#normal especially considering. waves hands at the oaks

[kaseyskat]

the thing is. empathizing with the doodler is the hard choice. it's risky. who knows what it'll actually do, and who can you trust? normal or the two adults who very much want to beat this thing with violence? and tbh I think they're doing so well at playing teenagers in this regard? literally a few episodes ago it was all "fuck adults we don't need adults" but they've tried to do this normal's way before and things only got worse!

but we the audience know that they do not and that's the concept of choosing empathy over violence, ending generational trauma instead of continuing the cycle, letting the doodler - an entity so starved for love and yet completely unable to obtain it - go free instead of potentially endangering other worlds (with the kiddads plan) or letting willy have it... it's the entire moral of the podcast. and that's why normal is right about what they should be doing, even if he's doing a horrible job at it. and while I don't think it's gonna be a clear-cut "good" option, I think it'll have better long lasting effects than continuing the circle of violence. that's all thank you for your time

[maple-the-awesome]

Under The Confession Tree ||

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Gender Neutral!Reader

Words: 2,037

Overview: You've asked Remus to meet you under a tree popular among classmates for confessing their love for each other. Hyped up by his idiot friends, he's prepared for a romantic revelation, not...another kind.

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"If it isn't too much trouble, can you meet me under that old oak tree on the outskirts of school? There's something I want to ask you...privately."

Remus isn't quite sure where he should stand. Originally, he had hovered in the open, passing time by kicking crunchy leaves into sloppy piles before deciding to sit on one of the low hanging branches instead, however, even that position proved to be unstable as he continued to fidget with his hands. He now stands straight with his back pressed against the tree's trunk, bouncing his body off the sharp bark in a poor attempt of smoothing his anxiety.

Are you even coming? You're taking an awfully long time to arrive. Maybe you've forgotten or perhaps this was all just some prank and you're currently laughing with your housemates in the common room- No, you're far too kind for that. Remus knows you. He knows you would never be as cruel as to prank him in such a way. You're normally very punctual especially when it comes to someone else's time, so you must be caught up in potions class. You'll be here soon, no doubt.

A shaky breath leaves the young Gryffindor's mouth as he moves to play with his scarf, wrapping it tighter around himself despite not actually being cold. In a moment like this, he finds himself deprived of his friends support which is silly considering how much they've talked him up throughout the day. James and Sirius had even been willingly to skip Quidditch practice for Remus's sake, but he's determined to be brave enough to face you on his own for once. Besides, he's certain you don't want his friends around.

This morning you had managed to catch him just as he was leaving breakfast. Where you normally greet him with a smile and excited wave, you seemed rather awkward, doing most of the talking while tugging at your sleeves and refusing to meet his eyes. The only time you looked up was to glance at the other Marauders who hung nearby like hawks watching mice. That's when you threw in the word 'privately' much to Remus's concern.

You like his friends, at least, he's never been led to think otherwise. You laugh at their many shenanigans, join them for lunch whenever they call you over, and happily allow them to invite themselves to your study group with Remus. Never before have you complained or so much as frowned at their existence, which means if you need to talk to Remus alone, there must be something you don't want them to know; perhaps something they might not like to hear?

Funny enough, the boys weren't anywhere near as concerned as Remus when bidding you farewell with the promise of seeing each other later. Quite the contrary, actually. Immediately upon spilling out of the Great Hall, Sirius had thrown an arm over his buddy's shoulder, loudly congratulating him on his 'score' while the others agreed with further praises. Needless to say, Remus had been rather confused until James filled him in.

"Come on, mate. You're meeting under 'the old oak tree'. Doesn't that ring a bell? That's the place where students first confess their love to each other. Something about the forest bringing good fortune to young couples and all that.”

Confess? As in a love confession? Remus had turned as bright as his house's quidditch uniforms at such a thought. It isn't as if he could justly deny his own affections towards you. He loves your brilliances, sense of humor, and ever so caring personality (not to mention you're rather attractive), but could he really be lucky enough to have someone so amazing love him back? Well, his friends are convinced he has a shot.

Not meeting with you was never a choice. He's already agreed to it and the marauders refused to let him miss out on the opportunity. For the rest of the day, they prepped him on how to handle the meeting with various tips, bruising pats on the back, and even offers of roleplaying which an embarrassed Remus absolutely refused to take part in.

Over time, he soon found himself believing in their 'theory', realizing you must be confessing your love to him. It does make sense.

You were an awkward, blushing mess when speaking to him and you just so happened to ask him to an area apparently known for love confessions; privately, nonetheless. You must be preparing to tell him your feelings and if all of his friends' help plays out well, he’ll be prepared to look you in the eyes and announce such feelings are requited before sharing a kiss he's only ever dreamed about. It'll be perfect…won't it?

So Remus isn't as prepared as he tries to convince himself he is. He's a panicked mess, his mind running over every possibility in which he makes you rethink your feelings. James said be confident, Sirius advised to be flirty, but Peter warned to not be too much so. Most of all, the boys agreed to stay true to himself.

"You’re the one getting confessed to, mate, not us. Do what you feel is best in the moment. Leave 'em swooning with your wolfie charm~"

"Remus!"

The poor boy gives a jolt, his heart lurching at the sight of you running his way. Unlike this morning, you look to be your normal self, beaming as you raise a hand in the air to wave at him with a bright toothy smile he can't help but copy, although, his is notably far more nervous. Everything Sirius and James have prepared him on goes flying out the window, his nerves setting in just as quickly as reality does...Merlin's Beard, he isn't ready for this...

"I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting. Professor Slughorn- well, you know how he is. He practically talked our ears numb today, especially those of us in the club. 'could've swore he took a babbling beverage before class," you joke, coming to a stop mere feet away from him where you then take a moment to regain your breath.

Judging on your appearance, you've likely ran all the way from the dungeons to the old oak. Your tie is crooked despite how straight you prefer it to be and the edges of your robes are splattered with mud which hints towards the possibility of you cutting through the grassy hilltop instead of taking the stone path which would've delayed your appearance a further three minutes at most.

"I haven't been waiting long," Remus reassures, crossing his arms behind his back and wobbling on his heel with eyes focused on the dull colored ground,"...so, what is it you needed to ask me?"

"O-Oh, yes, how could I forget?" You laugh, that is a nervous one. Remus takes note of the way your hand shoots up to your hair, your fingers tangled within the threads as a red tint takes over your cheeks,"...it's a bit embarrassing- at least I suppose it will be if you take it the wrong way. Please don't take it the wrong way, I mean no harm by it, I only want to get it off my chest instead of letting it boil into a bigger issue...So yeah, I'm just going to ask, okay?"

Seeing you in such a stage of timorous rambling makes Remus feel anxious yet giddy; both in good ways. You really are going to confess to him. So much time has been spent staring longingly at you from the back of class, dreaming of a day where he could hear you laugh and smile while stealing soft kisses wherever the two of you find yourselves, be it in the shadows of the library or chilled wind on the Quidditch bleachers. Such are dreams he may be able to make reality after new revelations under the old oak.

"Remus..." You take in a breath, standing straighter with your eyes meeting his with bold confidence," are you a werewolf-?"

"-I love you, too."

Oh dear...Oh dear Merlin no! You both speak at once before your eyes go wide in sync. You then stare in silence like mooncalves at each other while processing what the other had just said.

It feels as if someone's hit Remus with petrificus totalus, numbing his body and gluing him in place as his mind whirls at your completely unexpected question. He doesn't even have time to worry over what he had just confessed himself to you, his other fears poisoning his thoughts far quicker.

"A-A were-werewolf? Why...um, why w-would you think something like that? I'm not a werewolf," his voice is beyond shaky, too much so to be the least bit convincing. Even if it had been, it would've been betrayed by his wild eyes and face which makes it look like he's just downed a gallon of pepperup potion.

You frown with softened features," well, there just seems to be a lot of evidence for it really. You always miss class the day after a full moon then when you do return to class, you usually have a new scar and seem sluggish. When we did our Boggarts lesson, your fear was a full moon and I’ve noticed that your friends call you Moony...Either you have a thing for full moons or really have a thing for full moons."

Remus bows his head in shame, cursing the way his voice squeaks,"...o-oh..."

"I’ve had a feeling for awhile now and I even did some research on werewolves just to be sure before I asked. I was worried I'd embarrass myself if I was wrong, but I'm right, aren't I?"

He doesn't respond outside of a gulp, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. How could he have been so dull? Of course you weren't going to confess to him and you never will if you know he's a werewolf now. Who wants to be in a relationship with someone who loses control every full moon and could easily rip them to shreds?

"Remus-"

"-P-Please don't tell anyone, I'm begging you. If anyone finds out-"

"-You don't really think I'd go revealing such a thing, do you?!" Your voice is raised slightly, laced with offense as you quickly take his hands in yours, making the poor boy flinch," Remus, I would never. You trust me, don't you? I understand being a werewolf isn't...it isn't favorable for you and unfortunately people can't always see that, but I do.

"That's why I asked because I just want you to know that if you’re a werewolf, you don't have to stress about keeping it from me or even dealing with it alone. I'm sure you're friends already have your back and all, but I want you to know that I do, too. If there's anything you need, be it someone to help patch you up after a bad night or merely a shoulder to lean on at any time of day, I'm here. I’ll always be here for you.”

Remus blinks, unable to lift his gaze from your soft hands which feel like heaven as your thumb rubs against the back of his in comfort. Your words bring relieved tears to his eyes, ones he manages to blink away with a smile," thank Merlin...I thought you'd want nothing to do with me if you found out."

"Quite contrary…In fact, I might want more to do with you if what you said is true," you bat your eyelashes, smirking at the sight of Remus recalling his own confession moments before. The red tips to his ears makes you chuckle, squeezing his hands lightly," did you think I was going to tell you ‘I love you’?"

"James said this is a popular stop for confessing one's love…" he explains shyly and adorably so.

"Is it? There's so many strange traditions around this school, I have a hard time keeping track. I just thought this was a nice tree far from any prying ears. You know, so no one overhears if I'm right? I suppose it's also a lovely spot for such a cute guy to confess his love for me, although, it would be an even better place for him to ask me out."

Remus smiles, looking into your eyes again after inhaling some confidence before exhaling your full name," would you like to go out with me?"

"Remus Lupin, I'd be overjoyed."

[chaoskirin]

Shadecursed--CHAPTER ONE

Meadow Halfhorn experienced a weird twinge in his brain just after breakfast. It was the type of twinge that demanded immediate attention, but much like the check-drive light in his car, he chose to ignore it.

Never mind that his car shortly thereafter became an ex-car. He had things to do, and no time to worry about twinges.

He scribbled a note for Luka and Ptery, who would arrive while he was out. After sticking it to the fridge where one of them would hopefully see it, he hurried out the front door of his treehouse. As usual, he was running late.

By choice, he'd insist to anyone who asked. After all, who in their right mind would arrive early to anything?

Pure coincidence led him through his garden instead of down the path. Meadow reasoned that by cutting through the overgrown and disorganized chaos, he could save a few seconds—at most—and reach the Festival Plaza in reasonable time.

His hooves sank into the dirt while burrs caught in his tail. As he whirled around to give a clinging vine a hearty piece of his mind, he noticed something peculiar.

Well, more peculiar than usual. Meadow's garden was chock full of all sorts of weird and wonderful disasters, all home-grown with his special brand of flora magic. In fact, Meadow grew the very tree in which he lived, as well as many of the other Halcyon Oak apartments in the forest. Yes, he was a faun of many talents, and all his plants thrived under his care.

So he found it particularly odd that something on his very property had died.

Moreover, a few sparks leapt around the plant like it was frog-catnip.

Sparks were the heralds of the water god, Wheriae, and no one wanted them around. They were noisy, obscenely bright yellow, left slime everywhere, and made general pests of themselves without even trying. Most logical beings considered them a nuisance, but they were the water god's chosen creatures, which meant, in some regard, they were sacred.

That didn't stop people from punting them, though, especially when they set up camp around your home. Or, gods forbid, inside your home.

"Shoo!" Meadow ordered, waving a hand at them. "Or I'll get the spray. Then you'll be sorry."

They scattered, leaping out of his garden. Their webbed feet smack-pattered against the forcefield-shielded dirt road, then they disappeared into the forest's dense underbrush on the other side.

"That's better," he muttered, shaking his tail free from the burrs. Crouching down next to the dead weed, he narrowed his eyes. The leaves were black and strangely matte, as if they consumed all light and reflected none of it.

Through his connection to the goddess Petalvine, Meadow sensed that the leaves weren't dead, but altered. Caught within another plane of life. Horrifying. Far be it from him to describe something with excessive hyperbole—although he described things with excessive hyperbole excessively and often—but all he sensed from the diseased foliage was darkness.

Cliche, but apt.

He tilted his head and scratched at the base of one of his horns as he pondered, then he did what any self-respecting faun would do: he reached out and poked the thing.

It wobbled as a normal leaf should. Unlike a normal leaf, however, it made Meadow want to tear off all his skin and roll in the dirt to escape its sheer wrongness. Just in case he somehow misinterpreted the first poke, he did it again. This time, he was overtaken with the desire to ask a dracotherex to chew his hands off.

This was the opposite of a plant. No, not an animal, or dirt, or anything else with a viable definition. This was a not-plant.  

"Weird," he understated, trying to banish the shiver worming its way up his spine. He didn't remember growing that.

True, occasionally his experiments would breed and produce something even more horrendous than before, but such were the hazards of flora magic. At least none of his plants had ever eaten anyone. Yet.

In any case, he could un-magic the thing when he got home.

As Meadow rose, a car glided around a corner onto his street, and the glow from its Ghiscaer Drive briefly sparkled off something metal half-buried in the ground.

Interesting.

He could have ignored it, but what sort of faun would he be if he did? Then someone else would find it, then he wouldn't have the satisfaction of a mystery well-solved. That wouldn't do.

"All sorts of surprises today," he muttered, kicking at the dirt hiding the shiny thing. Crouching again, and being careful to avoid touching the not-plant, he brushed the soil away until he unearthed a copper-chain pouch. It was the kind sometimes carried by acolytes of the goddess Ziro, and roughly the size of an apple.

Hoping to find an apple inside, Meadow untied the cord and peered within, only to find a handful of stones instead. Drat. Inedible. Still, his curiosity got the best of him, and he upended the copper bag onto his palm.

A trio of stones rolled from it. Pretty, but unremarkable, they were rough and uncut, and certainly not the type Ziro's followers usually used as leystones. In fact, they were so fresh from the mine that dried mud still dappled their surfaces, so much so that Meadow could barely see the colors of them. Scratching the mud away, he uncovered an emerald, a deep red garnet, and a lump of onyx.

For most fauns, finding such a treasure would mean finders-keepers, and given Meadow's natural affinity to onyx—he wore quite a bit of onyx jewelry—he was tempted to keep it. But the stones seemed valuable, and he did have an inkling of a conscience, so he checked the bag for evidence of an owner. After all, he liked the followers of the earth goddess. They were kind, pleasant to talk to, and their godmark made them smell like the forest after a refreshing rain. He'd never steal from them.

After tilting the bag toward the light, he found a scrap of parchment stuck within the links of the copper chain. Fishing it out with his hoof-horn nails, he unfolded it, the scent of rain still fresh upon it. It was recently written.

"Meadow," he read aloud. "Take these with you."

Well, then! He wasn't about to refuse free rocks. Satisfied with his find, he rolled them back into the bag.

That's when he noticed the dirt shifting beneath him.

Alas, he'd stood in one spot for so long that tiny pink flowers now bloomed from the ground surrounding his hooves. His own godmark was much flashier than the godmark of Ziro's chosen, and its appearance meant he'd wasted too much time on studying the strange offerings in his garden.

Now he was running even later.

Stowing the copper bag in one of his pouches, he hopped over the garden's short retaining wall and set off at a decent clip toward the Festival Plaza. Benji would, of course, excuse his tardiness, because Benji was the most laid-back person Meadow ever met. Even so, there were limits to his rudeness, and he refused to cross that self-imposed line.

Out of breath and sweating, he slid through the plaza gates and wound his way through the crowd to the competition grounds. With any luck, he'd make it in time for his friend's victory. With even greater luck, he would have missed all the boring stuff that came before the victory, like the posturing, the deafening silences, and the gods-forsaken thinking.

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

@jesstargaryenqueen @sailorsassley @sjmships @tomtenadia @endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @fredweasleyhasadhd @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu @swankii-art-teacher @superspiritfestival 

Chapter Fifteen ~ Bridges

Chapter Fourteen ~ Chapter Sixteen

The air was cold and the snow whipped around Aelin’s face as she made her way through the forest to the gate that lead to the city. She had debated using her old shortcut across the river, but it had felt too much like old habits. 

Rowan walked by her side, his body a solid presence beside her. He had not said a word since they had left, she had figured it was nothing to do with her but more to do with seeing Sam — who had not made a good first impression on the fae male. 

Their footsteps crunched in the snow and Aelin was thankful for her flame in times like these. Rowan seemed unfazed by the cold wind that blew around them— she supposed with his ice magic he was used to it. 

The gate had been left open, the wind banging it against the post. Rowan held it open for her and she slipped through. Rowan was a couple of steps behind her but she could feel his gaze on her. She twirled round and stopped. 

“You don’t have to do this. I can go alone.” 

He shook his head. “You’re not going alone.” He stepped around her and continued towards Orynth. 

Aelin jogged to catch up with him, pushing her hair from her face. “Nothing will happen. He’s not going to do anything. I can also protect myself.” 

“I’m not worried about that. I know you can protect yourself.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Then why are you coming? Sam is going to think—“ She paused. 

“What?” Rowan stopped in his tracks.

“You’re jealous.” Aelin made her way to stand in front of him. “You don’t want me to be alone with Sam.” 

“Can I not just accompany my mate somewhere without being questioned?” 

Aelin laughed. “Of course. But you don’t have to lie to me, I actually find it sweet.” 

He glared at her. “It’s not sweet and I’m not here because I’m jealous.” 

Aelin began walking ahead. “Whatever you say, Rowan.” 

He growled and grasped her arm to spin her around. “I’m not jealous. I just can’t stand the thought of you alone with him after how he made you feel and what he said.” 

Aelin tried not to smile at his protectiveness. 

“I don’t know why you look so happy about this.” 

She nudged his side. “Because I kind of like protective Rowan, it’s a new side to you.” Aelin wrapped her arm through his own. “But you don’t have to feel worried about Sam, he’s harmless. Our romantic ship has sailed and what he said to me… it was probably warranted — considering everything.” 

He let out a hmph but held her closer. “I still don’t like how he spoke to you. And I know nothing romantic is going on, but if it was me going to see someone I had been intimate with, would you be totally okay with it?”

Aelin didn’t have a response to that. He was right. She hated the thought of Rowan being with anyone else, or even being in the same room as a woman he had bedded before. 

“We’ve only been mated for a few weeks Aelin, the first years can be volatile for a male. So you have to be patient with me.” 

Aelin didn’t respond. Houses and small shops started to line the streets as they made their way further into Orynth. The snow was heavier than before, the flakes settling on the cobbled path, the sky dark with clouds. 

“Maybe you should wait outside whilst I go in.” 

They had stopped outside of the library, the familiar oak door, the sign above, it felt odd to be here during the day— Aelin had been so used to sneaking here in the dead of night, praying that no one would spot her as she crept through the streets of Orynth. Aelin tried not to dwell on the wave of sorrow that went through her. She hadn’t realised she missed it as much as she did. Sam knew her as well as anyone, and she hadn’t realised she missed talking and laughing with him. She lost a friend in the process and it tore at her. She stared at the door a moment longer before turning herself to Rowan. 

“I won’t be long.” She raised herself onto her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on Rowan’s mouth. “I love you.” 

Rowan’s lips lingered on hers a moment longer before he pulled away. 

It was still early in the day and she knew the library would be quiet for a while longer. She hesitated slightly before stepping inside and she sighed at the familiar scent of old books, she took a moment to take it in. It was still one her favourite smells, it felt like a warm embrace. 

She couldn’t see anyone inside, the towering bookshelves obscured most of the space; the dark wooden shelves reaching almost to the ceiling, ladders lining those same shelves. It felt like years since she had been here, but it had been less than two months, the thought was jarring— it had been so little time since she had been here… and yet how fast things had changed. 

She heard the shuffling of feet somewhere further into the library and her heart began beating faster, her palms becoming sweaty as she anticipated the meeting. 

She hadn’t forgotten the last time they had spoken. The way he had looked at her, grovelling on the floor, Aelin begging him not to walk away, the look of utter disgust in his eyes. His parting words to her still stung, and yet there was a sense of anticipation in seeing him again. She took in a long breath and continued forward, stopping when Sam’s figure emerged from an aisle, his face obscured in the shadows. He didn’t see her straight away, his hands full of books as he scanned a different shelf. 

She hesitated momentarily. 

“Hey, Sam.”

He stilled, his head turning to observe her. His hair was messy and she could see small clumps of dust from where he’d been digging through piles of old books. She stepped closer to him, giving him a small smile as she did. 

“Do you have time to talk?” She brushed her hand down the spine of a book as she spoke.

Sam paused before placing the books on the trolley that had been sat to the side of him. 

“It won’t take long, but it’s important.” 

He looked out behind her, his eyes narrowing at what he saw outside. She turned to look as well. Rowan stood with his arms crossed against the pillar, his eyes locked on Sam. 

Sam cleared his throat once. “Have you come to finish what Aedion started?” 

Aelin felt her shoulders drop. “Of course not. I actually need your help.” 

He turned to walk away, Aelin trailing behind him. 

“I’m busy.” 

She scoffed. “You look it.” 

“I’m sorry if I don’t feel inclined to come to your rescue Aelin. Everything considered, I think I’m being polite.” 

Aelin caught his wrist before he walked away again. “Please Sam. Just five minutes.” 

He brought his other hand to where she held his wrist and pried her hand off, shoving it away. “I said no. Please just go.” 

“Sam…” 

“I said get out.” His voice rose as he spoke. His hand shaking slightly as he pointed to the door. “I don’t want to ever see you again, do you understand? Get out of my Gods-damned store and don’t ever think of coming here again.” 

The sound of the shop bell rang out in the quiet and heavy footsteps followed. 

“You dare speak to her like that?” Aelin didn’t have time to stop Rowan as he stormed toward Sam. “I’ve told you once before and I will say it again. Watch how you speak to your future queen.” 

“Rowan.” Aelin hissed. 

“So you came to rub it in my face?” Sam scoffed. “I never took you as the type to do such a thing. But I guess there were a lot of things I was wrong about with you.”

Rowan let out a growl. “You are out of line.” 

Aelin tried to shove Rowan away, but he stayed firmly where he was. His eyes never leaving Sam’s. 

“Sam listen to me. It’s Lysandra.” Sam briefly looked to her, his brows rising slightly. “She’s the one that needs your help. But she couldn’t be here to ask herself.” 

Sam backed off slightly, his posture relaxing ever so slightly. “Send your guard dog home and I’ll consider listening to what you have to say.” 

Aelin glanced at Rowan, giving a brief nod of her head. She wasn’t in danger, and having Rowan here was making everyone more tense than necessary. 

“I won’t be far.” 

Sam gave a sarcastic smile. “I’m sure you won’t.” 

Aelin gave Rowan another weary look, trying to hasten his exit. When the door slammed closed she let out a breath. She could see Sam assessing the situation once more, he watched intently as Rowan walked down the street and then disappearing into the alley. 

“Can we sit?” Aelin asked hopefully.

“No. You can talk to me here.” 

Aelin let out a huff and found a stool to perch on anyway whilst Sam stood leaning against a wall, his arms crossed and looking anywhere but at her. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him— it was not why she had come. 

“Why does Lysandra need help?” 

Aelin hesitated slightly before coming out with it. “She’s pregnant. And she doesn’t want anyone in the palace knowing about it, and there’s nowhere else she can go where it can be kept a secret.” 

“And why would it be any better here? Surely the same problems arise no matter where she goes.” He shifted his arms to his side and stood up straighter. “Can’t she just marry whoever the father is?” 

Aelin shrugged. “Maybe. But you know Lysandra, she doesn’t want to burden anyone and I don’t think she feels like she is good enough for them.” 

Sam gave her a curious look. “Who’s the father, Aelin?” 

“I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you. But Aedion is the father.” 

Sam let out a short laugh. “Not a surprise at all.” He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, stretching out his legs. “I don’t see why they couldn’t just get married. Lysandra is basically your sister, everyone loves her.” 

“Not everyone loves her. There are a lot of people who would be opposed to the marriage— especially now…” She trailed off, not sure how to continue. 

“You can say it.” 

She thought for a moment. “Especially now that I can be of no use to marry for an alliance. A lot of the lords are hoping Aedion will marry a foreign princess and make alliances instead. Convincing them to give Aedion and Lysandra their blessing will be hard.” 

“I still fail to see where I come into this.” 

“Lysandra just wants somewhere to lay low for a while. But we need her to be within reach of healers and we need to be able to see her without suspicion… and you were the best idea we came up with. Or actually, the best idea Rowan came up with.” 

Sam shook his head. “He probably just wants to keep a closer eye on me. Make sure I don’t start moving in on you.” 

Aelin couldn’t help the redness in her cheeks. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re too good of a man to try and steal someone away.”

“Or not enough of a man to keep them in the first place.” 

Aelin was silent for a moment. “You know that’s not true.” 

He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have you anymore, so I’d say it is.” 

“You were the last person I wanted to hurt.” Her voice somber. 

He shrugged. “I think we both knew things were coming to an end anyway. I couldn’t be what you needed. I was making you give up too much to be with me, and it was unfair to do that.” 

Aelin slid off the stool and onto the floor next to him. “You have no idea how much I wanted the life you told me about. To travel the world and have a family, live on a little farm with our animals, living completely free. I wanted it all.” She played with the hem of her sleeves. “I had so many arguments with my parents about not wanting to be the heir, begging them to give it to Aedion or to Elide. I was so in love with you, Sam, and it pains me that I couldn’t give you the life you wanted either.”  She glanced to the side, Sam was already staring back at her. His eyes turning watery. “I wanted to tell you about Rowan. I had planned a whole speech and was going to explain everything to you.” 

He wiped at his eyes. “I didn’t mean to be so cruel that night. I was angry because I’d foolishly thought I could come to you and convince you that we were it, that it didn’t matter about ranks or thrones or any of that— I was going to try and sweep you off your feet and hope you would change your mind.” Sam closed his eyes, rubbing a hand down his face. “I think we were doomed from the start, weren’t we?” 

She gave him a half smile. “Maybe,” she leant forward. “But if I could go back… I would never change any of it. You made me very happy Sam, and I will be grateful that I was able to be loved by you.”

Sam looked at her then, studying her face for a moment. “It was an honour to be loved by you, too. It really was.” He smiled at her, a smile she hadn’t seen in a long time. “He better treat you right. Or I’ll have no choice but to beat him.” 

Aelin laughed, a deep hearty laugh. “He’s certainly no match for you Sam.” 

Sam laughed too and the two of them laughed together, just like they had before. And when they managed their composure, their laughs giving way to silence, Sam stood and offered his hand to Aelin; she took it gladly, savouring the touch, remembering the feel of his hand in hers. 

“Lysandra can stay here for as long as she likes. You and Aedion are welcome to visit whenever you want. But maybe you can leave Rowan behind… I’m not sure I’m ready for that just yet.” 

Aelin nodded in understanding. “Thank you, Sam.” She didn’t give him time to stop her as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Nuzzling her head into his neck like she used to, breathing in his scent. “You don’t know how much it means to me.” 

Sam wrapped his arms around her, squeezing gently. “I would do anything for you, Aelin.” 

She pulled away. “I know. And if there’s ever anything you need…” 

Sam smiled in reply. “I guess you better get going,” he nodded in the vague direction of Rowan. “Don’t want to keep him waiting.” 

Aelin snorted. “I’m sure he’ll survive.”

“Should I expect Lys this evening?” 

“She’ll be here before dinner I imagine. I’ll stop by tomorrow and let you know the details of what will happen.” She paused before the door. “You just have to say the word and we’ll figure something else out. I know this is a huge imposition on you.” 

Sam just shook his head. “It’s fine. It’ll be nice to have some company around here for once.” 

Aelin pulled the door open and the cold winter air wrapped itself around her. The snow was falling faster and the streets were covered in a thick blanket of white now. “I’ll see you soon.” She lifted a hand in farewell and stepped into the frigid winter air. 

She paused a moment, composing herself before finding Rowan. She was relieved that Sam was okay. That he wasn’t angry at her, and that they were able to be civil. Perhaps in time they’d find their way back to friends— but she wouldn’t push it. 

She found Rowan waiting in an alley a couple of streets down from the library. She had followed his scent, finding him leaning against a brick wall, inspecting a dagger she had not realised he had been carrying. 

“I hope you put that away when people come past.” 

He twirled the dagger between his fingers before slipping it into the inside of his jacket. “I know how to behave in front of people, Aelin.” He pushed off the wall and ran his gaze over her. “You’re okay?” 

Aelin rolled her eyes. “I told you he wouldn’t hurt me.” She still slipped her hand into his own and pulled them toward the street. “Everything is fine. Lysandra can stay there as long as she likes. I’ll inform my healer that she’ll be needing to make a trip into the city every couple of weeks, and come up with something to tell Orlon and the other court members.”

Rowan looked skeptical. “This plan works fine until she actually has the child. How do you explain then?” 

“By the time she has the baby we will have thought of something. Perhaps they’ll get married and then it won’t be a problem.” 

“I thought you said the lords would never approve a marriage between them?”

“I can be quite persuasive.” 

Rowan didn’t say anything as they walked through the streets of Orynth. Aelin stopped at one shop to pick up Lysandra’s favourite chocolates and snuck some for herself into the purchase. 

The streets were quiet as they meandered through. The snow enough to keep people away and inside their homes, huddling by the fires, if the smoke from the chimneys was anything to go by. 

Just as they were reaching the edge of the city, Rowan let go of her hand and exclaimed there was something he had to do, telling her to go ahead and he would see her at the palace. Aelin had narrowed her eyes at him and reluctantly agreed. Giving him a chaste kiss before returning. 

Even with her flame she was thankful for the warmth of the palace. The hallways were cast in a soft orange glow, the curtains drawn to reduce the cold that seeped in through the windows. The halls were unusually empty, much like the streets of Orynth, but she supposed on a day like today guests would be huddled in their rooms or in the many drawing rooms that dotted the palace. 

She shook off her damp cloak as she entered Lysandra’s rooms; hanging it by the fire in the hopes it would dry. The room was vastly different to her own, the colours more subdued, the windows smaller, hidden behind shorter cream curtains. Touches of Lysandra were thrown in here and there — a blanket that her mother had made when she was a baby was thrown across the end of the bed, a rug of dark red lay across almost the entire floor and the trinkets she had collected from various cities, lined along the mantel.

“Did it go okay?” Sat on the two chairs near the flames were Aedion and Lysandra. Her cousin was holding Lysandra’s hands in his own, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. 

Aelin took a seat on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. “Everything is good. He was happy to have you stay as long as you pleased.” 

They both let out a sigh of relief at the news. “Thank you.” Aedion was helping Lysandra to her feet. “We’ll head there now. I’ll try to be back for supper.” 

Aelin stood with them, her eyes going to Lysandra who’s face was pale, a thin sheen of sweat lining her forehead. 

“Lys? Are you okay?” 

She nodded. “Probably just morning sickness.” She turned to Aedion who had a bag in one and her cloak in the other. “Can you give us a moment?” 

“I’ll be outside.” 

Lysandra moved to the edge of the bed, placing herself down. Aelin wordlessly joined her, the two of them sitting and watching as the snow floated down outside. 

“You don’t have to go Lys. We can figure it all out here… You won’t show for a while yet.” 

Lysandra just shook her head. “It’s easier if I’m not here. I don’t want people talking, and I don’t want to have to deal with the looks of pity I’ll get.” 

Aelin scoffed. “If anyone did that, they’d have me to contend with.” 

Lysandra managed a small smile. 

“Sam will take good care of you. He was happy for the company.” 

“Thank you for going. I know how things were left…” 

“It’s all good now Lys. We talked a little and I think we have accepted how things are.” 

Lysandra fiddled with her sleeves, the silence stretching a little too long before she began to speak. “I know you must think I’m being difficult or crazy for not just marrying Aedion and that I’m making a fuss about not wanting people to find out,” she took a breath. “But I see the way people look at me. The way they whisper as I walk past. It doesn’t matter that I’m friends with you or if Aedion and I are together, they’ll still only look at me as the orphaned servant girl who got lucky.” 

“Lys—“ 

“I could marry a king and they would still look at me like I am nothing. All I can think of is if it’s like this now, then what will they say when I start showing? When I have the baby? Not only that, but the Lords of Terrasen would never agree to let me marry Aedion anyway— so it’s never been about whether I want to or not. I know I am not good enough for him, and it’s easier if I just go somewhere else for a while and make this whole thing easier.” 

“Do you think Aedion gives a shit what everyone else says? Do you think I give a shit what they say?” When Lysandra didn’t respond, Aelin continued. “You worry about what people will think, how Terrasen will be if you married him but I can promise you, it will survive. Do you think Orlon would’ve married Darrow if he knew that it would ruin Terrasen?” 

“That’s different.” 

“Maybe so. But you have to know that you have people on your side. If you change your mind about this all, we’ll do our best to support you.” 

“Thank you.” Lysandra paused a moment. “You can tell Orlon. He has always been kind to me, and I trust that he’ll do what’s best for everyone.” 

“Everything will work out, just wait and see.”

Aelin embraced Lysandra, lingering a few moments longer before exiting the room with her. Snuffing out the flames with her magic as they closed the door.

Aedion was waiting on a bench just down the hall and as they approached he wrapped the cloak around Lysandra. He turned to Aelin, nodding once in acknowledgment for what Aelin had done. That conversation would come later. But for now, Aelin watched as they walked away, eventually disappearing. 

[mingoyeob-archive]

omg hey, if not done yet, can we please have 51 + jk? also take your time for part 3, no need to rush and stress about it, you're an amazing writer and good work always takes time 💜

under the oak tree drabble game ⚔️🌳 to make up for my delayed release of part 3 of under the oak tree i’ve decided to do a drabble game!

omg thank you for being so kind 🥲 I wanna end under the oak tree in a good way so I've just been pushing it off until I come up with something thats not a complete disappointment?? but I'm hoping these drabbles give you guys more time to enjoy the characters! hope you like it :)

51. “I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time” | jjk x reader ft yoongi | word count: 2k

The castle was eerily quiet.

Most days it would be loud with the sound of footsteps and the banging of mugs hitting wood tables followed by the clanking of cutlery. However today, no one seemed to want to make a peep; they were as quiet as a mouse. Unlike everyone else who found the lack of noise peculiar, Yoongi enjoyed it - reveled in it, flourished in it even. Nothing made him happier than being able to sit and enjoy his daily morning, afternoon and evening naps and it made studying all the damn protection spells Jungkook wanted for the castle a hell of a lot easier. But there was one thing that threatened his new paradise, a looming cloud over his glorious fantasy, the grey cloud that he called Jeon Jungkook.

Now Jungkook was never one to be in an especially chipper mood, at least not around most people that is (you on the other hand, seemed to be a completely different story). Yoongi distinctly remembers seeing baby pictures of the lad when he was just a baby with a scowl etched permanently on his face under bushy dark brows. He often found it comical. Here was this lumbering idiot, with a silver spoon practically being shoved in his mouth, the glorious savior of the kingdom, but he was walking around as if his favorite horse had died (which it hadn’t, he checked). It was really starting to get on his nerves.

“Kid, you’ve gotta stop scaring the men. I swore I saw one of them shit themselves the other day.” Yoongi said from beside Jungkook. Currently they sat side by side in the great hall, feasting on bowls of hearty beef stew, the kind with giant chunks of meat and half haphazardly chopped vegetables covered in a thick and glorious gravy. Hmm my favorite Yoongi hummed to himself, eyes slipping shut as he drank up the delicious broth with a loud slurping sound. His spoon made a loud clanging sound against his bowl when he dropped it back down, wiping his mouth to shift his gaze back over to the scowling man to his left. “You know if I were you I would be jumping for joy. You’re filthy fucking rich, whats to be sad about huh?”

Jungkook didn’t even let out his usual grunt in response, opting to continue swirling his spoon around in his stew while glaring down at it as if it had wronged him in some way. But the sudden sound of one the knights from across the hall laughing had him snapping his head up to send a growl over to the group of men which had them instantly silencing themselves, ducking down to continue silently eating their food. Yoongi watched the exchange with amusement, “Yeah you definitely need to get laid.”

Jungkook raised his hand to swing at him to which Yoongi merely stopped with a spell, not even bothering to look at him while he took another spoonful of his food. He knew Jungkook would never try to purposefully hurt him if he knew Yoongi couldn’t protect himself, so this was just considered normal playful banter between the two men. “That’s enough, Yoongi.” He mumbled angrily, dropping his fist to bang against the table. The noise gained the attention of everyone in the dining hall, but none of them dared to turn their heads to look at the commotion, afraid the Duke would redirect his anger towards them. “I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, you know, that's what tends to happen when you don’t get any for a while.” Yoongi sighed and leaned his hand against his hand, gazing pitifully at Jungkook. He noticed the slight twinge of confusion on Jungkooks face and decided to reiterate himself, “It’s called blue balls idiot.”

Jungkook nearly choked on his spit. Yoongi was never one to mince words and this time was no different, but still his blunt words caught him off guard. “Would you keep it down!” Jungkook seethed, whipping his head around to see if anyone had overheard the topic of their conversation. It’s not like he was scared of anyone mocking him (everyone knew better than that) but still, he didn’t need the whole castle knowing that him and his wife still hadn’t had sex yet since he’d been back.

Yes, you heard him correctly. Jungkook had been back for almost three months and you and him still hadn’t even so much as touched each other intimately. Sure they had a few passionate kisses and lust filled embraces here and there which had left your neck bruised with hickies, but outside of that, neither of you had even dared roaming a hand south of the border. He didn’t know why he hadn’t tried it, perhaps it was because he wanted to make sure you were ready this time, instead of forcing himself on you like last time. He wanted to be positive that you enjoyed yourself as much as he did, wanted to bring you to new heights that made you absolutely euphoric. But until you were comfortable with him enough to let him do so, he would stick to his hand and the dirty images that he had conjured up in his head.

“I know what blue balls are, Yoongi. But I’m perfectly fine with how mine and y/n’s relationship is going.” he mumbled, glaring at the sorcerer. “And I don’t need you meddling in my love life so why don’t you just go and frolic with that stable boy like you do and leave me be.”

Yoongi let out a noise of disagreement, throwing his hands up in annoyance, “How many times do I have to tell you, me and hoseok are not frolicking or whatever the hell you’re into-” Jungkooks foot kicked his leg under the table causing him to let out a hiss but nonetheless he continued, “You can’t keep waiting for her to make the first move. Y/n is a lady and a lady from Aster at that. Those chicks never make the first move.”

Jungkook grumbled and pushed his bowl away from him then sipped at his ale in contemplation. Perhaps Yoongi was right, maybe it was time for him to make the first move. “But how can I make sure she’s ready? What if I fuck up like last time?” he questioned, not bothering to hide the genuine concern in his voice.

The sorcerer just sighed, patting Jungkook on the shoulder, “Trust me, kid. If you fucked up, she wouldn’t still be here. And judging by the noises I heard last time, I’m pretty sure she enjoyed herself.” yoongi shuddered. No more late night walks through the hall he promised himself. “Just try to do something nice for her this time. Don’t just throw her around, take it easy. Try and lighten the mood, understand?”

Jungkook was quiet for a second, the gears turning in his head. When he finally seemed to come to a conclusion, he grunted and nodded his head. The corner of Yoongi's lips tilted up in a satisfied smile and he clapped the man on the shoulder, “Thatta boy!”

Immediately after dinner, Jungkook went to the kitchen to request the finest meats, cheeses and artfully crafted desserts they had along with the sweetest wine the chef could find. The kitchen staff were practically shaken in their boots when the Duke had first walked into the room, afraid they had done something to mess up his dinner. But when they saw how shy yet dedicated the man seemed to be (despite how much he had tried to hide it) they were more than happy to help him, promising him that they would do their best. Jungkook gave them a monotonous thanks and had practically run out the room, up the steps and to the bed chamber. He had a lot to do in a short amount of time.

“I am pooped!” You groaned, complaining to Seokjin about how much work you had done today while walking through the hard stone halls of the castle. You had spent most of today working in the library, learning and going over the finances with Seokjin so you could finally start taking on more of your ‘wifely duties’ and relieving him of some of the burden. “I’m still not sure how the conversion from pences to shillings works. Or is it shillings to pences? Ah, oh well.”

Seokjin merely rolled his eyes as he walked beside you, hands clasped behind his back in his usual gentlemanly fashion. “Yes my lady you did work very hard today. I do believe it is time for you to get a good night's rest so we can start again in the morning.” You whined at his words, stopping as you finally reached the door of your bed chambers. Seokjn just let out a small chuckle at your over the top theatrics, “Have a goodnight Y/n.”

You had returned his well wishes, sending him a beaming smile and wave as he walked back down the hallway. Once he was out of sight you turned back towards the door hand reaching out to grasp the knob. But before you got a chance to even touch the brass door handle, the mahogany swung open in front of you, your tall husband's looming figure instantly coming into sight. “Oh hello!” you greeted, surprised by the fact that he seemed to be waiting for your arrival.

Jungkook just stared at you, is he blushing? You asked yourself. The man didn’t say anything, just stepped out of the way and gestured for you to enter. You thought the whole exchange was weird and cautiously stepped around him, not expecting the sight that awaited you.

You let out a gasp, hand flying up to cover your mouth in shock as you surveyed the room. Almost every inch of the place was covered in the most beautiful and fragrant rose petals, the room lit up from the fireplace he had going across the room. Delicious food and desserts covered the tables so much of it that you had no idea how he expected you to finish it all. “Jungkook, what is all this?” you said, whipping around to look at him as he continued to stand by the entrance, stiff as a board.

He ducked his head, hands coming up to fidget as he nervously looked around the room. “Do you like it?” he asked, finally daring to meet your gaze. “I had Yoongi help me. He said you might like all this...or whatever.”

Your irises were practically lit up with admiration, eyes shining with pure undulated joy. You couldn’t believe he had done all of this for you. “Of course I like it! I mean- I love it! But what did I do to deserve this?”

Jungkook just furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, finally crossing the room to cradle your cheek and stare into your eyes affectionately. “What do you mean deserve this? I love you, y/n. I would give you the whole world if I could.”

His words had your eyes tearing up and you brought a hand up to gently hold the one he had placed on your cheek. Your head turned, placing a peck against the calloused skin of his palm as you returned his gaze, letting your eyes show just how thankful you were. “Jungkook...I love you too.” you whispered, watching as his face seemed to light up with your confession.

The rest of the night was spent dining on the luxurious food the kitchen had prepared, mouths full as you whispered sweet nothings to each other and spilled all of your darkest secrets and happiest moments. And despite the fact that the two of you still hadn’t managed to find your way to the bed or explored the rest of each other's bodies that had laid untouched by one another for quite some time, Jungkook couldn’t find himself to care. He was happy enough to be here at this moment, with you.

Blue balls be damned

[girls-scenarios]

A Little Curiousity

Idol: Heejin (Loona)

Prompt: Guys! Can u do smth like a AU with Heejin where the reader and Heejin are POKEMON TRAINERS!!(im rly hyped about the new pokemon games!!!) Where her pokemon got lost in the woods and the reader helps her find her pokemon and decide to continue their path to the Pokemon League together!

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I just finished playing Pokémon Shield on my Switch and I’m still super excited about it since it was so fun, so I thought I’d try my hand at this prompt! Please forgive me if my writing isn’t the greatest, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

Heejin wouldn’t normally consider herself a slow or inattentive person. After all, being a trainer had heightened her senses and made her pay more attention to her surroundings. But she had been in the middle of setting up her tent when it happened, too distracted with her full hands to react fast enough. She hadn’t even noticed Star, her Raboot, curiously approaching the tree as she focused on getting her tent up before the approaching clouds could open their floodgates.

She hadn’t noticed until the sky lit up with lightening, the ground shook with the force of the thunder, and he let out a loud squeak just as something hit the grass. At the squeak, she had turned just in time to see him dash off into the woods after a very large, very startled Skwovet, leaving her and the rest of her team to stare after him.

“Star! Stop!” She’d called after him, but it was too late. By the time she had jumped to her feet, he was gone and the skies opened, pouring a heavy rain down onto the campsite. She had only taken a moment to corral her team into the tent and tell them to stay before she ran after him, but he was already long gone.

Now she was soaked through and gasping for air, her new boots covered in thick mud as she stopped to catch her breath under a huge oak.

“Stupid Skwovet, how did it just jump out of nowhere like that?” Heejin huffed and stomped her foot as she looked around, squinting through the rain. “Star! Come here!” A distant roar answered her call and she shivered, clutching the Pokeball at her side that contained her Mubray Champion, the only companion she’d thought to bring with her in her haste. God, this was so stupid. She was going to catch a cold wandering around out here. Thankfully she’d left her backpack with her clothes at the tent so she could change when she got back.

She went to take a step forward, then froze. Her tent. Where was it again? A bit frantic, she looked around, but all the trees just looked the same, especially under the heavy rain. Gulping, she glanced back at her footprints. Would she be able to follow them back?

Half of her wanted to run back the way she’d come, but she knew that she couldn’t leave Star out there alone. Groaning, she wiped at her face with the back of her hand, swearing to herself that she was going to get a leash the next time they were in town. There was no way she was going to let this happen again. She was miserable as she started forward again, cursing everything. Stupid rain, stupid Skwovet, stupid curious Raboots, stupid woods-.

“Hey, are you okay?” The voice that came from deeper inside the woods made her jump and stop in her tracks again, her head swiveling around to try and find where it came from. “I heard you out here in the rain so I came to see if everything was alright. You’re totally soaked!”

She found herself looking to her right and watching as you stepped out of the darkness, an umbrella over your head and your eyes wide and concerned. For a moment, she was apprehensive, until she noticed that the belt around your waist was full of Pokeballs and you had a Pumpkeboo trailing after you, peeking at her from over your shoulder. Somehow, you seemed a bit familiar as well, but she couldn’t tell why. Not through the rain and the darkness that lingered in the woods at all hours of the day.

A quick glance down at herself had her feeling embarrassed and she let out a soft laugh, pushing her wet hair away from her face. “Well, I don’t know. My Raboot ran off into the woods while I was setting up camp and now I can’t find him in the downpour.”

Your frown was sympathetic as you stepped forward, close enough to cover her with your umbrella. Now that she wasn’t moving, she realized how cold she was, making her shiver again. Your frown only deepened. “You aren’t going to be able to find anything in this downpour. Why don’t you come over to my camp? It’s right back through these trees here. I’ll give you some of our curry and you can warm up by the fire while we try to figure out how to find that Raboot of yours.”

For a moment, she hesitated, before realizing that you were right. She could barely see anything and Star wasn’t going to come out from wherever he was hiding until the rain ended. “You’re right. Thank you,” she said, a grateful smile stretching over her lips as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to conserve as much body heat as possible. “I owe you one. My name is Heejin, by the way.”

You smiled in return as you started to guide her back the way you came. “I’m (Y/N), and don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do for a fellow trainer. You’re trying to get your gym badges, aren’t you?”

With a raise of her eyebrows, she asked you how you knew, drawing a laugh from your lips.

“I’m a trainer too and I’ve seen you at the past few gyms. You always challenge right before me, so I’ve seen you fight a few times. You’re really good!”

“Oh, thank you.” Her face burnt a bit at the praise, but she was thankful for the warmth so she didn’t turn away. Instead, she studied your face, before her eyebrows raised in recognition. “That’s why you looked a bit familiar to me! I’ve definitely seen you at the gyms before. Although I guess I’ve never seen you fight,” she said sheepishly, making you laugh again.

“That’s okay, like I said, I’ve been after you, so I wasn’t expecting you to stick around and watch every round. Not while there’s still so many of us challengers. It’s nice to officially meet you though.”

“Same to you, although I wish we’d met under slightly less.... Wet conditions.”

“True. Oh, we’re here!” The trees disappeared suddenly, giving way to a small clearing just big enough for a campsite, where your other Pokémon ran over to great you. You had your tent set up and your curry cooking, and she felt her stomach grumble. It had been a long day, and even though she’d given her team berries to tide them over until dinner earlier, she hadn’t eaten in a while.

“Come over here and warm up,” you told her, guiding her under your makeshift shelter by the fire before closing your umbrella and going about filling up a plate. With a happy sigh, she leaned closer to the fire and smiled at your Vulpix as it wandered closer, sharing its warmth. As she let Champion the Mudbray out to run around with your team, you approached her with the plate. “Here, have some of this.”

The curry was spicy, and she let out a hum as she swallowed her first bite. “That’s delicious!”

“Thank you,” you said, a smile stretching over your face as you sat down and let the Vulpix climb into your lap and snuggle close. “I’m glad you like it. Most of my experience is in cooking for Pokémon, so I’m always a little worried that it might not be edible for humans.”

It was her turn to laugh before she took another bite, already feeling warmer. Before she knew it, she had already finished the plate and she felt warm inside and out, most likely thanks to the extra heat Vulpix had added to the fire. The rain had let up as well, and there was a bit of sun peeking through the clouds as the downpour turned into a tiny drizzle.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said earnestly, “I feel a bit guilty for taking up your time,” but you waved a hand, dismissing her guilt.

“Don’t worry about it, Heejin. I’m glad I was able to help.” You looked out at the woods. “Now that you aren’t going to freeze to death and it’s no longer raining, we should start looking for your Raboot.”

Her stomach dropped and she sighed, placing her plate down and standing up. “I feel terrible for leaving him out there in the rain.”

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t find him,” you soothed, putting Vulpix down and standing up as well. “I’m sure he was able to find shelter in plenty of time. Pokémon are animals, after all. They’re good at surviving the elements.”

“That’s true. But I still want to find him as quickly as possible.”

“Then let me help.” You whistled, getting the attention of the Pokémon. “Come on guys, let’s go find Heejin’s Raboot!” Turning back to her, you raised your eyebrows. “Does he have a name?”

“Yes, his name is Star. You don’t have to do this, you know. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“But I want to.”

Something in her heart fluttered at your words and she felt her cheeks flushing. “Oh. Well then, thank you again (Y/N). His name is Star. Hopefully he’ll come out now that’s it’s not raining as much anymore.”

The ground was still muddy, but the trickle of sunlight made it easier to say and, without the drumming of the rain, it was easier to hear all the different sounds of the forest. With Champion trotting behind her and you by her side, Heejin made her way back into the woods, calling for Star. She had to admit that having you by her side made her feel a lot better: the various sounds from other wild Pokémon didn’t scare her as much anymore. No matter what was out there, surely the two of you would be able to take it. It gave her more bravery to search, and search she did, looking anywhere she thought Star might hide.

“Star, come here! It’s not raining anymore, you can come out now!” Crouching down, she peered into another den, only to quickly back away at the sight of a sleeping Bunnelby and sigh. “Where is he? Maybe he went back to camp?” She stood and dusted off her still-damp pants, about to suggest that the two of you try to find your way back to her camp before you let out a gasp.

“Heejin, I think I found him!” At your call, she spun around to see you peering up into a short berry tree, your eyes wide. “Hey little guy, how did you get up there?”

Heejin broke into a run, clearing the short distance in no time with her heartbeat spiking in her chest. Sure enough, when she looked up she saw Star shivering and clutching at the branch he sat on, his little ears wet from the rain and his eyes quivering. “Star! Oh my god, you scared me!”

The little Raboot sniffed and glanced away, trying to look cool, but she could see him shaking. With a relieved smile, she reached up to pull him down and clutched him close to her chest. “Don’t ever do that again! I know you’re getting bigger, but what if you had run into a big wild Pokémon? Poor baby, you’re soaked through.” She quickly unzipped her coat to wrap it around him before zipping it back up, and he snuggled closer to her chest, obviously exhausted. With an affectionate, yet long-suffering sigh, she pet his little head. “I’ll cook your favorite curry when we get back, okay? It’ll warm you right back up.”

When she looked up, you were looking at her with a similar affection twinkling in your eyes, your hands in your pockets.

“Thank you so much again for finding him,” she said, shaking her head. “I should have known he’d be up in a tree looking for food.”

“How did he even get up there?” You looked back up at the branch he’d been sitting on, looking a bit incredulous. “I’ve never heard of Raboots climbing trees, that’s for sure. I just happened to look up and see a flash of red and white.”

She laughed, still softly petting his head. “He’s too adventurous for his own good. Add that to his endless energy, his speed and constant growing, and his huge appetite, and you get a Raboot with no problem getting into trees. He doesn’t climb as much as he runs and jumps.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.” Your smile returned and she felt her heart flip as your eyes met hers, the spark of affection still lingering. “I’m glad you found him. I can’t imagine how scary it is to loose a Pokémon.”

“I acted annoyed, but I was really scared,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I’d do without this little guy. He was my first Pokémon ever.”

“I can tell how close you guys are. It’s cute.” You grinned and her cheeks warmed again as she watched the sun slip in through the leaves to light up your face. It was like the universe was asking her to fall for you or something.

“I-I... Thank you?” She let out a nervous giggle, then perked up at the familiar sound of her Liepard’s call. It was somewhere close by, which meant that her camp wasn’t far away! “Champion, can you lead the way back?” He gave her a little nod of his head before she turned to smile brightly at you. “My camp is close by, why don’t I give you some potions as a thank you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to!” Your eyes widened as you waved your hands. “I just wanted to help, I didn’t want anything in return!”

“Still, I want to do something to return your kindness. I’m really glad I ran into you out here.”

Your face immediately softened at her words and you fell into step beside her, a small smile on your lips. “You know, I always wanted to approach you at the gyms, but I was too nervous.”

“Really?” Her mouth dropped open. “Why?”

“You seemed to be so good, so confident, so, um, pretty,” you blushed as you spoke, looking down at your shoes. “I was intimidated by you, honestly. But now I see that I should have approached you sooner.”

“I can’t see myself be intimidating,” she said, still shocked, before her lips turned up into a hopeful smile. “Want to make our way to the next gym together? It would be nice to have some company on the journey, and I want to get to know you better.”

You visibly perked up at her suggestion, just as Champion broke through the woods into her camp, returning to the happy calls of her team. The sun was bright as the two of you stepped into the clearing, and your eyes sparkled in the light as you beamed at her, making her heart skip more than just one beat.

“I’d love that!” You exclaimed, and her smile stretched to match yours, all of the fear, and cold from earlier being replaced by an excitement that lit a fire in her chest, different from the competitive determination she’d felt at the beginning of her journey.

“Great! This is going to be so much fun, I just know it.”

As she placed a sleeping Star into her tent and covered him with a blanket, listening to you coo at her other Pokémon, she couldn’t feel the annoyance she’d felt earlier, forgetting her promises to scold him when she found him. Instead, she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before sitting back to admire you, full of anticipation for the future.

“I never thought I’d say this, Star,” she said in a whisper as she stood up to head back out to you, head already spinning with plans of what she wanted to do with you. “But I’m so glad that you’re the curious type. I’ll cook you something nice to thank you for this when you wake up. I have a feeling that this is going to be big!”

[itshalza]

At My Side

Eternalduo (Eret and Foolish) origin story fanfic? Yes please!

- They/Them pronouns for Eret

- Loosely based on "Peace and Love on the Planet Earth" from Steven Universe

!! Content Warning: Nothing.

Summary: Foolish wakes up in the mortal realm, completely unaware of how it works. When he stumbles into Eret's kingdom, friendship ensues.

Foolish woke up under a canopy of trees. Dim beams of sunlight shone through the leaves of the tall oak trees. Birds chirped lightly in the trees. He blinked slightly, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Then a figure covered his vision.

The totem shouted, scurrying backward until his back hit the trunk of a tree. Birds squeaked and flew from the tree. Foolish began speaking quickly. “Get away from me. Don’t come any closer. What the-”

He was cut off by a long:

Baaaaa

Foolish stopped speaking, the fear slowly leaving his eyes. “What are you?” He asked.

The creature let out another noise before beginning to munch on the grass.

“Can you at least tell me where I am?”

Baaaaa

“How did I get here? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

It looked up at him, not a thought behind its eyes.

Foolish raised an eyebrow before slowly standing up. “Fine then, keep your secrets.” He said spitefully. He hesitated and took cautious steps away from the beast. It didn’t react, so Foolish moved faster to get away.

It didn’t take him long to realize that this was not the realm he was used to. The Godly Realm was much, much brighter than this. And there wasn’t much grass, and this certainly wasn’t the temple he was used to.

“Oh Gods,” He muttered in annoyance. He was no longer in the Godly Realm after all… this is the mortal realm. He rubbed his furrowed brow, closing his eyes and sighing. He didn’t remember how he was put down here, but he knew it was probably a punishment for something.

He moved out of the forest and moved towards the only signs of civilization he could find. A large village was in the distance. Houses made of stone and wood encircled a large, grand structure, seemingly a castle, in the center of the village.

Foolish wandered around the streets, eyes on him. He was definitely out of place here. His golden skin stuck out like a sore thumb. These creatures were definitely different from him, and they knew that too.

He eventually made his way to a marketplace. The bustling environment was just busy enough to allow him to blend in. He stopped paying attention to where he was walking taking in the scenery around him. However, he quickly began paying attention again when he was collided with, falling backward onto the cobblestone street below.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” Their deep voice rang out, adjusting their cloak. They offered Foolish a hand. He pulled himself up, dusting off his attire.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” He said lightly. Foolish looked up, emerald eyes meeting… sunglasses. It was rather peculiar; through the sunglasses appeared to be a light, but it must have been a trick of the mind.

The stranger took in Foolish’s appearance before smirking slightly. “You’re not from around here, are you?” They said, almost knowingly.

Foolish hesitated for a moment. Why should he tell them anything? The two just met less than a minute ago. But he needed to figure out what was happening and why he found himself in the mortal realm. He laughed lightly. “Not exactly.” He rubbed the back of his neck lightly.

The stranger nodded slightly. “I think I understand.” They said. They looked around the crowd before adjusting the sunglasses. “Well, do you want to come with me? I might be able to help you figure out some things.” They suggested.

He opened his mouth, intending to refuse the offer. He had just met the mortal, how was he supposed to trust them? For all he knew this might just be a ruse to steal from him. Not that Foolish had any belongings to get stolen.

The totem looked around before sighing in defeat. He didn’t have many other options other than going with them. “Sure, that would be helpful.” he conceded.

The stranger offered the god their hand. He took it apprehensively as they began to weave through the crowd of townspeople. They moved toward the center of the village, toward the grand stone castle. Rainbow banners adorned the large, sturdy cobblestone walls surrounding the castle. There was a set of large wooden doors set in a stone archway. The place seemed fit for a king, something the cloaked stranger definitely wasn’t. But that didn’t stop them from their trajectory to the doors.

Foolish trailed behind, slowly getting more confused by their actions. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” He questioned.

They let out a low chuckle. Shaking their head, the stranger replied. “I’m fairly certain.” The stranger looked back at him with a light smirk, mumbling something, but the words were lost among the noise of the crowd around them.

The totem followed hesitantly. They did not seem to stop their approach to the castle doors. Foolish waited for a moment or two for them to change their path, and of course, they didn’t waver. “See, the only reason I doubt that is because you seem to be heading right for the castle doors and-” he started before trailing off.

The two stopped at the large wooden doors. Foolish seemed dumbfounded as the stranger lowered the hood of their cloak. The guards gave a curt bow to them before opening the doors.

The King took a few steps into the castle grounds before turning back to the god. A smirk adorned their features. “So are you gonna come in or what?” They asked in a teasing manner.

Foolish cleared his throat, clamoring to regain his composure. “Yeah, of course.” He said quickly, moving to follow the seemingly unbothered king. He couldn’t believe that happened. He just completely embarrassed himself in front of the ruler of the town he found himself in. Surely they would find that disrespectful. “Your Highness, I am so sorry, I-” He started, trailing off when he heard them chuckle.

“There’s no need for the formalities.” They said with a wave of the hand. Foolish blinked a few times, trying to wrap his brain around this situation. “Especially because I believe that your title may supersede mine.” They said, giving a knowing look.

Foolish let out a sigh of relief. So they were aware of his godhood. That was relieving to know, but also terrifying. Were they planning something? What were they going to do with him? They didn’t seem to have any bad intentions, but who knows?

He didn’t get a chance to say anything in response, as a servant approached them with their crown. The ruler ran a hand through their curled locks. They rested the crown on their head while listening to the servant’s word. The crown sat gracefully on their dark hair; it looked like it truly belonged on the silhouette of their regal figure.

“I’m going to take my guest to my chambers. In the meantime, can you prepare a room for him?” They said to the girl. She gave a nod before giving a bow of respect before heading off down a hallway.

They took a deep breath before turning back to Foolish. “Sorry about that. I know your time is valuable.” They said before continuing their way through the halls of the castle. Foolish looked around, getting caught up in the architecture and art along the walls. The place looked perfect. There wasn’t a single thing out of place or a thing the god would have changed if he was the one who built the palace.

The ruler moved toward a door, opening it slowly. “We can talk more here. I don’t want any listening ears to hear. Rumors spread like wildfire.” They said. They held the door open for Foolish to enter.

He entered the room, looking around. The quarters were definitely grand compared to a normal bedroom, but Foolish would consider them humble compared to what he expected from a king’s chamber. Light seeped in from the sheer curtains. The king led him to a sofa toward the corner of the bedroom, taking the cloak off and draping it across the bed, revealing formalwear. They must have worn the cloak as a disguise to go into the marketplace.

“Your Highness, I-”

The king chuckled, shaking their head. “I told you not to call me that, but I never introduced myself, how stupid was that.” They said lightly. They sat on the chair across from Foolish. “Please, call me Eret.”

Foolish was suddenly aware of the fact that he had never introduced himself either. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Eret. My name is Foolish.” He said with a grin.

“So what’s the occasion that our little kingdom is being visited by a god like yourself?” They asked softly. They adjusted their position in the chair before chuckling. “If I would have known you were visiting, I would have cleaned up a bit.” They said jokingly.

“Cleaned up a bit? This place looks pristine.” Foolish mused. He looked around the room with an excited smile. “Also, I love the architecture, and did you see the chandelier in the entrance hall, it’s amazing.”

The king chuckled. “I have seen the chandelier.” They said lightly.

Eret seemed like a weight lifted off their shoulders. Their posture was no longer as straight as a board, and their shoulders were considerably less tense. It had been so long since they were able to be this informal with someone. Everywhere else they were the King, but in this room with Foolish, they were Eret once again. In fact, it had been so long since they heard someone use their first name.

“But I highly doubt you came here just to compliment our castle, though I do appreciate it.” They said. They absentmindedly fidgeted with a button on their shirt, listening intently.

Foolish chuckled nervously. “That’s the thing.” He said. He took a deep breath, looking around the room. “I don’t remember what happened. I remember being in the realm of the gods, and then I remember waking up in the woods.” He was being straightforward because that’s all he knew. There wasn’t much else to say. “There was a creature who looked like a cloud and ate grass and he was not very helpful in my search for answers.” He began recounting the events of his arrival.

Eret laughed genuinely, a sound they hadn’t heard in a long time. They clearly overestimated how much understanding Foolish would have of the mortal realm. “It sounds like you ran into a sheep.” They said with a grin.

“Well, this sheep was not very helpful.” He said spitefully. He sighed in annoyance, to Eret’s amusement. He continued, losing his anger toward the animal. “I left him in the woods and I started walking toward your city. It was the only thing I saw.” He said.

Eret nodded. “I’m just wondering why you got sent here of all places.” They said before their face paled slightly. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, that’s not what I meant. I just mean that our small kingdom is hardly worthy of a visit from a god.” They rambled nervously.

“Eret calm down, dude. I’m not gonna smite you or anything.” Foolish joked, laughing. Eret laughed, nervousness still filling his voice.

Once the moment passed, Eret looked up at him, bright eyes peering at him through their sunglasses. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you the god of?” They asked. The kingdom wasn’t exactly known for being religious or knowing much about the pantheon of gods. They were free to practice any religion, and there wasn’t much of an emphasis on it anyway.

Foolish thought of a way to phrase it. “The easiest way I can explain it is ‘Undying’. I help things last. Permanence and equilibrium. Saying ‘the god of life’ doesn’t do it justice, because life implies death, implies an end. That’s just not what I do.” He said, being careful with his words. He didn’t want to be misinterpreted. He didn’t want Eret to assume he was something he’s not.

Eret listened, taking in everything he said. They nodded. “Well, we are happy to have your presence.” They said, giving a slight bow of the head.

“No, you don’t have to do that stuff. The bowing and formalities. I was never one for being worshipped. Just consider me a friend.” He said, a smile forming across his face.

They smiled slightly in response. “Of course.” They said. They leaned back in the chair, brushing a few loose curls from their eyes. “Although we will have to introduce you to the people. The whole marketplace saw you. I wouldn’t want any rumors to start to spread about your intentions. The last thing we need is an angry mob.” They said, furrowing their brow slightly as they thought.

“Oh well, that’s no problem. I can just go out and talk to them, I’ve always been a people person. I-” Foolish started, a grin on his face before Eret stopped him.

“No, no, no that won’t do.” They said, shaking their head. “I know you don’t like the formalities but I feel like your arrival warrants a bit more than a trip to the market.”

“So you’re gonna throw me a party?” He asked, growing excited.

“You could say that. A little bit more formal than that. I can have the tailor make you a formal outfit and I can have a banquet planned for the end of the week if you wish.” They said.

“What’s a banquet?”

Eret sighed, a soft smile appearing across their face. “A fancy word for a party.”

Foolish grinned. “I’m in.”

The next few days were filled with making preparations for the introductory banquet and getting used to the mortal realm. Foolish didn’t seem to have any of the powers he displayed in the realm of the gods, but he was hoping they would come back in time. What’s the point of a party if he couldn’t do his best party trick: summoning lightning?

He was still getting used to the kingdom. It was cold compared to the weather he was used to in his desert domain in the godly realm, but he was growing accustomed to it. He was also exploring the different options of food the castle could provide. He was a god, therefore he didn’t have to eat mortal food, but that didn’t mean it didn’t taste good.

Eret was helping Foolish adjust to his new situation. When they weren’t in meetings or busy preparing for the banquet, they would be introducing Foolish to concepts of the mortal realm. It didn’t always go well. They had to drag the disgruntled god from the royal stables when he began to give a sheep a piece of his mind, assuming it was the same unhelpful sheep he met on his first day.

But most of the time it went well. Seeing Foolish have a lack of understanding of basic concepts was quite funny, but Eret displayed nothing but overwhelming patience.

Eret was working hard to make the banquet a success. They didn’t just consider Foolish a royal asset like they believed he would be at their first meeting. They were growing to consider him a friend. And if the gods allowed it, they were going to throw their new friend the best banquet he could ever want.

Indeed, it was the best banquet he could ever want, because Foolish had no idea what to expect, and he had nothing to base his expectations on. When he walked into the ballroom, he was amazed. It was his first time in the room, and he was amazed by the architecture of the room. When he spent time building his own grand structures in his realm, he always struggled with the interior the most, so seeing such a magnificent design inspired awe.

Eret was busy getting any last-minute preparations in order when they noticed Foolish walk into the room. They finished up their conversation before heading in his direction.

“I hate to break it to you, Foolish, but you have your bow tie on upside down.”

Foolish broke his attention from the light fixture to his outfit. The tailor did a wonderful job on the suit, Foolish just had trouble putting the ensemble on correctly.

“Is it really that big of a deal?”

Eret laughed. “I suppose not.” They said. “It gives character.”

Foolish chuckled before giving a confused look. “Is that a good thing?”

“I’d say so.”

“Well, I’d say thanks.”

Eret raised an eyebrow at the weird wording of his reply before brushing it off. “Anyway the guests are expected to come any minute now. I’m probably just going to say a few words of an introduction and explanation, and you can say something if you want. No pressure or anything. Then it’ll just be kind of a mingling kind of situation.” They explained.

Foolish nodded slightly. “Rodger dodger.” He acknowledged.

It didn’t take long for the guests to start filing into the ballroom, chatting in hushed excitement over the expected announcement. They had all heard about the stranger with golden skin who wandered the marketplace, and no matter what kind of rumor they heard, they were excited to finally figure out the truth.

The king eventually stood up from their seat at the head table, smoothing out their semi-formal gown instinctively. They tapped their silverware against the champagne glass, the soft clinks enough to mostly quiet the crowd of guests.

“So by now, I’m assuming you’ve noticed the elephant in the room? Or should I say god in the room?”

Half the crowd responded with laughter, while the other gave gasps of surprise.

“Yes. Our small kingdom is being visited by a god for reasons unknown to myself, or himself for that matter. Foolish, the god of the undying, finds himself in the mortal realm for reasons he cannot remember, but I think it’s only right that we welcome him with open arms.”

The room started chattering, but Eret was quick to calm their concerns.

“I’m inviting him in as a friend, nothing like what you’re thinking, I can assure you of that. Over the past few days, I have been shown nothing but kindness from Foolish and I’d expect nothing less from him to you all.”

Foolish, seated at Eret’s right side, stood up. “Yeah, I’m not exactly into the whole ‘worshipping thing.’ I was thrown here by chance and I’m just here to help out... I think. I mean, I really don’t know what I was put down here for, but I’m gonna help regardless. I didn’t expect anything coming in here, but I’ve received a great friendship from your king and I’m hoping I can make even more friends and prove I’m here to help.” He said sincerely. He spoke informally at the start but quickly remembered the situation he was in. He began acting more proper, but it was clearly unnatural.

The room chuckled at his words.

Eret smiled, knowing that the words of kindness were probably the only genuine ones they had received in a long time. “I couldn’t have phrased it better myself.” They took a deep breath, gesturing to Foolish that he could return to his seat if he wanted. “So I arranged this banquet as a meet and greet situation. That way you all could get to know him better throughout the night. So enjoy yourselves.” They said before sitting back in their seat as well.

The meal went well, and the mingling was going even better. Foolish was a natural entertainer, and the people of the kingdom were loving him. Any fears in their minds dissipated, surely he had no bad intentions.

As the night began to a close, Foolish began to look for Eret. His main objective was to thank them, but he had a couple questions in mind as well. He eventually found them on the balcony. Their silhouette outlines by the moonlight as they leaned against the banister, gazing at the stars.

“Did I scare you off with my extremely charming personality?” Foolish mused with a toothy grin.

Eret chuckled lightly. “More like with your extremely inflated ego.” They retorted, but the smile on their face showed there was no seriousness behind his words.

Foolish laughed too, joining them along the banister.

They looked back out to the horizon. “It’s nothing you did; the parties have always gotten a little too overwhelming for me. Sometimes it’s just nice to take a break and get some fresh air.”

Foolish paused for a moment. “Yeah, I can’t relate.” He said bluntly. “Anyway, I have a couple of questions before you mortals make no sense to me.”

The royal laughed. “Go on.”

“What’s that noise I keep hearing?”

Eret looked back at him. “What do you mean?” He furrowed his brow slightly, assuming that this was a genuine problem.

Foolish, too, seemed confused. “You don’t hear it? It’s like-” he started before hesitantly humming the tune of the melody of the string quartet playing on the stage in the ballroom. “It’s fainter now, but I think it’s coming from those guys with the wooden weapons.”

Eret looked at Foolish, trying to read if he was joking. “You have to be kidding me.” They said lightheartedly.

Foolish only shook his head, his look only becoming more confused.

Eret covered their mouth, laughing the hardest they have in a long time. “Foolish that’s music. They’re playing the music on their instruments. Those aren’t weapons.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s music. It’s a form of art.”

“What’s the point?”

Eret slowly stopped laughing, realizing this would be harder to explain than he thought. He never really thought about it.

“It’s harmony and melody, two forces that are tugging at each other but ultimately work together to form the beauty you’re hearing..”

“But once it’s over, it’s gone. It’s forgotten.”

“But the emotions and memories it leaves behind aren’t.”

Foolish opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. He contemplated the other’s words for a moment. He was used to permanence, to constancy. Everything here in this realm was temporary, but it sure was beautiful.

In the moment, he wondered if his and Eret’s friendship would remain a constant. He hoped it would be.

He had no idea how quickly he would be proven wrong.

The silence was nice. It was comfortable. But it too wasn’t permanent.

“Thank you. For the banquet, and for everything before that too. If you hadn’t taken me in I’d probably still be harassing that sheep. It means a lot.” Foolish said. His eyes didn’t leave the horizon.

Eret slowly smiled. “I should be thanking you actually.” They said. They brushed a few curls from their eyes. “Our friendship has helped me more than you could ever know.”

They stared out to the horizon, both enjoying the quiet moment and wondering what would come next for them. The refrain of the quartet humming in their ears as they took in the fresh air.

Eret was the first one to break the silence. “I’ll help you get back to your realm, if that’s what you wish. But until you find your way, you’ll always have a place at my side.”

Foolish couldn’t help but smile, emerald eyes looking over at them. “And you have a place at mine.”

As the music faded away and the crowd dispersed, the pair’s friendship was set in stone.

This nice, tender moment would live in their minds forever.

Well… one of their minds at least

[jaybug-jabbers]

Review: Pokemon Gold and Silver 97: Reforged

The Review

What a fantastic game. I went looking for a hack that fully realized the sort of pokemon game we glimpsed in the Spaceworld ‘97 demo, and I was not disappointed. 

This alternative version of Gold and Silver takes that Spaceworld demo and builds on it with loving care and attention to detail. All the beta pokemon sprites were freshly made from scratch or edited to update them for the final, polished Gameboy Color look. The pokemon movesets and stats were crafted so that they were balanced and didn’t contain placeholders, and the pokemon were populated throughout the world in a logical fashion. Dex entries were written and the pokes were integrated smoothly into the world. There are even different sprites and different encounter rates for Gold and Silver-- although you can ‘catch them all’ in either version, an excellent choice.

Meanwhile, the world map was colored, tweaked and polished, allowing us to explore that beta world that was stunningly different from the final Gold and Silver. It’s a place that in many ways seems even more vibrant and varied than final Gold and Silver, and is truly exciting to explore.

Along with this fully realized map, this hack’s creators also gave us a fresh new plot for Gold and Silver. This one was inspired by the differences glimpsed in the demo, including Oak’s increased involvement in the story, Silver’s different personality and role, and the inclusion of an Imposter Oak. The plot stays true to the style of pokemon games and doesn’t seem out of place. 

All of the exciting little beta details were included too-- including the original Type alignments, the original Gym Leader designs, beta pokemon moves, new hold items, access to the Skateboard, being able to name your Mom, and even the minigame on the game start screen. The attention to detail and the polish on this hack is truly impressive.

Essentially, I feel like this hack can be considered the definitive edition of the beta Gold/Silver that we never knew. It gives us a chance to experience this alternative world, and breathes life into these wonderful pokemon that never were. Giving us a chance to know and love these beta creations is truly a gift for pokemon fans.

Perhaps the only downside is the sadness that this is not the official version of Gold and Silver. I experienced Pokemon a little bit differently then my peers. As a child, I adored Red and Blue, but once I’d finished with those games, I moved on from pokemon. I have no nostalgic memories of Gold and Silver to hold onto. I only returned to pokemon years later as a teenager. At that point I played several generations, one after another, at the same time, as a sort of “pokemon binge.” While most would call it blasphemy, I was never too terribly fond of Gold and Silver. I think it was largely because I didn’t happen to like a lot of the pokemon designs in those games. In many ways, this ROM hack presents a Gold and Silver that I adore and can love even more than the originals. 

That’s not to say the official Gold/Silver games are all terrible, of course. There are still definitely some beta pokemon that I feel were axed or altered for good reason. Not all of them are better then the final cuts. And there are other elements that are an improvement, too; for example, I actually really like Silver’s storyline in the official games and the fact we dealt with a character who actually stole pokemon and treated them poorly. 

That said, there is an awful lot to love in this ROM hack, and I’m grateful that we have it. Pangshi, Bellrun, Warwolf, Madame, Volbear and others may not be officially recognized by the Pokemon franchise . . . but they will always be very real in my heart.

The Team

Cinnamon (Flame Wheel/Crunch/Scary Face/Earthquake - Charcoal)

Selecting the starter was difficult, because both Honooguma’s line and Kurusu’s line appealed to me. Ultimately I think I went with my old Fire bias. Cinnamon was everything you’d expect a Fire starter to be-- powerful, intimidating, and very reliable. My only real complaint would be that I happened to strongly dislike the sprite the team had created for Dynabear. This isn’t really anyone’s fault, because the team did an excellent job with spriting-- for example, their sprite for the mid-evolution, Volbear, was incredibly good and I adored it to bits. I think it was just a matter of personal taste; I just didn’t like the final evolution’s face. (I’ve actually replaced the sprite in this picture with the original sprite, because I don’t want it to dampen my love for this species) Other than that, seriously, they did this evolution family justice. It was a joy to have on my team.

Doomsday (Curse/Confuse Ray/Body Slam/Shadow Ball - Power Wings)

The second member of my team was found in Brass Tower, to my great excitement: Kurstraw. This was possibly my favorite evolution line to come out of the beta discoveries. This pokemon’s stats were not exactly breaking any records; he went down pretty easily if I wasn’t careful. However, that never really mattered. Doomsday still did his job anyway-- pulling his weight just fine, relying on Confuse Ray and Curse a fair bit to take care of foes. He often was an excellent team player, messing with especially troubling pokemon before passing them over to an ally to finish off. His Normal Immunity also was a strong advantage at times, which I made sure to make use of. Basically, he was a fantastic companion, who helped me all the way through to the Elites and Champion fights.

Rumtum (Slash/Thunder Wave/Thunderbolt/Crunch - Leftovers)

Along with a Rinrin, this round good boy was added to the team next. I was slightly wary of Kotora because it seemed to be one of the most popular beta pokemon among fans. But, the pokemon does seem to be worthy of praise, as it turns out. It is an excellent, cute, cheery little creature and seems to do Pikachu’s job just as nicely as Pikachu, both in fighting and in charisma. Where Pikachu is focused more on speed, though, Kotora and its evolution focus a little more on bulk. The tanky tiger was able to take hits long enough to outlast the competition, even when working with relatively low basepower moves. When he *finally* learned Thunderbolt, though, man, look out -- he was quite a force to reckon with.

It’s funny, actually. When I first saw this tubby tiger, I assumed it was a fire type. Electric was somewhat surprising, but I quickly grew to like it as that typing. Most electric type pokemon are rodent-focused, as Pikachu clones, or Magnemite’s kin. Having a big, bulky tiger is unexpected for the archtype of electric pokemon, but it’s a very refreshing change.

Poprocks (Fire Blast/Surf/Body Slam/Flame Wheel - Mystic Water)

Next on the team was this awesome fellow. Well . . . sort of. Technically, next on the team was TRICKY the Bomsheal, which I traded a Rinrin for with an NPC. Later on, I felt like being able to name the pokemon myself, so I bred Tricky with Cinnamon and trained Poprocks up from scratch. This seal was the cause of some angst for me. I loved Manboo’s evolutionary line a lot, but I also loved the fire seal. They both vyed for the position of the water type on my team. For a while, I used Manboo (and Anchorage) . . . intent on keeping it. But I missed the seal so much, eventually I went back for it to retrieve it from the PC. Yes, it only added to my team’s Rock/Ground weakness, but I didn’t care. I loved this guy too much.

I’m not sure what it is. The freaking amazing typing of Fire/Water? That was definitely a big part of it. But there’s also just something so appealing in its design, simple as it may be. He’s just a cool seal with a fireball. And boy . . . I sure learned how INTENSE its stats were. This seal was RIPPING through the competition. Using it was basically pushing the win button. Honestly it might need to be nerfed a little, it was nuts. But yeah, Bomsheal is a badass and doesn’t need any evolutions to be cool. Best surfer ever!

Darkwing (Slash/Fly/Swords Dance/Faint Attack - Stick)

Right around when I was handed the TM for Fly, I ran into an area that had two types of birds available, depending on the time of day: Hoothoot at night, Farfetch’d at day. As cool as beta Noctowl looks, I eventually decided I needed to have a Madame. I just had to. Like many others, I always, always felt Farfetch’d deserved an evolution and was kind of screwed over. Learning it used to have one was a revelation.

Madame on this team was kind of funny, though. Next to all of these exotic beta pokemon, Madame seemed so . . . normal. She had moves and performed pretty much the way you’d expect a Normal/Flying type to act. It was much like using a Pidgeotto or Fearow. She couldn’t take many hits but usually could take out one pokemon. Her typing had her as an ideal Generalist pokemon-- something that could be used in various situations, not to any amazing effect but usually to a passable one.

That may sound a little underwhelming to you, but honestly, it’s what you’d expect of this cool-looking swan; it’s a Normal/Flying type. It fills that archtype as a familiar, dependable generalist. And I am someone who can really appreciate a generalist pokemon. I think the pokemon world’s richer for having Madame in it, even if only in our dreams.

Alpha (Strength/Blizzard/Screech/Ice Punch - Nevermeltice)

The final member of our illustrious team. You have to wait until fairly late into the game, when you reach the snowy towns, to get a hold of one of these fellows.But the wait is well worth it. What a beautiful pokemon design these two are-- mysterious little creatures hiding inside their wolf pelts, a perfect mix of cute and creepy. Wolfman/Warwolf actually struggled for quite some time on my team, unfortunately, just because of its movepool. I was left with the very weak Icy Wind for a long time. To compensate, I taught Strength, which worked somewhat, but I could still tell Warwolf wasn’t reaching its full potential. I taught it Blizzard, but the poor pokemon had a rough time ever landing its hits. What I SHOULD have done from the start is buy and teach it Ice Punch for a reliable STAB move with decent base power. I FINALLY decided to do that around the time I reached the Elite 4. I kind of had to-- its learnset wasn’t providing it with reliable, decent Ice moves, for some reason. Once Warwolf was properly equipped, he did great work. Admittedly, a pure Ice type pokemon isn’t the best, defensively. They have four weaknesses to some very common move types-- Rock, Fighting, Fire. (Steel moves weren’t really implemented in this game). That said, when used wisely, a pure Ice type can still be a valuable team member.

There was one hitch, though. Warwolf was mainly a physical fighter. This makes sense if you look at him. Of course he’d be a physical fighter. Thing is, in gen 2, Ice moves were all special. So I suppose technically Warwolf still isn’t hitting at his full potential-- not until the special/physical split in gen 4 so he can take true advantage of physical-type Ice moves. Still, despite that fact, he did a great job anyway. He landed the final blow that defeated Lance and won the game, after all.

I think my only real regret is how relatively little time I spent with him when compared to the others. This is, of course, just the nature of the game; you find some pokemon later on when you’re nearing the end of the game. If there’s any sort of post-game, perhaps I can spend more time with him.

And the Ones Who Didn’t Make the Cut . . .(This Time)

There were so many beta pokemon that it was impossible to have them all on the team, of course. I was especially sad about leaving my Bellrun, Tibbs, behind. I adore Rinrin and Bellrun’s line, as yet another set of pokemon that should have been included in the final cut of the official games. Alas, ultimately I removed Tibbs from my team, though. The reason was simple enough. With the beta Type alignments, Dark type was heavily disadvantaged. It was weak to Normal-type and Dark-type moves (as well as Bug), which was extremely significant. Pokemon’s movepools were positively saturated with Normal and Dark type moves, and it was impossible to avoid. With her already weak stats, and her lack of any decent basepower moves for so long, there was just too much stacked against her. It’s my hope that Rinrin/Bellrun get a bit of a buff in future updates, because they really seem to struggle. 

In any case, there were also plenty of others not on my team: Aquarius, Noctowl, Belmitt, Jumpluff, Turban, Plux, Grotess, Girafarig, Leafeon . . . and so many more. Honestly, that’s fantastic. It gives such replayability to the game. I have no doubt I will return to do more runs and get the chance to try out other pokes.

And, who knows? Maybe in the future they’ll even update this hack to include even more beta pokemon that were uncovered last year. If they don’t, I’m sure someone else will.  

(This hack is largely the work of lvl_3, who created ‘Pokemon Super Gold 97.’ Then, the hack was further changed and refined by a team into ‘Pokemon Gold and Silver 97: Reforged.’ Both can be found at the PokeCommunity as patches.)

[pandoraborn]

Throw me to the Ground (and watch me fly)

Chapter Three (AO3 Link.) Word Count: 2709 words Characters: Schlatt, Dream Content: attempted manipulation, jealousy

-----

The office is unusually quiet this time of night. Normally, Niki or Quackity would be hovering nearby, but evidence shows they’d left early, probably due to the random announcement Schlatt had made, concerning Tommy. He’d been so sure of himself in the initial moment, and after Tommy left, Schlatt had promptly announced it to the entire white house staff. The majority of them had seemed pretty stoked, especially considering Tommy already had experience with leadership and power; it was natural he’d be the perfect fit.

However, now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Schlatt isn’t so sure of himself. Tommy hadn’t seemed as excited as everyone else, and he can’t figure out why. It hadn’t been until he’d agreed to take on the role of vice president that his wings lifted up off the ground, and he’d seemed happy. There had been something off about the teen this time, and Schlatt feels like he’d been played.

It has to be Wilbur’s fault.

No, he’s not going to start thinking like that. Wilbur had never lied to him, Wilbur had never once led him astray. The man was always honest with his words and intentions, and if he had wanted Tommy to be vice president the whole time, he’d have made that perfectly clear. Schlatt has to admit that this had been entirely his idea. It doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

Who would be? He’d appointed a sixteen year old to be vice president of an entire country. It doesn’t matter if Tommy had helped create and build it, he’s still a teenager and should be treated as such. Schlatt wonders if it’s too late to take it all back, to find someone else who’s older. Then again, Tommy does have the most experience out of everyone who works under him. Tommy would know best how things are run, or supposed to be.

There’s also the question of whether or not Tommy can follow orders. The teen is known to be very stubborn, with an inability to listen very well. Would the new president have his hands full? He hopes not. Tommy is the younger brother of his closest friend, Schlatt has to put trust in the entire family as a whole. They would never betray him. Tommy would never betray him.

He hopes.

Coming back to reality has Schlatt realizing he’s still sitting in his office. He’s still behind his desk, staring at the dark oak, the computer that’s shut off, and the mess of papers scattered around the edge of his desk. Had his office been like this when the others were here, or had he messed it up somewhere in between then and now? He had been jovial when Wilbur and Tommy had been here, sitting on his desk and creating a mess. He barely remembers the meeting though, but that logic does make the most sense.

With a sigh, Schlatt leans forward, reaching out to grab at the mess in some hurried attempt to organize it. He wants to get home and relax. Being here in just making him think strange things, like feeling resentment toward a kid. There’s a mess of papers that still need to be sorted too, like documenting the new addition to leadership.

That alone is going to be another several signatures and faxes for official purposes. Tommy’s going to need a letterhead of his own. Fuck.

“Knock knock?”

The voice is not what he had expected to hear, and it comes with a slight reverb. Schlatt jumps out of his chair, glaring at his door frame. He’d expected Quackity or Wilbur to come back, so to see Dream standing there is different. Dream has no business being in the white house. Schlatt narrows his eyes, but beckons him into the office anyway. If Dream’s there, it’s bound to be something important.

“It’s after hours, Dream. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” The mask on Dream’s face is the only emotion being shown. The rest of him is nothing but a sea of green, with only the vaguest of silhouettes to show he has some shape to him. Schlatt finds himself wondering what Dream even is, if not human. Angel? The wings on Dream’s back would indicate as much. The faceless, endless green would also indicate as much.

“Schlatt, I came because I had a feeling you needed some help.”

“No thank you.” He offers a smile as he stacks papers. Maybe the paperwork can wait until tomorrow. He’s itching to go home at this point. “I’m a very busy man.”

“Oh, don’t worry! I didn’t come to take over your job. I wanted to bring up a few concerns I had.” Dream walks further into the office, pressing his hands to the desk. The more Schlatt looks at him now, the more he can see a humanoid figure. He can see a faint outline of a face underneath the mask, too. There’s an urge to ask what creature Dream is, but Schlatt bites his tongue. That would probably be a rude question to ask in the first place.

“What concerns?” He asks. “I wasn’t aware that I needed help from someone like you.”

“Everyone always needs me for something.” Dream pushes the mask up, showing his mouth. There’s a grin on his face that doesn’t exactly give off a friendly aura. “It’s why I’m here, Schlatt. I’m always needed, whether or not people realize it.”

Sitting back down, Schlatt gestures for the sofa. “Alright Dream, if you’re so smart, then enlighten me. What could I possibly need any help with?”

“Tommy, of course.” Dream takes the silent offer and perches himself in the middle of the couch. He spreads his wings out, overtaking the length on either side of him. Feather flutter to the floor, as if Dream had detached them himself. Shades of black, white and green feathers fall all over the place, almost like they’re taunting him for his lack of wings. Schlatt can’t help but stare at them. He continues to stare until Dream clears his throat, causing his gaze to snap back to the entity.

“Tommy,” Dream repeats. “You appointed him vice president earlier today, if I’m not mistaken. You’re having doubts about the position because of his age. There’s more to it than that though, isn’t there?”

The blood drains out of his face. How does Dream know about that? He’s sure Dream hadn’t been in the office when he told Tommy, unless Dream has the ability to turn invisible. That thought is unlikely.

“How...how do you know that? I barely even told the rest of the white house staff.” Schlatt’s gripping his desk now, refusing to look in Dream’s direction. His mind is racing, trying to come up with every likely scenario possible. More than that, it’s the thought that Dream had just hinted he knows there’s more to the situation. He knows Schlatt is doubting himself. How does he know that?

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” Dream says softly. “Nothing has to make sense for it to exist. Life itself doesn’t make sense. Why else would a sixteen year old help build an entire nation?” He tilts his head to the side. When Schlatt looks at him this time, there’s no trace of humanity in him. He’s back to being a vivid, bright shade of green that’s almost blinding. The wings seem to be glowing as well. Dream is painful to look at. Yet, he’s radiating a sympathetic aura that Schlatt almost finds comfort in. Someone who understands him…

Wait. Dream is speaking about sense while not making any himself. He shouldn’t be listening to the words coming out of the entity’s mouth.

“What are you doing, Dream?” Schlatt asks. “You can’t come in here and start acting like you know what I’m thinking. I trust Wilbur, and I trust Tommy. Furthermore, you can’t possibly know things unless you were actually here.”

“But I was here, and I do know things.” Dream folds his wings around himself, once again drawing his gaze. “I see the way you’re staring at my wings, Mr. President. I’ve seen the way you stare at their wings too. Anyone with half a brain cell can tell you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” The reply is immediate, terse and overly defensive. He winces at his tone, trying to backpedal. “I’m not exactly fully human myself, you know.” A grin is forced onto his face as he turns his head to the side. “See these horns? I’m also a hybrid. I have nothing to be jealous of, especially not wings.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious.” Dream’s mask seems to smile wider. “Everyone can see you’re a goat hybrid, it’s not exactly a secret. I wouldn’t mind being a goat hybrid, the horns are pretty cool.”

“I guess.” Schlatt’s already done with this conversation. If kept up, they’d go around in circles with this pointless small talk.

“You want wings though, don’t you? It’s why you’ve always kept Wilbur close. You’re clearly hoping to gain something out of the friendship. So I’ve come to offer that to you.”

“That’s not true.” Schlatt abruptly gets to his feet. He’s done with this conversation, and he’s tired of Dream poking holes in his life. It’s decidedly not fun having some godlike entity poking at his vulnerability, pretending to know and understand him. He especially doesn’t like the insinuation that he’s using Wilbur.

Whatever spell Dream is attempting to weave is shattered the second he’s on his feet. “Wilbur’s been a great friend to me, his family’s wonderful. They’re great people, very law-abiding and upstanding. I’m not going to let anyone talk me out of my decisions.”

“If you say so.” Dream stretches out his wings again, mirroring Schlatt. He’s on his feet, and there’s that faint outline of a human face beneath the mask. Schlatt can see freckles. “It’s clear you don’t trust Tommy though.”

“I trust him just fine,” Schlatt snaps. “I think it’s time you leave.” He waves toward the door. “He’s already had a hand in running this country, I know he’ll continue to uphold it to my liking.”

“Yeah, but he said ‘maintain its dignity.’ It’s like he doesn’t trust you, Schlatt. You’re smart enough to see right through him.” Dream lets out a giggle as he moves toward the door, wings fluttering. Dream is still taunting him, and feathers are still floating around. Schlatt has a vision of himself burning every last feather left on his floor.

“I’m busy,” he says instead. “I have a lot of work to complete before I go home, and you’re just taking up time with random bullshit that’s not even true.”

“Oh, of course, of curse.” Dream nods. “Because you don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve, and you don’t get moody whenever someone calls you out on your own bullshit. You’re the president, Mr. Schlatt, you definitely know what’s best for this country.”

“I was elected, wasn’t I?” Again, he waves toward the door. “It was a fair election, and even Wilbur conceded. I’m the one in charge. Don’t come into my office and start trying to dictate things to me. You’re not even a citizen.”

“No, but considering this country is in the middle of my land, I think I have a right to express my concerns. I was under the impression you shared them. I’ll admit I was wrong though, once you admit that maybe, just maybe, I know you better than you think I do.”

Schlatt shakes his head. “You don’t know me at all if you think anything about what you said is true.”

“So why constantly stare at their wings? Or mine, for that matter? It’s like you’re hypnotized. I know that look, I’ve seen it before. It’s envy to an unhealthy degree.”

“Because they’re pretty, duh.” Schlatt rolls his eyes. “The only thing you might be right about is the fact that Tommy’s young.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that part.” The mask seems to grow even wider. If Schlatt squints, he thinks he can see teeth in that poorly drawn smile. It’s downright terrifying, and the implications that Dream has more power than anyone knows is even more so. “You said that, not me. I just said to you that he might be a problem.”

“He’s sixteen years old. Anyone with, what was it you said? Half a brain cell- would be concerned about his leadership skills.” Schlatt is no longer feeling so tired. Adrenaline is pumping through his body, making him feel on edge. Something about Dream’s presence is unsettling, and Schlatt wants to put as much distance between them as possible. “This is my country, and I get to make the final decisions.”

“But it’s not really your country though, is it?” Dream’s hovering in the door frame now, as if that too is framing his silhouette. Everything about him seems to be glowing, and Schlatt once again is staring. This time, with disgust rather than awe. “You appointed the person who found it as vice president. I mean, I didn’t come here to tell you what to do or how to run things. Yeah, it’s your country, but you just ensured that Tommy’s always going to have a say in how things are done. I’m not sure you’re not his puppet anymore.”

“Get out,” Schlatt snarls. “I’m busy, and you’re just throwing random shit out there and hoping to get under my skin. I’m not falling for it, alright? You’re not even supposed to be here. You’re not part of the cabinet, you’re trespassing and it’s after hours. Don’t make me page security.”

“What security?” Dream laughs. “Alright, I’m going. Just remember though, Tommy never lost power. You might be president, but he still has a lot of power and ability to sway people. Where he’s concerned, I’d watch your back.”

“Goodbye, Dream.” Schlatt marches around the desk and slams the door shut. He can hear Dream laughing as he leaves the floor, before the sound abruptly stops. It’s hard to tell if Dream had just left the building or vanished into thin air. He doesn’t even know if Dream can do that.

He goes back to his desk and stares at the mess of papers. He hadn’t made much headway in cleaning up his office, but now he’s especially not feeling it. He thinks back to Dream’s wings and how bright they were.

Why can’t he get them out of his head?

Why can’t he get Tommy’s wings out of his head?

The doubts he’d had earlier come back full swing. He’s not sure Tommy is a good fit for the position of vice president, and previous experience no longer matters. Still, the decision is made, it’d be shitty of him to go back on his word just because of some stupid green entity that likes to play around with words. Schlatt just has to trust in himself. Plus, the other employers will help keep Tommy in line, no doubt.

He’s the president, he’s not going to let anyone forget that. He’s the one in charge, and Schlatt is going to remain in charge. This is his country, the people wanted him in charge.

No idiot with wings, no matter who they are, is going to take that from him. He can instate Wilbur as part of the cabinet and it doesn’t prove anything other than Schlatt deciding who rules with him.

He mutters to himself angrily as he finally cleans up the paperwork. He’ll sort it all out later, when Tommy starts his first day. They’ll work on the letterhead, on the signatures and policies and everything Tommy might need to know, and it’ll be fine.

When finished, he shuts off the lights and heads out, turning back only once to glance at the dark building behind him. By this point the sun had long since set. Streetlamps are the only source of light as he wanders down the path. Hardly anyone is out at this time, most citizens either heading to their homes or enjoying a night on the town.

As for him? He goes home. He has a busy career ahead of him and he’s going to take any downtime he can.

[captainsjack]

There needs to be more Shus h/c: I've been imaging lately Shawn getting into a massive fight with Henry, the kind were his Dad is really out of line and he can't joke his way through it bc he's been hit where it HURTS. Gus is there naturally, and Shus is married in the scenario bc I say so. They have to pull over on the way home bc Shawn actually breaks down despite his best efforts not to. Gus is a good protective husband and does his best to calm him down, but Shawn is QUIET for days after. p1

p2. Henry comes over to apologize and Gus opens the door, seriously considers punching him face, but ultimately lets him in. Henry and Shawn make up as much as they ever do, but Gus refuses to talk to him for months bc he's still furious at him for hurting Shawn that much. Would love to hear you elaborate on this with your own hc and thoughts <3

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ok the fact that i’ve written something very similar to this (well at least thought about it) ?? buddy we’re just on the same wavelength here !!

but honestly ?? just what you said is perfect, i don’t even know what to add !!

to be fair, i am a bit sympathetic to henry, so i’m not quite sure exactly what he would say that’s so out of line, but i do like the concept.

i’d definitely say this is within the first season. like shawn’s trying his best to make an effort with his dad, despite everything that’s happened. and it’s mostly because he feels a bit guilty about not inviting henry to the wedding. like shawn and gus got married a bit over a year before s1, and so henry hadn’t moved back yet, and even if he had been in santa barbara at the time, shawn was still pretty sure he wouldn’t have invited him anyways (gus is completely on shawns side and actually hasn’t even spoken to henry since high school, but i digress, that’s a different plot).

anyways, when shawn saw henry for the first time in idk how long, neither of them really mentioned the whole Wedding Ring Thing until henry said something during the dog house scene and they awkwardly talked about it (again, a concept for a different post).

so they both had a bit more sympathy for how their relationship has gone wrong, and both were trying their best to make things better even though it was hard (because missing your sons wedding is a real blow no matter how much you know you’ve fucked up in the past). and so things sort of have changed for the better at least a little bit and shawn thinks that, maybe, just maybe, he can forgive his dad just a bit and things can be civil.

and so when shawn and gus are at henry’s (idk what for) and henry says something, it hits shawn a hell of a lot harder than it would’ve in the past. because he wasn’t expecting it (well, at least not as much). he’d thought they were at least ok for now.

and idk what henry says, but it’s clear to shawn that whatever niceties had been in place the last couple of months had just been a figment of shawn’s imagination. of him trying to cling to a shred of a normal relationship with his father.

it wasn’t something shawn could just laugh off or roll his eyes and make a joke. it stings. a lot. and shawn kind of just flinches and he tries to be subtle about it, but he can’t hide the hurt that flashes across his face.

gus tries to defend shawn right away, once henry says the thing. his body is filled with an amount of hatred he hasn’t felt since he had found out shawn had left town and had known it was all henry’s fault. everything in his body goes tense and he’s unconsciously angling his body in front of shawn, harsh words flying out of his mouth unstoppable.

but shawn kind of just huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. he puts his hands up in a “whatever” gesture, body already turning to the door. “forget it man, let’s just go” he says to gus, and he doesn’t wait for a response before he’s already out the door and halfway to the car.

gus just stands there, watching the door swing shut, before he glares at henry one last time and follows shawn. he makes sure to slam the door extra hard.

shawn’s leaning against the passenger door, his face expressionless, and gus knows shawn well enough to know that there’s nothing he can say to make things right. so gus just carefully looks at him, and shawn’s still staring at the ground, and he unlocks the car and they start driving.

the silence that fills the car is heavy, and it makes gus feel like he can’t breathe. he tries to focus on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it hurts, but he can’t help but keep glancing over at shawn.

shawn’s resting his head against the window, and his face looks dull and exhausted, and every inch of his body feels like lead. he’s so fucking tired of everything, and no matter how much he tries to stop the dam from breaking, he can’t. it takes too much energy to force everything down, and right here, right now, it’s just him and gus and the dark night road, and so he gives up. the ice around his heart breaks - fully breaks - and for the first time in 10 years, he really truly accepts the fact that his father has always, and will always, hate him.

the sobs lurch out of his chest with an amount of force he hasn’t experienced before, and before he can draw in another shaky breath, the car stops and gus’s arms are around him. and he can’t stop no matter how much he tries, and his chest hurts, and he can’t fucking breathe. he clings onto gus’s shirt so hard his nails dig into his palms through the material.

gus just sits there, half in his seat and half on the console separating him and shawn, and he’s holding shawn to his chest like his life depends on it. he murmurs “it’s okay, you’re okay” and “i’ve got you, i’m right here” and “it’s not your fault, it’s never been your fault” over and over again, in the hopes that something, some string of words, will bring any sort of comfort to his husband.

he doesn’t know how long shawn cries, but it’s long enough that his back starts to hurt and he has to reach over and turn off the car so they don’t waste the battery. shawn’s breaths are still shallow and shaky, but his grip on gus has loosened and gus’s shirt has begun to dry.

“what do you need?” gus asks softly, face pressed into shawn’s hair.

“nothing, just you.” and he can’t get out any more words than that, but he doesn’t really need to. because gus is the only thing he has ever, and will ever, need, especially now.

“okay,” gus whispers, and he holds shawn tighter.

they sit like that, squished in the blueberry on the side of the road, car barely parked, until the stars and moon brighten, the streets grow quiet with the night, and shawns heartbeat slows and his breaths come out more even.

in the following days, gus can count on his two hands the number of words shawn has spoken. gus does the talking for the both of them, and, thankfully, shawn’s at least okay enough to laugh at a few of his jokes. but it’s not the sound gus has grown accustomed to - it’s forced, a bit hollow, and he knows in the bottom of his heart there’s something missing. some part of shawn has broken and he doesn’t know if it can be fixed.

he takes off a few days from work, and they spend their days watching movies, cartoons, cuddling, and playing games (half the words on gus’s metaphorical hands are “uno”). shawn doesn’t mention psych or his dad.

neither does gus. he doesn’t know what to say. what is there to say? “are you okay?” that’s too broad of a question and gus knows shawn isn’t okay. “do you want to talk about it?” gus knows shawn will just shrug and say there’s nothing to talk about.

when shawn’s ready, he’ll bring it up, and gus knows that. he also knows that the only way shawn will be able to move on from this, is if he talks to henry. gus knows there’s not much damage control he can do unless henry is there, present in the conversation.

that’s the only reason why gus doesn’t just punch him in the face and slam the door when one sunday morning, he finds henry on the other side of the dark oak doorway.

shawn is in the shower and gus can hear the water turn off as he meets henry’s eyes with a tired glare, and so gus steps out into the hallway with him and closes the door.

“what?” he asks stiffly. and all of a sudden he’s 18 again, in front of the man who he’s just told he hated.

“can i talk to him?” henry quirks an eyebrow up, shifting in anticipation of entering their apartment.

gus defensively steps backward, hand blocking the doorknob. “why?” he asks.

henry sighs. “gus...”

gus’s lips are pressed in a tight line and he doesn’t respond.

henry sighs again. “look, i- i was wrong, okay? can you just let me apologize to him?”

“what, so you can say you’re sorry and then just do it again two days from now? no thanks,” he snaps.

henry frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but gus beats him to it.

“no, look. i know how this works okay? you’re an ass, shawn’s upset, you barely apologize, and shawn works like hell to find some ounce of forgiveness so he doesn’t have to deal with this feeling anymore. and then it happens again. and again. and i’m not letting you do it anymore.”

henry’s pretty shocked, so all he can say is gus’s name again.

gus shakes his head, and stabs a finger in henry’s direction. “no. you will walk in there, apologize, and mean it.” every word is stiff, harsh, and direct. “and then you will never talk to him again.”

henry blinks.

“not until you make an appointment with a therapist. and even then, you will only talk to shawn if he wants you to.”

henry’s still silent.

“this, all of this,” gus waves his hand around them, “is on you. it’s your fault, and it’s up to you to fix. shawn does not owe you anything.” gus pauses. “are we clear?”

henry’s never been met with this much authority before and he’s also pretty shook that he may never be able to see his son again (because he knows gus and he knows he’s dead set on these rules - this boy is the sweetest person henry’s ever met, but he can ice someone if he really means it. (i mean, he and gus lived in the same city for years after high school and gus did not see or speak to him once, and santa barbara’s not that big)).

and so henry kind of just blinks and says “okay.”

and gus’s shoulders relax just a fraction of an inch and he nods his head curtly. “wait here.”

when gus opens the door, it’s his intention to go find shawn and explain what’s going on, but instead, he finds shawn in the hallway, a shocked expression on his face, clearly having heard everything.

shawn kind of just blinks at him, and gus sighs and gently grabs his arm, leading him to the bedroom. shawn gives him a questioning look as gus shuts the door, and gus frowns and says, “he doesn’t get to hear all this.” (maybe it didn’t make a lot of sense, but, gus was mad, and he didn’t think henry deserved any more information in regards to anything shawn was thinking or feeling, so he didn’t want him to overhear their conversation).

gus asks shawn how much he heard, and shawn says everything. gus makes it clear that in no way is shawn obligated to hear henry out or accept his apology. but gus also makes it clear that shawn needs to do something about all of this (he also suggest therapy to him too - the irony that both spencer men are in desperate need of therapy and that madeline was a therapist, is not lost on him). he tells him that he knows shawn isn’t okay and shawn agrees.

for the first time, he actually admits that things with his dad can’t be ignored and that he needs help. because both gus and shawn don’t want shawn to go on like this.

and so after they talk, gus let’s henry in and henry apologizes. shawn’s still quiet and obviously awkward and uncomfortable (it’s not often he hears henry admit that he’s wrong), but he mutters “thanks” and before henry can try to awkwardly hug him, gus pushes him out and locks the door.

he pulls shawn to his chest and shawn melts into him, finding comfort in the only person that has ever mattered to him. shawn kisses gus’s collarbone softly, head resting in the crook of his neck, and he says quietly, “i love you.”

gus squeezes his husband tighter, tells him he loves him too, and then kisses him softly.

gus makes them waffles, makes shawn an appointment with a therapist, and they resume their star wars marathon.

for the first time in four days, shawn makes a joke. and when he joins gus’s laughter, it’s the same sound gus had memorized 25 years ago. it’s bright, happy, and bubbly, and it fills gus’s chest with unwavering love, but also a hope he’d thought he’d lost before.

things were going to be okay - gus was sure of it.

-

askjdhfk i was NOT expecting to write this much but apparently i have Thoughts about this.

anyways, i absolutely love this concept and i love you for sending this.

(also “shus is married because i said so” bABE IF THATS NOT ME EVERYDAY)

[x-nerdingss-x]

Your Turn

Summary: 1943. Janus is employed as the town's telegram boy.

Context before the story if you don’t know what a telegram boy is (if you do, you can continue reading): It's basically someone, typically a young child or teenager and men who couldn't enlist or be drafted due to medical conditions or religious beliefs, who isn't drafted for fighting during WW1 or WW2, works like a postman, except their job was to deliver letters to families with members that were sent from the member's officer/higher positioned commander.

These letters weren't typically sent from the solider themselves telling their family of their experiences in the war front, but news such as the family member who fought either died during action, M.I.A (Missing in Action; normally from running away during battle or their body cannot be retrieved and therefore missing) or P.O.W (Prisoner of War; typically captured by enemy lines and like M.I.A, usually never returning back to family).

Usually telegram boys worked in towns or cities, but were generally avoided by the community because their job was to bring the unfortunate news of disaster from the front lines to the home front. They would also serve as a comfort tool for grieving families that were affected by the letter, but also delivered last letters written by the soldiers, photographs, jewellery and money - anything with value that is to be sent to the families as a memoir.Hopefully I taught someone something new today lol.

Happy reading-

(You can read this on Ao3 under XxUnknown_IntrovertsxX)

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

1943

It was early morning in a remote town, the sun rising from behind the hills with pale blue and purple colours swirling together to paint the new day. Yet to be hot for the townspeople, many were outside to do their daily activities before it got too warm, the summer heat too unbearable for anyone. Of course, it wasn’t sandy, with grass growing lightly in muddy hills near outback huts many made as homes. A light breeze blew over to the town, the heat slowly growing closer.

On a bicycle, a teenage boy travelled to the town’s post office to collect mail for the day. Putting on his black newsboy cap, the boy also wore a black and yellow striped cloak to protect his skin from the dangerous sun, yellow gloves to prevent sweat slipping from his bike handles. He said thank you to the post man behind the counter, and bid them farewell as he buckled the letters at the back of the rack of his shiny yellow bike. Yellow, so many people could see the boy clearer.

Except, that was the issue. The boy rode on his bike, and others in his town went inside their homes immediately. He would admit, it hurt the teen a little; he only wanted a few shillings like the workers in his hometown. Mothers pulled their children away from the boy, and the yellow teenager even glanced at a parent who pointed to the boy, giving the child a disapproving wag of their finger and told them to stay away from him. He knew what he was doing was the unthinkable for any family during these unprecedented times, but there was no use for being a newsboy in a small home either. Adjusting his cap, he looked onward and visited the first house.

He knocked on the door, holding a mustard splatter of an envelope in his grip. Waiting for the mother to open the door, the boy hummed as he knew who owned the house. Mrs. Realeza. Her son Remus was a friend of the boy and Roman a mere acquaintance… although someone he wouldn’t particularly talk to. The letter in his hands twisted his gut inside. He knew exactly what it was, and he gulped down his feelings. Knocking again, he rocked on the balls of his feet and tilted his head from the lack of response. What he was aware of however, was the mother was behind the locked wooden door, holding her breath with her hand covering her mouth. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and the boy knew she was the same as every other mother he had to encounter. It was still a saddened thought to consider.

The telegram boy was not supposed to know she was there.

“Mrs. Realeza,” The boy said, keeping his voice firm for the mother despite threatening to waver. “I know you’re sobbing from behind the door, but I think it’s best to know the truth.”

“No Janus, please go away - If I don’t read it, then the truth doesn’t exist.” She could feel her body shake uncontrollably, her soft whispers of denial were heard through the door. Janus mumbled to himself, controlling his own attitude for what the letter meant. In truth, he didn’t like his job, much preferring a different job; but he also felt a sense of justice when he gave the townspeople these letters. It would spare them much grief if they knew when the news came, instead of waiting for someone non-existant to return home after years of fighting a war.

“Mrs. Realeza, I don’t have two letters for you. You should know which son it is-”

“I SAID GO AWAY - NONE OF MY BOYS ARE DEAD! THEY ARE TOGETHER, THEY ARE ALIVE-”

Janus huffed, leaning his face against the crack of the door instead. “I am legally not allowed to open your letter, and even then I am against such manners. I could read it for you, with the permission of course.”

She wept quietly, wiping a tear from her eye before getting up to open the door. The mother knew what the boy was doing, and even if she hated him and his job, she couldn’t help but remember that one of her sons is a close friend of the telegram boy. He shouldn’t feel such pain or sorrow from reading the letter first hand; it was just his job to deliver them instead. A click echoed through the crack of the door, and Janus stepped back to allow room for the mother to see him properly. Clutching on the letter firmly, he had another hand behind his back. She took the first letter, and Janus waited until she read the first letter to reveal his second hand.

“Oh Remus… my baby boy…” She whispered in disbelief, her eyes dashing through the lines of the letter. Janus sniffled quietly, snaking his second hand to her. Held was another pale yellow envelope addressed to her, and he frowned when he caught a glimpse of her disbelief. Hiding one side of his face, he revealed the white, discoloured pigment of his skin and looked at her with his blurry eye instead. He couldn’t bear gazing at her grief. Hesitantly reaching out for the second letter, the mother screamed in pain as the boy recoiled from the sound, shoving the letter to her before rushing off to his bike to escape her fury.

“YOU LYING SNAKE! YOU SAID THERE WAS ONLY ONE LETTER. BOTH MY BOYS ARE GONE - YOU LYING SON OF A-”

“I had to lie, because you wouldn’t open the door otherwise.” Janus hopped onto his bike and prepared himself to dash off.

“NEVER STEP FOOT ON MY PROPERTY. CONSIDER THIS THE LAST TIME YOU’LL EVER SEE THIS HOUSE AGAIN.” She slammed the door, effectively shutting the boy from any connection he had to the family. Janus swallowed his bubbling tears, taking his hat off to give a moment for both the lost lives of Roman and Remus. His hat hovered over his chest, covering his heart with his head down. He may not have liked Roman, but even he felt a sense of sorrow for his lost life.

Two letters down, and sadly just a few more to go.

-*-

Biking around the small town, Janus took a moment for himself to find the next house. He felt the cool, metallic chain around his neck bumping into his chest, a necklace hidden under his shirt. He didn’t have a moment to think earlier, especially after reading the first letter he had to deliver, but now only one person was stuck in his mind during the whole fiasco. Janus knew fully well of the necklace, a photo of his Patton, the faith of his journey. From meeting each other in their childhoods, both boys felt a separation between them when Patton was drafted into the war just a little over a decade later. It was a shame, since Patton was 18 and Janus fell short being 17, but he promised to join Patton as soon as he could, just so they could be together again. Just a few months, Janus could be deployed to where his friend is.

He much preferred fighting than delivering the fate of those who are gone.

Janus arrived at his next house, preparing himself for giving the next letter. He also knew who this house belonged to as well, being an ex-friend of the boy. What he didn’t know was he was deployed to fight, and it didn’t sit comfortably with the knowledge that he was also gone into the hands of death. Knocking on the door curtly, he waited for the ex-friend’s father to open the door and receive the letter. It should be better; in Janus opinion, to get it over and done with. He didn’t want to suffer through the grieving process of Virgil - he doesn’t want to admit that he already cried when they departed, to only cry again when it’s fact that they’re both completely separated.

The dark oak door opened to reveal the old man, and Janus gave him an awkward wave to the man. “For you, sir.”

Unlike Mrs. Realeza, the old man gently took the letter from Janus’ jittery clasp, already aware of how uncomfortable the situation was. “Thank you, Janus.” His face curled up unnaturally, his eyes squinting to hold in his tears. Virgil… his son…

Janus had to pray for Mr. Ansia’ that night. He already knew he lost his friend, but he couldn’t dare think of how hard it was to lose his son. He would admit, he didn’t have a close connection with Virgil, and bowed down respectfully to his father before trailing off to the next house. Janus wanted the meeting to speed up, rather leaving to deliver the next letter before lunch than to remember the ex-friend that just died on the battlefield with the friend's father standing emptily on the porch. Even if Janus didn’t like Virgil, he would be a fool if he ignored the few happy times they did share. Janus would be a bigger fool if he denied that the same happiness would arrive again.

-*-

He went back on his bright bike, but didn’t speed off as quickly as the wrath of Mrs. Realeza. Instead, he rode slowly. He took his time, recollecting the memories of Virgil and taking his moments to remember him as a fallen man. It was ironic; their arguments were always about worth, and Janus can safely claim that Virgil held more worth. Despite his unnerving energy and negative views of the world, he also faced the challenges to prove something else entirely, and the yellow boy couldn’t help but respect that courage. It wouldn’t be long now; he’s counting the days till he can be in the battlefield and see Patton again.

His heart fluttered when he thought of Patton, a small smile curling in his lips and closed his eyes to imagine the soon-to-be encounter. What could he say? Oh how he missed him. He missed the golden curls, the baby blue eyes and toothy smile the other would wear a lot. He missed the blue shirt and grey cardigan hugging his shoulders, but Janus couldn’t wait to see him again in his military uniform, wearing it alongside him with pride. The boy didn’t notice he went off trail to the next house, and turned into a small corner to where it should be. A shortcut, in a sense.

Unlike the previous three letters, he didn’t recognise the next house as well. He only saw a boy walking inside it once from the way home from school, a year or two above his own. Janus only started high school whereas the other looked like he was attending for a while, far too tall for his already short legs.

Arriving at the house, he took a few minutes to gaze at the place before stepping foot to break the news. Familiarising himself with the neatly tended gardens and swing set on the porch, he also noticed how it was made from brick compared to the lazy wooden timbre for structure. An outdoor lamp sat coolly under the shade, small flickers of light bounced from the electricity the house swam with. He was far too distracted, never noticing the parents who chatted together near the fence of the front yard. Taking a glimpse of them, Janus could tell the older boy wasn’t just an ordinary student. With a house that looked neat, tidy and well mannered to his parents, Janus could assume he was rich.

The mother had her hair wrapped onto a bun, wearing an all black dress with a cardigan to protect her forearms. She had a large hat on top, with black and blue feathers puffing the look. The father looked no different, except for the dark blue tie and white shirt tucked under his black pants. If Janus had to guess, they looked rich; possibly a scientist or business owner. It would make sense if the older boy could continue learning for so long, since many high school dropouts like Janus had to quit from the lack of money to continue.

“We assume you’re the telegram boy?” The man asked, strolling over to him. “I’m afraid you’re a bit too late, since we just came home from his funeral.”

Too late?

“What has to come I say,” The mother said. “We would appreciate what his officers said though, check if he managed to make any colleagues while fighting.” She neatly folded a handkerchief she held onto a pocket of her dress. “Come inside, I’ll get us some biscuits to pass the time.”

Beckoning him to come, Janus propped his bike against the wooden fence and followed them past their blooming garden. It didn’t sit right inside him, as if he was intruding inside a home of someone who passed rather than like he was a guest. A little funny though… the parents didn’t seem so shocked or surprised by their son’s death, almost like they expected it to come.

China plates were displayed in the cabinet by the kitchen, which was down the hall from where they all entered. It was a big house, like it was small from the outside but bigger on the inside. Janus could spot the living room just a few metres away, with a fireplace and television - wait, television? How rich are they? He wanted to sneak away and inspect the television, never imagining to see one for himself. Of course, it would be considered rude, and he was named Janus Classy Sanders for a reason; named from Patton, who he wore the title with pride.

“We never thought he'd come back in the first place. Despite our protests for him to stay, he wanted to join anyway for the opportunities granted for him after. He even said if he died, we would collect the military funds he organised for us.” His father said when he strolled to the kitchen. Grabbing some drinks and glass, he settled them on the table and waited for the teenager to join them in the room. “We don’t even need the money, thinking of giving it away in fact.”

“Perhaps you’ll want it dear? You look like a smart boy. Would you say you wanna go to university? It would be nice for a kid from this town to go to one anyway if he wasn’t the one to do it - a shame, since you’re the only kid in this town left.” The mother quipped, changing from her black to a cosy blue. Janus blinked from the odd behaviour, but thought nothing of it.

“I stopped high school just a few months ago because we couldn’t afford the classes. Working for the money is fine,” He said.

“But we insist. Logan would’ve wanted the money to go towards an education than to nothing anyway - he was going to be a teacher you know? Teaching children who couldn’t afford schooling anymore.”

Logan?

“I mean, if it’s a good cause…” Janus trailed off. He would admit, he would like the money and actually finish what he wanted to be in the first place, a lawyer, and Patton always said to strive for opportunities if it meant for the better. “Would you both like the letter?” He asked.

“Oh sure,” Janus handed Logan’s father the letter first, waiting patiently as he scanned the letter from the officer first. A simple message, nothing grand or extravagant. “It seems he only had a letter from the officer, dear. No comments from anyone else, friend or colleague.”

Both Logan’s parents took a moment of silence, frowns evident in their faces. A sense of melancholy washed over the room, and Janus gulped down the unforgivable sadness. A tear welled up in their eyes before either of them could mutter, wiping them off quickly and returning to a blank, apathetic look they mustered in front of the telegram boy earlier.. “Shame…”

Janus bowed his head before taking his leave, after they explained how the funds would work. After the discussion however, Janus noticed the sun rising steadily north and bid them farewell, his mind curiously checking them from behind the walls to sense any distress. He knew some families held a ‘front’ in front of the boy, acting as if it’ll comfort him from the terrors and reality of war. His head sunk when he heard a female wail from behind closed doors, knowing this was the reality as well.

-*-

“One more letter, just one more,” he told himself when he got back to his bike. The seat was warm and the metal too hot to touch with bare skin, but he hummed when he picked the letter up to see who it was for. “I wonder who it’s for…” He sang the last line.

J. Sanders.

From: US military division, officer T. S.

Janus ceased his eyebrows when he noted the letter, ensuring it was a telegram instead of a normal letter. He knew it should be a telegram, delivering them to almost half his town, but he never received mail anyway. Not even Patton sent him letters for a few months now, so what could this mean? Strolling to the undercover shade with his bike, Janus plopped himself on a grassy hill nearby Logan’s house to read the letter. He should’ve probably given it to his mother, as it could’ve been a relative who had their tragic demise (although, did any of his family join the war?)

He took out the necklace that had Patton’s memory and clutched on it. At least it felt like he was there with him to read the letter alongside him; he was always better when it came for emotional support. Slowly tearing the letter open, he took note to keep the envelope in a decent condition, so if his mother were to read it later, then the letter should be nicely protected. The yellow mustard of a colour was boring into Janus’ mind, and he yanked the letter from the envelope before he could overthink the contents. The worst that could be was Patton, but that’s his mind spitting nonsensical ideas.

Opening the envelope, he slowly rubbed his thumb over the page, the ink print trailing over the touch. All he had to do was read the first letter of the note, and the strong, cold-fronted boy to other widows/vilomahs/orphans could now feel the same feeling of those who grieved: the loss of someone they deeply loved.

Janus. C. Sanders,

Patton Walds, a member and soldier of the US army in participation in WW2 is M.I.A. His father was killed in gunfire just a few weeks earlier, and is suspected Patton was missing since 1st November, 1942. If there was no letter written during those few months, then it is safe to claim he is missing in action. As a dear friend, it is to commemorate his loss, as it is recorded of his lack of family to write to. Contents are included in this letter, such as a necklace he disposed of before his missing report, as well as letters that were kept with that necklace.

Sorry for the loss, and may your prayers be heard.

Officer Lieutenant T. S.

Janus blinked quickly, a tear shedding onto the paper held in his hands. He quickly wiped his face to avoid smudging the ink, knowing his mother should read this with him later. A small cry left his mouth, his throat closing up and his breaths quickly pacing into short gasps. Patton - Patton, no, his friend, why? They were meant to meet just in a few months, they were so close to seeing each other again. Janus took a few deep breaths before he could empty the envelope’s contents, a letter and necklace left to show Patton’s last moments of existence. A pain gripped inside his chest, and he tugged on his hair when more thoughts of his disappearance flooded his mind. Why? Why?

A golden chain fell onto the lively grass, although it felt like nothing when Janus skimmed over the long blades of green. His touch felt numb against the chain, skipping the cool, cold chain and instead opened the locket that hung with the necklace. A photo of him was printed onto the locket, with Patton hugging him from behind. As he closed the locket, he trailed over the faint graving of a love heart printed onto the metal. He slid the locket off the chain, and took off his own necklace to add the new locket beside his. His photo of Patton, with a swirly snake engraved instead was together with the heart of his friend.

Janus picked up Patton’s last letter, his expression curled into a scowl when he whimpered out the pain inside him. The words became a blur to him, from both his watery vision and his mind’s struggle to comprehend the scenario, let alone the words printed on the page. He didn’t want to read it - he couldn’t read it. Soon a small wail tugged inside him, clenching his fists as he curled up into a small ball. He was alone in this remote town, the summer sky blazing over his dark clothing and slowly burning his skin. The boy didn’t care.

Now, he supposed; he knew how the other families felt. Logan’s parents were right, their words spat like facts instead of a simple statement. He is the only kid left in this town.

It was his turn to grieve.

[demonprosecutor]

that sad belphie post i made a long time ago that @beelsbreakfast asked me to make a fic about

She dreams of that moment often, the bruises around her neck, the static creeping across her vision, and the laughter that rings mocking in her ears. She dreams of that darkness, dreams of the voice that never comes and dreams of being buried six feet under and dirt on her casket. Sometimes, she wakes up with Mammon curled up at her side, other times she doesn’t, and she’s left sitting up in the darkness of her room, sweat slicking her skin and blankets clutched to her chest as she tries not to cry (but fails, she always failed).

Mammon, Amihan knows, is concerned --- in that sweet, blustering way of his, his body curving towards her like the swaying of an ancient oak. But even he, the second-born, second-strongest, wouldn’t be able to protect her from the monsters of her own making. “Ya look like shit,” he says, a whisper that curls against her cheek, thumb brushing against the dark bags under her eyes. 

Death, Amihan finds, changes people and the careless joy she had once felt had disappeared. This was another grave marked in the cemetery of her mind, hands aching with the effort to claw at the dirt. She smiles up at him, placing a hand on his chest, “not as shitty as you,” Amihan teases gently --- turning her head just enough to allow for his palm to cradle her cheek. 

There’s heartbreak written all over his features, a brand of fury that comes being helpless. She can see his free hand flexing at his side, like he wanted nothing more than to whisk her into his room and never let her go. Protect her in the way he couldn’t when he held her dying body in his arms. 

(sometimes, her nightmares consist of a door and the people that waited for her behind it. Was it right to stay?)

Mammon rolls his eyes, quirk of lip that reveals the glinting sharpness of his canine, the cockiness diminished with the cute blush that was always prevalent whenever they had moments like this – intimacy that rests quiet and sweet amid the chaos of the Devildom. In a better life, in a simpler one, she could fall in love with Mammon (like in the way she knew he loved her), but she couldn’t. Did she really deserve this devotion? “You—I just… You know I’ll always p-protect you.”

But was that the case? I died already once. But she keeps her thoughts to herself, running her hand down his arm and tangling their fingers together with a smile. “I know.” Amihan says soothingly, heart aching at the way he nods furiously, a puppy in his love and affection. But there are things you can’t protect me from. Monsters of my own making, monsters of my own making, monsters of my own making.

No matter how hard Belphegor tried, and he made valiant efforts, to his credit, but like an animal harmed --- Amihan equated him with pain and fear. They see it, as clear as day, the way her behavior shifts: eyes watchful like a hawk’s, body coiled tight with tension and voice that shook no matter how hard she tried to hold back that waver. It angered them, it infuriated them, it broke them. But as much as they loved her, they loved Belphegor just as much, so they were left to watch.

----

Lucifer watches her sometimes, the way she stands in front of a mirror, touching the ring of fading bruises around her neck, eyes rimmed red and angry before her fist lashes out and shatters the glass with a scream of rage that tapers off to sobbing. Blood smears on glass and he appears at her side, cradling her hand and chiding her gently, the soft croon of someone attempting to console a grieving person. You’re ok now, I promise. You think I would lie to you about that? You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe. The promise rest heavy in his heart, knows that heaven and earth and hell would tremble in wake of his ferocity if it meant that she wouldn’t be scared any longer.

---

Mammon watches her sometimes, the way her brow furrows in her sleep and fingers clinging to the sheets and sweat beading at her forehead. She always whispers something under her breath: I know who you are, Lilith come back. I know who you are. Before she whimpers, thrashing in the sheets (Mammon’s learned to not try and restrain her, she woke up in a panic attack that had the rest of his brothers crowding into his room, fire flickering in their eyes and the ozone of power clouding his room) before Amihan wakes up with an animal shriek --- hand flying to her throat.

She hates crying, he knows that, but there’s a sickly-satisfied part of himself that relishes in the knowledge of this rawness being for himself, pulling her into his arms and rocking them until the sobs subside to hiccups. “What was your dream this time?” Mammon would whisper into her hair, and she would shake her head. The dreams were her own burden to bear. “Ok, ok, ya silly human. Let’s go back t’sleep.” And he would pull them down to sleep, not sleeping until her breathing evens out.

---

Leviathan watches her sometimes, the way she zoned off during their anime marathons, the melancholy that droops her features and whenever she gets like that, Levi knows better than to try and coax her into conversation. Silence, he found, can just as be loud as noise and those times he had yelled at her to quiet down filled him with regret – anything, anything, is what he would do just to see a glimpse of her smile. 

“I wish I could be better, but…” She looks at him, curious, eyes deader than dead and Levi shudders, his heart aching in a way that he’s never felt before. But what? What could you give her that could bring her back? “… I’m not good at this.” His face flushes, “Still… I just want you to be happy and I’ll do anything for you and---” His tangent is halted with her hand on his, the blush deepening at the small smile. He’s filled with something --- love and affection, Levi thinks wildly. And he pulls her close, arms around her body, small and lean. “If… if you want.. we can have a sl-sleepover. And we can talk and I can listen.” Because that’s the only thing he can do at this point.

---

Satan watches her sometimes, the way she no longer smiled at her books, never looked up with some hopeful quote laying sweet on her lips. Death changes people, he’s realized, witnessing it firsthand, she’s realized that she wasn’t infallible any longer. Even with their protection that Amihan can still get hurt – it was unfortunate that it was one of the brothers that had harmed her in the first place. Their shoulders press together, a line of heat that he can clearly feel, so distracting that he’s reread the same sentence for 10 minutes now, so embroiled in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Amihan watching him until the soft rasp of paper turning ceased. “A penny for your thoughts?” He turns his head and watches as she waves her hand, a human penny appearing between her fingers, chuckling alongside her. It had taken her a while to get a hang of that trick.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you smile.” Satan curses himself at the way the tentative smile falls, her gaze averting to a distance that he cannot see. Sometimes, no matter how close she was, it felt like she was miles away.

She chuckles mirthlessly, flicking the coin in the air with a crisp ring before it lands in her palm. Tails. “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been happy.” That hurts Satan for some reason because was he not enough to make her happy? However, he’s grown past that juvenile part of himself and halts his tongue. This wasn’t about him, but her. The sad woman holding a penny in her hands and the stars dying in her eyes. 

“What can I do to help?”

Amihan doesn’t answer for some time before grabbing his hand and pressing a penny into his palm, her expression thoughtful. “Be there for me?” As if she ever needed to ask, as if there was any question. Satan must’ve nodded because the relief on her face was visible before she lays her head on his shoulder and they continue to read well into the night.

---

Asmodeus watches her sometimes, sitting on the steps and staring out in the eternal twilight of their night. It’s later than what he’s used to, especially considering that sleep deprivation was known to fuck up your skin, but it’s been hard to sleep nowadays, especially with the turmoil that links them both. “It’s a nice night.” He doesn’t move from his place at the doorframe, making sure that his presence was known. Startling Ami had stopped being funny after the first few times she had punched him, ruining his appearance (not that it wasn’t difficult to fix it, but the pretense was all the same). But he didn’t necessarily like the annoyance that seemed darken her features. 

She doesn’t turn back to look at him, the only indication that she even was alive was the fact her shoulders lifted and dropped with each breath. “It is. The moon’s very big.” Asmo laughs at that, striding closer and dusting off the step before sitting next to her, allowing the scent of lavender and vanilla to permeate in the air --- normally so cloying and choking, but at that moment, reassured her beyond compare. Without much preamble, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and places his head on hers, cheek pillowed by her locks.

“It’s always big, love.” He squeezes her slightly and Ami’s half-expecting a lewd comment about how his dick is big too, but it doesn’t come and she appreciates the tact. Knows that Asmo knows when to tease and when not to. “Now, I prefer you with a smile on your lips. What’s wrong?” He croons this softly in her ear, more to relax than to entice, but it doesn’t work because he feels her shoulders tighten and then shake like a young earthquake. Her head is bowed and something in his chest squeezes in pain, vicelike grip making it hard for him to breath.

Without much thought, he kneels in front of her, tipping her chin up with a thumb and forefinger, distressed at the agony of Ami’s features – exhaustion evident. She hasn’t slept in so, so long. A ghoul that had stolen her skin. It’s not love he has, Asmo thinks in that introspective moment of his, but it’s close to it, it’s heading to it. He sweeps in, cupping her face and pressing their foreheads together, an action so intimate, an action so sweet that it terrifies him. “Stay with me.” Asmo whispers, their lips so close that he ached to kiss her. But in her grief, he couldn’t. “Not--- Not to have sex or whatever. Rest with me, I’ll hold you and let you rest and maybe we could…”

Grief, as a topic, unnerved him. Such a raw, ugly, visceral emotion that yanked out uncomfortable memories for him, reminded him of things he liked to forget. But the way Ami looked, like the sun choked by the clouds, perhaps, perhaps, he was willing to try. “--- we could do my skincare routine together, that never fails to lift my spirits, sweetheart.” He finishes lamely, pulling back with a rare blush, especially with the way she considered him. Asmo had his fair share of creating beauty eons ago, but she looked at him as though he hung the stars and moon themselves.

He stands up and holds out his hand, something in his chest fluttering when she takes it. 

---

Beelzebub watches her sometimes, the way she punches the leather-bound punching bag, hard enough that her knuckles sting and blood wells into the grey of the hand-wraps. He knows a thing or two about trying to escape their inner demons and she, the fragile human, thinks that to escape is to fight it out – to completely exhaust herself until she’s nothing, but a shell of her former self. It hurts to watch her grief, hurts to know that his twin was the product of that hurt, is torn between loyalty to his twin and love for her.

The hits are jarring enough, inelegant enough that Beel knows that Ami is no longer practicing for the sake of practicing, but intending on feeling something other than the hurt that seeped itself into her bones, into all of their bones, because having pacts meant that they were connected to Amihan in ways that no one else could understand. 

And he reaches out, gentle hands that curl over aching fists and he’s not surprised to see the tears in her eyes. Ami’s hands shake in his, violently enough that it takes a few seconds for her to stop, not meeting his watchful, quiet gaze, as he unwraps the bandages – clicking his tongue at the raw redness and blood smeared on her knuckles, dragging her over to the first aid kit and cleaning up the small wounds.

Even with his focus stolen by the methodical motions of cleaning her wounds and bandaging it up --- Beel frowns slightly at the way she stared at her hands. “It won’t help, Ami.” He says gently, tilting her chin up with two fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes, just to cement his words firmly into her mind. “Hurting yourself like this won’t help you feel any better.”

Still, still, she laughs bitterly and pulls her chin away from his grasp, hands curling into fists once again. It’s then, Beelzebub realizes, that he knows that she was the type to dwell on hurt, on mistakes, thinking about what could’ve done for this to never happen. “I know,” Ami says, exhausted suddenly. “I just wanted to feel something else.” 

Beel has felt grief before and this, this, makes the familiar emotion well up and squeeze his chest and force him to pull her into a small hug. Arms around her and his body curving forward slightly, as if his presence could ward off all the nightmares.

It won’t help, but he could try.

---

Belphegor watches her sometimes, in the careful way she acts around him, that the moment he enters a room, she tenses up and any joviality that was present in her expression mutes itself into caution. His chest seizes every single fucking time because he can clearly remember the times where she never acted like that around him, where all the love and joy and affection flowed from her like an unending fountain.

He does not know love like her’s and he knows that there won’t ever be a sort of love like that ever again for him. It makes him ache to be aware of the fact that this reticence was a product of his own doing and nothing else. 

His offers come frequently, stubbornly, even if she declined or if Ami did accept, she would always bring one of his brothers along as a safeguard. And Belphegor wants to shake her by the shoulders, to say: Can’t you see? I’m in love with you! I won’t hurt you anymore!

But in the time, the demon has known Ami, he knows that her deaths and his manipulations will hang above them both. That any happy ending that had been destined has been dashed away the moment he decided: ah yes, I will use her.

There’s a hunger for that love once again. How she bared her soul and heart for him without regard of herself, so naively trusting and sweet that it shook him to the core. But they know to never leave her alone with him for the one time he had cornered her in a room, she had a panic attack so intense that his brothers barged into the room, in their demon forms, frenzied by the idea of a threat harming their precious human. But upon finding Belphegor and Ami on the ground sobbing and curled into a ball, two and two were placed together. They never left her alone with him after that incident

“I love you.” He blurts this out, despite the fact that Mammon was there, despite the rage that rose forth on his older brother’s features to retort, but any venom was halted by Ami’s hand on his arm. Belphegor looks away, rubbing his arm, “I know I hurt you and I know you probably won’t forgive me. But I … After all this time, I love you and I was dumb for not realizing it earlier. Ami… please accept me. 

She stares at him, but with a wistful look, smiling sadly. “…The shitty thing about this is that I was ready to forgive you, to throw myself at your feet for any sign of affection and love in return. And I do still love you.” There’s a hopeful expression on Belphie’s face, eyes bright, “but not in the way you want or think you want. You had your chance and you knew all the deep terrible things about me, but you still hurt me. What makes you any better than my parents? That you love me? Because they love me too.” 

Ami pushes herself to her feet, and dusts her pants off, “Maybe one day I’ll forgive you, but not now.” She moves to the door, shoulders slumping slightly, Mammon wrapping an around her in reassurance. “this is the bed of your own making, Belphegor. Now lie in it.”

[myaekingheart]

The Day Kakashi’s Mask Slipped

Written for Day 2 of the Kakashi Lounge Discord Server’s September Event. Prompts: Disguises | “Well, I/we tried” | Rainy Days

[Read on AO3] Pairing: Gen/None Rating: General Audiences @the-kakashi-lounge-blog

The truth is finally revealed. Team 7 finally sees Kakashi's face. 

               Dark clouds hung heavy over Konoha as passerby rushed into nearby shops to avoid the rain. From inside the dango shop, a small group of friends gathered around a table to sip tea and enjoy one another’s company. It was so rare that they were able to do something like this, the obligations of adulthood keeping them distanced. But in this moment, with the four of them together, none of that mattered anymore. It was like they were naïve little genin all over again laughing and joking without a care in the world.

               Hinata snuggled close to her husband as he joked about his hokage duties, specifically the paperwork. If only he had known there would be so much paperwork. Despite his complaints, however, it was clear that he still genuinely adored his role in the village. After all, it was all he had ever wanted—a fact which Sasuke would not let him forget. Sakura chimed in to remind her friend that if he thought hokage paperwork was bad, he should see all the forms at the hospital. Mental healthcare was no joke and Sakura took great pride in how hard she had worked to create an exceptional treatment center for Konoha. No matter what duties may have pulled them away from each other, however, the one thing that always brought them back was their children. Sarada and Boruto were especially full of great potential and it warmed their hearts to see both of them following in their parent’s footsteps. The four of them had all come so far since those halcyon days, it was hard to believe they had all gotten everything they could’ve ever wanted. The only missing link in this nostalgic little afternoon was their sensei, Kakashi.

               As they mused where he might be, flinging Icha Icha jokes at one another, a familiar face scurried down the street. With his one hand, he shielded a camera from the rain. Naruto’s gaze locked on him, his mind warping back to childhood attempts at uncovering their sensei’s face. With his scruffy brown hair, purple face paint, and long coat, he was unmistakable: Sukea, the freelance reporter. The others followed Naruto’s gaze, cocking their eyebrows in question.

               “You know, after all this time I’ve still never seen that guy show up in the ninja registration” Naruto commented. “Is he even from around here?”

               “Hell if I know” Sakura replied. “Why? Do you think he might be a spy?”

               “Maybe we should tail him” Sasuke suggested. “Figure out where he’s going and what he’s up to.” Naruto didn’t want to admit it, but Sasuke made a valid point. Hinata left some money on the table and together, the four of them ran off to track Sukea down.

               So much about this man was truly a mystery and the longer Naruto thought about it, the stranger things seemed to become. He remembered Sukea mentioning he had been a part of the ANBU. Even if he no longer lived within the village’s jurisdiction, he still should have appeared in archival files at the very least. And yet as far as he knew, there was nothing on this man. Not even a history of his rise through the ranks. Not even a birth certificate.

               The four of them crept through alleyways and leapt across rooftops, taking great care in being as quiet and undetectable as possible. They followed Sukea all the way to an apartment complex in the center of town, someplace cheap and unsuspecting. He slipped inside the lobby and ascended the stairs, glancing behind him as he shook the rain from his hair. There was no way the others could follow him inside. It would be far too obvious. Hinata stood in the walkway, shielding herself from the rain, trying to come up with a plan.

               “What about this tree?” she then asked, pointing to one of the large oaks in the courtyard. “Maybe we can climb it and peek inside.”

               “It’s too dangerous” Sasuke countered. “With a storm like this, we could get struck by lightning. Trees are always the first to get hit by lightning.”

               Sakura narrowed her eyes at her husband, replying, “Well, do you have any better ideas?”

               After a long stretch of silence, Naruto raised his fist triumphantly in the air and exclaimed, “Okay! Up the tree we go!” He helped Hinata up onto the highest branch, then gave Sakura a hand as Sasuke crouched down to provide her a footstool. By the time the four of them had perched themselves comfortably on the branches, Sukea had entered his apartment and began making himself comfortable. As luck would have it, his unit was right in the front with a large window overlooking the village.

               Kicking his shoes off, Sukea approached the large bathroom vanity and idled on his reflection for a moment. It was always so strange seeing himself like this, staring back at a face that was not his own. A sigh broke past his lips as he then reached up toward his eyeball. Sakura cringed.

               What is he doing? Popping out his eye? She thought to herself. He pinched the contact lens between his fingers, dropped it into the little container of solution, then removed the other eye. He blinked once, twice, three times in order for his eyes to readjust. Their usual stormy gray was now black and abyssal. He rubbed away the face paint with a cotton pad, cleared his throat. His voice fell a few octaves. He tore away the stickers on his cheeks, revealing a long, rugged scar cutting right down his left eye. And then he reached up to scratch his head, sighing, before removing what was evidently a wig. Underneath that brown scruff was a mess of silvery, spiked hair. And that was when it hit them: Sukea was nothing but a façade. Standing before them, completely unmasked, was none other than Kakashi Hatake.

               “No way!” Naruto shrieked. All the blood drained from his face, his mouth agape. He slapped Sasuke hard on the chest, who fell backward and stumbled out of the tree. Sakura screeched, both at this suspenseful realization and at her husband’s fall. She was far too stunned, however, to jump into any action.

               “O-Oh my goodness…!” Hinata clapped her hands over her mouth as blood trickled from her nostril. How embarrassing.

               Kakashi froze before slowly turning toward the window. His former students hadn’t exactly taken much care in keeping quiet and now here he was faced with the four of them staring back at him in absolute shock. His face turned bright red as he rubbed the back of his neck and waved at them sheepishly. “You should’ve told me you were stopping by!”

               With bugged-out eyes, Naruto shouted back, “What the hell, Kakashi-sensei! Are you telling me that Sukea was you the entire damn time?!”

               “Why didn’t you say something?” Sakura chimed in. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this for all these years!”

               Sasuke groaned and propped himself up on his elbows in the grass below. “Well, I definitely didn’t see that coming” he muttered. Then, squinting up at the others, he shouted, “Naruto, you idiot! Watch where you hit next time!”

               Naruto looked down at him, shouting, “What are you blaming me for?! I wouldn’t have hit you if Kakashi-sensei hadn’t freaked me out!”

               Through gritted teeth, Sasuke replied, “That’s not a good enough excuse.”

               It was admittedly refreshing to see that after all these years, they really hadn’t changed. Sakura grimaced at what had become of her husband, turning her wrath to Naruto who immediately raised his hands in surrender. He was too late, however. Sakura whacked him so hard, he stumbled out of the tree himself. Hinata called after him, scrambling to his aide, as Sakura descended ready to unleash her vengeance.

               In any normal capacity, Kakashi should have been angry. After all, his students had finally uncovered his best kept secret. There was no telling who else would find out about this now. His true identity was a powerful piece of information and the results of this circulating could be disastrous. However, considering the circumstances, Kakashi couldn’t help but laugh. Down below, Naruto and Sasuke attempted to avoid Sakura’s wrath, using one another as human shields and arguing over who deserved it more. Meanwhile Hinata stood on the sidelines anxious and begging them to stop fighting. Truly, Kakashi expected nothing less.

               Realistically, he doubted anything would come of this anyway. The memory of his true face would vanish quickly from their memory and even if they did try to tell others of what they say, who was to say anyone would believe them? It was inconsequential. Kakashi stifled his laughter as he reached for his mask on the dresser. As he tugged it up over his face, he shrugged and muttered in amused defeat, “Well, I tried.”

[phantom-of-decadence]

God Forbid & the Devil Fears // Chapter One \\

Fandom: Hannibal (TV series)

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Will’s Dogs, Mischa (mentioned) - more to be added

Pairing(s): Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter

Summary of Entire Works: Moving from town to town is exhausting work to keep your face hidden and your hobbies going, but it's worth it to find that crushing high

Hannibal drags himself all over the country, following specific people to kill and following a strict set of rules he laid for himself, struggling to keep his blood lust under wraps.

He soon finds himself in dreary town called Oak Creek and coming face to face with a local who is too curious for his own good.

Albeit, he intrigues Hannibal too, but he is left to wonder if he wants to kill the local or treat him like a delicate rose, blooming in winter's chrysalis...

Warnings: Blood, gore, description of death, murderous thoughts, hunting, pretentious language

Wordcount: 5,514

Tags: AU!No cannibalism, AU!Bookshop Will, AU!Righteous Hannibal, other tags to be added, Will is autistic, pining, angst, gay panic, subtle flirting, eventual smut, fluff, fluff/comfort, pet names, gay thoughts, hunting, hannibal is the scruffy one, so is will but he has standards for fuckssake, hannibal tries to be polite, he is still a murderer though,

A/N: Because we all fucking love putting religion where it doesn’t belong. Also I tentatively made Will on the autistic spectrum ((I will be doing my best to portray autism correctly and read up on it, please let me know if things need to be fixed. I want to do this right))

The POV is not set in stone, I just wanted to open it with something different, going between first person and second was very interesting and I hope it gives insight on characters. So I will likely switch it to third if the next chapter gets written, or keep it like this. IDK, its a toss up

The title will become so relevant later

~

Towns all look the same, especially when they were all small and in the middle of nowhere.

I move between them often, just stay long enough to admire my handiwork and then I move on for my next target. Leaving what I had done behind me, before they could figure out who had done it.

Where was the fun in being found?

I try not to show my face in the towns I grace, I play a guise that I am visiting friends, family, relations or on my way to see them.

So I stop in a place to rest, a sleepy village that hides a monster. It’s only for a few days at most, I hardly ever eat in a restaurant unless I am stalking, or I get something quick to sate my hunger. And even then, my stomach will not settle for it.

In all the towns I visit, I find nothing to delight in besides the people that they hold within them, those who have not properly answered for their crimes. They walk among the others with their shoulders unburdened and their minds dark, on the prowl for their next victim, warily searching.

Their faces and names, dragged through the mud and branded traitors to mankind and humanity. Some were even locked up and away from the humanity they tried to destroy. Those creatures were the sloppy and messy, only focused chasing the high.

Others I knew, were more careful, calculated and didn’t get caught, didn’t get their due even though they left carnage in the wake of their high.

I knew that high, I craved it. Like all of them.

The high was something that I couldn’t live without. 

Was it an addiction?

Maybe.

I never really thought about calling it an addiction, it was a desire to me. Something I could control, something that I had strength over.

An addiction is an urge that had power over its victim.

I would not let the blood lust that curled in my chest to control me, it tried to. Often times when I looked upon a face too soft for this world, too soft for this time.

I did not often give those rushing thoughts too much consideration in the long run, I knew that I should. When I have the time.

But I didn’t have the time, not now.

I was in a new place, looking for a new face, and finding a new desire.

All these towns looked the same.

They were all sleepy, with aimless people wandering the streets. Disguised in neutral colors, abandoned effects, cobblestones and dirt roads.

Diners, mom&pop shops, locals and hardly hints of modern urbanization. Everyone knew everyone, and they didn’t take kindly to an unkind face they have never seen before.

So you have to smile, blend in, pretend you’re one of them - normal, at least; but on the inside you are screaming endlessly and desperately craving for a rushing, dizzy high. A desperation to see red dripping from a wound you made on their exposed throat as their tongue wagged with senseless words, and to the look of shock and stunned silence on the faces of those that surrounded you, the face in front of you.

The thought of it made my mouth water, my hands shake with anticipation on the steering wheel, and my chest crushed with a weight, like I had been sunk deep in the dark depths and been made to stay there, the pressure choking excited gasps from my lungs until I was drowned by the waves of the ocean.

These are the moments where I was powerless, the crescendo of my high - when euphoria rolled through me in waves, and I lost all sense of control.

It hardly ever reached that point, outside of the smooth slide of my knife against uneven skin.

This town was different. I could feel it the moment I drove past the sign that welcomed me into Oak Creek, or perhaps it was just the sinking unease that trickled through me like an impeded stream when I saw the deteriorating sign of that godforsaken fast food restaurant that so many people fattened themselves at.

It’s yellows and reds well faded over time in this dusty little village that didn’t see fit to continuously update it.

I would’ve considered this place abandoned with its looming and dark buildings that were worn with the years of neglect; but Oak Creek’s residents seemed none too concerned about the gloomy haze and bitter cold that rolled over the sky, holding a threat of snow over them.

They didn’t care. They continued to roam the streets, all bundled in fleece coats. It was almost admiral how people in this dreary town continued their aimless patterns in the cold.

The drive past the buildings and to the motel was a short one, on a winding road that dodged small, nestled grey shacks that remained under maintained.

When I came upon the motel, I took note of how well it fit in well with the rest of Oak Creek with a tilt of my head; sleepy and cold and deteriorated, like the rest of the town. 

The roof and grounds covered in a fresh blanket of snow, the dark wooden structure was sparse from decoration, save for a sign that read the name of the motel which I barely registered in the back of my mind.

It was the only lodgings in town, after all.

I slowed my car to a stop in front of the motel, turning it off and slowly resting back against the leather seat as I watched the dreary outside in order to collect my thoughts in a neat line.

I began to wonder why those I stalked, kept to themselves in small towns that were underpopulated. Where people are unlikely to speak about the acts they witness or the people that pass through, because they knew better than to talk about other people’s business.

If my prey wanted a chance, then why not find a populated city?

They would be more likely to be found by someone that wasn’t me, perhaps it was the assumption that small towns like Oak Creek didn’t care. And they didn’t, they kept their nose out of private matters unless it concerned the community directly.

But, I like to think my prey enjoyed the hunt, the thrill of the chase.

Mutual respect, perhaps?

Make it easy to dispose of putrid waste?

Kind of them.

Why do towns exist, little places like these, without much foot traffic or tourism? How do they make their income, how do they willingly feed off of one another and fight their neighbor for profits?

How do they justify it?

Do they?

Or is it something unspoken, untold and unfixed?

No tourist attraction, no myths, legends or killers.

That they knew of.

Towns like this surely had no discourse to them, they were a still lake who never had its surface disturbed by wind, leaf or rock. Intentional or not.

Where was the vibration of enjoyment?

 These thoughts careened in my head as I left the warmth of my car and made a hasty entrance into the motel, I feigned a smile as I stepped up to the desk to obtain my key from them, “I’m just passing through, on my way for a baby shower.”

I answered the desk clerk’s invasive questions in a polite manner as they tried to get to know me, a brief guest in a drizzle of visitors.

What was behind the urge to know everyone in these dwellings?

Could I consider it all basic politeness that was due to every human?

They couldn’t possibly know what I was by a singular glance. They were simply ordinary.

I would only be here for only three days at the most, that’s how long it would take. To find him, his pattern and then drag him out of his dwellings and gut him like the senseless and cowardly pig he was.

I almost felt guilty for comparing him to a pig; pigs had more character than this man.

Though, I suppose he wasn’t entirely senseless, he moved often from his crimes, never got caught and made his killings few and far between.

This time, he made an error, he slipped up. Stayed for too long to revile in the chaos that was created, he got a little sloppy. He still retained more intelligence than half of the detectives and pawns for the FBI hunting him, because he crawled away, right under their noses.

He couldn’t crawl away from me, I found him and he didn’t even know.

Yet.

My routine began when I was handed my key and directed to my room.

Once I entered the ‘cozy dwellings’ as described by the advertising, I put the “do-not disturb” sign on the doorknob. Some previously have considered it peculiar how much I value the privacy and discretion in my life.

If they were inside of my skin, shared my experiences, they would understand. A man who soaked their hands in red does not leave hand prints on others uninvolved in their crimes.

I scoured the room, began to measure and map it in my mind. I sat my travel bag down by the bed before I eased myself onto the creaking mattress, listening for how thin the walls were, how much sound would enter and escape.

I could hear the sounds from the road outside of these lodgings; it was mostly silent, no cars rumbling by. Everything was within walking distance, so I understood that people didn’t use gas unless it was completely unavoidable.

No sounds on the road, not many people milling around. No cacophony of noise to cover up the wails of a dying man, questions would be raised.

It couldn’t be here.

I knew the home address of the man I was hunting, I knew a lot about him.

I made that my job to know him, all of his names that changed from town to town and crime to crime; his given name was Peter Martin, not a name that stuck out in a long list of names that the devil keeps.

I wondered why he never kept his name as it was given, too mundane perhaps? Did he want to strike terror into the hearts of others with a frightening name?

Peter Martin would not be giving me that answer, that wouldn’t be the question I was asking him.

I needed to go to his home and watch him, establish his pattern the way a bee would every single day, a drone existing to serve a queen. Existing to serve the chance that a high would be waiting for him around the corner.

Despite having just arrived to my room, I was ready to venture out into the frigid ghost town.

The prospect of a hunt, of a chase - the temptation and soft promise that I would get that depth crushing high in a manner of three days time, was enough for me to rise from my bed and leave the warmth of my lodgings behind.

The sooner I was able to map out Oak Creek, the sooner my hunt could begin and I could move on to the next deserved high.

I stood, staring down my own reflection in the mirror that sat above the desk, trying to assure myself that I looked like one of them.

With the plaid scarf tucked tightly around my neck, leather gloves on my hands, and knit cap pulled down over my ears, I looked less of a killer than what I actually was.

You cannot help feeling what you are in your soul; but for a brief moment of peace, your mind can let you forget what you actually are.

In the end, when it truly matters most, you will always know what you are in the darkest parts of yourself.

I closed the door behind me, taking care to ensure that the “do-not-disturb” sign was on before I left the premise; though left nothing incriminating in my room. I kept that with me, at all times.

Then again, I was a fond of using whatever was within reach of my hands when it came to achieving my high.

Some considered it resourceful, when I used a “Live~Laugh~Love” wooden poster to nearly sever the head of an escaped child rapist. He had struggled too much, knocked the knife from my grip. That was the closest thing I could reach.

The snow crunched under my boots as I trudged along the slate sidewalk that led from the motel and into a graying Oak Creek, it was mostly empty save for a couple dressed in brown and tan winter clothing, too wrapped up in each other to notice that they had passed me.

I didn’t have the desire to quirk the corners of my mouth up when our eyes met for a singular second, I knew my gaze was emotionless and empty even if they didn’t register it, I did.

I found difficulty to fit warmth in my features unless I had reason to do so, a reason that would hopefully benefit me in the end, and people in love is not a reason to show warmth.

We passed each other and that was the end of it.

I passed several stores in the area, none of which I took too much note of. Save for a diner, I would need to eat, after all.

The sky was still as grey and callous, if not more so, from the time I arrived.

Dark skies settled over the horizon, assuring to bring fresh snow and harsh winds that burned my nose and cast tears in my eyes trying to see past the frigid breeze.

I never particularly cared for winter, it was too bitter and gloomy. 

Only one aspect of winter was appeasing to me, it was the whiteness of the snow. How undisturbed it fell, the way it gently kissed the earth and how it looked when red spattered over it.

I enjoyed writing my love notes to the earth on pure white.

I continued down the sidewalk for a few minutes longer to take everything in, but I soon found myself looking up at a wooden sign above a shop that read, “Pages and Pawprints, a collection of books and friendly faces to keep you company”.

I don’t exactly remember what called me towards the cobblestone store that was more window than it was building, but I turned my attention to it fully. It looked almost completely desolate, but I approached it all the same as curiosity drove me more than logic.

I knew I shouldn’t be showing my face too much in Oak Creek, thankfully satisfaction brought the curious cat, back from the dead.

I opened the glass door, trying not to notice how the handle was shaped in a dog’s paw; I was instantly greeted by the sound of a bell ringing and a couple of subdued barks from dogs laying down, near a couple of tables and chairs.

My eyes were drawn to the six dogs lying on multiple beds that had been provided for them, they were all of different size and color and all eyes were locked onto me.

Subtly, I wondered what I had been expecting? The owner of this store was clearly infatuated with canines and their hair, whereas, I was not. I considered turning around and leaving, though something kept me there.

Perhaps it was the warmth in contrast to the outside, I paused to loosen my scarf and unzip my jacket. I left the knit cap on, however.

The door closed behind me, ringing out the chime of a bell once more just to announce that I was still there, deciding against the thought to leave.

My gaze remained on the dogs for a second more, but none moved to greet me. I allowed my eyes to wander until I found a man sitting behind a mahogany desk. The only one who wasn’t looking at me, but at the computer in front of him.

I moved in his direction, searching for a conversation, these trips got lonely. Save for the people I gutted; I still valued conversation I could have with people who wouldn’t remember me.

“Hello.” The smile on my lips was immediate as I got close enough to study you.

Your hair was dark and unkempt, tousled, forgotten about. Designed by the way you slept, heavy and slicked in sweat from what I can only assume was nightmares, if Oak Creek was always this cold.

Your head tilted up to acknowledge me, the slightest quirking of your pink lips in response to my spoken word, yet you made no move to respond to me.

Your face was almost the same as your hair, unkempt stubble and a sheen of dampness on your forehead, dark circles under your eyes. Which refused to look up at me.

Your blue eyes didn’t settle, they looked everywhere but at me, darting around in that pretty little skull of yours. Trying to lock on something in your shop that would ground you.

I could smell a lot coming off of you. Most notably, that stink of an aftershave that made me want to wrinkle my nose in disgust. I resisted the urge because I smelled another thing rolling off of you, blatant apprehension of my person.

It would’ve strung my chest with hurt, if I cared in that way.

A quick glance to your hands, in your lap now, were shaking and fidgeting in a looped pattern, told me this is what you were always like with new people.

You got sensory overload quickly, when it came to humans, and their noises, and their energy... you liked your dogs though. That much I could see when your gaze rested on them for once.

I wanted to push you a little bit, I wanted to stare at you and make you squirm with the weight of my gaze until your heart was racing, make you talk to me and answer my buggering questions...

 At least I thought I wanted to do that. To test you, see how far you would go.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t find it within myself to do any of that.

I turned my body, my dark and unnerving gaze away from you, and looked into your store to try and figure out the purpose of it really was; dark bookshelves, assortments of books that were organized by color, it looked like.

The walls were a deep maroon and had pictures of people and their dogs  hanging from it, small plaques here and there.

I found myself smiling at the ensemble, despite the disdain I held for animal hair - it seemed to complete the look. The shop was neatly kept, it was something you were proud of, something you were deeply passionate about.

I could feel your eyes on my when I turned my back to you, curiously studying the way I held myself and what I wore, too many layers for a local.

Turning my back to people wasn’t something I would consistently do to strangers, but I knew you had no reason to hurt me, that was the last thing you were capable of.

“What are you here for?” You asked me, finally speaking. Your voice was raspy and soft but baritone in your chest, you sounded hesitant to speak because you didn’t know who I was, and I wanted to keep it like that.

To protect you, to protect myself more.

I knew that you were used to the people in your town, you were used to a pattern that repeated itself and I disrupted it. So you were cautious and tiptoeing around me, as if you could sense what I was.

I had to assure myself that you didn’t.

I parted my lips to answer you, politely as my mind turned back to the thought of small town people wanting to know everything, “Nothing in particular, I was exploring town-”

“You’re not from around here.” You stated sharply, prompting me to incline my head over my shoulder to look at you with a brow raised. I was smiling even if you weren’t.

You looked away, apprehensive again.

I didn’t have the time to wonder why I smiled at you, what the reason was that benefited me but it brought a blossoming warmth to my chest.

“No, I’m just passing through. I thought I should find a couple of places to entertain me on my short visit.” I affirmed your suspicion of my ‘wayfaring stranger’ position.

“Oh,” You took a second to try and collect your thoughts before you spoke again, and something stutter in my beating chest as I faced you once more and saw the creases on your forehead, lips pulled into a taunt line as you considered how best to showcase the things you were passionate about.

Your blue plaid shirt was ruffled, coated in a layer of dog hair; pushed up past your forearms, revealing pale skin and faded scarring. You had left your thick jacket and scarf somewhere else, out of reach.

My fingers twitched by my side, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by my staring, but I wanted to touch your skin and inquire how your arms earned those stripes. I remained silent until you spoke.

“I have owned this shop for three years now and I have books imported from different countries and states, I don’t really put labels on what this space is... but you can buy the books, a-and take them home.

“Or you can read them here and put them back, s-sometimes I open it for crafts on certain day.” You explained to me, your eyes still darting around, a smile and a blush decorated your face. For a moment, you met my gaze before you were focusing on your dogs again, “My dogs are friendly as they can be, they like people and it functions as a safe space if anyone needs it.”

As I listened to you speak about your shop, I reflected a bit internally. I concluded that the safe space you spoke of was for you, mostly. You almost looked like you were refraining from telling me every last detail detail of your beloved dogs, you instead turned the topic elsewhere.

My mind turned towards myself after a beat, I wondered what this stuttering in my chest was; it wasn’t the weight that shackled me when a potential high presented it’s face to my keen eyes.

This was something else entirely, like my bones were made of air instead of tension. Hyper fixation sat heavy on my chest, the same way as when the blood lust dripped down my teeth, accompanying the urge hunt, the desire to know you, your soul, and everything under your skin. All of you.

My claws would flex with the want to sink into you and hold you still, only stare into your eyes, your entirety. I wanted to look you in the eyes and see who you really were, but I didn’t meet your gaze.

I followed it to the books, to the dogs.

This feeling was wrong. It wasn’t how I felt when the perfect prey was within the grasp of my talons; perhaps it was the desire of someone innocent, to see them bleeding.

I had not set my sights on innocence for the longest time.

I promised Mischa that I wouldn’t dig for innocent breath or blood, ever again; but these desires made feel stuck and powerless, rooted in one spot as your words tumbled through me.

I only ever knew one way of getting that power back, to take it away from someone else. I didn’t feel the need to take it back from you, I simply let you keep it... whatever made you feel comfortable with me.

I smiled, the corners of my eyes crinkling as you told me about the genres that you carried, several of which, I didn’t even care for.

You looked so enthused, a twinkle in your eye that mesmerized me, so I could only stand there and thank you, telling you that I would go get the books you recommended would entertain me for a spell.

I kept my eyes on you, watching as your face lit up, you smiled and laughed softly, fingers clasping together as if you were shy or astonished that someone would listen to you.

I found that absurd, everyone would listen to your voice if given the chance. I forced myself to look away from your face, I didn’t desire to make you crawl in your skin because of my piercing gaze; somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered why that though struck my skull.

I thanked you again and left my place at the desk, carefully stepping around the many dogs that you owned, they simply thumped their tail on the ground and I feigned a smile to them. If only for your sake.

I disappeared behind on of the shelves so you could no longer see me, and the stutter in my chest slowed down, if only just a bit while I scoured the sections to find ‘drama’, ‘mystery’ and ‘historical fiction’, neatly bunched together.

I could consider these few genres the absolute last thing I wanted to read, but... I was going to grab the books and bring them to you anyway.

I wish my mind would give me a rational answer to why this trembling like a newborn fawn, and sudden airiness of a bird made of feathers came to me.

I should’ve left the store when I had the chance.

This wasn’t the blood lust that coiled within me when hunting my perfect prey, the urge then was unfiltered rage, animistic and primal. The desire to maim as best I could while, keeping my identity restricted at the same time.

This fawn is something else that I don’t know how to care for, a different breed of blood lust that sat on my chest. I knew I would have to do a dissection on myself. I could feel it in the back of my mind, the terror of not being in control of my own emotions.

Mischa in the back of my mind, repeating the words I had said to her, the promise I made to my sister so long ago.

I sighed, defeated, as my hands pulled the four books you recommended, off the shelf and held them in my hands, close to my chest before making my way back to you.

The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Murder on the Oriental Express, The Song of Achilles and of course, Othello. Excellent choices if I were another creature.

You glanced up at me as I came back, your eyes like a lamb’s, wide and curious.

You took a second to look me over as I walked, taking me in as a whole and not a part; I was like a Victorian schoolgirl for a beat, embarrassed I had been caught bathing by the boys as they glanced in awe at me.

I wanted to clothe myself in white satin to hide prying eyes; but in a second beat, I was aware that I was fully clothed and dressed for winter in this dreary town of Oak Creek, standing in front of you.

Nowhere close to what my mind’s eye provided me.

It was jarring to say the least, I almost faltered in my movements under your vision.

Your scrutiny lasted for less than five seconds, eyes finally returning to your computer screen, waiting for me to set the books down on the desk so you could ring up the price.

I didn’t even want these books in the first place, yet you looked joyous that they were in my arms, “I recommend, if you read anything, read The Song of  Achilles first, before you leave town...”

You seemed to hesitate on what you wanted to say next, twitchy fingers collecting the books and stacking them neatly, “No-one ever wants to discuss the meaning of it, both within the book or the actual myth.”

You left it open ended, for me. My eyes locked on your wrist, skin pale and almost ashen, and your long fingers stimming below it.

I knew what you wanted, what I was made you curious the same way I had been when I first slunk into your shop. You wanted to find out more about the stranger in your building, like everyone else in Oak Creek.

But you were more forward about it.

“I can come in the day after tomorrow.” My lips parted and my mouth spoke before my mind could finally catch up and remind myself... what rules I was breaking by even offering such an absurd thing.

I blinked, my first solution was to stay away from you, to fight this stutter in my chest and whatever craving I had for an innocent’s blood. If this even was a craving.

I answered your unspoken question and you were a deer in headlights because I gave you exactly what you wanted, you slowly looked up at me, your curls brushed loosely over your forehead and your fingers twitched in uncertainty.

“If you want to talk about the book,” I continued, knowing there was no way I could step back now with my dignity and your feelings intact.

My voice was strained like something was strangling me when I spoke - something invisible to you, but completely seen to me, “I enjoy a lively discussion from time to time.” I offer so it wouldn’t be worse than it was, but I don’t believe it helped the situation.

You stared at me, mouth agape while my chest sunk to the depths against my wishes; then your lips twitched into a smile, “Okay... it’s nice to speak to new people.” Your voice was soft as you accepted my invitation that you prodded from me.

My throat tighten in response, I wanted to verbally agree with you even if I didn’t believe it, I nodded instead to you. I offered to speak with you even though I knew I shouldn’t, I had prey to stalk, catch and gore.

I had to dissect this stumbling fawn inside of me.

Where would I find the delicate time to speak to you?

And why did the thought of not getting the chance, fill my lungs with inescapable breath?

The sooner I left this village and claimed my prize, the sooner I would feel normal again.

I always hated the winter, things were always different and difficult, the ground refused to let things rot no matter how long they had been there.

The amount I owed you for the books I didn’t even want, tumbled from your mouth to distract my thoughts, and I hastily dug into my pockets, pulling out a wad of cash and thrusting it over to you. I hadn’t been listening to you at this point, I just wanted out of this store to cool my buzzing mind. 

I needed to retreat from the public and your eyes.

“It’s only twenty-one ninety,” your voice broke through my fog, confusion an undertone in your soft voice.

I blinked in an attempt to get my head right, before I took the money you offered back to me, wanting the right amount because you were a small store who couldn’t cash a hundred dollar bill.

“Oh, my apologies.” I ran through the notes, finding as close as it could get to the total, giving thirty dollars back to you, “Keep the rest.” I struggled out while I gathered my books in my arms and turned for the door.

My pathetic attempt to get away in a haste as if a hunter was on my bleeding trail, though your voice cut me short like a gunshot in a silent forest, “I’m Will, by the way.”

I stopped, my gloved hand on the handle to the door.

I took one moment to look back at you, your cheeks blushing pink and lips turned upward in the smallest smile as you forced yourself to watch me for my reaction.

I let out a shaky breath, preparing myself to break yet another a rule that I set many years previous to keep myself and innocents safe... did it even matter now?

“I’m Hannibal, it’s nice to meet you, Will.”

“Likewise.” You responded immediately, leaving me with your parting smile and I quickly took my leave of Pages and Pawprints, heading back the way I came from, back to my motel where I could brood over the interaction that just passed. Dissect this new, tumbling fawn

I furiously growled under my breath as I walked through the cold, books pressed tightly to my chest and the lingering scent of that horrible aftershave from you, following me all the way to the supposed comfort of my room.

I needed a kill to get you off of my mind.

[gii-heylittleangel]

Date Night and Confessions

Summary: Dean and Cas have been friends for ten years now; Dean’s crush has only a little less than that. When neither of them take any action, their friends do it for them.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer (mentioned), Garth Fitzgerald IV/Bess Myers (mentioned), Andrea Kormos/Benny Lafitte (mentioned)

Word Count: 4666

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Squares Filled: Date Night (@spngenrebingo) & Burger (@writersofdestiel)

Hey peeps! I’ve come again with a new fic. I’m filling two squares with this fic, one for @spngenrebingo and one for @writersofdestiel. The amazing @fangirlingtodeath513 beta’ed this for me!

Read on AO3 or keep reading it here!

Dean’s been extremely excited ever since he woke up—which is completely odd, considering that he woke up at 5 am on a Friday to be able to go through his notes before his last big exam, the one that’ll dictate his whole future. But Dean couldn’t care less about it, because it’s Friday and that means one thing: he gets to spend time with Cas, just the two of them, after a whole week of them both being too busy to talk for more than five minutes.

They’ve been friends for ten years now; they met when they were eleven and have been inseparable since then. They lived close during childhood and they were always at each other’s homes whenever possible. They chose to go to the same college, shared a dorm on campus, and decided to live together off-campus when they had conditions to.

Even though they live together, their schedules are a lot different and they’re always stuck studying, leaving hardly any time to talk to one another. They do study in the same room, at least , each with their headphones on and immersed in whatever subject they’re studying. Still,  they’re always able to raise their heads and give a smile to the other, happy to have company.

That’s why they decided, a couple of years ago, that they would go out to have burgers every Friday so they could talk to each other, just the two of them. They always go to the Harvelle’s—Jo and her mother own the place and work there—since they have the best burgers in the city. Their table is always ready whenever they get there, and they don’t even need to order; Ellen knows exactly what both of them want.

Dean smiles as he makes his way through the crowd, the happy thoughts taking the place of the anxiety rolling around inside of him. He knows he still needs to get through the day before he gets to go to Harvelle’s, but just having that to look forward to makes him happy.

He gets to his classroom and sees Charlie and Benny in their usual places. They wave at him, so Dean makes his way towards them, letting his things fall on the table. Charlie grins at him.

“Woke up way too early, huh?”

Dean chuckles. “Y’know me. At least this is the last exam before we get to go home.”

“For you, brother,” Benny shakes his head, letting his back rest on the chair. “I still have that physics test ’fore I get to go home.”

“And it’s your fault you still need to take it, Benny.”

Benny gives him a glare, making Charlie and Dean laugh. They chat while the class starts to fill and while they wait for the professor. 

It doesn’t take long before all the chairs are occupied and the professor comes through the door. The class falls silent in seconds, the nerves of the test atmosphere starting to fall on everyone. The three wish each other good luck before turning to face the professor.

Dean taps the pen on his lower lip as he reads the questions, tuning out the sound of other pens scratching paper around him. Most of the questions he knows easily, being that they’re what he studied the most, but there are some where he spends at least five minutes just reading and rereading the questions to make sure he understood it.

He still manages to finish it rather quickly, practically at the same time as Charlie. They both pretend not to see the ugly face Benny shoots them, controlling their giggles until they’re out of the classroom. They end up in a laughing fit when they’re out of the professor’s sight, supporting each other as they giggle.

“This shouldn’t be so funny,” Charlie says as she tries to get herself back together.

Dean shakes his head, wiping a tear away. “I don’t even know why we’re laughing so hard.”

“It’s ‘cause you two are dumbassess,” Jo’s voice comes from behind them, making them turn. “Why are you two laughing so much?”

Charlie walks to Jo, giving her a kiss. “Oh, just Benny. You had to see the face he gave us ‘cause we finished the exam before he did.”

Jo smiles, putting her arm around Charlie’s waist. “I can imagine. So, you two got any exams yet? Thought we could sit under the trees and talk a little. This last exam killed me.”

Dean shrugs, adjusting his bag. “I have one more class I have to just show up for, but it’s after lunch. I am totally up to a nap under the tree.”

“I’m up too. But to make out with you, not to nap,” Charlie smiles, making Dean groan.

“Good thing I brought my earphones, then.”

“I knew you were still here,” Benny appears in front of them, closing his bag. “What are we doin’?”

“We’re going to the tree, and those two—” Dean points at Charlie and Jo, ”—are going to make out, and I’m gonna take a nap before lunch.”

“Oh, you ain’t sleepin’, chief. I need your help with my physics test.”

Dean groans, throwing his head back as they start walking. “Really? I was so hoping I wasn’t gonna have to look at physics for a while.”

Benny shrugs, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “You’re the best, brother. I just need to grab somethin’ from Kevin and I’ll meet you three there.”

“Oh, Benny!” Benny turns to look at Jo, raising an eyebrow. “Ask Kevin to give you my book. I need it for my test tomorrow.”

“Ain’t a problem, cher.”

Benny walks away as the three of them make their way to the oak tree a few feet from them. Dean sits with his back against the tree, and Charlie and Jo lay by his side. 

“So, Dean, you and Cas are gonna have your little date tonight, right?” Charlie waggles her brows at him.

“It’s not a date, Charlie, I told you already.”

Jo scoffs, arching an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, right. You can’t fool us, Dean.”

“I’m not fooling anyone, it’s true. It’s not a date. We just go out to grab burgers and talk.” Jo hums suspiciously. “You’re always there, Jo, you see us. What makes you think we’re on a date?”

“Well, the fact that you two stare at each other with fuckin’ heart eyes, for one. The fact that both of you are annoyingly happy every Friday ‘cause of the date.”

“Oh, and that it’s always only you two,” Charlie chips in. “If we wanna see you pissed off, we just need to show up there and crash your little date night.”

Dean puts a hand on his chest, faking hurt. “I don’t get pissed.” They stare at him with arched eyebrows, so Dean sighs. “I just like that it’s the two of us. We barely see each other since Cas got into medical school. I like having a little time for just the two of us.”

Jo shakes her head. “You two live together, Dean.”

“Yeah, and we hardly see each other even then. Our schedules are completely different. Now, can you two quit bothering me with this and stop finding dates where ain’t any?”

Charlie opens her mouth to speak but Benny appears behind her. “What are we talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Just Dean and Cas’s little date tonight,” Charlie grins at Benny.

Benny smiles, sitting in front of Dean. “It’s Friday, huh? I had forgotten about that.”

Dean groans, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes. “Why am I friends with you three again?”

Jo laughs. “‘Cause you love us.” 

Benny hands Jo her book. “Here, cher. Kevin said he’ll probably come and find ya later ‘cause he needs to ask ya a few things.”

She smiles at him as Benny gives Dean’s leg a slap. “C’mon, brother, I need your help.”

Dean groans again but sits up straight. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Dean and Benny start going through Benny’s notes as Jo and Charlie talk quietly to each other. Dean doesn’t even see the time pass as he helps Benny. Dean can groan and complain as much as he wants, but he loves physics and he loves being able to talk about it for hours, especially when Benny talks about it with the same passion as Dean.

They spend a few hours studying before they manage to go through everything, stopping right before lunch. They wait as everyone starts to come out of their exams, the silence soon giving space to loud chitchat around them. They stay under the tree but start looking for their friends in the middle of the crowd before they go out to have lunch.

It’s not long before Kevin, Cas, Garth, Bess, and Meg show up, and they all go to have lunch. They all talk loudly, laughing at jokes the others tell, and discussing the exams each had in the morning. Dean sees Cas give him a smile from the other end of their group and he gives Cas a smile back, feeling a blush color his neck.

He quickly averts his eyes. Damn it, get it together, Winchester, he only smiled at you. Dean keeps his gaze on the path after that, his blush still heating his face. 

They get to the cafeteria and, while Cas and Dean go to get them all a table, the rest go to get their food. They choose the table they normally sit at, farthest from the crowd where they get to talk to each other without screaming and without everyone around them listening in. Dean puts his bag on top of the table along with Cas’s and sits facing the rest of the cafeteria. Cas sits by his side, resting his arms on the table and his head on top of them.

Dean smiles softly, raising his hand to pet Cas’s hair. “Tough morning?”

“Yes. I had one of the hardest tests today and I spent most of the night awake studying for it. I’m so sleepy.”

“Too sleepy for our burgers?”

Cas turns his head to face Dean, a small smile on his lips. “Of course not, Dean. I’m never too tired to go out with you and have burgers.”

Dean’s heart flutters and he tries to keep the blush off of his face. “Yeah, me neither. We can call it an early night today. I’m exhausted too.”

“That would be good. We can always ask Ellen to make our burgers to go, and then we can go home and watch something while we eat.”

Dean doesn’t get to answer because Charlie shows up, throwing her bag on the table and sitting beside Dean. She puts a plate in front of Dean while Jo sits on the other side, handing a plate to Cas. “We brought food for you two ‘cause it’s too crowded there, and I sure as hell know you won’t be able to get anything there now.”

Cas and Dean look at the long line in front of them. “Yeah, we certainly wouldn’t. Thanks, Charlie,” Dean smiles at her, bumping his shoulder against hers.

“Not a problem. I know you all well enough to know what you would want, so I think you’re fine with what I got.”

“And Cas has practically the same taste as you, so I just got him the same,” Jo adds.

Cas smiles at her. “Thank you, Jo.”

The whole gang gets to the table a few minutes later and they all eat between laughter and jokes. Dean’s eyes find their way to Cas’s and he gives him a small smile, barely noticeable. Cas sees it, though, and gives Dean a smile back. 

Each of them start to get up and leave as the time for their test get closer. Kevin and Jo are the first ones to leave, after Jo and Charlie give them a show of them making out, followed by Benny, Garth, and Bess. Meg and Cas are chatting while Charlie and Dean start to get up to go to their last class.

Dean puts his bag on his shoulder, turning to Cas. “I’ll meet you at home later?” Cas nods, smiling at him. “Alright, I’ll grab the burgers for us and you find something to watch.”

“It’s a deal.”

Dean smiles at him once more, giving a nod to Meg before he and Charlie leave. He doesn’t fail to notice Meg poking Cas’s ribs with a knowing smile, but he doesn’t have time to think about, since Charlie is already dragging him out of the cafeteria. 

Dean tries to ignore the curious look Charlie gives him and he almost manages to get through their entire walk without turning to her, not wanting to give her an opening for whatever she’s about to ask.

It’s only when they get to the door of the classroom that Charlie stops him, forcing him to look at her. “Why has your date changed? What happened?”

Dean sighs, letting his back rest against the wall. “Cas’s too tired so we decided to get the burgers to go and just stay at home, watch somethin’ on TV.”

“Which makes it a whole lot easier for you two to make out, huh?” Charlie smiles mischievously at him.

“Shut up.”

She chuckles as they enter the class and make their way to their chairs. Charlie keeps going on about Dean and Cas’s “date”, and Dean just rolls his eyes and pretends he’s not listening to the graphic details she gives him. She keeps going until the professor enters the classroom and Dean’s red as a pepper, practically begging her to stop. He curses the day that he got drunk and told her about his small crush on Cas. He should’ve known that he would never hear the end of it.

Thankfully, she gives him a rest during the roll call, only sending him looks and wagging her eyebrows. Dean only rolls his eyes dramatically every time he sees the looks, keeping his attention ont whatever the professor’s saying. Maybe not all of his attention, as he’s not sure what exactly she’s talking about, but he’s at least listening.

Time seems to pass considerably slow, which Dean’s sure is a mix of Charlie being Charlie and whatever lecture it is that the professor’s giving them. Dean tries not to look too much at the clock on top of the blackboard or at the watch on his wrist, knowing it won’t make time pass any faster.

He lets his head rest on his hand, keeping his gaze focused on a spot on the blackboard. He knows he should pay attention, but he always has Charlie to fill him in later; that’s what friends are for. 

Dean becomes so invested in his thoughts that he almost lets his head fall on the table when Charlie pokes him. “Dude, you okay?”

He blinks a few times, turning to look at her. “Yeah, just wasn’t payin’ attention, What happened?”

“Class’s over. Time for you to go to your date.”

Dean rolls his eyes, starting to gather his things. “It’s not a date, Charlie. We’ve been doing this for two years now, and you just decided to call it a date?”

She shrugs. “It’s ‘cause I didn’t know you were so madly in love with him before. But now that I do, it’s a date. And if it isn’t, you can always turn it into one.” She winks at him.

Dean sighs, standing up and putting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m not madly in love with Cas. I just have a crush.”

“Yeah, for almost ten years. We’re way past crush right now, Dean.”

“No, we’re not. And just ‘cause I have a crush on him doesn’t mean he has a crush on me. And I ain’t gonna jeopardize our friendship, no fuckin’ way.”

Charlie sighs. “Dean, you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

They walk out of the classroom, making their way out of the building. “Charlie, why are you so intent on me turning this into a date?” Dean squints at her. “What are you hiding?”

Charlie makes an innocent face. “I’m not hiding anything. I just want you to be happy and I know it’s Cas who can make you happy. Doesn’t matter how much you try to pretend it isn’t him, with women or other guys.”

“I hate the fact that you know me better than myself. But I still think you’re hiding something.” She smiles innocently at him. “Maybe you’re right. I won’t ever know unless I take a chance.”

Charlie claps his arm. “That’s my boys. I wanna know all about it after but now I gotta run. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She smiles one last time and walks away. “Charlie!” He yells before she gets too far away. She turns back to him. “Thank you!”

She gives him a nod and Spock’s sign before leaving. Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. He probably needs to come up with a plan if he wants to do it right, but Dean’s never been great with plans; they never end up going how he wants them to and, in the end, he always goes with his gut. So he’s probably gonna do that instead of wasting time on a plan.

He starts to make his way to Harvelle’s, waving at the friends he comes across. There are a bunch of people walking the same way as he is, the chatter around him growing. He shouldn’t be surprised; practically everyone likes to go there on Fridays to get rid of the stress of the week. Ellen’s a damn smart son of a bitch; Harvelle’s is always crowded with students because of the low prices and the nice ambiance there, and it’s the closest place to campus.

There aren’t many people when Dean gets there, mostly just who got out early or didn’t have any classes for the rest of the day. Ellen and Ash are on the counter, Bobby on one of the stools talking to them. Dean sits by his side, smiling at Ellen.

“Thought you would be here, Bobby.”

He turns to him. “Where else would I get an edible burger, boy?”

Ellen hits him with the hand towel. “You won’t find a nicer burger than here, old man.” Bobby scowls at her, but with fondness in his eyes. She turns to Dean with a smile. “The usual, kid?”

“Yeah, but to go, please. Me and Cas decided to stay home today.”

“You’re both exhausted, huh? Jo’s the same. Gave her the weekend off so she can rest.”

Dean nods. “That’s why Charlie’s so chipper. She gets Jo for the whole weekend.”

Ellen smiles. “Yeah, let ‘em rest a little. I’ll get your order ready in no time.”

“Thanks, Ellen.”

She taps his arm before walking to the kitchen. Ash grabs a beer bottle, opening and sliding it through the counter to Dean. “On me.”

Dean nods, taking a sip of the beer. Ash does the same with his—hiding it from Ellen—and he, Dean, and Bobby start talking. Dean lets the tension melt from his shoulders as he talks with them, feeling lighter with their talk. Count on them to make him feel better without even trying.

Forty minutes later, Ellen is putting a bag in front of Dean. “Here, kid, on the house today.” Dean opens his mouth to protest but she cuts him, “Just accept it. I ain’t taking any money from you. Now go before they get cold.”

Dean chuckles but takes the bag. “Thanks, Ellen, you’re the best.” 

He gives her a kiss on the forehead before standing up. He downs the rest of his beer, placing the  bottle on the counter with a thud. He claps Bobby on the shoulder and nods to Ash before leaving. His and Cas’s place isn’t far from there, so he decides to walk the mile there. He sees Benny and Andrea walking to their apartment and gives them a wave. They wave back, both with big, goofy smiles on their lips.

Dean can’t help but think if it was him and Cas like that. It could be if everything goes well tonight, which Dean really hopes it does. 

It doesn’t take long before he gets to the apartment, where he spots Cas and Meg lingering in front of it. Dean frowns, wondering why she’s there. They seem to stop talking suddenly when they see Dean, which confuses him even more, but he decides to let it slide.

Cas smiles nervously at him, rubbing a hand on the back his neck. “Hello, Dean.”

“Heya, Cas. Hey, Meg.”

She smiles at him before turning to Cas. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget what I told you.”

She walks away before Dean gets to ask what she’s talking about. He turns to Cas, arching an eyebrow. “What did she tell you?”

“No-nothing, nothing important,” Cas stammers a little, avoiding Dean’s eyes. “Should we head up?”

Dean squints at Cas but nods. “Yeah, we don’t wanna eat these cold. Ellen would kill us.”

Cas chuckles softly and they walk up to the apartment. Cas takes the bag from Dean’s hand when they get to the elevator, opening it to get to the fries inside. Dean bats his hand away.

“We’re almost there, stop stealing the fries already.”

“But I’m hungry,” Cas pleads, making his best puppy eyes.

Dean sighs. “Why can’t I ever win when you use those?”

Cas smiles, taking a fry from the bag. He shoves it in his mouth and searches for another. He offers it to Dean, putting it in front of his mouth. Dean chuckles before opening his mouth and letting Cas feed him the fry. 

They’re extremely crunchy and good, just like everything Ellen makes. Cas steals a few more as they walk to the door and Dean unlocks it. They throw their bags by the door, taking their shoes off. Cas walks to the TV while Dean goes to the kitchen to grab them a beer. He listens as Cas fumbles with the TV controller to find something for them to watch.

Dean takes two beer bottles from the fridge, stopping to look at the pictures on it after he closes the door. There are a lot where it’s just Dean and Cas, both of them with smiles on their faces; there are some of Sam and Dean when they go home for the holidays—Jo’s in practically all of them since they always go to Bobby and Ellen’s house; there are pictures of the whole gang in Dean and Cas’s living room, from when they get together to drink and play video games—practically every Saturday they can.

Dean smiles before walking back to the living room; maybe he’ll get to have a picture of him and Cas as a couple there in no time. He sees Cas sitting on one end of the couch, legs spread across the other seats, surfing through the channels. Dean gives him one of the bottles as Cas raises his legs for Dean to sit.

Cas places his legs on Dean’s lap once Dean sits, giving him the bag with the burgers. Dean takes both of them out, giving one of them to Cas. He takes the box with the fries—Ellen really knows them—and places it on Cas’s lap so they can both eat it. Cas settles on Brooklyn 99 for them to watch, which Dean’s totally fine with, he freaking loves this show.

They watch and eat in silence, only laughing at the show sometimes. Their hands brush every time they reach for the fries. Dean swears he sees Cas blushing a few times but pretends not to notice it, not knowing what to think of it.

Dean starts to get restless once they finish eating, his hands sweating where they’re resting on Cas’s legs. He knows he should say something but he doesn’t even know how to start on the subject. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, never having enough courage to actually say something.

The show’s four episodes in when Dean turns to Cas. “Cas—”

“Dean—”

They stop talking when they hear the other speak. They chuckle lightly, Dean rubbing the back of his neck. “You go, Cas.”

“Uh, I-I wanted to talk to you about something important, Dean.” Dean frowns but nods. Cas takes a deep breath before he starts talking again, “I know we’ve known each other for a long time and I would never do anything to jeopardize our friendship, but I need to be honest with you.”

Dean straightens his back, turning to face Cas, fear puckering his forehead. “What is it, Cas? What happened?”

“I-I, uh, I kind of have a,” Cas pauses, licking his lips, “I have a crush on you, Dean.”

Cas closes his eyes, seemingly afraid of how Dean may react. Dean’s mouth opens as he starts to process what Cas just said. Cas has a crush on him. Castiel fucking Novak actually has a crush on him, Dean Winchester. 

Dean’s lips start to form a smile against his will. Cas opens one of his eyes, like he’s waiting for Dean to storm out, but he tilts his head when he sees Dean smiling. Cas opens his mouth to say something but Dean throws himself on top of him, crushing their lips together. Their first kiss is weird—too much teeth, an uncomfortable position, and their lips don’t quite align.

Dean backs away a little, letting Cas’s legs fall on either of his sides, and puts his hands on Cas’s sides. He smiles at Cas, lowering himself again. This time, their kiss is better—Cas’s lips seem to mold against Dean’s, Cas’s hand going to Dean’s hair, grabbing it and allowing them to deepen the kiss. Dean has no words to describe how good it feels to finally be able to kiss Cas.

Cas’s tongue wets Dean’s lower lip and he opens his mouth. Dean loses track of time as he kisses Cas, his mind not quite working for anything else. Cas hums against his mouth, his legs circling Dean’s waist and pressing them together. Dean lets his hands roam Cas’s body freely, all of his senses filled with Cas and Cas alone.

They almost fall on the floor when someone clears their throat behind them, forcing them to break apart. Dean’s eyes are wide when they see all of their friends around them with matching smiles on their faces. Dean turns to look at Cas, who looks as lost and confused as he is.

Charlie’s the first one to speak, “I can’t believe you two finally got your heads out of your assess and decided to confess to each other.” She and Meg high five, smiling. Dean frowns, not knowing what to do. “You had help, obviously, but good to know you two decided to follow our advice.”

“Wait,” Cas cuts her off. “You two were behind this?” He looks at Meg. “Is that why you insisted that I should talk to Dean?”

Meg smiles and nods. “Yeah, of course. Me and Charlie have been planning this for days, and we thought today would be a great day to do it.”

Dean shakes his head. “I can’t believe you two did this.”

Charlie shrugs. “Didn’t seem like you two were ever going to, so we thought you needed a little help.”

Jo throws herself on top of them, screaming happily, “I’m so happy for you two!!”

Everyone cheers around them and eventually decide that they should also throw themselves on top of the two. Dean huffs at the weight on top of him, the shouts of their friends filling his ears. When he turns to look at Cas, seeing him smiling so widely, Dean can’t find in himself to care; he’s just as happy as Cas and their friends are.

[tk-writer]

Ticklish, kitten? - Ace Attorney [Mia/Godot]

oh look a random fic where i self projected lksfjghksj dont look at me

WARNING: contains Ace Attorney spoiler for the trilogy!!

word count: 2199

~~~

Mia Fey flicked on the lights as soon as she entered her empty condo.

Home, at last. A sigh escaped her smudged red lips as she finally felt solace for the first time since 5 AM that morning. Her heels were off in a matter of milliseconds; she was thankful to have some relief after being on her feet for nearly sixteen hours. The court had shown no mercy that day, not even to a novice like her. Not that she had expected any differently.

However, the trial was the last thing on her mind.

She glanced around her dimly lit living room. The emptiness that echoed back was deafening, shoving a reminder of her constant solitude in her face. Normally she wouldn’t care of such trivial matters; she was a woman who enjoyed her privacy and independence, after all.

But things were different now. Now that she had met him.

She made her way to the bathroom, leaving her confining work clothes behind in absent-minded piles on the oak wood floors. I’ll pick them up later, I swear, she lied to herself. She stood in the hot water and let it roll over her weary skin, thankful to feel something after what felt like a lifetime of depravity. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed. She didn’t get out until her skin was flushed red and on the verge of blistering.

She slipped into a pair of cotton shorts and a T shirt. Chuckling inwardly, she wondered what her colleagues would think if they saw her dressed in such a way. Mia didn’t step foot outside unless she was donned in designer wear, no matter if she was inside or outside the court. It was just who she was, or at least the image she had created for herself.

No one saw her after hours, when the lights were low and the darkness invaded. Nobody knew of her nightly routine, which consisted of hunching over a half-filled coffee mug and a thick file of court papers until the wee hours of the morning, an amalgamate of decaf medium roast and milk and tears.

Nobody ever did.

Until now.

An uproarious buzz jolted her out of her headspace and back to reality. She furrowed her brows, wondering who the hell would pay a visit at such a late hour. She stood up and walked to the front, punching the display button on her security screen a little too hard.

“Hey, kitten.”

An arrogant, pearly white smile gazed back at her from the outside camera. Mia’s entire body tensed. For a moment she stayed frozen, unsure of which action to take. She had never expected him to come, especially not this late. He was still dressed in his suit; he must have come directly from his office. That was so much like him to work this late, even on a weeknight.

“Mr. Armando? Sorry, but what the hell are you doing here exactly? Do you know what time it is?”

“Of course. I’m simply checking in on my protégé. Wanted to make sure my apprentice was doing alright after getting chewed up and spit out in court today.”

Irritation coursed through her veins, but she sighed when she realized he was right. No use getting angry at the truth.

“So, are you going to let me in?”

She said nothing at first, peering down at her frumpy pajamas and her bare feet. Without looking in the mirror she knew her eyes were red and strained from the past hour or so of crying. There was no way she wanted Diego Armando to witness her in such a state.

“Now’s not really a good time.”

He put his hands in his pockets and exhaled deeply. She knew he hated being rejected, but he wasn’t the aggressive type. At least not behind closed doors. At least not with her.

Perhaps that’s why she liked him so much.

“… Alright then. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself, okay?”

He turned around and almost disappeared as quickly as he had come. Mia immediately regretted being so short.

“Wait!”

He paused, looking back directly at the camera.

“Hmm?”

A few moments passed. Mia gingerly pressed the ‘unlock’ button without another word and waited patiently for her guest to arrive.

She didn’t have to wait long. He was at her door in a few short minutes, looming over the novice lawyer with that typical smug look on his face. He looked her up and down, obviously taken aback by her choice of sleepwear. A wave of insecurity washed over her, which didn’t help when she compared the difference between their current clothing.

Mia held back the urge to slug him.

“Don’t look at me like I’m a piece of meat.”

Diego blinked in confusion, his apparent ignorance causing more rage to build within her.

“It’s not that. You just look…”

“What? What do I look like, Mr. Armando?”

She crossed her arms and glared at him defensively, but was met with softness and pity. His eyes held a tinge of sadness to them that she had never seen before.

“You look… down.”

Mia turned away, embarrassed that her superior could read her so easily.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, is all.”

He hesitantly took a step closer, careful not to cross any more boundaries than he already had. He gently took her face into his palm, smoothing his thumb across her wettened cheek.

“You’ve been crying.”

She responded by wiping her face with one palm ungracefully.

“Like I said. I’m fine. Just a little tired, is all.”

Not wanting to meet his gaze, her eyes drifted to the floor in an uncharacteristic display of meekness.

“Come on now, kitten. This isn’t like you. Something’s on your mind and I gotta hunch it’s got nothin’ to do with the case.”

Damn. He read her like a book. Realizing there was no use denying it any longer, she gestured to her leather couch and barked an order.

“Sit.”

Without waiting to hear his response, Mia marched to the kitchen. He slipped off his loafers and plopped himself near the armrest. A variety of bumps and clangs could be heard as she rummaged through her cabinets in search of something. He detected running water. The clink of glass. Within a few minutes, an aroma of Italian press floated across the room and onto the couch where Diego sat. The darkest roast of all. She knew him so well.

Perhaps that’s why he liked her so much.

Mia returned promptly, coffee mug in hand and free of any additions Diego would consider abominable. She sat about a foot away, putting a noticeable amount of distance between them.

He clutched the mug in his hands and took a few large gulps before speaking.

“Talk to me, kitten. What’s going on?”

Mia sat cross-legged, her arms folded and resting in her lap. She made small circles with her ankle, back and forth as if stretching the tendons.

“Don’t you dare tell a soul or I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Easy, easy. Put those claws away. You know me better than that.”

His subordinate sighed and bit her lower lip.

“It’s... I’m lonely, Diego.”

Not the answer he had expected to hear. Nor the name he was usually called. His mouth dropped open slightly in surprise, but he decided against addressing that fact… for now.

“Everyone gets lonely. Unfortunately it comes with the job.”

“I know.”

Nice going, asshole, He thought to himself. Better try again. He wasn’t the type to let a woman down, especially not Mia.

“Kitten. Come here.”

She stared at him in confusion, startled by his sudden request.

“… What?”

“Come. I want to hold you.”

His last statement hung in the air. Mia fell silent for a few seconds too long. Shit, maybe he messed up. Time to backtrack.

“If you don’t want to I understand,” He said reassuringly, careful to keep his tone even and smooth. “I’m not gonna force ya. I’ll leave and we don’t have to talk about this ever-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. She moved quickly and quietly and was in his arms sooner than he could have ever hoped. Her back pressed against his chest, slightly timid but with a hint of eagerness. She didn’t say a word; the silence allowed him to listen to her nervous, staggered breathing. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist. Pulling her in closer. Burying his face in her freshly shampooed hair. It smelled like roses. Fitting for someone like Mia.

They laid there for some time as the night ticked on. He pulled her chestnut hair behind her ear and kissed it tenderly. His lips pursed as he gave her small pecks on the back of her head, at the base of her skull, moving towards her jawline. She twitched at the light caresses but didn’t protest. Soon, he found his hands moving up and down her sides, tracing random patterns through the fabric of her T shirt.

She squirmed a little. Muffled noises that sounded like weak coughs. He smirked, unbeknownst to her, adding a little more pressure to her stomach and sides. Her wiggling became a lot more pronounced, the noises a little more recognizable as giggles.

“Ticklish, kitten?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“No… not at a-haaa-ll!”

He pinched her lower ribs and relished when she squeaked, proving his claim true.

“Is that so?”

His tanned, calloused hands kept up their ministrations, his touches getting more purposeful and teasy. He softly clawed her midsection and focused on a patch of extra sensitive skin he had just discovered right below her belly button. Mia jerked her knees upward and clamped her hands on his, a weak attempt to fight off the tickling. The lack of touch in her life had made her more reactive than usual, and she was not happy about it.

“Diego! – ahahahaha! – WHYYYY!”

His response was more light clawing at her sides. She bucked and twisted left to right, laughing joyfully as if he’d told the funniest joke she’d ever heard. He clung onto her, never letting go no matter how violent her struggles got. His fingers drifted upward, settling in her crevices of her underarms and scritching away at them endlessly. Mia howled in a high-pitched tone and jolted her arms down, which only trapped his hands in place and made escape impossible.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA – oh nooooo! – Diego! – EEEEEEK!”

“The little kitten is so ticklish. How adorable.”

She could only giggle in response.

He kept it up for awhile longer, inwardly promising to stop if Mia asked, but surprisingly she never did. She thrashed and kicked and fought wildly, but never once did the word “stop” leave her lips. However, he had enough experience to know when a woman had had enough, and when her face was crimson red and her breathing shallow he let up and allowed his poor subordinate to collect herself. She took in large gulps of air and laid limp in his embrace.

“Haaa… haa… what was… that for…”

“My own amusement, mostly. Doesn’t hurt that you’ve got a killer laugh, too.”

Mia turned around with an exasperated (but affectionate) expression.

“You know, that was highly inappropriate.”

“So was inviting your colleague into your private abode after midnight.”

“You- you-!”

Rage spread across her face but melted into a smile as he clamped his hands around her ribcage, digging in a little more than before and reigniting her hysterical cackles. Too weak to fight, she succumbed to the tickles and buried her face in his chest until he once again showed her mercy.

“Quit hiding, kitten. Let me see that flustered face of yours one more time.”

He gently coaxed her out of hiding by placing a single finger under her chin and pulling upwards. Their eyes met, and for once Diego Armando was speechless. Seeing the stoic Mia Fey with such vulnerability and affection in her eyes was enough to turn him to putty. If he had the ability to speak, he would have been nothing but a babbling mess.

She leaned in closer, slow as honey that dripped from the comb, until their lips met in a cautious kiss.

Neither one knew how long they stayed like that. Mia draped over his chest. Diego’s hands rested on her lower back. When they finally pulled away, both felt warm and giddy.

“Mia…” he managed to croak out.

“Sorry.”

She seemed out of it. Not regretful, but definitely embarrassed. He half smiled in amusement.

“Don’t be.”

She shifted a little. A question sat on the edge of her mouth, and he waited patiently for it to fall. She rested her lips against his shirt and mumbled.

“Will you… st… ere… ight…?”

“Hmm? Speak up kitten, can’t hear ya.”

He heard her. But he wanted to hear it again. It took everything in him not to grin like an idiot, and everything in her not to smack him.

She lifted her head and scowled.

“Will you stay. Here. The night.”

He kissed her on the forehead and broke out in a victorious smile.

“Of course. Anything for you, kitten.”