he enjoyed it until then, when he was put on the spot. Bea appeared like she’d been summoned.

“I heard that!” she nearly shouted. “He liked it!” Then her eyes fell to Melody and her snide grin tipped into a frown. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” Melody said with a discrete sniffle. “Can someone ask Vanessa if we can leave?”

“She said you just need to take it easy for a few weeks.” Bea shuffled past Harry and pried Melody’s hands from her face. “Which means no training.”

“Perfect,” Melody mumbled. She allowed Bea to begin shifting her out of the bed, gently twisting her limbs, trying not to tweak her rib. Harry had to lower himself into the chair a few feet from where he had been standing to give his legs some relief.

“The wraps are just for you to get home.” Bea paused as Melody bit back a whimper, waiting for her to straighten her torso. “And she’s hooking you up with some pain meds.”

“Yeh’ll need ‘em,” Harry muttered. He stood back up as the girls made their way toward the door. They were a conspicuous group, with a cane, a wrapped ribcage, and shuffling footsteps. Eyes followed them through the halls, all the way to a cab.

***

Melody’s lips grew white as Harry helped her out of her wrappings. She screwed her eyes shut and her fingertips curled into his knee.

“Okay,” he whispered as he tugged the final loop of fabric loose, leaving her skin bare. The sight of her flesh made him hiss. “Who the fuck hit yeh, the Hulk?”

“Mmm.”

Harry pressed a hand to her cheek. Her skin was hot, damp, and he could feel her jaw twitching, like she might be grinding her teeth. Her breathing was shallow.

“Let’s get yeh some o’ those painkillers, yeah?”

“No, I’m okay,” she whispered, though her voice shook.

“Mel.” He pressed a kiss to one of her closed eyes. “I’ve had a bruised rib before.”

She didn’t respond. He heard her try to take a deeper breath and then felt her neck quiver beneath his fingertips. She shook with the effort of stifling a cough.

“Don’ do that.” He pressed her backward and she gasped, clinging to his arm and letting out an agonized sob at the sharp intake of breath. “‘M sorry,” he rushed. “Love, ‘m sorry. Just sit back for me.”

She let him lower her away from him, eyes still squeezed shut and chin beginning to tremble like it had in the hospital. Her eyelashes were wet and Harry touched his forehead to hers. “Okay?”

“No.”

He let out a short huff of acknowledgment and then lifted the pillow from beside them, holding it tenderly to her chest as he leaned back. “If yeh need to cough just hold this to your chest. ’S still gonna hurt but it’ll be better.”

There was a pause before she wrapped her arms around the pillow and sputtered out a few gentle coughs. Her eyelids fluttered, nails biting into her palms, lips curling into her mouth.

“Melody, yeh don’ have to pretend yeh’re not in fuckin’ pain,” Harry told her, pressing a hard kiss to her cheekbone. He brushed hair away from her forehead, carefully avoiding her bruise, and then used his thumb to pry her lips back into place before kissing them. “Not on my account. ‘M sorry I got angry. I don’ want yeh to fight. But if yeh’re hurtin’ like this ‘m not just gonna tell yeh to suck it up.”

Harry stroked her ear and her tensed facial muscles began to relax. Her lips parted. She opened her eyes to glance up at him and almost immediately let them fall closed again as she began to cry.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled. He didn’t know whether it was for her or for himself. And he didn’t know if her tears were solely from the pain or for another reason entirely.

The mattress shifted despite his best efforts as Harry climbed off the bed. He hurried into the kitchen, gathering Melody’s prescription, a glass of water, and an ice pack. He almost didn’t even realize he’d forgotten his cane until he was laying himself down beside Melody, who had pulled the pillow up to cover the bottom half of her face, stifling her shallow sobs. But this wasn’t a moment to celebrate.

“All right, love, take some o’ these.” He shook out a few pills and reached across her for the glass he’d put on the night table. She lowered the pillow enough to toss the meds back and swallow a gulp of water, but Harry had to tug it from her grip so he could position the ice atop her angry, swelling bruise. Somehow, he’d finagled her bra over her head before attempting to unwrap her, and her breasts erupted in goosebumps at the cold touch.

“It fucking hurts,” she whimpered out.

“I know, I know.” Harry settled his hand over the ice pack, pressing his lips to Melody’s shoulder. “Give the pills a little bit o’ time.”

He fell silent and stroked her wrist with his free hand until her tears began to ebb. The clock read one in the morning. Bea had gone to bed as soon as they’d gotten home because she needed to work on a group project the next morning. Harry was beginning to feel tired himself, and he couldn’t imagine how exhausted Melody was.

“Just one problem after another,” he finally said. “Just can’ seem to catch a break, can we?”

“Wouldn’t life be so boring?”

He chuckled against her skin. “Just a little break would be nice, though.”

Melody didn’t respond. Her shallow breathing was beginning to slow. Harry kissed her cheek to check that she was truly asleep before he removed the ice pack from her side and very carefully covered her with the sheets. And he hoped that the rest of her healing would pass more smoothly than this first night.

Chapter 12

[beyondtheciouds]

.22.

The sun was setting on the third day Tessa was missing. There had been no witnesses and no evidence of any foul play. Nothing to do but search and wait. Will had sent messages to every Warlock he could count on.

No replies yet.

The room was cold, dimly lit and dusty. It had been too long since Lucie had been up here. Shadows played upon the stone walls and angeled themselves against the hanging weaponry into the the tight corners of the cathedral ceiling.

Lucie kept looking over her shoulder for a bony set of hands reaching out for her. She was worried, as everyone was.

"On the outside, you need to be pulled together. Calm. Collected. But, Lucie darling, on the inside you can crumble. Rhwygwch eich hun ar wahân. Rhwygwch eich hun yn ddarnau, ond cofiwch galon annwyl; dewrder."

The ghost of Linette Herondale smiled faintly as she pointed to the place where her heart used to beat. "Real courage is keeping your secrets."

Lucie shivered at the sound of the voice she could hardly recall from her childhood. She sucked in a breath, goosebumps coating her skin even through the thick wool of her knitted sweater. Bright yellow and itchy as heck; made by Bridget as a get-well gift.

She wished her brother hadn't made her wear it, but she couldn't get into her dresses. Cordelia had paired with a hideously long, dark navy skirt that likely mimicked Lucie's brooding mood.

Cordelia sat on the floor, wiping down Cortana with quiet care. She was humming, content, and Lucie noted she wore Linette's diamond on her ring finger.

Lucie looked away, jealousy creeping around the corner. She wasn't entirely swept out to sea. She knew what they were all hiding; her mother was kidnapped and they had been sentenced to baby-sit the injured girl.

Lucie had a very educated guess on who had taken her mother like a theif in the night. Logic was not obvious in the kidnapper himself, but he was cunning with his reasoning.

Lucie was convinced Belial was brains.

She only knew because the dream was real.

Lucie, exhausted, sighed, her eyes dazed. She needed to find out more of Belial's plan. It was easy to be ignorant of the details and Lucie had noted Tatiana hadn't even looked at the dismembered body. That to Lucie seemed odd and worth a second thought.

Grace. Grace would know.

Matthew glanced at Lucie as though he could tell what she was thinking. These days they seemed to be on the same page.

She had suspected he was worried and his demeanor seemed uncertain all day. Bags lined up under his green eyes, dull with a deep tiredness. Despite his crisp and clean clothes, he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

When Lucie had awoken, confused and scared, his had been the first face she saw. He had smiled and kissed her forehead. When he exhaled his genuine relief, her heart melted. Now, as she thoughts of Jesse crept into her heart, guilt tugged at her. The pain burned like a gnawing rat. The guilt had her thinking maybe she owed Matthew an explanation.

Imagine.

Lucie was momentarily distracted by the tug of reality, a heavy throbbing in her side. She swore she felt blood pulsating through the thick threshold of the bandages as a wave of nausea crashed into her. "My secrets get me in trouble, Nain."

Linette patted Lucie's arm like she might have in life; a grandmotherly gesture that had been meant to comfort. The feeling sent bubbles of ice courting Lucie's veins and a flutter in her belly. "Lucie, your secrets are what makes you special."

With her mouth drawn into a thin line, Lucie scowled, turning her eyes on her brother in an attempt to dissuade further conversations. She watched quietly how easily James's feet moved; choreographed to Matthew's own movement. It hadn't taken Lucie long before she realized she was sitting in a scene she could not be a part of and had been all afternoon. Now she understood why James insisted.

Matthew was staring at her and so was James.

They were worried about her.

The thoughts troubled her; knowing at this moment she should be rounding Grace up. Right now, Lucie should be searching and demanding the truth but instead she was stuck in the training room being babysat.

Lucie couldn't deny that she felt hurt to be treated like an invalid. In her heart she knew that she needed to strengthen her body and mind. But still. She was weak. Her blue eyes were heavy as they watched the boys do the dance of death with their daggers.

Suddenly breathless, she wanted to sleep. Disappear for awhile.

It had been almost two days since she awoke and two full days since her mother vanished. Today she felt alright enough to stand without getting dizzy or sick to her stomach. James had encouraged her to watch him and Matthew spar in the training room during their session in the afternoon since she felt better. Getting out of bed would do her well.

Lucie reluctantly agreed to keep the pestering of her brother at bay.

James had thought it would be a good idea to get her mind off Jesse, their mother and her wound that was just starting to heal. There was another thing James hoped his sister hadn't yet noticed and wouldn't for quite some time.

James decided in his heart he would love it, because it was a complication as much as a miracle.

Uncle Jem had told Will in confidence the condition of Lucie once he returned to the Institute.

James had overhead and saw Will crying. He knew he couldn't tell Matthew yet. Especially not since Lucie hadn't figured it out.

James wasn't blind to their new connection. He could only speculate something huge occurred between them since Matthew was so tight lipped. He had seen the discouraged and angry looks on Matthew's face everytime Jesse's name was said.

James had also witnessed the quiet and desperate look in his eyes as Matthew held Lucie's hand when she was sound asleep.

James knew his sister remained oblivious to Matthew's want to possess her as his wife. He silently applauded Matthew's efforts. He knew his parabatai had tried to ignore the fact that Lucie was calling for another boy instead him. Although Matthew was clearly upset, he continued to tend to Lucie day and night.

Today he had carried her up four sets of stairs just to prove to Lucie that he could.

Lucie was told she had asked for Jesse every moment she was conscious. Now all she wanted to do was try to remember because she was tired of forgetting. "Why can't I remember?"

The ghost's mouth curled to the side, an invisible hand lovingly crafting onto Lucie's shoulder. "Don't fret dear heart, you will remember."

Lucie sighed disappointed with herself. Her blue eyes were shrouded by her lashes and she turned away from James. Contemplating her next move, she stared wistfully out the only window in the room. From this level in the Institute she could just see the quiet roof tops of the other buildings. No birds. Just pure white snow and a periwinkle sky. Lucie longed to be out in the frozen air. "I highly doubt that."

Her tone teased sarcasm and her mood darkened as her grandmother shifted to a protective posture. Lucie arched her mousey eyebrows and bit her lip. Her eyes were still focused on the glaring snow reflecting off the glass.

James threw both of his daggers; they sailed through the air like a pair of lethal weapons. Matthew was unprepared, still gazing at Lucie with a fixation James found spineless. With the blinding of an eye, Matthew had suddenly channeled his cat-like reflexes; honed by years of training.

Matthew jumped and somersaulted into the air as the daggers soared beneath him. He landed on his feet with a thud that drew Lucie's attention.

James groaned and threw two more daggers. The weapons flew over Matthew's head as he ducked, expertly avoiding decapitation. All four black-handled blades landed in the red center of the target on the the wall.

Matthew grinned, bowing. Even in despair he was ever the actor. Linette and James clapped as Matthew strode over towards Lucie.

Lucie frowned as her brother's eyebrows knit together as he stood in front of Lucie. No doubt, he had seen the ghost standing beside his sister. His gold eyes were focused on the ghost of their grandmother. "Nain Herondale?"

Linette turned towards her grandson with fringed interest. "My, my. You my boy look like my William more every day."

James frowned. He didn't trust his grandmother's spirit. His gut told him something was wrong. "What are you doing here?"

Linette smirked; a suspicious smile that showed her broken bottom teeth as her gaze looked past her grandson, ignoring him once more. "Byddwch yn ofalus yr hyn yr ydych yn dymuno amdano."

She spoke to quickly for Lucie to be sure that her words held an unforgiving weight. "That one. He's one of your secrets."

Lucie blanched.

Linette laughed, a jarring sound. "A secret that will soon be exposed as expected."

Lucie scowled, glancing at Linette. "Speaking in rhyme, now Nain?"

Linette grinned broadly. "Fe welwch gariad."

Lucie stayed quiet, not trusting her mouth. Her lips stayed clamped together even though she wanted desperately to scream Welsh obscenities. Hastily, her shaking hands pulled the blanket up, over her lap.

Lucie shivered as Linette's transparent fingers tapped the edge of her collar bone.

The apparition said nothing else, only stood gravely silent at Lucie's side, her blue eyes set on the Fairchild boy.

***

Will Herondale was tired. He raised his fists, cursing the angels above, his head in his hands and his heart on his sleeve. He coughed, choosing to choke on a new reality.

Lucie would be a mother and Tessa might be dead.

Tears burned in his eyes as he thought the unsettling words: Is this what you want? Giving me more than I can chew? Are you hoping Raziel, that I wil finally renounce? First my daughter. Now my wife. Who's next? James? Then the maid?

He had spent the last two nights frantically searching the streets of London for his wife instead of tending to his injured and pregnant daughter.

The locals in the bars and pubs believed him to be unlucky and insane.

Now, he sat at his desk as the sun set and Bridget prepared dinner as normal downstairs. He couldn't bring himself to see Lucie or James. He couldn't face them knowing he was crumbling.

Nothing was normal, he thought bitterly. Not even for Shadowhunters.

[chilling-seavey]

Ok idk if this has already been a blurb so if it has just ignore me but I can’t remember reading one about it lol. A Halloween blurb! Idk if Halloween is big in Canada where they’re from but maybe they don’t really celebrate but since Florence is from LA she loved Halloween growing up and makes them celebrate or something

Oh for sure! I’ve written one before and one in ABM itself but since it’s October 2020 I’ll throw out another just in time for Penelope’s first Halloween! :)

When Anything But Mine ended (not including the epilogue), we left off with Daniel freshly single and him and Florence in a strange state of friendship vs. raising two girls together vs. a whole mess of where they stood after such a crazy year. Regardless of living in a state of friendship purgatory, they were still close and Daniel was more than excited to spend another Halloween with Clementine and Florence and, now, baby Penelope.

Like the year before, Florence went over to the guys’ house near the university in the afternoon since trick-or-treating was much more fun in a neighbourhood rather than in an apartment building. Clementine was already dressed up – having insisted on what she wanted to be a good month in advance through persistent chants of “kitty cat!” every time she possibly could – in black pants and a black long sleeve turtleneck and Florence bought her a little black hairband with pretend kitten ears and a felt tail and drew whiskers on her little cheeks with eyeliner. Penelope didn’t have a costume, mostly because Daniel said he had an idea and, like the year before with Clementine, Florence decided to put her trust in him and let him do what he wanted.

Taking the subway with one baby was a hassle but now with two under two, Florence was nearly falling apart when she made it to the old Victorian house on the tree lined street. Penelope was strapped into the stroller and Clementine was holding her mother’s hand and trying to jump in all the leaf piles that lined the sidewalk, her little tail that was clipped onto the back of her jeans waving around as she walked. Florence held her hand tighter as they reached the house, reminding the excited nearly-two-year-old to take the stairs slowly. Clementine stomped up the stone steps one at a time, her little hand wrapped around the spokes of the metal banister, as Florence carefully lifted the stroller up to the porch as well.

“Okay, Clemmy, in-spin.” Florence said, opening the front door to usher the toddler through the threshold.

“Dayul!” Clementine shrieked as soon as she spotted him in the kitchen, pattering her way across the wood floors.

“Oh, hi! Hi, baby!” Daniel cooed down at her, grinning ear to ear as he met her halfway and crouched down to scoop her up. “Oh my goodness, you are the cutest kitty cat.”

Clementine threw her arms around his neck and just smiled proudly over at her mother.

“The subway sucks.” Florence sighed, closing the door behind her.

“If I knew you were coming already I could have picked you up instead.” Daniel tisked, going over to take the diaper bag from her shoulder.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Florence mumbled.

“Never a bother.” Daniel rolled his eyes playfully. “Come on in though, the guys are still getting ready upstairs.”

“Do you have the things for Penelope?” Florence asked as she bent down to pick up the quiet baby from the stroller and followed Daniel to the living room.

“Of course, I do! It’s all upstairs.” Daniel grinned, setting Clementine on the couch before turning to Florence. He clapped his hands to the baby in her arms, “Your turn to get all dressed up, little one!”

Penelope reached out a hand to him and he took her from Florence, cuddling her right up close to his chest.

“Me too!” Clementine slid off the couch and ran over to him, grabbing two little fistfuls of his jeans.

“You wanna help me get baby sister ready for Halloween?” Daniel asked, twirling his finger around one of her pigtails. Clementine nodded excitedly. “Okay, let’s go upstairs then.”

Daniel sent Florence a smile before leading the girls to the stairs and held Clementine’s hand as they took the stairs one at a time. Florence watched them leave before she sat herself down on the couch with a heavy sigh and leaned back. Any moment to herself was relief and she basked in the momentary silence where her hands weren’t full with two toddlers.

Upstairs, Daniel had Penelope laid out on his bed and Clementine sat beside her sister and a shopping bag on the other side of the three-month-old.

“Okay, Miss Penelope, let’s get you changed.” Daniel said, leaning down to wiggle her out of her jacket and under clothes until she was left in her diaper. Clementine pet a gentle hand on her baby sister’s tummy, shooting a cheeky grin up to Daniel. “You’re so good with her.” Daniel complimented softly.

“Mama says gotta be gentle.”

“Yes, we do have to be gentle.” Daniel agreed, pulling the blue jeans from the bag and ripped off the tag with his teeth before putting them on the baby. Penelope whined softly at being moved around but Clementine kept her distracted with a plush rattle that honestly was more entertaining to her than to the baby. Daniel grabbed the two shirts from the bag and pulled them carefully over Penelope’s head and slipped her arms in.

She let out a small cry, trying to wiggle away from him.

“Hey, hey, bug, it’s okay.” Daniel cooed, smoothing down her shirt over her tummy before leaning down to press a kiss to her chubby cheek.

“Pelope.” Clementine called softly, shaking the rattle for the baby again.

There was a knock at the door and Clementine and Daniel both looked over to Jack standing there, “I thought I heard my little orange.”

“Jack!” Clementine squealed and slipped off the bed to run and hug him as Daniel finished up with the baby and a jar of hair gel.

“Hey.” Daniel greeted his friend casually as he finally picked up the baby and set her against his chest.

“How’s the littlest Beatle?” Jack chuckled.

“Never looked better.” Daniel smiled proudly, tugging down the black shirt that housed The Beatles logo. Penelope’s dark hair was gelled and combed over her forehead to mimic the 60s bowl-cut style and he pulled a toy guitar lastly from the bag and passed it to her. The baby stuck the end in her mouth right away as she looked up at him.

Jack led Clementine downstairs first and Daniel followed with the baby in his arms. Florence sat herself up on the couch as they came into the living room.

“Now presenting, for one night only,” Jack called in an announcer voice, “The Beatle!”

“Oh my gosh!” Florence laughed, holding her hands over her mouth as Daniel straightened out the baby’s outfit to show her. Penelope looked up at him as she slobbered all over the tiny toy guitar. “Dani, that’s…freaking amazing.” Florence grinned.

“Isn’t she all that?” Daniel chuckled, tickling the baby’s tummy to make her giggle. “I was listening to Penny Lane the other day and it made me think of my little Penny girl so I thought I should put them together. My favourite band and one of my favourite girls.”

Florence figured he meant Clementine and she pet a hand over her eldest’s hair but she didn’t catch Daniel’s lingering glance on the both of them, hidden behind his kiss to the baby’s head.

After a quick early dinner, the guys all gathered downstairs to leave for the frats; each of them kissing the little girls goodbye on their way out the door and then it was just the four of them. Florence buckled Penelope in the stroller and they headed the opposite way down the street to go trick-or-treating. Clementine held Daniel’s hand as they walked down the sidewalks and up to each house. After a while, Daniel insisted on bringing out the baby since he was so darn proud of his costume idea and he definitely earned plenty of compliments from house owners on his cute blonde kitty cat and the chubby cheeked band member he had in his arms. Clementine’s basket was getting full and they were going to hit a few more houses before calling it a night. Penelope was getting restless and Daniel’s arm was getting tired anyway so he set her back in the stroller with Florence before rushing after the two-year-old up the next lawn.

Florence could only smile at the sight of them together, her best friend and her daughter, a duo that was strong from the start. She didn’t mind letting Daniel take her from house to house – even when he asked her multiple times if she wanted to switch – because the calm stroll and watching her daughter have fun was just fine for Florence.

Daniel held Clementine’s hand as they headed back down the steps of their last house, the toddler babbling on about some incoherent story. They returned to Florence on the sidewalk to get ready to head back and Clementine ran up to her to show her how full her basket was.

“Wow, Clemmy, you got so much candy!” Florence smiled down at her daughter before picking her up, “Did you have fun?”

Clementine nodded, curling into her mother’s neck as her tiredness started to overtake her small body. Daniel pushed the stroller beside them all the way back to the house, both girls fast asleep by the time they got inside and Florence laid sleeping Clementine on the end of the sectional sofa and Daniel set Penelope next to her.

Florence kept a hand on both of them as Daniel brought over warm damp wash cloths for them and she thanked him softly. Neither of them spoke as they cleaned up the girls, Daniel washing the gel from the baby’s hair the best he could and Florence wiping the drawn on whiskers and nose from the toddler’s face. With the diaper bag set between them, they got the little ones changed and into pyjamas in perfect comfortable silence, only sharing small smiles as their hands brushed or when Penelope did a little stretch that was too cute not to smile at.

Daniel threw out the garbage as Florence tucked Penelope into the stroller again and set a pillow on Clementine’s other side so she could sleep soundly without rolling off the couch and by then, both Daniel and Florence were nearly exhausted themselves too. They both fell back onto the other end of the couch together, side by side, both sighing at the same time before looking at each other.

“Success.” Daniel held his fist up between them.

Florence smiled softly at him and knocked his lightly with her own, “Good teamwork.”

They fell into silence again, just staring into space through the nearly dark living room, a good few inches of space between them with their own hands folded on their own laps.

Daniel looked over at her again after a moment, “You wanna stay over?”

Florence looked back at him with a sleepy smile, and then rested her head against his shoulder, “Yes, please.”

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

We Do This To Live Ch. 1

Chapter One

Summary: On Earth-198742, there are no heroes. There’s humans. There’s mutants. There are even some that fall somewhere between. But when Boliver Trask manages to get the Sentinel program signed, it’s up to a thief and her brilliant sister to find those that still believe in something more - something good. And maybe, along the way, they’ll get the chance to save mutant kind.

Pairings: Rogue x Remy, Marie x Shuri (eventually), Geneva x Bucky (eventually)

Word Count: 2499 words

Warnings: Cussing, mention of death

Masterlist to OCs - Masterlist to Other Works

--

September 7th, 1990

It seemed all was determined to stay quiet in the apartment. There was no mission. No family of mutants or thieves knocking at their door. Even Oliver remained on his best behavior, curled up and sleeping on his cat mansion that Remy insisted the feline needed.

And yet, even though everyone else was content with letting the night have its way, there was one that simply refused.

Rogue rolled over in her sleep, wincing when she felt the familiar kick inside her stomach. “Remy,” she moaned. While on any other night she would feel guilty for her noise, that was the farthest thing on her mind.  Besides, Remy was a light sleeper. Her tossing and turning would surely be enough to wake him.

“Hm,” he mumbled into his pillow. Blinking slowly, those devilish eyes of his finally opened. Their familiar red glow brought a warmth to Rogue, but it wasn’t enough to calm down the dance occurring in her stomach. “Chere.” That thick accent of his made her look up as his much larger hand rested on her stomach. Tracing light circles against her clothed tummy, he asked, “The petite keepin’ y’up?”

“Swear she kicks my bladder like it’s a soccer ball.” Her accent was heavier due to sleep, something Remy found absolutely adorable and yet would never dare admit. “Why won’t she sleep?”

“Don’t know, mon couer,” he admitted. Their baby was a weird one. It didn’t matter what tricks they tried. She seemed to be full of energy, no matter the time of day. “Want t’try walkin’ again?”

Rogue shook her head, strands falling in front of those pretty eyes of hers. He hoped their girl got her eyes. She would be so lucky. “My feet are so swollen. If I walk anymore, I might cry,” she joked. The both of them knew she was far too strong for that.

“Warm milk?”

Another shake of the head. He had forgotten, it made her sick now.

Jeez, what was with this kid? Propping himself onto his side, Remy felt another harsh kick. He saw the foot press against Rogue’s stomach, outlined even through her shirt. Leaning closer to her belly, he asked, “Why y’gotta keep y’mere up like this, petite?”

Rogue hummed, her eyes blinking slowly as he traced where the baby had kicked. “She likes your voice.”

“Is that right?” Remy looked up at Rogue, eyes sparkling a little brighter. “T’ink I got somet’in’ we could try then.” He reached up, placing a light kiss against her hair before lowering himself back to her stomach. “Best be gettin’ comfy, filles.” Remy patiently waited until Rogue had at least closed her eyes, his hand still splayed across her stomach.

He really hoped this would work.

“Bonne nuit, cher trésor, ferme tes yeux et dors. Laisse ta tête, s’envoler, au creux de ton oreiller. Un beau rêve passera, et tu l’attraperas.” Remy’s voice was a low rumble, so soft and soothing that Rogue could feel the baby inside her start to relax. “Un beau rêve passera, et tu le retiendras. Autres paroles : Le soleil endormi. Déjà tombe la nuit Et la lune douce luit. Endors-toi, mon beau petit. Tous les anges du ciel Ceilleront sur son sommeil.” Remy glanced up at his wife, noticing how her breathing had started to ease. “Who would’ve t’ought y’liked French so much,” he whispered to her stomach, wincing when he felt her shift against his hand. “Ey.” Remy pointedly looked where he guessed their kid’s face was. “Y’stop that. ‘M not done.”

Shifting slightly, Remy smirked when he noticed her calm down again. Their kid was going to be smart; he knew it. Pressing a small kiss next to his hand, he kept singing, “Tes rêves au goût de miel entreront dans un beau soleil. Les oiseaux vont sans bruit. Se blottir au creux du nid Même la pluie dans la nuit ne réveille pas les petits. Rêve, bel enfant, dors dans le vent…” His voice trailed, going softer as both of his girls seemed to stay asleep. Unable to contain his smile, Remy whispered, “Iouciant va bel enfant.”

When he finally laid down, Remy knew there was very little chance of him actually falling asleep again. Not that he minded. Instead, his thumb kept tracing light circles against Rogue’s stomach. They still didn’t have a name for their girl, but at least they could get her to sleep.

--

December 19th, 1990

“Swear she’s gettin’ bigger every day,” he told Rogue. “’Ow she only a week old?” A small squeeze pulled his attention back to the baby in his arms. Her tiny hand clung to his calloused finger, refusing to let go. Those big eyes of hers, dark emeralds with flecks of brilliant gold, watched his finger as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. “Stubborn like her mere,” he teased as Rogue came up behind him, tugging on one of his shirts.

“Ah think she gets that from both o’ us, Sug.” Rogue placed a kiss on the back of his shoulder, watching as the biggest smile appeared on their daughter’s face.

“Or maybe she’s been watchin’ those Juniper trees outside when she’s supposed t’be sleepin’.” Remy glanced outside, noticing those trees still standing. Still green even in the middle of December. “Dieu knows ‘ow those things managed t’stay green s’long.”

Rogue smiled, not really paying attention to anything but their baby girl. “Our little Geneva,” she murmured, her fingers lightly toying with the tuffs of auburn hair that she’d been born with. “C’mon. Gotta get her down to sleep.” Taking the infant from Remy, Rogue rocked her back and forth and walked towards her crib. “She’s already hard enough to get down.”

“Maybe y’should learn t’sing in French. Then y’wouldn’t need moi every time.”

They both knew Remy didn’t mean a word of it. Probably his favorite thing since becoming a dad was the fact that Rogue still needed him. Especially when it came to their energetic kid. No one, not even Tante Mattie, managed to get her to sleep like he did.

But then again, no one got her to stop crying faster than Rogue did.

Leaning against the edge of the crib, Remy smiled as Geneva looked from her mom to her dad and back again. It was as if she were attempting to understand what they were saying. Remy grabbed her firefly from the foot of the crib, tucking it against her side. Geneva’s arms securely wrapped around the stuffed toy, squeezing it with all her might as Rogue started the mobile. Little bumble bees floated around her, catching her attention as Remy started singing, “Bonne nuit, cher trésor, ferme tes yeux et dors. Laisse ta tête, s’envoler, au creux de ton oreiller…”

Sleep came faster to her now, tugging at Geneva’s eyes as she tried her best to remain awake. However, Remy had spent a couple months perfecting this trick. And it didn’t take much time for her to fall fast asleep.

--

February 8th, 1998

Geneva moved silently, an odd ability considering she was eight years old and still awkward in her own body. She paused as her eyes shifted from her mother’s purse to her parents watching the TV in the living room. They were joined by the rest of the Lebeau family, watching something on the news.  “Signed by 117 countries, the Accords will officially disband any enhanced or mutant groups. Officials say that this is only the beginning. The next step will be to document all those that fall under the definitions of such titles – “

“’Least bein’ t’ieves we don’t gotta worry ‘bout the government pokin’ their noses where it don’t belong,” she heard her grandfather spit.

The voices hadn’t trailed off. It was simply that Geneva wasn’t paying attention anymore. Fingers tugging at the zipper, Geneva winced when it made that irritating sound. But when no one came, she tugged again. Really, they were far too focused on the TV.

Ridiculous cooing and babbling caught Geneva’s attention. She jerked, finding the playpen near the kitchen island. There, playing with some puzzle box her parents had gotten her, was Marie.

Geneva rolled her eyes, pressing a finger to her lips. She needed that brat to be quiet. Marie simply tilted her head, her whole hand moving before she pressed it firmly to her lips. Leave it to Marie to turn a warning into a game.

She turned back to the purse. The kid could be quiet and, if not, she doubted anyone would turn away from whatever that grubby looking news anchor was saying. Finally unzipping the purse, Geneva stuck her hand inside and dug around for her mom’s wallet. Surely it was around here somewhere…

But she was interrupted by babbling again. Marie giggled and threw her toy against the netting.

Geneva looked over her shoulder, huffing as she stared at the brat. “Shush!” Marie, oblivious to the idea of being in trouble, simply grinned a toothless smile. Geneva raised a brow. What a punk.

“And just what do y’t’ink you’re doin’?”

She froze, hand stuck in her mom’s purse and no where to run. “Uh…” Looking up, Geneva came face to face with her dad. He had the same face now that Geneva had shot Marie moments before. “Allô, pere.” Geneva smiled, attempting to give the sweetest one she possessed.

Remy snorted. “Y’gotta get better at that if y’gonna be a thief, ma petite fille.” He plucked her hand out of Rogue’s purse, moving it onto the kitchen island. “C’mon. Don’t know if y’a mutant yet, mas gotta start learnin’ ‘bout this stuff.” He turned her towards the living room, pushing her ahead as he crouched and lifted Marie in one fell swoop.

“But why,” Geneva whined, pouting as Remy ruffled her wild curls.

“‘Cause,” Remy told her, knowing Geneva was far too curious for her own good. He looked down at those pretty green and gold eyes of hers. Surely, she would be a mutant. He was almost certain of it. Sighing softly, Remy decided the best reason to give her was, “‘S important.”

And with that, Geneva knew better than to argue. Her dad was good at explaining things, always giving her an answer because she hated being left in the dark. If that was the reason he had for her, then she would have to accept that it was good enough.

Still...what could the Accords possibly have to do with her life?

--

March 2nd, 2000

Tante Mattie pressed a cool cloth to Geneva’s forehead, wincing when Geneva flinched. She was so sensitive now. “Desole, ma petite luciole,” Tante Mattie murmured, noticing the sweat on her brow. The fever had come out of nowhere. It was so intense when it had first struck that Geneva had been found collapsed outside.

And Remy was supposed to leave for a mission.

“Y’gotta let m’try, Geneva. We just want y’to feel better.”

She tried again with the rag, but Geneva jerked away. “It burns,” she whined, tears brimming in her eyes. Tante Mattie frowned. How could something that was cold burn her skin? “Want mere ‘n’ pere,” Geneva moaned, rolling onto her side. Tante Mattie watched, pain and worry clear in her eyes.

“Let m’see what I can do.” She kissed Geneva’s head. Slipping out of the room, she tried her best to close the door as silently as possible.

“What was her temperature the last time y’checked?”

“103.” Tante Mattie watched the way Remy’s jaw ticked, his shoulders tensing. “I hate t’say it, but it seems t’be risin’.”

Rogue curled into herself, knees hitting her chest as she shook her head. “We should take her to a doctor,” she whispered to Remy, her gloved hand squeezing his wrist. “’Fore it gets worse.”

“I leave in trois hours, Roguey. ‘M gonna be gone a week and she – “ Remy shook his head. They had been so careful with Geneva, always terrified that something might happen to her. It wasn’t that they wanted to be over protective, but before Geneva had been born…they’d had so many miscarriages. They never would have thought they could have a kid and then Geneva proved to be so strong. So brilliantly strong. “I can’t leave ‘er like dis.”

“Remy, sugah…” Rogue gave another squeeze before interlacing their fingers. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. “It’s y’job.”

“I can go.”

The pair looked up, surprised to see Henri standing in the doorway. He held a three year old Marie in his arms, but his attention was on them. He knew how important Geneva was to the two. “Henri,” Remy started to argue.

“It’s an easy mission. We bot’ know that,” Henri assured him as Tante Mattie took Marie. “I’ll be in an out. Would take moi the same amount o’time it would have taken y’.” Remy shifted his gaze to the floor. “C’mon, frère.” Henri smiled, trying to reassure him. “Let moi do this for y’deux. And when she pulls t’rough, maybe the next time won’t be so scary.”

Remy and Rogue shared a look, a silent conversation passing between the two. He looked at Henri, relief finally breaking through the terror etched in his features. “Merci, Henri.”

“We’ll be sure to keep an eye on Marie,” Rogue told him, standing up and giving him a hug. “Thank ya, Hun. It means a lot.”

Henri chuckled, squeezing her tight. “Y’silly. The bot’ o’ya. I’ll be back ‘fore y’know it.”

--

March 5th, 2000

Remy was sitting on Geneva’s bed, watching her sleep soundly for the first time in three days. He couldn’t help the relief he felt at seeing her fever finally break. Her temperature had gotten up to 107, staying there for almost two days before it broke as quickly as it had come.

He ran his fingers through her hair, humming that silly lullaby she had loved so much. When he heard a knock at the door, his brow furrowed. They knew the door was open, why knock? He spared a quick glance at his daughter before carefully, silently, getting up.

Stepping outside, he was careful to shut the door without disturbing the light sleeper on the other side. “Remy…” He tensed when he recognized that tone. It wasn’t the first time he had heard Jean Luc use it. Turning away from the door, Remy noticed the tear stains on his father’s cheeks. It took a lot to make the Guildmaster cry and yet…

He heard Marie crying and turned his attention down the hall. Rogue was standing there, cradling the little genius in her arms. Even from this distance, he could see the tears glistening in his wife’s eyes. Non…Non, non, non…

Remy felt his heart sink as he watched the two, hardly registering Jean Luc’s words. Instead, his own kept repeating in his head – It can’t be true. It can’t. It just…It can’t be true.

And yet still, he heard his father say those damned words.

“He’s dead, son.” A shaky breath and then, “Henri’s dead.”

[nonbinary-octopus]

How Easy You Are to Knead Chapter 3/3 Biscuit and Charcoal

recursive fanfic of @delimeful​’s How Easy You Are to Need

Partially inspired by this and this.

[Masterpost]

[More stories]

summary: Virgil’s humans are evidently terrible at assessing threats.

warnings: a little bit of nervousness

wordcount: 1.8 K

note: this takes place a few months after Chapter 2, sometime in the summer.

~~~~~

Virgil was alone. This used to be the norm, but he had grown used to having his humans around, and now he was lonely without them. He didn’t even stay in the house; it felt strange to be the only living thing in there. The others had gone into town a few days ago to trade vegetables from Patton’s garden and meat Roman had hunted for other things they needed. Virgil had no desire to be among that many humans, especially so soon after the full moon, so he stayed behind. 

Finally, though, they returned. Virgil ran out of the trees in wolf form to greet them, jumping up to put his forepaws on Logan’s shoulders. In his excitement, he accidentally knocked the human sprawling. Virgil whimpered and lowered himself to the ground beside him, licking Logan’s face apologetically.

Logan awkwardly patted Virgil’s ruff, and Virgil pulled back so he could get up. “Good to see you too,” Logan said, sitting up and wiping his face with his arm.

“Hi Virgil!” Patton said cheerfully. Virgil turned to him, and Patton added quickly, “No kissies right now; I’ve got a delicate parcel.”

“Lucky Logan was just carrying the cloth,” Roman said with a laugh. He’d tensed on seeing a large wolf rush at them, even putting his hand on his sword briefly, but he’d relaxed again as soon as he recognized Virgil.

“Let us get everything in the house, and then we can greet you properly,” Logan said, so Virgil followed his humans into the house, bouncing happily around them. He stuck his nose into Roman’s side, curious about all the new scents that clung to him, and the swordsman jolted.

“Virgil!”

Inside, they unloaded their packs. Logan had several lengths of cloth of various colors and weights. Roman carried new dishes and tools, and Patton had a packet of spices that smelled very strange and interesting, a leather bundle containing what remained of a cooked rabbit Roman had almost certainly killed on their journey homeward, and a small lidded basket.

Patton sat on the couch and grinned at Virgil, holding the basket carefully on his lap. “You might wanna shift to see this,” he said in a near whisper. Virgil wondered why, but he did as Patton suggested and changed forms. Curiously, he sat on the couch next to Patton, watching as Patton lifted away the lid of the basket. Inside was something made of fur. Black and white and brown fur, though mostly black and white. Patton grinned, reaching into the basket. “Hold out your hands,” he said. Virgil did. Patton picked up the thing in the basket— wait, no, there were two, one all black and the other mostly white with bits of black and brown, and Patton picked up the latter— and set it in Virgil’s hands.

It was small, and warm, and as Virgil watched, it moved, opened two tiny eyes, and turned out to be an absolutely bitty kitten. For several seconds, Virgil and the kitten stared into each others’ eyes. Then the kitten mewed.

“You brought a cat home with you?” Virgil asked, still staring at it with surprise. 

“Two cats!” Patton answered happily, picking up the black bundle of fur. That was a kitten as well. “Our friend’s cat had kittens, and they needed a home. They’re already weaned.”

“Oh.” That didn’t fully answer why Patton had brought the cats home with him, but this particular human definitely seemed to have a soft spot for dangerous furry strays, and that might be all the explanation Virgil was likely to get.

The kitten in Virgil’s hands mewled again, and this time her sister joined in.

“I think they’re hungry,” Virgil said, holding the little cat out toward Patton again. Instead of taking her, however, he opened the bundle of rabbit meat, handing Virgil a small piece. Patton took another piece and fed it to the black kitten. The calico in Virgil’s hand mewled demandingly, and he quickly gave her the scrap Patton had handed him.

It took several minutes and most of the meat to satisfy the kittens’ hunger. While Patton and Virgil fed them, the other two humans put the rest of their purchases away. Finally, the kittens were full, and Patton set the one he held back into the basket. Relieved, Virgil did the same with the calico. The kittens settled down on the cloth base of the basket and were soon asleep, nestled together again.

Patton cooed adoringly down at them. Then he set the basket down on the floor next to the couch and flopped into Virgil’s lap. “I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” Virgil said, leaning over Patton to give him a kiss — a human kiss, not a wolf one — on the nose.

~~

When Virgil woke up on his couch the next morning, things were almost like they had been before the humans had left. He could hear Patton in the kitchen, undoubtedly making something delicious for breakfast.

But something was different. There was a weight, small but definitely present, resting on his chest. Virgil opened his eyes, looking at it. It was the little calico kitten, curled up and asleep. On top of him. Virgil frowned nervously and lay very still.

Several minutes later, Patton came into the living room, smiling when he saw Virgil awake. “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Patton,” Virgil answered softly. “I can’t get up. There is a cat sleeping on me.”

Patton’s grin widened. “Aww, yes there is!” he cooed. He did not try to help. Virgil understood this— of course Patton would not want to anger the feline either— but he was still a little disappointed. 

Patton left Virgil alone with the cat for a few minutes, going into the rest of the house. Virgil wondered how the kitten had managed to get from the basket all the way up to his couch to lie down on him. When Patton returned with the other humans in tow, the cat had not stirred. However, when Patton brought Virgil a plate of pancakes and venison, she woke and mewled at him. Virgil had to give her some of the meat from his plate to appease her, at which point she allowed him to move her to the couch and sit up. Once he had stopped moving, however, she immediately climbed into his lap and mewled again for some meat.

Twice more during the meal, the kitten demanded a piece of meat from Virgil, and he gave it to her. Patton, meanwhile, gave a portion of meat to the black kitten, who had remained in the basket and seemed much calmer than the calico.

After they had eaten, and Logan had taken Virgil’s dishes to the kitchen for him because he was still trapped by the kitten on his lap, said kitten began to press her forepaws rhythmicly into Virgil’s leg.

“Patton?” Virgil asked, keeping his eyes on the cat. Patton hummed inquisitively. “What is she doing?”

Patton gasped. “Making biscuits!”

Virgil grew alarmed. “She intends to eat my leg?” Had he not given her enough of his breakfast? 

“No, no,” Patton assured him, and Virgil calmed slightly. “She’s just getting comfy. But it looks like kneading dough for biscuits, doesn’t it?”

Sure enough, after kneading his leg for a few minutes, the kitten curled up and went back to sleep. Apparently Virgil was going to be stuck on the couch for a while longer.

~~

Over the next few days, it became clear that the calico kitten, dubbed “Biscuit” by Patton, had claimed Virgil as her own. Every night, the kittens were put to bed in their basket, but every morning without fail, Virgil woke to find a tiny ball of white, black, and brown fur on his chest. She trailed after him whenever he was in the house, and if he outpaced her, which he could easily do, as she was very tiny and he was not, she mewled for him to come back. To keep the peace, Virgil started to carry her around with him, and she quickly decided that his left shoulder was hers as well. This left his hands free, but also put her claws and teeth, though tiny, close enough to Virgil’s throat to make him nervous.

The other kitten was given the name Charcoal, or simply Coal for short, and she was indeed milder than her sister. She followed everyone around somewhat, but not as insistently as Biscuit, and did not climb into laps.

Although both kittens would accept food from any of the four packmates, Biscuit also demanded at each meal that Virgil share a portion from his plate with her. He did, of course, but only the meat, since cats were obligate carnivores.

Virgil wondered at first how the cats would react the first time they saw him in wolf form, and for a few weeks, he did not shift. But soon the full moon approached again, and Virgil began to grow restless in his human skin. He knew he couldn’t hold back a shift much longer.

Lying on the floor to avoid unnecessarily stressing his bones, Virgil allowed his form to change. In moments, he was a wolf again. There was about two seconds of silence before Virgil heard a confused mew.

He turned his head to see Biscuit staring at him. Virgil blinked slowly at the cat, and she toddled closer, sniffing at his face. After a few moments, she seemed satisfied that this was still Virgil, and she climbed up his side, kneaded his back for a few moments, and settled down again between his shoulder blades.

Virgil wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew better than to make Biscuit move. He lay his head on his forepaws, getting comfortable.

A few minutes later, Patton passed by. “Oh!” he called from the doorway. “You didn’t tell me that it was going to be a wolfy night. I’ll get the blankets.” With that, Patton disappeared again, but only for a few minutes. He soon reappeared with an armload of quilts and began to arrange them on the floor next to Virgil. It appeared to be a blanket nest day rather than a blanket fort day, because Patton didn’t drag any other furniture over to support the blankets, instead simply piling them in a big comfortable nest.

Finally, Patton finished, and Virgil, moving carefully so as not to dislodge Biscuit, climbed into the nest with him. Patton threw his arms around Virgil’s neck, and Virgil gently knocked him onto his back, laying down with his head on top of Patton’s chest and one foreleg across Patton’s stomach.

Patton giggled, running his fingers through Virgil’s fur. “Goodnight, Virgil,” he said. “I love you.”

Virgil licked Patton's face. I love you too.

~~~~~

(fin)

[vake-hunter]

Light Fingers Lore Post

Moon-Misers

Normal Moon-Milk is a poison they use to make their prey walk right into their mouth. It’s not meant to last for long.

Babies are rare, only born about once a decade! “A Moon-Miser can only be born when the stars align. It must also be coaxed from the womb with a Song of Birthing.” Once born it must be fed special nectar extracted from stalactites. Who knows what that’s made of! “At birth, Moon-Misers are wrapped in their mother's silk, forming a protective membrane while their carapaces develop.”

Here, have some NEAT Red Science quotes: “You are forging a new link of a great chain. This is the most impossible and unforgiving of occasions: the creation of something new. In this tent, you usher a brand new species from the vaults of possibility. You are spitting in the face of the gods. You are violating laws written in starlight before the world began.”

This is VERY important Lore: the baby has your eyes.

(If Baby is more human) As the zeppelin ascends, the Hybrid raises its voice in solemn song. As you listen, a thrill runs down your spine. For a moment, swept up in the song, you experience a vision: in your mind's eye, a blazing-bright king unites the tribes of the Starved Men under one banner, and harnesses the Moon-Misers as steeds. He leads his subjects on a crusade against the city below - a city that is no longer London, but that still harbours the Moon-King's greatest nemesis, now much embittered at the failure of its schemes. The resulting war will prove its final undoing.

Mr Fires

Is trying to bankrupt the Bazaar in a way. 

If it makes a bunch of fake love stories, that can trick Wines and Spices and the Bazaar, eventually the Bazaar won’t know what love is real and what isn’t, thus, hopefully, discouraging the Bazaar and the other Masters. 

“A bitter edge creeps into its sibilant voice. "Once a suitable love story is found, it’ll be the end of London. Can you imagine?" The lamp trembles in its hand. Its voice rises an octave. "The end of London! I couldn't bear it! I love this city. It's my sole comfort, the greatest joy I have discovered in all my centuries. I'd do anything to preserve it."

“In the longer term, the Hybrid's milk is the only thing that can save the city. Once seeded across the populace, all love stories will be rendered suspect. Any love, no matter how pure or moving, could simply be the symptoms of an aberration's venom. Love will be robbed of its allure. The Bazaar will not know which stories it can truly believe in."

"If my plan succeeds, the other Masters will abandon London as a failed venture." Mr Fires holds up its lamp; here at the bottom, the shelves are lined with leather-bound volumes. "They shall depart, and I shall make arrangements to preserve the city."

It is very defensive of what it did at the Orphanage, in a way that almost makes it sound like it's guilty. It does insist it would do it again, and it doesn’t care about the people, just London as a city. 

Confirmation Fires likes science. 

More evidence Masters can shapeshift to change their sizes and when they are upset, they have trouble staying small. 

Its very fucking excited to burn things down and upset Wines. 

(Giving the baby to Fires) "One day, London will be a city glutted with love," says Mr Fires, returning its gaze to the Hybrid. "Or at least, reliably-replicable facsimiles of it. The effect will be subtle. A modest adjustment, year on year. Wines won't suspect a thing until it is too late." It glances at you. "You and I, [Addressed As], have saved London today."

Boil of Calamities

Possibly the first Fingerking or at least a very very old and strong one.

Seven Heads like the statue at Irem. 

The Sun and the Spire that connects it are sacred places to the Fingerkings and the Boil protects them. “They may allow your kind to trespass across the rest of their kingdom, you slumbering oafs, you mortal morsels, but not here, not the hallowed spire. Insolence! Blasphemy!”

Huge coils that appear in the sky. Black scales, a knot of snakes or just one massive one. Like storm clouds with huge fangs. Tongues flicker like lightning.

It once took tributes and accepted people as servants but the the door to its Chamber seems long abandoned. 

The Chamber is found in the shadow of the Dome of Scales. “Inside is a cavern that smells faintly of spices: cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamon. Heavy silk banners hang from the walls, depicting battles between cats and serpents. Seven braziers burn merrily with viric fire. Plates of delicious-looking food have been set out: pomegranates, bloody steak, bunches of plump indigo grapes. At the centre sits a majestic basalt altar, carved with dozens of runes and symbols, a silver bowl waiting atop.”

If you make a Pact with the Boil, you must shed your skin. Don’t worry, there’s more skin under there. Better skin, you’re told. You peel yourself with a Ravenglass knife and it uses the same wording as in my Kingdom for A Pig and the Third City Deal :) 

“There is indeed new skin underneath. It is tender and dry, with the faintest silver sheen. The effect is subtle. Only a lover or a doctor would notice.”

“You look up to the Boil, your skin flashing silver, and bow deeply. The overbearing tangle of coils slips apart, separating, loosening. You find yourself breathing more easily.”

Court of Cats

The Duchess is capable of calling a meeting with the Court. 

They slew the seven daughters of the Boil. 

They have a spear made from a Fingerking’s fang that is capable of piercing the Skin of the Sun. However only cats are allowed to wield it. So if you want it you must become an Honorary Cat.

“The Lord High Seneschal pronounces you the 'Lyon Pursuivant of Arms Extraordinary,' officially a cat, and thus entitled to take possession of one of the cats' greatest trophies.”

“As they fall quiet, you ask why they have never wielded this spear against their enemies in the past? "Because cats do not have thumbs," says the Knight Marshall, with a haughty look.”

“Hephaesta draws back her Herculean arm and hurls the spear of the Sleeping King, putting every hard-wrung ounce of her strength behind the throw. It flies, like a shell from a cannon, cracking the Skin of the Sun and sinking a foot deep. At the point of impact, the glass buckles and twists and shrieks. Hephaesta and the tiger roar in triumph.”

“A great, hollow crack rings across Parabola. A shadow mars the cosmogone sunlight passes over the sun.”

Parabolan Sun (Not strictly Lore just from Light Fingers but Important)

Parabola was not always bright. It seemed to be in perpetual twilight before the Second City Sisters rose the Sun. 

“This is a place that is not. It was not always light, though once it was brighter. The sisters found it in twilight and in dreams. The night was thus sacred to the Second City. They would not be pursued here. The ushabti were created to help in the construction of the Palace. The Second City could have lived here forever.”

This also seems to imply there was no moon either, as the moon is a cat. It probably came with the Second City as well. "Look, there are patterns there, just like the surface's moon. Only... these don't resemble a man, or anything else so much as a cat, curled up asleep."

The Sisters of the Pharaoh (minus the Duchess) fled to Parabola when the Third City fell to avoid being killed. “We four survivors fled. One remained with the City, while I retreated here.”

"The Palace of the Rising was to be a refuge from the Masters and the Bazaar. A new sun was raised in the sky so the citizens might walk in light again.”

The thing is. The Sun was built with the help of what appears to be the God of the Fingerkings. "the Boil of Calamities, Lord of the Seething Sky, wept a drop of shining glass..."

The Boil protects the Sun and the Cats hate the Fingerkings. It seems the Four Sisters betrayed the Cats and their other sister, the Duchess, in order to make the Sun. "It also is the mother-father of the egg that is the Parabolan sun," adds a dark-faced tabby. Its reflection is that of a snarling puma. "Though others played a part in that, too." The Duchess' lips tighten.”

Physically: A huge glass dome held to the land by a stone pillar. Even the sky around the dome appears to be glass. (Interesting given how the Second City imprisoned the Masters was to cover the Neath in glass. From The Mind Of A Long Dead God: “Glass Walls Everywhere! They surround me. They reflect one realm inwards and keep me from the other. These barriers should be fluid!” Note that the Neath IS Storm’s corpse.)

NORTH

Rubbery Men plan to fly north. “They take off again in an instant, heading North, waving you farewell. Where do they ultimately hope to go? Again, it's impossible to tell. Perhaps they hope to find their way home.”

If baby is more Moon-Miser: As the zeppelin ascends, the Hybrid raises its voice in solemn song. A thrill runs down your spine. For a moment, swept up by the song, you experience a vision: a blazing-bright king of Moon-Misers leading its glimmering subjects on a pilgrimage across the roof and through a door far to the North. Below, in a city that is not London, the citizens point and murmur in fear as their false-stars crawl into the distance and blink out one by one, leaving only darkness behind.

Item Rewards

Lyon Pursuivant of Arms Extraordinary: For the purposes of having legal custody of a famous war trophy, you have been made an honorary cat, with the associated title, privileges, and dignities. [Affiliation; Shadowy +3, Persuasive +6, Dangerous +2, Respectable +1]

Tatterskin Shawl: Once, you offending the Boil of Calamities. To make amends you offered up your own skin as a gift. The Boil was thoughtful enough to return your old skin to you, though it no longer fits as snugly as it once did. [Clothing; Shadowy +6, Persuasive -2, Dreaded +1, Bizarre +1, Mithridacy +1]

A Loyal Nightmare of Poor Edward: You married what remained of Poor Edward. Now he is a nightmare, bound by the miser-milk to the dreams of the Orphanage. Sometimes, you visit him there. [Affiliation; Shadowy +2, Persuasive +1, Dreaded +1]

A Kitten-Sized Diamond, Liberated from the Mountain: It was torn from the Mountain that looms on the Elder Continent. If set near wounds, they heal. If left in one place for too long, flowers bloom around it. If left near lesser diamonds, they will hatch. [Home Comfort; Persuasive +10, Respectable +2, Artisan of the Red Science +1]

A False-Star of your Own: Above London, false-stars shine. One is your bastard child, a Hybrid, a diamond the size of a cow. It is a hundred times brighter than its fellows, a blazing pinpoint; every month or two, for just a few days, it passes directly over the city. For that brief period, London's gloom eases into a velvety twilight. (In addition to the stat advantages, this Companion allows you a unique opportunity while zailing.) [Companion; Watchful +6, Shadowy +12, Shapeling Arts +1, Bizarre +2]

[coutelier]

Why They Cry

12 year old superhuman Tenley Tych is forced to confront old enemies and memories as a cold-war experiment tries to get into her head.

Genre: Science Fiction

Word Count: 5300

Warnings: Death, suicide. I don’t really write tear-jerkers but this one has a sad ending.

Wattpad.

Sun beams broke through slits in the blinds, the warmth tickling young Tenley’s nose. The girl didn’t want to wake but the beams persisted, her nostrils twitching and flaring as they filled with a homely aroma. Eventually there was no more space for the aroma to go and she bolted upright, throwing off her blanket.

Was it eggs? She didn’t know why that should seem strange. This was her house, her room. On the table below the opposite wall herds of dinosaurs drank by the painted river while others were embroiled in an eternal struggle with the predators. Raggedy Isea Little sat propped up next to the computer, overseeing everything with her one unpatched eye. Old dollhouse in the corner, books on their proper shelves, toys in their boxes – everything was in its place. But Tenley had a suspicion – a feeling – that it shouldn’t be. Squinting through the morning haze Tenley saw the same room, but decayed; smudged windows, peeling walls, the herd all scattered. And what she’d tried to dismiss as a stray thought, a remnant of a dream, kept repeating over and over:

‘Remember the rabbit…’

Tenley never had a rabbit. Never had any pets as mother wouldn’t allow them.  Mother was also a drunk who most times couldn’t or wouldn’t feed herself, so how could there be eggs if Tenley wasn’t preparing them? It felt wrong. The message was important, but as scrunched up as her face became she couldn’t put her finger on why this was wrong. Only thing for it was to investigate.

Skipping down the stairs dressed in her usual blue and black, it all seemed quite normal. Why should normal feel wrong? There were party balloons in various stages of deflation all around the living and dining rooms – surely, nothing could be more normal than party balloons? Yet, Tenley couldn’t remember ever having a party. Not in this place.

“Oh, there you are, sleepy-head!”

Tenley jumped at a voice that was familiar yet wasn’t expecting, a hodgepodge of emotions jostling inside her; fear, relief, guilt, confusion. “Mother?” She gasped. It was mother, but – the wrong one? There were two other faces she saw; one cold and strange, but the other – or was that a friend? Sister? Why couldn’t she remember?

“What’s wrong?” Phaedra flashed a smile, which Tenley found deeply unsettling for some reason – it just didn’t seem right on her mother’s face. “Something you want to talk about?” Phaedra went on, gliding around the dining table to place a plate holding eggs with strips of toast. “Come on – sit down. I’ve made you breakfast.”

Tenley was hungry, so sidled into a chair keeping her eyes fixed on the woman. This kept getting curiouser and curiouser. “You,” she peered suspiciously, “made breakfast? And the kitchen didn’t burn down?”

Phaedra snorted and chuckled, “now, even I couldn’t set fire to boiled eggs.”

Tenley’s lips curled in one corner, “If anyone could find a way, it’d be you.” It must have just been a weird dream she’d had – this couldn’t all be wrong. She swiftly sliced the top from the egg, dipped in her toast, then her eyes widened as a warm wave of flavor rode from her mouth to her chest. “This is perfect.”

“I’m glad,” mother smiled at her, “I was afraid you’d sleep through your birthday.”

Tenley squinted, “my birthday?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot, silly!” Mother moved to the back of Tenley’s chair then draped her arms over the child. “You’re thirteen. Happy birthday!”

“Thirteen?” Tenley repeated as she received a peck on the forehead. That didn’t seem right – not yet, she thought. But why would mother lie? There was no reason to.

“Finally a teenager,” mother sighed as she gently brushed Tenley’s bangs. “You’re so pretty. Soon all the boys will be after you. You’ll have to fight them off.”

“Fight?” Tenley was good at that, wasn’t she? There were flashes of battles; with men, women, tulip-headed hounds – she seemed to be winning in most of them. But it was so silly and unrealistic – that had to have been a dream. Tenley shook her head to focus on now. “Boys stink. I’m not going to have time for them when I’m training to be a paleontologist.”

“That will change,” Mother assured her, “you’ll soon find there’ll be many more things competing for your time.”

“I doubt any boy could compete with a T-Rex,” Tenley insisted. “I mean, it’s so big…”

Mother tapped Tenley’s forehead. “Enough of your facetiousness. Speaking of stinky boys though, your father sent you a card. It’s on the mantelpiece. Go ahead while I clean up.”

Father? Tenley had never – no, she just hadn’t heard from him in a long time. So long she couldn’t recall what he looked like. But there had to be a picture somewhere, yes? She hopped from the chair and bounced to the fireplace where there hadn’t been a real fire since long before Tenley was born. The several cards on the mantel were safe and she knew instantly which one was from him. The blue fairy, just like the one inside the music box he’d left her. Inside was some sappy poem:

‘The greatest gift I’ve ever received was you… the greatest gift I could ever give…’

“Yeah, yeah,” Tenley muttered, “where’s the cash, old man?” She read on:

‘You’re probably wondering where your money is. The greatest gift is your happiness, so try the orange envelope – but don’t spend it all on ice-cream.’

“No promises,” Tenley told him. The shop in town had just launched a dozen new flavors, so of course she was going to treat herself. The envelope stood out despite being tucked behind a photo frame but as Tenley reached for it something struck her – the photo. It was herself on a farm hugging a rabbit…

Remember the rabbit!

Mother never took her to a farm. She’d never had a single thing from her father – she didn’t even know his name. She’d told herself he’d left her a music box, but she didn’t know that was true – it was just a silly dream she had. That girl in the picture was happy, smiling, but Tenley’s reflection in the glass – eye-whites turned to black and the rage of a storm behind them. She remembered, “this isn’t my life…”

 “What are you talking about, dear?” Phaedra was clearing the table. “Of course it’s your life.”

It was the wrong mother – it was all wrong. The answer to Tenley’s next question would prove it: “Are you proud of me?”

“Of course I am,” Phaedra’s face twisted in utter bemusement, “you know I am. Always.”

A stone sunk to the pit of Tenley’s stomach. This wasn’t quite a normal dream but as she lifted her hand, sparks crackling between all her fingertips, she was certain it wasn’t real either.

“Mother,” Tenley lamented, “would never tell me these things.” She turned to face the woman, night filling her eyes and fury pulsating through every muscle in her body. “Did you really think,” she hissed, “that you could fool me by wearing her face?”

Phaedra’s face twisted again into fear – just further proof it wasn’t really her. “Please, child. You need to calm down…”

“No!” Lightning lashed from Tenley’s palm striking the woman in the chest. Phaedra fell up and away, the wall shattering like glass as she was thrown into it. The whole house shattered and fell away.

Tenley found herself adrift in a void. No walls, no people, no up or down; nothing except her. Then the voice which asked, “why do you resist?”

No left, right, front or back. The voice just was everywhere and everything there was here. Tenley asked it, “who are you?”

“I’d like to be a friend.”

“A friend?” Tenley harrumphed, “friends don’t lie, or pretend to be each other’s dead parents.” Except for Kaya that one time for a completely ill-judged practical joke. There were still gaps in Tenley’s memory – she couldn’t recall how she came to be in this not-a-place – but most of it had come back.

“You’re just not ready to see the real me.”

Right – nothing was real. Tenley had heard Sayuri talk about ‘lucid dreaming’ and journals and signs and a whole lot of fluff that probably wasn’t important. What did matter was that now Tenley knew it was a dream, of sorts, maybe she could control it. If she could picture a door, maybe it would lead to a way out.

“Whoever you are,” Tenley said as she closed her eyes, “I’m going to find you. And when I do, you will die a million deaths!” She growled angrily. “I am going to cut you, grind you up, then jump up and down on the pieces, then feed the pieces to a cat then wait for the cat to poop and set fire to the litter tray then launch the ashes into a blackhole so that they fall back in time and land on your lunch!” Finally she paused for breath, then added, “no-one keeps me in a cage!” She reached out, found the handle, and stepped through.

Then she was in the park at the center of Irongate. The sun was warm, skies clear and blue, men and women with their children walked side by side, laughing and smiling, while someone was selling hotdogs from a car. It all seemed like a very pleasant, ordinary day. But Tenley sniffed and it wasn’t hotdogs. Irongate wasn’t a seaside town, so why was she smelling salt? Was that where she really was? The ocean? But she still didn’t remember how she got there.

A shrill whistle pierced her ears, Tenley’s hands covering them as she winced. Ever since she’d been changed her hearing was far more sensitive; sudden noises like that still bothered her, but it was only passing. In the park some kids were playing soccer, and the sound had come from the referee. Her usual response to any sort of pain was attack, but she saw this was just a game with no harm meant.

“Why are you so angry?” The voice came back. There were many faces around, but none of them belonged to it. Just like in the void, the voice just spoke and Tenley heard. “I only tried to give you what you wanted.”

Tenley bit her lip. She couldn’t deny she had wanted that life, once, but “it wasn’t real.”

“But how do you know what is real? It could be as real as you want it to be, if you would just stop-”

“Uh-uh!” Tenley stomped, holding up a finger to shush it, “you should have got Jenn or Kaya if you wanted to talk all that Star Trek nonsense. I don’t care. Besides – I already know you’re full of it.”

“What do you mean?” It asked. Tenley had decided the voice was feminine even though there was no body to put it to. It just seemed right somehow – if only she could remember. Maybe it was just that it had been her mother first.

“If your little dream-world were as good as real life,” Tenley shrugged, certain at least of this, “you wouldn’t be trying to trick me into staying here. I think you want me to stay because I’m the only thing here that actually exists.”

The voice hesitated, Tenley reasoning therefore that she’d struck a nerve – if she or it or they had nerves. They definitely hadn’t in one sense or they’d show themselves. “I have never encountered anything like you. You are hard to read. Your mind has so many defenses – it’s fascinating.”

“I’m just a kid.”

“No. Look,” the whistle screeched again, halting the soccer game. One of the bigger boys had tackled a skinny one, launching him head over heels through the air. Now the victim sat rocking himself on the grass, knee bent close to his quivering lips as tears streamed freely down his cheeks. The offender circled around with a smug grin – it must have been deliberate. “Most kids cry when they hurt. But you never have.”

Every muscle in Tenley tensed as she watched the scene, fighting a powerful instinct to leap over there to shove the football and that annoying whistle up the bully’s backside. A part of her was annoyed that the other players weren’t already doing that. But finally another part reminded her that none of this real. It didn’t matter. She exhaled and turned away.

To her disembodied companion she explained, “they cry because they think someone will come to help them. But what if no-one comes? Better learn to just get up and help yourself.”

“Sure, you’re tough,” the voice said mockingly, “but I’m in your head. You never stop hurting. Except when…”

A car exploded. One second it was parked, then a thuddish bang and it erupted in flames, setting off every alarm in the vicinity as a thick cloud rolled away from the ex-vehicle.

“Eek!” Something squeaked from somewhere within the smog. “I-I’m so sorry! I only meant to knock down a coconut. My calculations may have been off by just a smidge…”

“What the hell?” Tenley coughed and fanned. The smog cleared just enough to see a young blonde woman behind a tripod on which was some sort of death-laser. A short distance away were some posts, all with untouched coconuts resting on them.

“Ten!” The blonde gasped. She leapt from behind the tripod, pulling off and throwing away a pair of goggles as she bounded to the girl. “Are you okay?” She took hold of Tenley’s arms, fastidiously checking her for any injury.

“I’m fine,” Tenley was uncertain she enjoyed being made a fuss of like this.

“Thank goodness!” The blonde woman put her hand around and nudged Tenley’s head to rest on her chest.

Tenley could feel her heart, her warmth. She supposed it wasn’t too bad. It would have been nice to stay like this a while longer, but the voice had made a mistake by probing her mind; it had shown her another reason she had to get out. Someone had to take care of Jennifer, the real Jennifer – she was totally hopeless. “I have to go,” Tenley said. Jennifer looked confused but couldn’t stop her.

There had to be a way out. A way to wake up. Unfortunately, it probably wouldn’t be as simple as finding a door with ‘exit’ on it. It would be more irritatingly symbolic. The lighthouse? Those were meant to guide people, or to warn them of danger. No – didn’t feel right for that to be a way out of this place. What about something that was an actual portal between worlds?

In the real world, Tenley possessed over a hundred times the strength of a normal person. In the dream world it really wasn’t much different; a little spring in her step was all it took to fly into the air, traversing rooftops then the forest canopy in leaps and bounds. In little time she reached the circle – a large fairy circle, the grass all dead inside a ring of bioluminescent fungus. At night it was quite was a sight, and beyond it a world of perpetual twilight. That was in the real world  – Tenley was hoping for something very different; that stepping through would end the dream. Just step in, activate it, and that would be that.

Of course, the voice wasn’t just going to let her go. She wondered what obstacle it would create to stop her, then realized it was kind of obvious; she could feel them long before she heard their whispers surrounding her. Could only see them in the corners of her eyes, but as Tenley’s toes touched the ground she knew one was very close. “Oh,” she sighed, “crap…”

Tenley raised her arms to block an incoming blow, but the force still threw her clear over the circle. A normal person would have broken against the unyielding trunk of a tree, but Tenley survived. Real or not though, the pain shot up her arm, which had taken most of the collision, leaving her writhing and gasping on the floor. She ground her teeth, wincing and squinting through it to see a tall woman in a long red dress and cape, bright skin pulsing in a rainbow of colors.

“Ooh,” the woman with a wolfish grin held up her arms as if seeing her hands for the first time, “I like this form! Such grace! Such beauty! Such raw, unbridled, power!” Raising her hands higher, a ball of energy crackled and cackled between them. Tenley thought it best to move despite the pain, rolling aside just in time to avoid the lightning that struck the tree behind her, cinders and ashes flying as it creaked and fell.

Titania – only not Titania. No – this was the voice. It had just taken the form of the former Queen to prevent Tenley leaving, which at least meant she was probably right about the circle being the way out. Unfortunately, this was one enemy Tenley couldn’t punch into submission – Titania had all the same strengths as her, and more.

First things first – she had to fix her arm. Tenley stumbled back into another tree and swung herself against it, hoping to just knock all her joints back into place. It worked, but the pain was eye-watering, bringing her to her knees. The way through such pain was to stay focused on a single thing – and very conveniently there was a murderous Queen bearing down on her.

“I gave you all of my gifts,” the face of Titania sneered, “so much power – and you betrayed me!”

Tenley couldn’t avoid the next lightning strike, so instead just took it, absorbing the energy through her own hand. Titania kept unleashing power, a chain of electricity singeing the very air between them. Tenley knew she wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long – as a battery, Titania was just, well, bigger.

“You know what I think your problem is?” Titania jeered as she loomed more and more over Tenley, “You’re so used to having a miserable existence that you can’t just accept being happy.”

Tenley groaned and pushed back, but no matter how much she strained and gritted her teeth, this time she just wasn’t strong enough. She was forced further and further back, being burrowed into the ground like a –

Remember the rabbit.

Of course. Why did she keep forgetting none of this was real? Or rather, she thought too much about how things should work. This was a dream; all she had to do was close her eyes, reach out, and take the glaive.

One swish and Titania staggered back, hands grasping at her own throat to stem the flow of liquid there. The Queen’s black eyes tried to track Tenley as she pole-vaulted above her, landing low then thrusting upward with the pointy end of her stick, snarling, pushing, and pinning the Queen against the bark through her heart.

“You and I both have the same problem,” Tenley panted as the Queen twitched helplessly. “But at least I don’t have to put up with you in my head anymore!” She twisted one time for good measure. This wouldn’t have killed the real Titania, but she only needed to be slowed down. Just long enough for Tenley to reach the center of the circle, place her palm on the ground so the mycelium below could feel her command, then look back one final time. “See you on the other side,” she winked.

And she was gone.

***

Tenley awoke with a sharp intake of breath, then several more. That hadn’t been a normal sleep – more like being submerged. She was, as she’d reasoned, near the ocean. She could hear the waves echoing along a dark tunnel, could smell the salt-air. And something else. Something rotten.

She propped herself up, adjusting her eyes to the surroundings. A passage with cold, wet, rocky walls. She saw more and her hand covered her mouth and nose as she gulped, fighting the instinct to vomit. Next to her was a tiny, rotting corpse – the rabbit. It was missing patches of fur where the bare skin looked like it had been burnt, but… silly, really – It wasn’t the first time she had seen a dead thing. Although, she didn’t usually sleep next to them. Didn’t stay around them very long at all. Even for an ex-human she doubted that was healthy.

Whatever had invaded her mind must have also killed the poor bunny, although why anyone would kill a bunny was beyond her. She had to push on and find it before it killed more but be aware that it definitely knew she was coming. Good – bunny murderers deserved to sweat a little.

There was a bag next to her as well which she knew was important, but it was only as she made her way deeper into the tunnel that it all started coming back.

A few days ago, as far as she remembered, the ‘dibbles’ as Kaya called them came to the lighthouse. Jennifer was grumpy and honestly a little grouchy about it – she always was when people came by unannounced, especially if it caused the number of people around to cross over the threshold of what she was comfortable with, which seemed to be about four.

They said some kind of creature had escaped from a lab, as creatures were wont to do. Sergeant Delainy said it was a ‘relic of a cold war’, or something like that. It was still a bit hazy, but after a bit of wrangling Jennifer reluctantly agreed that Tenley was one of the few other creatures that could safely get close to this thing. Jenn was encouraging Tenley to more nice things for people and stopping something dangerous seemed a nice thing to do so she’d tracked it here.

The splashing of the waves grew louder. There were more corpses, all of small animals, some of them surrounded by rotten vegetables and what seemed like makeshift grass bedding that a child might have made. Curious, but any answers were still ahead. The tunnel opened into an alcove from which could be seen the dark blue sea, pale moonlight causing all the waves and rocks to glisten. The creature was waiting, but so was Tenley – it waited for her to step inside then clamp her forearm, but Tenley straightened and twisted her palm, reversing the grip, then thrust her other hand into the creature’s chest sending it rolling away from her into a corner.

“Bunny murderer!” Tenley cried, ready to leap on and finish it with righteous fury. But then, the creature just looked up, quivered, and burst into tears.

“Please!” It cowered, arms over its head in a pitiful attempt to protect itself. But ‘it’ was really just a woman. Very old. Well, over thirty anyway which to Tenley was very old. It was hard to say the age exactly as Tenley wasn’t used to seeing women that had bulbous bald heads with thick, black veins pulsing on them. And the way she sobbed in the corner, terrified of being hit again – somehow, she seemed more like a child.

Tenley lowered her fists, suddenly unsure of what to do. It was much easier when the things she was up against were trying to kill her – then the decision to defend herself or her friends was already made. But this – this was suddenly very awkward.

“Please,” the woman, dressed only in a once-white medical gown, sobbed. She’d been on the run and hiding for a week at least. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, or the rabbits, I swear!”

Tenley crouched, regarding the creature curiously until with a resigned sigh she knew she was going to need something other than she or it or the voice if they were going to talk. “Do you have a name?”

The woman wiped her face as she inched forward on her shins. “In – in the laboratory, they called me Vala.” It seemed like talking didn’t come quite naturally to her as she mouthed a few times first as if to make sure sound was coming out before embarking on a sentence.

“Vala – what happened to the rabbits?”

“I-I,” Vala swallowed, holding out her hands as if holding something in them, “I tried to take care of them, I really did! But, t-they just kept getting sicker, and…” she burst into tears again. “I’m sorry! I tried! I’m sorry! I don’t know why they all got so sick.”

The bag – Tenley remembered there was something in the bag she was supposed to use. It was a cylinder, almost like a microphone, attached by a cable to a yellow box. It started clicking as soon as Tenley turned it on, louder and faster as she pointed the tube toward Vala, the clicking becoming an almost continuous tone.

“That’s not a good sound, is it?” Vala asked.

“I don’t think so, no.”

“I’m the reason everything is dying, aren’t I?”

Tenley didn’t know if Vala was still trying to get into her mind – she would probably feel it if that were the case. Likely she was just reading her expression, but to remove all doubt, she nodded.

“I tried to take care of them, but I… I was only making them worse,” Vala sniffed and sagged back into her corner. “But then you came and you didn’t get sick, so I… I had to make you stay. I just… I just wanted…”

“A friend?” Tenley remembered.

“It was wrong of me. I’m sorry. I truly am,” Vala solemnly lowered her face. “I’ve only ever known the laboratory. The doctors said it was dangerous for me to leave, but never told me why. I just wanted…” she swallowed again then turned to Tenley. “ Do you know why I was made like this?”

“Not exactly,” Tenley admitted, “I just know that, a long time ago, there was a war. Well, not really a war –people thought the world was going to end with nuclear bombs. So then someone had the idea to design new people to live in the wasteland after – they made you. But then I guess the real war never happened, and…” Tenley trailed off. She felt she wasn’t explaining it very well at all. “Sorry. I don’t really get history and politics. People do a lot of dumb stuff – I guess it must have made sense to someone at the time.”

“So the war never happened, and I was forgotten,” Vala turned to look glassy-eyed over the ocean. “Left to grow up in a lab. Doctors would come in, sometimes, to stick needles in me and take my blood. They always wore bulky suits and devices meant to stop me getting in their heads. But, I caught glimpses of what the world was like outside. I just… I wanted to see it for real. Wanted to be a real person, but, that’s not possible is it?”

“I’m not human anymore,” Tenley sadly sighed, “that’s why I don’t get sick. But anything else you go near; animals, people – they just can’t live around you.”

“So they sent you to take me back?” Vala shook her head and toughened her jaw like she was getting ready to fight, although it was a fight she couldn’t win. Yet her eyes shone with renewed determination and resolve. “I won’t go back! I can’t live in that cage anymore!”

Tenley had asked the dibble – Sergeant Delainy – what she should do if Vala refused to return. His face had crumpled as he passed her a vial. ‘Give her this. You know what it is, don’t you? She won’t feel anything.’

Tenley could feel the vial stashed safely in her coat. It was cleaner than other deaths, but could Tenley really get Vala to swallow it? Did she want to? Why couldn’t Vala have just been a monster? She had to go and make it all complicated.

“Look,” Tenley let go of the vial and stood, “I have friends; Jennifer and Doctor Sarkis. Real nerdy science types. Sayuri would try to heal you with crystals or something – she’s useless. But the others, between them, they have to be able to think of a way to cure or make it safe for you to be around people.”

Vala narrowed her eyes cautiously. “You really think they could help me?”

“Of course! They have to. They’re good people,” not completely understanding the mechanics of the situation, Tenley couldn’t assure them both any better than that.

“But then, why did they just send you to deal with me?”

“They just – they thought you were a monster,” that was it, Tenley told herself. “Once I explain the situation we’ll find a way to help you. Although, in the meantime, we do still have to get you someplace where you can’t make anything else sick.”

Vala narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the child, then with a weary smile said “Of course. Any ideas?”

“I’m thinking,” Tenley paced as she pondered the problem.

Vala turned to look out over the seafoam. “Well, there’s no rush, is there? We can stay here the night.”

Tenley shrugged, “I guess.”

“Could you tell me more about your friends?”

Tenley paused her pacing, regarding Vala suspiciously. “You promise won’t try to trap me in some weird virtual reality again?”

“No,” Vala chuckled, “you’re the strongest girl in the universe. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Well – all right, then.”

Over the next few hours, Tenley regaled Vala with the tales of her adventures, bouncing and leaping as she acted out some of the scenes. She grimly recalled hunting her mother’s killers, but jumped and pirouetted all around the cave as she recalled a battle with another changeling called Ella. With a whoosh and a swoosh she recounted forays into other worlds, fighting a man who was half-machine, punching a velociraptor, and her friends being surprised by twists and turns that any child would have seen coming, and did.

“You have quite a life,” Vala whispered breathlessly at the end.

“I guess,” Tenley shrugged and sat next to her. “It’s been a lot more fun since I met Jennifer.”

“You love her?”

Tenley choked. No, that just – that wasn’t a word that she used. Ever. “I – I have to take care of her. It’s not the same.”

“It sounds the same- “

“It’s not,” Tenley insisted. “It’s just, she’s clever, but also really dumb. She couldn’t fight her way out of a paper bag but goes and picks them anyway. So someone has to protect her.”

“I was in your head,” Vala reminded her. “You love her. You loved your mother, too, even though she never loved you back. Or never showed it. So much love. So much pain. Is that what real life is?”

Tenley narrowed her eyes warningly. “What did I say?”

Vala sighed, “no Star Trek nonsense.” After a long silence, she said, “I just want you to know – you’re good people as well, Tenley Tych.”

Tenley fell asleep shortly after that. If she had any more dreams she didn’t remember them once she woke, again by the sun tickling her nose but this time it was real. But it was strangely quiet. She could hear the wind and the waves and the seagulls, but something was missing. Then it hit her – since she’d changed, her hearing was far more sensitive. She’d quickly adapted to filter most of the sound when it wasn’t important, but she knew – hers was the only heart still beating in here. Vala was lying a short distance away gazing out over the waves, eyes wide open but completely still.

With trepidation Tenley crawled over to her, but she already knew – the vial was gone from her pocket and despite all her power, all her hopeful words, there was nothing that could be done by her or anyone.

Breaths caught in Tenley’s throat as her hands couldn’t keep up with the flow of tears.

[ddagent]

Idea for knights and frights: Jaime keeps telling creepy stories to their children and while Joanna is entirely fascinated with all the stories of blood thirsty bears, werewolves and white walkers, Galladon can't sleep because of his father's tales. Brienne is not amused. (Jaime has regrets too when Galladon insists on sleeping with his parents in their bed...)

Hope you enjoy! 

“…and the little girl entered the library. There was not a single sound; just the snow falling outside. She took a step in. And another. And another. No one was there. She was safe in the library. Or so she thought. She heard it, then. The sound of fingernails against the stone floors. The groan of joints from someone long dead. Behind her, the door—”

The door opened. Three lions cubs and a knight shrieked. Brienne, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, stood framed in the doorway. She shook her head at the four of them. “It’s time for bed, children.”

“Oh but Mother.”

“Please, Mother!”

“Ser Jaime was telling us a story!”

Brienne looked over the heads of their children; a glint in her blue eyes as she caught his gaze. Jaime was thoroughly enjoying their royal procession from King’s Landing to Casterly Rock; away from the hustle of Court he could spend more time with their children. Every night for the past week he had told his cubs ghost stories, and tales of the White Walkers. They would giggle and shriek and Joanna would clutch at his arm. 

So it was with a sad, wistful smile that Brienne packed their children off to bed. “Come along, we have another day of riding tomorrow and we all need our sleep.” 

Cat was the first to gather herself up off the floor. She kissed her mother’s cheek and allowed Ser Jason to accompany her to her room for the evening. Brynden next. He threw Jaime a grin, kissed his mother’s cheek, and followed his sister. Joanna buried her face in the crook of Jaime’s neck before toddling off to her mother. Brienne took her hand, ready to escort their youngest to bed. 

“I’ll make sure Joanna is down, and then return to bed myself, Ser Jaime. If you could ensure the room is clear and safe?”

He nodded. “As always, Your Grace.” 

His Queen, his love, quickly departed. Jaime took himself from the room and went to the one allocated for Brienne. It was the largest room in the inn, although he knew Brienne well: she would be equally happy lying out underneath the stars. Seventeen years on the Iron Throne had not eroded her sense of self; she remained as selfless as ever. Her only real indulgence was taking her Lord Commander to bed as many nights as she could. 

As instructed, Jaime checked cupboards and underneath the bed; he ensured the windows were locked and a single guard posted outside the door. Ser Petyr had fought with Brienne at the Battle of the Trident; he had been a member of her Queensguard since the earliest days. He did not question why the Lord Commander remained in the Queen’s bedchamber. Nor, if he was to step inside, ask why Ser Jaime had removed his shirt and lay enticingly upon the Queen’s sheets. 

It wasn’t long before Brienne returned. She pursed her lips, ignoring him on the bed; instead, she began undoing the buttons on her tunic. Jaime grinned. “You know, I could do that for you.”

“I can undress myself, thank you.”

“Of course you can. But I’m rather adept at doing it; if I do say so myself.” 

“Hardly.” Brienne shucked the fabric from her shoulders. “You tear them; you rip them. The royal tailor is in constant demand.” 

Jaime crawled across the mattress to be closer to her. “Then let’s keep the man in work. Come here, let me tear those breeches from your legs.” Brienne did not move. “If I’ve done something to offend you, my lady, will you say? Or will you continue to act as if your beloved tailor has sewn a row of stitches across your lips?” 

Brienne turned, then. “The children will have nightmares. You must heed what stories you tell them.” 

“It’s a few harmless ghost stories! Our children are warriors; no spectres will haunt their dreams. I swear to you, Brienne. They’ll be fine.” She made a noise. “They will be fine. You worry too much.” 

“I shall remind you of this, Ser, when Joanna screams the inn down.” Despite their disagreement, Brienne came to him. Calloused hands slid around the nape of his neck; the blade of his shoulders. His own snuck around the waistband of her breeches and tugged the material to the floor. “I mean it, Jaime. Your children are very loud.” 

He wet his lips. “They get it from their mother.” 

Jaime surged up and took Brienne in a passionate kiss. Her fingers carded through his chair, pulling him back so as her mouth could leave a wet trail along the length of his throat. His hands brushed her sides; ran along the rivets of her spine. Traced coordinates and constellations in her freckles. Brienne gasped against his skin, and quickly the two made for the cool expanse of the sheets. One hand palmed the tight front of his breeches, and Jaime let out a low growl. 

Elsewhere in the inn, Joanna of Tarth let out an ungodsly scream. 

“Told you,” Brienne murmured against his lips, before quickly reaching for her shift. Jaime had enough time to grasp his shirt before the door flung open. 

“Mother, Mother, I saw a White Walker!” Joanna flung herself at Brienne’s legs. She picked up her daughter; hand moving sweaty strands of blonde hair away from her eyes. “He was huge, with pointy teeth!” 

“I’m sure there was no White Walker, little star.” 

From the other side of the bed, Jaime concurred. “I’m sure it was just a shadow, Princess.” 

Joanna’s small face curled in confusion. A look shared by her siblings, who had run into their mother’s room brandishing weapons (Cat, the sword her mother had commissioned for her coming of age; Brynden a candlestick). Brynden drew up tall when he saw there was no danger. “Ser Jaime?”

“Your Mother heard a noise.” Brienne glared. “Fine, I heard something; I wished to check upon Her Grace. Now, it seems, I need to conduct a Wight hunt. Which one of you would like to accompany me?” 

Brynden raised his hand; Cat was much quicker. “I have the sword, Ser Jaime. I’ll make sure Joanna’s room is safe. You can protect Mother, Brynden.” 

“Mother can protect herself. But I do think, Ser Jaime, that you should check the children’s rooms. And maybe stand guard outside Princess Joanna’s for the remainder of the night?” 

He nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace.” 

Jaime left the room with Cat, and left his son to mime fighting a Wight with the candlestick. As they headed down the hall, Jaime glanced over his shoulder at Brienne. There was a touch of smugness to her smile; a familiar look from their seventeen years of bouts. But there was also something softer, brighter. It was moments like these that they were almost a family.