#one of the hardest resignations I’ve ever processed

[mariacallous]

On March 5, 2025, Samantha Crowder sat in a corner of her bedroom which she’d turned into a home office, staring in disbelief at a leaked memo. The chief of staff of the Department of Veterans Affairs, where she’d worked for nearly a decade, had notified agency leaders that the V.A. would “aggressively” shrink its footprint. In partnership with Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), the memo said, the V.A. would “identify and eliminate waste” and “reduce management and bureaucracy.” This apparently meant firing about eighty thousand of the agency’s four hundred and eighty thousand workers.

After that, Crowder told me, meetings frequently devolved into discussions about the looming cuts. Her office paused work on a project to speed up the process for granting treatment privileges to new V.A. doctors; hiring was frozen and a number of job offers for doctors had been rescinded, so there was no one to bring on board. (Even after the Trump Administration reversed course on the offers, some doctors declined them.) Meanwhile, a stream of executive orders were affecting federal workers. A return-to-office mandate felt, to Crowder, like an accusation that she wasn’t doing her job from home. The V.A. had hired many people specifically to be remote workers, and the agency was short on desks. One of her colleagues was assigned to the back room of a local post office, and another was placed in the break room of a courthouse. Crowder was a data analyst based in Orlando, Florida; in her view, the downsizing was not being driven by any data. Several meetings discussed an executive order that, among other things, prohibited the word “gender” in any federal document, policy, or system. An application that helped veterans request doctors had to be updated so that it used the word “sex” instead.

The last straw, for Crowder, was a questionnaire from the Office of Personnel Management that asked, among other things, “If [this] position is eliminated, “what (if any) are the direct negative impact(s) to veterans?” Supervisors in her office allowed employees to fill out their own forms. “We want you guys to be able to fight for your own jobs,” a manager told them. There was one day to respond. When Crowder told me all this, she sounded incredulous: “They wanted a review of a half million employees, with a turnaround of less than twenty-four hours?”

In April, Crowder quit her job. “That was honestly one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made,” she told me. She came from a family of V.A. workers that included her father. She’d started from the “bottom of the bottom,” as a certified nursing assistant, and worked her way up to administrative roles. She decided to forgo several months of pay by refusing a “deferred resignation” plan that Doug Collins, the Trump Administration’s Secretary of Veterans Affairs, had offered employees. “I just wanted to detach myself from the V.A. fast, because I feel like it was important to get information out there as soon as possible,” she said. Then she Googled “How to make a YouTube video.”

The resulting YouTube videos are rudimentary efforts, but they offer an insider’s view. In her first upload, “Let’s Fix the VA by Firing Everyone! (What Could Go Wrong?),” she argues that everyone should care about what’s happening at the V.A. “What’s one way a woman might tell if a man will treat her right? How he treats his mom,” she said. “So let me ask you this: if we can’t get this right for veterans, who can we get this right for?” Elsewhere, she dissected video clips of Collins, such as a Fox News interview that asked him how firing workers would affect V.A. care. Collins said that for the past decade, a “high-risk list” from the Government Accountability Office had included the V.A., and that changes were overdue. But Crowder revealed that among the specific problems cited by the G.A.O. were staffing shortages in mental-health care, workload mismanagement, and a failure to develop a staffing strategy. (The V.A. doesn’t know how many doctors it employs, for example.) “Let’s fix the fire hazards by firing the firefighters,” Crowder said sarcastically. “Then maybe we’ll read the inspection report.”

When I surveyed other V.A. employees about the state of the agency, they shared similar concerns. After speaking with Crowder, I received an unprompted e-mail from a tipster who’d read my reporting on the Trump Administration. The person introduced me to a V.A. clinical psychologist, who spoke on the condition of anonymity. Collins had promised that medical care for veterans would not be affected by any downsizing—and, so far, little downsizing has taken place. But, the psychologist told me, “Veterans are losing access to care because their clinicians are leaving.”

Trump’s gender-related executive order was a particular frustration. “Speaking with veterans directly, I know everything related to transgender veterans’ health was cut instantaneously,” the psychologist said, explaining that support groups were eliminated and access to hormone therapy was reduced. “We’re basically erasing an entire group of veterans.” And, in clinical research, psychologists could no longer mention gender. “We can only use biological birth sex in any of our descriptions,” the psychologist said. “I’m a women’s-health researcher, but I can’t talk about women veterans. I have to talk about females, which is strange, and also not how I collected my data.” When I contacted the V.A. press secretary, Peter Kasperowicz, for comment, he told me, “VA is faithfully and thoughtfully incorporating President Trump’s executive order.”

The psychologist said that employees were worried about surveillance—they were notified in writing, on a slide that I reviewed, that virtual meetings on Microsoft Teams were being transcribed and archived—and were afraid to let their computer mouses stop moving, for fear that they’d be seen as unproductive. (“VA has issued no directive to transcribe and save Teams meetings,” Kasperowicz said.) Although she didn’t think that clinical jobs like hers were in immediate danger, she worried about staffers who don’t see patients. “You can’t run a hospital or health-care system without non-clinical administrative support,” she said. When I asked about over-all morale, the word that came to her mind was “miserable.”

I first started looking into the situation at the V.A. after hearing the story of a patient, William Guild, who was being treated for an aggressive brain cancer. Guild’s wife, Katie Morgan, who has published fiction in The New Yorker under the byline C. E. Morgan, is convinced that her husband’s care has deteriorated since Trump’s Inauguration.

Guild’s three-decade career included nine years on SEAL Team Six, a secretive unit that carries out some of the U.S. military’s most difficult operations, often underwater. He developed claustrophobia, sleeplessness, depression, and P.T.S.D. Upon his retirement from the military, in 2010, he moved to the woods of New Hampshire for a Thoreauvian reassessment of his life. The first time he met Morgan, at a meditation retreat in 2015, they debated Aristotle. By the end of the week, she sensed that they would marry.

Morgan said that her marriage sometimes felt like one long conversation about politics, art, and philosophy. (Guild earned a master’s in theology from Harvard Divinity School, a degree she also held.) Late one night in April, 2024, however, Guild paused midsentence, confused. He stood and paced, repeating the word “this.” Morgan touched his arm. “I don’t think you’re searching for a word anymore,” she said. “Can you nod your head if you think something is wrong with you?” He nodded.

Within days, Guild had had brain surgery and was diagnosed with glioblastoma. The tumor’s location left Guild with full cognitive function, but a slight speech delay. “Now you’re gonna win every argument,” he told Morgan. Days later, doctors ordered an MRI, and Guild, whose muscular frame barely fit in the machine, feared an attack of claustrophobia. He emerged from the scanner unresponsive; he’d experienced a severe brain bleed. Another operation followed. Morgan learned that her husband was effectively paralyzed and unable to speak.

Some studies suggest a correlation between military service and glioblastoma, perhaps owing to carcinogen exposure or traumatic brain injuries. Morgan learned that a frogman on Guild’s SEAL Team Six boat crew had developed the cancer as well. In April, however, the Trump Administration reduced Defense Department glioblastoma research from the ten million dollars it received in 2024 to zero. Only about fourteen thousand Americans are given that particular cancer diagnosis annually. “It’s an orphan disease,” Henry S. Friedman, a neuro-oncologist at Duke University who is leading Guild’s treatment, told me. “It’s a very difficult tumor to treat, because it’s invasive when it’s diagnosed—all over the brain.” Doctors generally remove as much of it as possible with surgery and then administer radiation, chemotherapy, and other therapies.

The special-operations community quickly mobilized to support Guild and Morgan. “SEALs take care of SEALs, I’ll tell you that,” Jennifer Brusstar, who leads the Tug McGraw Foundation, which is devoted to helping people with brain conditions, observed to me. She connected the couple with a patient-advocacy group for élite service members, which helped get Guild transferred to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, a preëminent hospital about three hours from their home. “Once we got settled into care, we had a smooth-running machine,” Morgan told me. Guild’s next MRIs looked good, he began speech and physical therapy, and doctors discharged him in the summer of 2024. Then Donald Trump took office for a second time.

The V.A. encompasses the Veterans Health Administration, which treats nine million former military service members across fourteen hundred clinics and hospitals. The system easily outperforms private hospitals in cleanliness, communication, and patient satisfaction; last spring, its outpatient clinics had a ninety-two-per-cent trust rating. Still, its referral processes and eligibility criteria can be opaque. (I’ve been receiving V.A. care for almost twenty years, and the best way I can explain it is: eventually, somehow, you tend to get the help you need.) Historically, veterans have struggled to prove that conditions with multiple causes, such as chronic diseases and cancers, were related to their military service. How do you know that a particular tumor was caused by polluted water, heavy metals, or waste-disposal burn pits, and not genetics or random chance? The V.A. frequently denied disability claims, limiting potential medical coverage and compensation payments. But in 2021 Congress introduced the PACT Act, which aimed to establish a “presumptive” link between certain diagnoses and military service.

Not everyone supported the PACT Act. Some Republicans in Congress attempted to block it over procedural issues and budget concerns, which led to a public outcry. It passed in 2022. The next year, the conservative Heritage Foundation published Project 2025, a policy guidebook that President Trump publicly disavowed but has followed in many of its particulars. It argued that the growing number of veterans with access to expanded health benefits “have the potential to overwhelm the VA’s ability to process new disability claims and adjudicate appeals,” potentially causing backlogs and delays. Project 2025 argued that the government could achieve “significant cost savings” by changing its approval criteria, and by preserving benefits (“fully or partially”) only for existing claimants. The basic agreement between the United States and members of the military, at least in theory, is that those who enlist will be cared for if they suffer harm. Project 2025’s architects, some of whom now hold power in the Trump Administration, seemed ready to change the terms of the deal.

Under President Biden, the V.A. hired tens of thousands of workers to treat veterans and handle new claims. But on January 20th the Trump Administration laid the groundwork for firing many federal employees, and weeks later the V.A. dismissed its first thousand workers. Eleven days after that, it fired another fourteen hundred. When the V.A. memo leaked, in March, Doug Collins clarified that he sought to fire seventy-two thousand workers, not eighty. That would still amount to fifteen per cent of the agency.

When Guild developed glioblastoma, the V.A. rated him as a hundred per cent disabled under the PACT Act, assuring him monthly compensation and priority access to medical care. Guild depended on constant home-based occupational and physical therapy. But, after the initial firings, his numerous rehab appointments suddenly stopped being scheduled. Morgan made calls and sent countless e-mails. She described herself as a self-appointed intermediary between the V.A. system in Richmond, Virginia, where Guild receives care, and its affiliates. To schedule appointments, she had to find and connect people who worked at different offices and remind them about her husband’s needs. Still, from February 27th to March 19th, Guild did not receive therapy because an extension of his treatments needed to be approved by the V.A.

Morgan watched, enraged, as Collins defended the V.A. cuts. “The federal government does not exist to employ people,” he said. “We’ll be making major changes—so get used to it.” In her near-daily conversations with V.A. workers, some told her that they feared for their jobs. After several weeks of this, on March 18th, the V.A. finally approved continuation of her husband’s therapy.

According to Morgan’s notes, on May 2nd, a V.A. worker told her that the Richmond system had lost a lot of schedulers and added, “It’s been a nightmare.” Another told her that schedulers had left voluntarily because of the situation “being like it is,” and that “things have gone belly-up.” (In February, the Richmond V.A., driven by DOGE mandates, had terminated several dozen employees, in areas ranging from housekeeping to surgical services. No schedulers were among them, and a federal judge subsequently ordered that they be rehired.)

Today, Morgan is Guild’s full-time caregiver. She estimated that she spends about twenty-five hours a week on health-related administrative tasks, and she teaches half time, “on top of the physicality of caregiving, preparing all the meals, taking care of nutritional needs, cancer needs, handling chemo five days a month, taking care of dogs, and trying to be a parent.” Their son, Liam, who recently celebrated his eighth birthday, is “largely stuck at home with us,” she said. “He’s learning early lessons from this about what marriage means.”

Meanwhile, Guild is working “ferociously” on his recovery, Morgan said, hoping to build some independence. Glioblastoma tumors usually recur in six to nine months; he lives MRI to MRI, in two-month increments. Morgan worries that her husband could lose some of his benefits, which depend in part on the PACT Act, and that if she is unable to return to her professorship full time, they could lose their house. They still encounter occasional scheduling problems. “We’re a really good test case, because we use the V.A. constantly,” she told me. “All this with just, what, twenty-five hundred firings? There are still seventy grand more to go.”

When I approached the V.A. for comment on the state of the agency, Kasperowicz, its press secretary, blamed “nearly all of the department’s most serious problems, such as rising health care wait times, growing backlogs of Veterans waiting for disability compensation, and major issues with survivor benefits,” on the Biden Administration. In response to questions about how downsizing and restructuring might have contributed to Guild’s experience, I received a statement attributed to a local public-affairs officer. “The premise of your inquiry is false,” the statement read. When I asked why the V.A. took so long to approve the request to extend Guild’s therapy, I was told, “No such request was ever made to VA, and VA believes that the request was accidentally sent to a non-VA office.” I checked; someone who works with many V.A. patients, and who is familiar with Guild’s request for an extension of his treatment, confirmed that daily faxes were sent to the Richmond V.A. system.

One of Samantha Crowder’s projects at the V.A. examined problems in the scheduling departments, so I ran Guild’s experience by her. Scheduling departments have been “super understaffed” in recent years, she said, and her research revealed high turnover and low morale. “Good schedulers get burned out, and there’s no way to track productivity,” Crowder told me. “Of course, the threat of being fired has made things worse.”

In the same conversation, she told me that a V.A. center in Florida had to implement weekly town halls after employees expressed suicidal thoughts. A congressional staffer who works with the V.A. confirmed this to me. The suicide rate for veterans is fifty per cent higher than that of the general population, and a quarter of V.A. workers are veterans. Nonetheless, Veterans Crisis Line employees were among the V.A. workers targeted for termination by the Trump Administration. (“A small number of VCL support staff were laid off as part of the probationary dismissals in February, but all of them were offered their positions back within weeks,” Kasperowicz said.)

The last person I spoke to was a V.A. social worker on the West Coast. “I had a colleague that left their position this week,” he said, in May. “A dedicated civil servant. A wealth of knowledge and talent. . . . This is a person who is gay and feels particularly targeted by these new policies.” The social worker was particularly unsettled by an e-mail that Collins sent to the entire agency. Under the subject line “Task Force on Anti-Christian Bias,” Collins directed all employees to report “policies, procedures, or unofficial understandings hostile to Christian views.” The social worker called the e-mail “a bellwether—an indicator of an emboldened point of view with power in the federal system.”

The social worker feared that the V.A. would suffer long-term damage. Employees tend to have a personal connection to the military, he pointed out. “They’ve chosen to do this work out of a sense of service,” he said. Lately, in job interviews, people have been asking him whether, if they’re hired, they’ll have to worry about losing their jobs. “The answer is I don’t know,” he told me. “There’s a prevailing feeling, from my perspective, of the system turning on the people that we serve—and on us.” 

[sitp-recs]

An Emerald In The Sky by @corvuscrowned

Harry/Draco (2022, Mature, 6.6k)

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone. Somewhere along the way, Draco realizes he's been thinking in lines, when he should have been thinking in circles.

Harry kisses him. And this is exactly what Draco wanted. The kind of kiss that couldn’t endure the finishing of a sentence. The kind of love that can’t wait. But Draco wants more than a kiss. He wants more than one moment. He wants more than Harry can give.

Just like Draco, I’ve been patiently but eagerly sitting on this draft ready to lose my shit with Wireless reveals, only to find out that Crow is to blame for my mental health the one who wrote my favourite fic of the year! God, how I loved this one (my friends can attest as I’ve made them all read it!). I’ve been so obsessed, have read it so many times already, that I just knew this had to be my first rec right after reveals. I’m being cautious to avoid spoilers here but to be clear this is not a mystery despite being mysterious, nor a case fic with high stakes, although one could argue it probably has the higher stakes of all. It’s not even what I’d call a traditional romance - more like a character study one? - but it certainly introduces the love of a lifetime.

From an emotional standpoint, I’ve always found time travel a rich and fascinating trope; there are so many fun possibilities but because most prioritize time loops with happy endings, we tend to forget that time travel can also lend itself to poignant angst and thought-provoking explorations of time, aging, ill-advised falling in love. Emerald reminded me of that triad in the most beautiful way, with its evocative writing and intriguing summary. It is a short tale with impeccable pacing and superb pining, written in a clever way that makes my heart ache for both Harry and Draco in their humanity, hopes and limitations. That’s probably my favourite thing about this fic, now I think about it: how we learn so much about one character through the other, and the ways the narrative makes them both human, flawed and sympathetic.

Anyone who’s enjoyed The Time Traveller’s Wife will be fascinated by Draco’s POV, as the perspective of those who wait. We witness his growing melancholy and changes of heart from wonder to bitterness to resigned acceptance, slowly coming to terms with falling in love with an Unspeakable who will be repeatedly taken away from him. It’s a grieving process for both Draco and the reader, to understand the ways we are helpless facing the designs of time. But in my opinion there’s also some comfort in how fate and free will get confronted - choosing to love someone in such circumstances is an act of courage and no one can take it away. Harry and Draco prove that by loving fiercely and inevitably, and the ways they’re pulled into each other, meeting time and again, unable to stay but unwilling to leave, knowing that no amount of time will ever be enough… ahhh 💔

Finally, I’m in love with the stars motif! Such a poetic and fitting take on Draco’s line of work, which of course connects his fascination with the unreachable to his longing for Harry. I love their conversation on this topic and the insights we get about Draco’s mind and heart in one of the rare moments he opens up. It’s so cleverly executed I almost went there with the banner, but I feel like the one I chose is more subtle and will hit those who’ve read this fic right in the feels! It’s also a nice way to intrigue and lure those who haven’t checked it yet ;)

This is a gorgeous read with a creative premise and the kind of complex and quiet devastation that always finds its way inside my heart. The idea of a solitary yet burning love that endures time travel mysteries and repeated heartbreak gave me every kind of emotion and made me revisit my favorite scenes every now and then just so I could relive that particular feeling once again. I’ve been thinking about this story for weeks and I know it will stay with me for a little longer. What are you waiting for?

Read on AO3

[luimagines]

The Chain Confesses While Your Hurt/Upset Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

The third and final part of this instalment will include Sky, Twilight and Hyrule!

You know the drill, content under the cut!

Sky

Sky was on watch again and there was still some time before the sun was supposed to rise.

Strangely, he felt more awake than he knew he usually would.

It was unnerving and Sky didn’t know what to do with change or what it meant.

He sighed and let the sounds of the terrain cascade over him. The gentle whispers from the breeze shook the leaves and there was subtle calls from the wildlife through the night.

It was calming.

Sky couldn’t figure out why he was so tense. 

He took another breath and look around his friends, all asleep and worn out from the day’s events. Even he could admit it was rather uneventful considering their circumstances, but he welcomed it.

As he glanced at each of his companions, he felt his gaze linger on you a little longer.

He knew he was smitten with you.

He knew that if you were to ask him- he’d give you his heart, soul, and everything in between. There was little he wouldn’t do for you and every time you so much as smiled at him, he would collapse into a warm puddle within himself.

But you weren’t smiling right now.

Actually the longer he stared, the more it looked like you were actually quite upset.

A nightmare?

Sky stood up and made his way over to you, trying his hardest to not step on the boys in the process.

It was only when he squatted by your side did you whimper and curl further into yourself. 

Seeing as you weren’t awake just yet, it gave all the information Sky needed to make his decision.

He reached over and shook your shoulder violently and took a step back.

You jolted awake with a gasp and blinked your eyes a few times, taking in your surroundings. Sky waited for you to realize where you were before he reached forward again. “Hey. You ok?”

“Oh.” You took in a breath and sat up. “I... I think so.”

Sky sat down next to you and brushed your hair away from your shoulder and out of your eyes. 

“Was it bad?” You ask him.

“You tell me.” Sky smiles a bit.

“I wasn’t thrashing around too much, was I?” You reiterate and look around the group. “I didn’t wake anyone up?”

“No, it was actually kind of hard to tell you were even having a nightmare.” Sky admits.

“Oh... ok, good, that’s probably the best case scenario.” You gulps and place your hand over your heart, taking long deep breaths to calm yourself down. “Thank goodness it was just a dream.”

“Was it bad?” Sky throws your question back at you.

You startle and look Sky in the eye, gripping your blankets with iron like strength. Sky takes a note.

“It...” You shake your head. “It could have been worst. It wasn’t even that scary. Just... disturbing...and sad. I’d rather not have those mental images again.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Um.... Can I join you?”

“Absolutely.” Sky stands up and gives you his hand. You take it without hesitation and let him lift you onto your feet. Silently, you follow him back to the watch log and take a sit next to him. You’re still a little shaken by what you’ve seen in your own mind and you don’t mind taking a moment to digest and process it.

Sky for his part is staring to feel a little silly. He wants to spend more time with you, yes, but now what? And how does he not make a fool of himself now that he’s actually spending time alone with you?

A part of him is starting to catastrophize, thinking of all the ways he can do something stupid and completely ruin his reputation. For all he knows he’s going to trip (even if he’s sitting right now) and fall right into the fire. You’d laugh at him- never take him seriously again and then he’d really never have a chance with you.

He knows it’s illogical and it’s actually not the worst thing that can happen- but his nerves at getting to him and it’s making him question everything.

“Sky, can I ask you something?” You say after a tense moment of silence.

“Sure.” Sky’s voice cracks. He coughs a little to clear his throat and tries again. “Yeah, anything. Go ahead.”

“Why do I make you so nervous?” You say.

Suddenly Sky feels like he’s been punched in the heart. For all the wrong reasons.

Your voice is quiet and resigned... your sad and you don’t look at him. “Do I scare you or something? Is there something about me that you don’t trust? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, no, not at all.” Sky rushes to quell your fear, even if he’s starting to panic.

“Then what?” You sigh and pull your knees up. “Did I make you upset? I know you don’t like confrontation but I don’t know why you’ve been getting worse... If it was something I did, you can tell me, I’m grown, I can take it, what did I do wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“Well, I’ve had to have done something.” You snap. “You always try to end the conversation early and leave. You don’t like spending time with me, and you almost never answer my questions with a full sentence. You can never look me in the eye and have to wonder what on earth goes through your head if you don’t even want to stand next to me. Sometimes I think you’re just nice to me because you’re a good person but I don’t think you like me very much.”

Sky gulps heavily and begins weighing his options.

“I think you know that I like you.” You mutter.

Wait. WHAT?

“Is that what the problem is?” Your voice jumps a little on the last word and it sounds like you’re going to cry. “Was I too obvious? Did I make you uncomfortable? God, I’m sorry. I can pull back. I’m pretty sure you have a girlfriend anyway.. right? That Zelda? I mean, your Zelda? You’re together, aren’t you? I’m so stupid. Of course you’re together, what on earth was I thinking?”

“We’re not.” Sky jumps in his seat and twists his body to face you head on. “You’re wrong. You’re so wrong. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Sky reaches over and grabs your shoulders, twisting you around as well so that you’d look at him.

You look away regardless and scoff. “You’re a catch. I doubt that you’re single.”

“I.. Am very flattered but you’re still wrong.” Sky laughs a little incredulously. He can’t believe this. Is this really happening? “Believe it or not I am very single.”

“Oh.” You sniff and reach up to pinch your eyes together, trying to subtly wipe away the tears neither of you have mentioned. “I’m sorry I’m a mess. I can leave you alone if you want.”

“That’s the last thing I want.” Sky blurts and belatedly realizes that he said that out loud.

“Then what? What is it? Work with me Link, because I’m not a mind reader.” You sit a little taller and finally look at him. “What do I have to do so that you’re comfortable around me? I don’t like the feeling of there being some....kind of mine field that I’m left dancing around. I really don’t want to see it blow up on either of us.”

“There’s nothing you can do.” Sky gulps. “It has nothing to do with you. I’m the problem.”

“That’s always the answer isn’t it.” You scoff again and unfurl yourself, turning away from him. “The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ scenario.”

“It’s because... I-” Sky bites his lip and cups your cheek experimentally, putting just enough pressure to guide your face back to him but letting you fight him if you so desired. 

You don’t and you let face be held by him for a moment.

“I love you.” Sky says to you, trying to hold eye contact and will the truth into your head. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I’m sorry I’ve been such a mess. I never wanted you to feel unwanted or give off the impression that it was anything less.”

You stare at him, eyes growing comically wide.

Sky gulps at the lack of verbal reaction and tries to laugh to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work but he tries. “I uh- haha- didn’t do a very good job at hiding it, I guess.”

“Oh my god, I’ve read all the signs backwards.” You whisper.

Sky snorts and leans into your direction. “You can say that, yeah.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“You are not stupid.” He growls. “Stop calling yourself that. I’ll fight you over it.”

“And don’t want that, do I?”

“No. No you do not.”

“Ok.” You break into a grin and laugh after a second, running your hands through your hair. “Are you serious? You like me? Me? The most boring person here?”

“We’re going to have a have a long talk about this and why you can’t keep putting yourself down.” Sky frowns. “You are not stupid and you are not boring. You are intelligent and thoughtful and kind and amazing and like no one I’ve ever met. I bet I could search for a million years and I’ll never come across someone quite like you.”

“You’re going to make me cry.”

“I’ll be here to dry your tears. It’s ok.” Sky grins and places both of his palms against your cheeks.

“I love you.” You blurt and place your hand over his, turning into it to hide your blushing face behind them.

“And I love you.” Sky leans in some more and places a kiss against your forehead.

“Can I stay up with you a little more?”

“Please.”

Twilight

The postman ran into the group, almost bowling them over with an urgent letter held high. He asks if there’s any one in your group with your name and Twilight sees the despair collide onto your face.

You raise your hand and slowly take the letter away from him. You thank him with a tense and fake smile out of politeness and watch as he leaves.

You’re scared to open the letter and Twilight belatedly remembers the trouble you’ve mentioned that’s been brewing during your absence.

Twilight frowns as he watches you read the letter, each sentence apparently worse than the last.

He sees you shut down and put your walls up from the rest of the group.

Your whole demeanor changes and you don’t even finish reading the letter. The contents upset you so much that you fold it in half again and shove it in your pocket.

“Let’s go.”

Wind bite his lip. “Are you o-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You snap and head off in the direction they were going in before they paused for you to get your mail. Your steps are fast and determined, light and flighty, like you’re seconds from running or breaking out in a sprint but don’t want to make a scene.

The group exchanges multiple glances and hesitantly follow you, no one saying a word about what happened or what they think the letter said.

Twilight can guess though.

A while ago a similar letter arrived for you that also held bad news. It threw you into a funk for a few days and it took all of their combined efforts to distract you and help you feel better. It had seemed that there was some trouble back home that you could do nothing about.

He figures that this letter was sent to tell you it got worse. 

With a sigh he marches on and waits.

Twilight waits until nightfall.

The others have taken the subconscious decision to leave you alone and wait until you’re a little more sorted out. The younger ones seem to be under the impression that you’re angry- and maybe you are- and they don’t want to risk having your wrath pointed in their direction.

But Twilight has seen enough to know your look.

Time knows it. 

Warrior knows it too

And maybe if he studies for long enough, he would see Wild figure out the look as well.

You’re ready to rain absolute hell fire but you can’t. 

It upsets you and he tempted to think your fury is more out of sadness than any actual rage.

When it’s his turn to take watch and he’s sure that Four has fallen asleep again, he makes his way over to you and studies you for a moment.

He places a hand on your shoulder and shakes you lightly. “I know you’re not actually asleep.”

“Buzz off Twi.”

“Want to walk it off?” He offers. “I still have to check the perimeter. Some company would be nice.”

You sigh and let your arm fall off of your face to look in the eye. you stare at him for a moment and Twilight tries to ignore the budding bullets of sweat that begin to down his back. “...Sure.”

He smiles a bit, for your sake, because it hurts him to see you so upset still. Twilight extends his arm out for you to take and you slip your hands into his. He lifts you up with practiced ease and together to begin to walk out of the camp and around what they’ve set up as their perimeter.

Usually Twilight would take his wolf form and do the job this way but that probably would have tipped your hand since you weren’t asleep to begin with. 

“Let me guess.” You start once you’re far enough away. “You want to ask me what the letter was about. Get me to spill my heart out and tell you all my secrets and help me feel better.”

“I’d want to help you feel better regardless if you told what was in the letter or not. You don’t have to tell me anything.” Twilight admits with a slight blush on his face. “But movement always helps me think. Or if you want to think about something else for a little bit instead of the letter, we could just talk about other stuff too... Whatever you need... I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

You take a long breath from your nose and let it slowly out your mouth. “I know... I know that Link. I’m sorry.”

He’s never heard you say his name before.

Twilight doesn’t know if he hates it or not. 

I mean, he’d gladly hear you say his name, don’t get me wrong... 

But in that tone? With that level of... resignation? Despair? 

You sound like you’re about to cry.

“It’s just...” You start and stop in the middle of the trail. You press the heel of your palm harshly into your eyes- maybe you really are about to cry. “My grandma is dying.”

Oh.

“She dying, Link and I’m not there. I thought she was just sick and it would only be a matter of time until she was back on her feet but she’s not getting any better. And to make stupid matters worse....You see... between me and my grandma, we take care of Zelda, she’s my cousin, and my little brother. My dad works and sends us money but he’s never home and my mom’s not around anymore and I don’t know what to do.”

Twilight places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing experimental circles on your back for a second. When you don’t push him away he slides into your personal space and hugs you, squeezing you tightly until you let go of the stress that’s no doubt building inside of you.

You hug him back just as hard and it surprises him for a moment. “I couldn’t even finish that stupid letter. It said that... We can’t... My dad can’t come home yet and god, Twi, they’re just kids. They can’t be left alone. Link is five and Zelda is seven. There’s no one who’s going to take care of them. They’re going to take them away. They’re going to take my little brother away.”

Twilight bites his lip and can feel himself understanding the situation a little more. Kinda. Maybe. Ok no. Not really. He wants to say that someone else from your hometown can pitch in and help. That they should have been helping from the get go. It’s how it works in Ordon and it sounds like the others would be in similar boats if this was their family but from what he’s gathered your Hyrule is very different.

He doesn’t know how things work in your Hyrule and he doesn’t know who this ‘they’ is but he can guess that’s it someone (or some people) with more power than you do, especially since you’re not home right now.

He can hear it in your tone.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asks instead. He doubts it but god! How he hates to see you in pain! 

“Not unless we somehow end up in my world and we bring them with us.” You wince and hide your face in his neck. “They’re just kids Link. I... I don’t think  I’m even old enough to fight for them. They’re going to say I’m too young and that I don’t have a job... even if it’s my dad who’s been paying for all of us...I hate their stupid politics and political junction and they just want to rip away what they don’t have.”

“Who’s taking care of them right now?” Twilight cradles your head with his hand, keeping his arm tightly wrapped around your waist. “Who’s taking care of your grandma?”

“The neighbors, I think.” You sniff. “But it’s already putting a strain on them. They’re not going to hold out much longer. I won’t even be able to say goodbye to my grandma. God, this is such a mess.”

“I’m sure we’ll get the chance to fix this- there’s no way this would just happen. We’d help you. We’d all pitch in. If it does happen that we need to take them, we will. We’ll find a safe space for them. Maybe Time will lend the Ranch, I know they’d be welcome in my village and Wild’s too, maybe. You’re not alone in this, ok?”

“Would you really do that?” You tilt your head up. He nods and you nearly tear up again. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Twilight gulps and grips your tight once again. I love you, he thinks, would I even need a reason to help you?

Your grip tightens on him in return and Twilight takes a moment to try and calm his heart. “We should try to contact your dad and see if there’s any way for him to do anything-”

“Oh my god he’s going to kill me.”

“Why?”

“...”

“...”

“... He may or may not know that I’m here.”

Twilight tenses and nearly groans. “Do I even want to know why?”

“In my defense, I told my grandma. My dad... doesn’t really care about me anyway. He doesn’t really care for my brother anyway. Zelda is his favorite. It’s why she’s with us. But I am supposed to be there to help grandma... not out here... saving the world.”

Twilight sighs and shakes his head fondly. “We’ll figure something out. I promise.”

He’d take care of your family in a heartbeat if you’d let him. Twilight takes a breath. He loves you so much- if could fight all your problems away he would.

“I believe you.”

“Yeah,” Twilight lets you go and  begins to guide you back through the forest trail. “We should get going, the perimeter isn’t going to check itself.”

“What? Link wait.” You grab his bicep and pull yourself closer again. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course I do.” He smiles. “We’d all help. I know it. You don’t have to worry too much about it.”

“No I... Yes, that. Thank you but that wasn’t what I was talking about.” You shake your head and wait or him to answer, trying to will into his head what it was that you were referencing.

Twilight thinks for a moment and tilts his head. “About the ranch or my village? Malon might have her hands full if she’s willing to watch them for us but there’s plenty for them to do there. And my village has a soft spot for foundlings anyway. I’m sure they’d be overjoyed to have young children playing around again. Wild’s house in Hateno has kids their age too, so it’s another good place for them, and they’d already have the house open for them.”

“No, no, not that either.” You gulp. “A bit... a bit after that...”

“About contacting your dad?”

“No- not...” You blush deeply and begin to nervously shuffle on your feet.

It’s weird because Twilight can’t think of anything that he said that would have that reaction.

“You said you loved me.” You say in a small voice. 

Twilight then pales to hard that he’s not sure how he manages to stay on his feet. He’s almost certain he can feel the moment where his soul leaves his body.

“That you’d take care of my family, that you’d fight my problems...” You continue without knowledge of the bomb you’ve just dropped. “Do you mean it? Or am I looking too much into it? Because I’ve always thought you might have had a thing for me and but I didn’t want to be the one to read the situation wrong but if you’re saying out loud-”

“I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.”

Twilight voice does not crack when he says this.

“Oh... um..” You bite your lip. “Is it-? Am I wrong then? Did you not say that? I thought- Well, I wanted... I do like you, so I had hoped.... But if you’re not-”

“No, I do! I am! I-! URRGGHH-!” Twilight cuts himself off and ruffles his hair furiously with both of his hands. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. This is probably to lamest way you could have found out.”

He hides his face in his hands and doesn’t look up when he hears you quietly giggle. “Do you mean it though?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t look up.

He hears you approach him and refuses to meet you in the eye. He doesn’t look at you even when you gently take his hands and pull them away from his face. Even when you caress his cheek and steer him to the side. His eyes do however nearly bulge out of his head when he feels your lips on his cheek.

“I love you too then.” You smile.

“I didn’t want to lose my cool.”

“Can’t lose what you never had.” You snort and move his hair away from his forehead, admiring the blush on his cheeks and ears. “I’ll go back to camp. You finish checking up on the perimeter.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah... I should be asleep anyway.”

“Ok... Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight Link and thank you. I feel better now.”

“I’m glad.”

Hyrule

“I bet you ten rupees that you can’t make that jump.”

“I say twenty that I can.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it then.”

Hyrule smirks and takes a few steps back, letting his gaze drift just beyond the chasm and toward his target. “I’m about to be twenty rupees richer.”

“Just don’t injure yourself.” You cross your arms. “I don’t have the patience to deal with Legend’s smothering when he finds out I challenged you.”

“He’d be smothering me, not you.” He snorts.

“Yeah, but you’ll be fine.” You deadpan. “It’s not even that deep. Besides he’ll blame me for it no matter how badly you get hurt.”

“I’ll try to land safely then.”

“Not a single bruise!”

“For your sake.”

“Thank you.” You put your weight onto one foot, shifting your hip outward to watch as Hyrule takes a running start. “Don’t die.”

“I love your vote of confidence.” Hyrule snorts and leaps at the last second off of the ledge.

He jumps higher than you would have imagined him to be capable of and it stuns you completely. Hyrule for his part, lands on the other side, unharmed and on both of his feet.

He turns around with a large grin on his face and places his hands on his hips as he looks you in the eye. There’s the slight smell of magic in the air but you don’t question or notice it. “Your turn.”

Your jaw drops. “I am not doing that.”

“Come on. It’s not so bad.” He laughs and smirks at your disbelief. “I’ll call off the bet if you can make it. You know what, instead, let’s double it.”

“I can’t make that.” You screech. “You’re crazy!”

Hyrule snorts. “You’re scared~!”

“I’m not scared!”

“Scaredy cat! Scaredy cat!”

“Fine! I’ll do it!” You pout and take the few steps to the side where he took his running start. You take a breath and try to set up the same process that he did.

With your running start, you leap a little later than Hyrule did, because there’s no way you can jump as high as he did, and you can see how this is going to end.

You’re not going to make it.

Hyrule sees it too and tries to make a mad dash to the ledge with his hand out to grab you. 

Your fingertips brush against each other and Hyrule jumps at the last second to grasp your hand...

He misses.

You fall.

“NOO!” Hyrule’s voice rips through his throat and he falls right onto his chest by the ledge in some desperate attempt to catch you but it’s no use. He sees you crash into the wall, a sickening crack coming from your body and you fall down. Your knees bend as your feet make purchase on the dirt but inevitably slip and it only curls you into a ball, rolling you backwards until you eventually hit the bottom of the relatively shallow ravine.

And by shallow, I mean it’s more or less a twenty foot drop.

Survivable?

Absolutely.

Will you come out unharmed?

Well...

“I’m so dead.” Hyrule mutters to himself and gets to his feet. He dashes along the edge, trying to find a point where he can jump down safety and get back to you. It takes a total of five minute for him to find a quasi decent spot. It’s a half baked idea and he knows it but he jumped down the lesser distance and runs back in the direction he came.

You’re getting up slowly by the time he reaches you and he forces himself to go a little faster.

“I think I figured you out, you cheater.” You groan when you look up and see him. “You used your magic to make that jump.”

“Uhh...”

“What on earth made you think that I was going to do the same?”

“I over shot it? So you should have been fine?” Hyrule chuckles nervously and reaches over to brush your hair out of your face.

Blood is absolutely pouring down your face and it looks as if you have a broken nose.

“Link, I’m going to punch you.” You groan and place your hands by your nose.

“No, wait, hold on-” Hyrule gulps and places his hands on your wrists, trying to stop you.

In one fluid motion to pop your nose back onto place and sigh of relief.

Hyrule’s eye widen and he’s both horrified and impressed. 

“What?” You snap.

“I’m in love with you.”

“What?” You say again.

Hyrule’s hands fly over his mouth. “Nothing. I said nothing! You’re hearing things. Let me just- umm...”

You send his healing spell over in your direction and lets it go permeate through the space.

“Link.”

He looks away from you.

“What is wrong with you?” You furrow your eyebrows. “Don’t say something like that unless you mean it.”

Hyrule gulps and bite his lip. Because he means it.

“We don’t have to talk about this.” You sigh and let him heal you. 

Hyrule doesn’t respond and focuses on letting the spell fall against your nose and your back. 

“Rulie?” You blink and finally look at his face. “How much trouble do you think we’ll be in if we get caught? Legend will probably have both of our heads if he finds out about it.”

A moment of silence passes.

“I don’t think Time will do much about it and Twilight doesn’t have the pull he thinks he has in the group.” You continue when he doesn’t reply, nervously shifting in your spot as Hyrule works. “Warrior will probably keep on a tighter leash than usual though.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting the spell fall. Hyrule feels a little drained after using as much magic has he already has but he can’t help but feeling a little miffed. 

“Link, please say something.” 

“I meant it.” He’s barely able to hold back the scowl because he knows he’s not that impressive and you’re so amazing that there’s not way in this green earth that you’re not already taken. So of course, you’d just assume that he’s being fresh and brush him off.

“What?”

“I meant it.” He looks your way. “I wasn’t joking.”

“Uhhh..”

Hyrule huffs a bit when he see that you don’t understand him yet. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now.”

You still and he can see you gulp slightly. “Oh.”

Hyrule feels like a child and he leans away from you, falling onto his back. “Anything still hurt?”

“Um... No...” You shift your weight again and grip your wrist. “I feel a lot better now. Thank you.”

“Good.” Hyrule stands and reach out for you to take his hand. “We should head back to the others.”

“Hyrule.”

“They’re going to start getting worried about us.”

“Link.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” You bite your lip and and stop him from going any further. “Are you serious? Did you mean it mean it? Because I didn’t want to discredit-”

He sighs and grips your hand a little tighter and brings it up to his lips. Hyrule places a delicate feather like kiss on your knuckles and lowers it just enough to study your hand in his. “It’s fine. I doubt your partner would appreciate it anyway if I were to just-”

“I don’t have a partner...” You gulp and grip his tighter in reply. “I’m not in a relationship. I didn’t... I’m not trying to-”

“Forget it.” He smiles a little falsely. “Like you said, we don’t need to talk about it.”

“Oh.... Oh Link...” You frown and step into his personal space, placing both of your hand on his shoulders.

“I don’t need your pity. It’s fine.” He rolls his eyes and tries to pull away from you.

“No, please, not like this...” You stop him and hug him tightly. “I love you too! I panicked when you said that! Don’t- don’t shut me out! Please.”

“What happened to not saying that unless you mean it?”

“Liiinnkk...” You groan and place your face into the crook his neck.

Hyrule doesn’t deny how nice it feels to have you hold him. Slowly, he raises his arms to wrap them around you as well. You’re warm and your heart beat is strong even with your layers and armor. He takes a breath and is assaulted by your smell. It strangely reminds him of vanilla and cinnamon with freshly churned dirt and morning dew thrown into the mix. An odd combination but he finds that it’s pleasant.

“God, I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I panicked. I swear I panicked.” You nuzzle into him and he won’t deny the way his heart flutters as you do so.

“Calm down. It’s ok.”

“It really isn’t!”

“It is because I say so.” Hyrule snorts and rests his head against yours. 

“Do you really think the others are looking for us?”

“Maybe. But I don’t think we actually have to go back just yet.”

“Then stay here? With me?”

“Yes.” Hyrule sighs of contentment and begins to sway with you back and forth. “I’d love nothing more.”

[smxmuffinpeddling]

The first time Benja officially met the infamous Princess Namaari (infamous through his daughter’s repeated grumblings about said princess of Fang), she placed a blade in front of him with her head bowed. Her face is somber and her strong shoulders weighed down by an invisible force.

Chief Benja had sensed this sort of presence before from old warriors or generals that have overseen countless battles. More recently he has caught this presence on his daughter in moments where she thinks he isn’t observing the woman she has become. It made him sad to see these haunting expressions on people so young. The princess of Fang appeared to be burdening herself with more ghosts than most.

“And what would you have me do with this, Princess Namaari,” Benja asked in his most patient tone as he eyed the blade placed on the ground before him. He had a sneaking suspicion based on rumors and Raya’s own stilted recaps of what transpired before and after he was turned to stone. There was a lot to process, but Benja could only make judgments based on what he could see before him.

“As the Chief of Heart, you have the power to punish war criminals,” Namaari responded, eyes still on the ground. Chief Benja sighed from deep within his bones and set aside the tea he brought to share when the princess requested a private meeting with him. She continued, “The talks of peace would go much smoother if the people of Heart received justice for the wrongdoings committed against them by Fang. It would mean the most coming from you.”

“And you think the best way to do this is to offer yourself up for persecution?”

“Healing can't begin if the other tribes feel Fang hasn't paid the price," Namaari reasoned, almost casually. As if she wasn’t offering her young life to him on a platter. "If it helps the people of Fang… of Kumandra,” Namaari corrected herself, resigned to the fate she envisioned for herself. “Then yes.”

“Does Raya know you are here?” Benja inquired out of curiosity. Namaari’s gaze snapped to his for the first time. They held gazes for a moment, guilt creeping up in Namaari’s expression as she looked away.

“No, she doesn’t.”

Chief Benja hummed to himself, stroking his beard in thought. "What you say is not without merit." He busied his hands by setting out the cups for tea. It would be a waste to let it grow cold after all. "I admit, I have been approached by some of my people regarding this very topic.”

Namaari nodded, unsurprised. “Would you prefer to do it publicly then?” Her shoulders seemed to slump even more at the thought.

Benja couldn’t help chuckling morbidly as he poured tea into two cups. “Now you’re just laying it on thick.”

Her brows knit together and her mouth twisted, ignoring the cup he offered her. “I’m serious about this, Chief Benja.”

He responded with a look conveying that he was taking her gravely seriously. “Drink. I made it myself.”

The princess seemed to notice the offering for the first time and accepted it hesitantly. He politely took a sip first and she followed. He allowed his Fang guest to breathe for a moment. “What do you think?”

“I think I should pay for the hurt I’ve caused,” Namaari was quick to answer.

“About the tea, Princess Namaari,” he corrected with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh.” If the princess deflated anymore in front of him, she’ll blow off on the breeze before their meeting concluded. “It’s excellent.”

The smile on his face grew warmer. “Glad to hear it.” They continued to sip until he poured them a second cup.

“Raya told me that you came together to save Kumandra.”

“I did not make it easy for her,” Namaari said, the tea turning bitter on her tongue.

"You were only a child."

"Not the second time," Namaari confessed with a pained expression. The tightness of her knuckles threatened to shatter the cup in her grasp.

He reached for the sword and she straightened at the gesture. The sword matched the one on her other hip. Beautifully balanced, and a lot lighter than what he was accustomed to, he held it respectfully in both of his palms.

“To hate and blame is the easy path. The hardest thing is change and forgiveness.” Namaari’s eyes widened in surprise when he handed the sword back to her. She took it instinctively, a frown pulling the corners of her mouth down.

“Princess Namaari, the punishment you seek will not be carried out by me.”

“I don’t understand,” Namaari protested.

“You know what I see when I look at you?” Benja’s gentle expression crinkled his eyes. The look on her face made it clear she expected insults and then some. “Someone who understands better than most the consequences of their actions. Of how important it is to our people that we come together or we’d fall apart. When I look at you I see hope.”

“Hope?” Namaari tilted her head as if the concept eluded her.

“Hope that the future of Kumandra will be safe in the hands of someone who changed, and grew. Kumandra was a dream of mine, one I realized might have been a naive one that night,” he admitted. “The real work comes now, and we need examples like you to inspire hope in others and lead.”

Namaari opened her mouth to say something but she merely looked down into her reflection on the sword instead, eyes growing wetter. He could see her cheek jump from her gritting teeth and he reached out to lightly grasp her shoulder.

“That is what dragons do,” he made sure to look into her eyes reassuringly. “They inspire light in humans to be better, and in turn, that light spreads to others. I will not extinguish the light growing in you, Princess.”

At that moment, the Fang warrior simply looked like a little girl again, barely holding in her overwhelming emotions. “But how will I atone for my mistakes?” Namaari whispered, lost.

Benja squeezed her burdened shoulder before leaning back, finding his tea grew cold. “My daughter has already passed judgment on you, and I trust her.” His pleasant smile turned into a sly grin. “And something tells me she would not be too happy if she found out you came to me for your punishment.”

At that, Princess Namaari finally made a sound of amusement and her gaze grew a little warmer at the thought. “I suspect not.” The sword was fastened back to her hip and her shoulders did not look as heavy as they did when she approached him. Hands forming a circle, she bowed towards the Chief of Heart and muttered a shy thanks.

The second time Chief Benja met Princess Namaari, her hand rested on her blade’s hilt as they stared each other down.

“I think you have some explaining to do, Princess Namaari.” His grin was sharp, particularly enjoying this. She did not look as amused as he did.

“I’m sorry, Chief Benja,” Namaari’s grip grew white-knuckled but her resolve flashed in her eyes. “But... I’m in love with your daughter,” she said it like it was her greatest sin to date. A sin she looked ready to die for.

Earlier that day as Benja was taking a stroll through Heart’s gardens in a rare moment to himself, he stumbled across quite the sight. He spotted his daughter in an intimate embrace with the princess of Fang. He was surprised but managed to not make a noise, slowly backing up to allow them privacy. However, before he could slip away, he locked eyes with Namaari over Raya’s shoulder. He might’ve laughed at the size her eyes grew in panic, but he was already gone. He felt glad that his daughter was letting others into her heart, even as he tried to push the image from his mind.

The princess evidently did not forget, charging up towards his sanctum with determined steps.

“I know you’ll want my head for daring to overstep my welcome in your home. But I’m serious about her and I don’t care if you doubt my intentions. I won’t ever back down again when it comes to her!” she declared fiercely.

Benja finally broke character when a laugh escaped him and he gave into it. Namaari was visibly confused that Raya’s father wasn’t trying to strangle her right now as he doubled over laughing. It took a few seconds for him to calm down, facing the young woman while wiping a tear from his eye.

“Have you told Raya that you love her?” he asked with genuine curiosity. Namaari’s demeanor quickly changed, from ready for a fight, to flushed and stammering.

“I- no. Not yet.”

A few stray chuckles were still escaping him as he moved towards his weapons chest. “You should. And all that other stuff you just said.”

“You’re… not angry with me?” the other woman sounded surprised. He perused through his collection in an unhurried fashion.

“I’ve told you before that I trust my daughter’s judgment.” He selected one of his new swords made for him after his daughter inherited his last one. “Though there was always one thing that bothered me.”

Namaari brought her guard up again at those words, taking a fighting stance once Benja made a few test swings with his new sword. “What would that be?”

“Raya once told me you were the most skilled fighter she’s ever faced.” His shoulders popped as he rolled them, loosening his muscles. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper challenge besides my daughter, and I’d like to remind her who the fiercest warrior in her life is,” he said with a confident grin.

Namaari visibly gulped but she squared up, drawing her dual-wielded swords to face him. And he felt proud of the fire he saw in her, glad that his daughter chose someone who was not only willing to die for her but to live for her.

The next time Chief Benja and Princess Namaari met in secret, thankfully there were no blades involved. They were sipping tea together in companionable silence, though the Heart Chief could tell the woman was nervous about something.

It wasn’t often she was nervous anymore. Over the years she’s grown to be a capable and charismatic leader, accepting the love that was given to her and giving love in return. Intricate Visayan tattoos spread over her arms and shoulders highlighting the assured way she carried her burdens. Her hair, once asymmetrical, was evenly shorn on both sides of her head, with the hair on top braided down the center. (Raya had told him in her smuggest tone that Namaari mimicked women she admired, even while Raya stared at her beloved from across the room with her dopiest grin. They were so in love Benja had to laugh at their expense.)

“Jade for your thoughts,” he nudged before she lost herself in her thoughts.

She put her cup down and cleared her throat. “Chief Benja,” she started before he waved at her formalness.

“That's Benja to you,” he reminded her not for the first time.

“Chief Benja,” she stubbornly asserted with a smirk. He smirked back. “You’ve always been kind to me. More than I deserved at times, and I have nothing but respect for you.” She took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with him. “It would be the greatest honor of my life if you extended another kindness and allowed me your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Benja regarded her, feeling misty-eyed and bursting with sentiments. His little girls have grown up so fast.

Namaari continued, growing nervous at his silence once more. “In return, I can offer fifty serlot kittens, copies of Fang’s most sacred dragon scrolls, and as much gold and metal every cart in Fang can hold, as well as-” Benja cut her off with a deep laugh and a hand on her shoulder.

“Does Raya know you’re here?” he inquired with a raised brow. This time, she matched his smile.

“She does, actually,” Namaari tilted her head knowingly towards the door, where they promptly heard a muted curse and feet hurriedly walking away at being caught. They shared a chuckle at Raya’s antics.

“Namaari,” Benja’s voice dripped with pride. “There is no one else in Kumandra I trust more with my daughter’s heart.” Namaari’s eyes widened at his words. Even after all these years of fighting for approval, she was still surprised when it was imparted to her. “You have my blessing.” He raised his glass in a toast to them. “I’m only surprised it took you so long to ask!”

Namaari was as relieved and light as he’s ever seen her, glowing from the inside out. “For a long time, I didn’t feel worthy of her. I still don’t sometimes, but…” She placed a hand over her heart. “She still wants me, and I think that’s finally enough.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Benja approved warmly. He rubbed his beard suddenly as a thought occurred to him. “Oh, because I suspect you’ve been dying to hear me say this,” Benja’s expression went from overjoyed to deadly serious in the span of a breath. “If you hurt my daughter I’ll kill you.”

Namaari was surprised for a moment before she smiled gratefully. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” They clinked their cups together in agreement.

[mieohmy]

𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗋 | 𝗃𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝗐𝗈𝗈

PAIRING: CEO boss! jeon wonwoo x secretary! reader 

GENRE: fluff, angst, humor, office au

WC: 5k (whoops got carried away- i mean its wonwoo)

NOTES: mentions of death, depression 

SUMMARY: you loved being a secretary, the work and stress included. but your ‘stone cold’ boss was really testing your limits in more ways than one. alternatively, who knew mighty CEO jeon wonwoo was such a softie?

update: part two can be found here !

update 2: final part → here 

❋

“Yes, sir. Also, the opening ceremony is today at 7pm. Would you like me to set up your chauffeur?” The man nods. “Yes, make sure to finish the layout for tomorrow. And the catalog by Thursday. That’s all, you’re dismissed.” You bow politely before turning and exiting his office. 

You take two steps forward before displaying a scowl and muttering, “never get a break. not even a thank you. just wait, jeon wonwoo, one day i-“ “Y/n!” A voice snaps you out of your trance, spotting Seungkwan walking your way. 

Greeting him, you ask, “What’s up?” “We’re getting food tonight. Team dinner at 7. Can you make it?” he says. You sigh before replying apologetically, “Sorry.... boss wants me to finish something up for tomorrow.” 

Seungkwan taps his feet in disapproval. “The CEO is still giving you more work? When will that man ever let you have a break?” You grit your teeth, attempting to smile. Seungkwan stares at the CEO's office. 

“Y/n, you work the hardest out of all of us, and you have to deal with him every day. If there’s anyone who deserves a rest, it’s you. Our team’s planning on going to the beach on the weekend since we have Friday off. You should join us. It’ll be really fun!“

Contemplating for a moment, you’re about to accept before you suddenly remember what Friday is, eyes widening. Turning to Seungkwan, you smile sadly. “I really-like you don’t even know-really want to go, but I have something really important on Friday. I’m so sorry.” He nods, reassuring you it’s fine. “Well, you can join us on Saturday then!” 

You bow, biting your lip as you continue on. You totally forgot what day Friday was. 

❋

The rest of your shift was rough. Wonwoo, AKA your horrible boss, didn’t seem to want to give you a break. The past few weeks had been very tightly packed with the upcoming debut, and although you understood it was very important, sometimes it felt like your boss didn’t know you were human too. 

Waking up at 5 am, driving to his place and setting up, and then getting to work was exhausting. Not to mention the late nights working on assignments. It all came with being a secretary, but recently, you didn’t know if you could keep going. Maybe it had something to do with your boss’s attitude as well. 

Jeon Wonwoo, CEO of one of the largest writing and printing companies. Exactly how you expect. Handsome, cold, quiet. You’re pretty sure he’s rejected more than a hundred women who attempted to ask him out. What did he even do for fun? Lame word searches?

When you first started working as his secretary, you had at least one breakdown a day. Everything you did was wrong, Wonwoo’s ‘redo it again’, echoing in your mind. He never cared about your feelings, just your work. You needed the job to help your family since it had good pay, and your siblings were focused on school. So it was up to you to provide for your family that you weren’t even close with.

You and your coworkers loved to complain about wonwoo’s cold attitude and the workload he gave out. Sure he was handsome, but it didn’t matter to you since his attitude was such a shutdown. You blamed him for not having a social life or a boyfriend, but of course, he didn’t care. 

That just made you want to work even harder. You stayed up countless nights practicing, studying to be perfect. Until Wonwoo tolerated you. Everyone knew you as Jeon Wonwoo’s longest secretary. It wasn’t easy work, but it made you feel proud, and you were able to push through working for him. 

At least before recently. Wonwoo was extremely busy with the preparations, and so were you. You understood, he was stressed, but was taking it out on you okay? You really contemplated quitting, but this time of the year was extremely important, so you would have to wait until after the new debut passed. I mean, you were kind enough to start the resignation after finishing the event, unlike another person you knew.

Wonwoo calls you into his office late that night, the floor almost empty. You walk in, carrying the same tea you always brought at the now perfected temperature. Setting it down, you bow before asking, “you called for me, Mr. Jeon?” You can tell he’s frustrated by his ruffled hair and wrinkled collar. Your fingers itch, wanting to fix it. 

“Finish the chart for tomorrow. I want you to adjust my schedule since father’s coming by. Cancel everything before 10.” You tense, feeling the frustration course through you. “But sir, I already got all the-“ “I don’t care, change it. You can go now.” You tightly bow and leave, fuming in anger. 

❋

You’re not surprised you only got three hours of sleep. It was a regular thing these days. Groaning, you get ready as usual like every day, the schedule drilled into your brain. You grab a shirt, frowning as you remember the one time Mr. Jeon called your fashion taste revolting and ordered you to a complete wardrobe change. 

It was finally Friday, the day you were anticipating the whole week. Also the one day you got off from work early and seeing Mr. Jeon’s face. You couldn’t wait until 5 when you were done and could prepare for later. The whole week was awful, you’re pretty sure you looked like a raccoon with the amount of sleep you got. 

You’re typing furiously at your desk when Seokmin comes by. His footsteps alert you. “Oh, hey Seokmin. What’s up?” He grins. “Did Seungkwan tell you about what we’re doing later today?” You attempt to smile. “Yeah, I’m sorry I can’t make it. I’m busy later. Can’t wait to get off.” He claps, rubbing his hands together. “It’s alright. Don’t work too hard.” 

You smile, winking. “Don’t worry. And try not to have too much fun without me!” The buzzing on your desk interrupts you, causing you to groan. “What does he want now?”

Walking in, you find Wonwoo signing documents. He doesn’t even look up as he says, “I need you to complete the finalizing documents right now.” You pause, processing the information. “Wait, but those will take me at least four hours. My shift ends in one.” 

He finally looks up, face devoid of any emotion. “Well, that’s your job. You’re expected to do it.” You feel your heart speed up, tightening your hands into fists. You respond shakily, “I’m sorry sir, but there’s something really important I have to do tonight. I can get Mr. Lee to finish it. Can’t you let me go this once?” 

“But why? You’re supposed to do what I ask?” His voice sounds annoyed, bored even. You scoff, feeling your eyes burn. “Those last couple of weeks I’ve been doing everything you asked, even more. Don’t you think I deserve a break?” 

“You signed up to be my secretary. What kind of breaks do you expect? Things are very tense with the new debut now, so don’t expect me to take pity and let you go just because you did what I said,” Wonwoo retorts.

That was it.

You hated yourself. You hated yourself for snapping. But at the same time, you didn’t. 

You slam your papers on the table, shaking. “I work basically 24/7, every day, running errands for you and doing everything you tell me.” Your voice cracks, and you feel hot tears run down your face. 

“And you don’t even have the respect to treat me like a human being? I wake up immediately thinking about what you’re going to make me do for the rest of the day.” A sob escapes you. 

Wiping your tears angrily, you continue to stare at him with wide, furious eyes. “I go to sleep thinking about what I have to do for you the next day. But you don’t even thank me. Not once. No appreciation when I try to impress you and go above and beyond. And then you won’t even let me have one break? I don’t even get vacations or holidays off!”

You sniffle, body shaking, as you let the words sink in. “I signed up to be a secretary, not disrespected.” And with that, you walk out with tears pouring down your face, grabbing as much of your stuff as you can and leaving, ignoring the shocked whispers and startled questions.  

❋

Once you get home, you slap yourself. What did you just do? What did you just say to your boss? Oh god, ex-boss now. You’re dead. Officially. You feel numb like you just watched a confusing movie and were trying to process everything. 

You want to bury yourself in the ground. Or become a rock. That’d be way nicer than being yourself right now. 

But you have to continue on. You don’t even care if you’re going out wearing sweats and a hoodie. He wouldn’t care. After buying everything, you drive to the spot. You pass blurs, barely paying attention as you blankly stare at the road. 

Once you get out, you feel the drops, glancing up. You didn’t realize it was raining while you were driving. You let the water pour over you, making your way to the familiar stone.

Stopping in front, you sink to your knees. 

“Dad...I’m so sorry I’m late. Can you believe I basically threw a tantrum in front of my boss? Well, ex-boss?” Laughing weakly, you wipe the tears you didn’t notice had run down your face. “I don’t have a job anymore, that’s for sure.” 

You look around, your whole body soaked now. Softly, you arrange the flowers neatly in front of his grave. “Are you still proud of me dad?” You smile weakly, adjusting yourself comfortably on the cold wet ground. “I’m so sorry... happy anniversary, still. Another year passed. How are you?” 

���

You spend days at home, never leaving your bed, only allowing yourself to mope about your life. Your phone is spammed with texts and calls. Probably from coworkers, you figured. You didn’t have enough energy to respond. 

You sighed for the millionth time. Everyone had probably heard about your childish rant in wonwoo's office. How could you let yourself break like that? No one had contacted you and deemed you officially fired, but you knew it the moment you opened your mouth. Maybe finally going outside and getting snacks would cheer you up. 

Cringing, you saw yourself in the mirror. Just like someone who got broken up with by their partner. I mean, it’s not like you had a job anymore or anyone to impress, so you just shrugged and went out for the first in a while.

Entering the store, you walk down an aisle, glancing at the options. You’re squatting, choosing between banana or strawberry when you spot movement in the corner of your vision. It’s just a man looking at the ice cream, but it’s what he’s wearing that catches your attention. 

You raise an eyebrow. Who goes to a mart in a full suit and tie like that? Scoffing internally, you bite the inside of your cheek. Ha, he looks like- The man suddenly turns, and you can never mistake that face. 

BEKDJRE WHAT IS MR. JEON DOING HERE?? You whip your head back, hoping, praying, that he doesn’t recognize you in your horrible clothes. Your heart pounding loudly, you stand up, deciding just to get the heck out of there before-

Oh ****. Why does he have to stand right next to you? 

You internally freak out, don’t make eye contact I swear to god y/n if you do you’ll- 

“What do you recommend? Melon or banana?” You recognize his deep voice and freeze. Is he talking to you? Maybe he doesn’t know who you are??

Facing away from him, you respond in a croaky, low voice. “U-uh banana?” You catch him nodding in the corner of your eye. 

Time to escape. You turn, briskly walking away until a hand abruptly grabs your wrist, preventing you from leaving. Panicking, you don’t move, not wanting to expose your identity. What does this man want??

The hand on your wrist doesn’t loosen, instead, it tightens and spins you around until you’re face to face with him. Your now-former boss, Jeon Wonwoo. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have an angry look on his face. Instead, he simply says, “Y/n, I know it’s you. It seemed like you when you walked in. And the fact that you chose banana instead of melon for me because you know I hate melon confirms it.” 

You open your mouth before lamely responding, “Could’ve been a lucky guess?” 

❋

 You would’ve never expected yourself to be outside a grocery mart at 1 am with jeon wonwoo.

Awkwardly shuffling on your feet, you watched as wonwoo paid for your treats. He insisted on it for some reason, and you knew you couldn’t beat him when he looked at you with that face. Chills ran down your spine whenever you thought about it.

When he finishes, you walk side by side out the door, a silence between the two of you. You wait a couple seconds before you can’t take it anymore. 

You quickly fall to your knees in front of him, head down as you plead, “Please forgive me, Mr. Jeon. I-I didn’t mean anything I said. I was just extremely stressed- I completely understand if you never want to see my face again, although I’m not sure why you confronted me today and bought stuff for me but it doesn’t matter anymore- It was completely rude of me, and I just hope you’ll accept my apology.” Finishing your ramble, you keep your head bowed and eyes squeezed shut as you await his response. 

You almost don’t notice it, it was so gentle. Wonwoo’s hand slowly reaches forward and tilts your chin up, and you don’t realize your heart speeding up. He squats in front of you, his face seems surprisingly amused. 

You would’ve never expected the words that came out of his mouth next, either.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I realized the workload I put on you, and it wasn’t wrong of you to burst out on me. I’m afraid I’m not good with words, but after you disappeared, I realized how much you do for the office. Truly, I appreciate your hard work. Hopefully, you can come back to work once you feel fit.” 

You stare at him, processing the words that the CEO of one of the biggest printing companies just said. 

You stay still, eyes still boring into his until you’re finally able to break out of it. You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off. You breathe a sigh of relief, muttering, “thank you for not firing me.” You clap your hand over your mouth, surprised eyes moving to look at wonwoo. 

You watch as wonwoo’s lips slowly turn up, letting out a quiet chuckle. You blink. Did he just laugh? Like fr? Oh my god, you have to tell Seungkwan. His voice interrupts you. “I should drive you back to your place, it’s getting late.” 

Your eyes widen in shock. Shaking your head, you reply, “oh no, it’s fine. I’ll walk home. It’s not far.” He insists, and of course, you aren’t able to say no. 

It’s an awkward drive as you direct your boss to your apartment. Once you arrive, you quickly thank him, and he smiles. What the-

“Well, I hope to see you soon at work, secretary y/n.”

You can only nod, dumbfounded. You had never seen him smile before, and it was kinda nice.

You numbly wave goodbye as he drives off, entering your apartment and crashing into bed. 

❋

After two days, you’re back in action. The second the elevator doors open, a swarm of people rushed up to you. You stand there as people begin talking, asking questions. You feel like a celebrity being interviewed by paparazzi.

You take a step forward, pushing past everyone. It didn’t feel right to have to answer their questions. You settle at your office, politely asking people to stop asking. Eventually, the crowd leaves.

You’re unpacking the stuff you took home in a blaze of anger when you hear footsteps approach. Sighing, you turn around. “I’m sorry, I don’t- ..Dokyeom?” 

“Y/n!!! What the frick happened? All we know is that you stormed out of the building and didn’t come back for a week!! And with our project, things were going crazy without you...”

Grimacing, you say, “I know, I know, I’m sorry.  It’s stupid, but I’m back for real now. Promise.  I’ll explain it all later, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” 

Dokyeom sighs, giving you one last ‘you better not forget’ before leaving you. 

It takes hours, but you’re finally able to get wonwoo’s schedule up to date. You check the time. Shoot. Wonwoo usually expects tea at this time.

You quickly run over to the drink station, hoping no one comes up to you. You glance around, mostly everyone’s focused on their work and staring at their computer screens. 

You’re pouring the hot water when a familiar voice calls your name. Turning, Wonwoo comes into view. You immediately jump, causing the hot water to splash onto your hand. 

Letting out a hiss of pain, you drop the cup. The sound alerts the workers in the room, most beginning to notice your presence. 

Wonwoo quickly walks over to you, gently taking your hands in his. “Are you alright?” You gape at him, and you’re pretty sure everyone else in the room is dumbfounded too. Whispers immediately break out. 

You snatch your hands from him and quickly bow. “I’m fine, thank you, sir.” Forgotten tea, you dash to the bathroom. Huffing, you place your hands on the sink.

What happened to your boss and why do you kinda like it? The feeling of his warm hands over yours causes you to shiver. You punch the sink, grumbling. 

“Ughh seriously, what’s wrong with this guy?  I yell at him and suddenly he becomes this nice guy? And then in front of everyone too?”

❋

It doesn’t stop after that. For days, jeon wonwoo would somehow make his way to you and act all nice. Sometimes in front of others, and sometimes when it’s just you two in his office. You would always feel hot and nervous afterward randomly. 

It began spreading around the office. What happened to CEO Jeon and why did he become so nice to you? You heard some of the rumors, ‘probably slept together’ ‘did they find out some juicy secret about him? ..’

It was annoying, but you tried to ignore it. You were able to explain everything to doykeom and seungkwan. They were the only ones who knew about the late-night grocery mart trip and wonwoo’s sudden kindness. 

You wanted to confront him, really. And you tried, but he would just say it was because you were his secretary that worked so hard for so long. 

You wanted it to stop. You wanted it to stop cause you liked this side of him, and you didn’t want to admit it.

❋

It all changed one day when you received a text at work. From a number that you didn’t recognize. At first. 

After reading it, you immediately shot up from your desk. Wonwoo came from his office, walking over to you, but you hurriedly made an excuse and ran out, leaving him surprised. 

Groaning, you noticed the rain. Perfect timing... You braced yourself and ran through the pouring rain. You had to get there, no matter what. You were soaked, gasping for air, once you reached the stone. 

They left. You stood there, staring down at it. 

It was just you and the rain.

Until it wasn’t, anymore. You look up. It’s a black... umbrella? Spinning around, you come face to face with a suit. An extremely familiar one.

“M-mr. jeon?” He’s holding the umbrella and staring at you, but it feels like he’s looking into your soul. 

You blink, eyes flicking down to the wet ground. It’s silent until he speaks up. “Why did you suddenly come here? Y/n?” 

You slowly turn back to look at the plaque. “This is where my dad is,” you softly say. There’s a pause before wonwoo responds, “I’m so sorry.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t have to be sorry. This is why I blew up last Friday. I was supposed to be here that day.” You feel wonwoo tense next to you. 

Before he can say anything, you face him. “It still doesn’t excuse my behavior. But.. why did you follow me?” He fumbles a bit before replying, “it was raining.. it wouldn’t be safe for you to go alone.” 

You laugh, a pleasant sound ringing in wonwoo’s ears before saying, “thank you. And, I came here because of my family. You might not have known this, but I got this job to help them. After my father died, my mother became depressed and my siblings couldn’t do anything. So I had to get a job to support them.” 

You bitterly smile before continuing, “I’m not even close with them. I was too busy working, and my mother was too busy moping. My siblings are busy with school, and I never see them anymore. It’s gotten to the point where I just pay their bills and don’t even speak to them. Ha, they finally contacted me to say they were gonna visit him today, can you believe it? And I missed them. As usual.” 

Wonwoo looks down at his feet. “I never knew that about you... You’ve been working for me for years, and I didn’t know that.” 

You shift. “What about you?” He turns to you, surprised. “Me?” You nod, “your family?” Wonwoo shuffles closer to you, causing you to unconsciously swallow. 

“Well, I’m not very close with my family either. It was all work, preparing me to take over the business. I mostly grew up alone... and I didn’t really have many close relationships. Uh- well, you can most likely tell. Everyone in the office probably can too.” 

You glance at him. He’s going back into his shell. The one he would always go into when he was stressed, scared, alone. You hesitate. “That’s okay, you don’t have to be close to everyone. It doesn’t hurt to be a little kinder, though. Not to be rude, but a lot of people in the office are.... a bit scared of you? To be honest, we were all a bit shocked when you started caring more. I was surprised. Um- but i-in a good way.” 

Wonwoo stares at you with wide eyes as you focus back on the stone. A comfortable silence fills the air between the two of you. Standing there, hearing the sound of the pouring drops. 

As the rain falls harder, you feel as if you have too.

❋

There’s an understanding, a deeper one between you and wonwoo after that day. You feel like you know him, even if it’s only a little more. 

The CEO suddenly turns into a completely different person. To others, he may still seem like a cold boss, but to you, wonwoo’s an endearing introvert who’s obsessed with cats. 

You were shocked, to say the least when wonwoo comes by your desk and shoves a phone in your face. You flinch before opening your eyes and staring at the screen.  “Mr. Jeon..... why are you showing me a picture of a cat?” 

“It’s cute. Isn’t it?” Laughing, you cover your mouth to hide a smile. “Yes sir, it sure is.” 

He continues to show more of himself, and you find yourself falling deeper. For someone who you never expected.  He has such a cold exterior to people around you, but once it’s just you two, he turns into such a softie. 

Seungkwan confronts you one day. “Y/n, you have to explain. What is happening between you and CEO jeon??” You shake your head in response, but you feel heat creep up your neck. 

“Seungkwannn, I told you already. He just helped me out, and I guess, I understand him a bit better now. He’s not bad, seriously.” 

He lets out a small tch! “A week ago you were complaining about his nasty personality, and now you’re saying he’s not bad?”

You whine, clinging to his side. “Ahh, seriously I said it was nothing. Why won’t you believe me??” Someone clears their throat. 

You and seungkwan turn. It’s wonwoo who else would it be. Immediately, seungkwan bows. “Sir!!” Wonwoo stands there, face passive. “Secretary y/n, come to my office.” 

Seungkwan shoots you a look, leaving you to shrug and follow the CEO.

He offers you a seat, and you sit on the plush couch, waiting.

He shifts in his seat awkwardly, and you raise an eyebrow. “Why did you call me in, Mr. Jeon?” 

He coughs before muttering, “are you close with him? Mr. Boo?” “You mean seungkwan? Oh, he’s my friend, that’s all. Why do you want to know? Are you jealous?” you tease.

But wonwoo only scratches his head. You’re about to apologize for going too far with the joke, but you can’t even respond after what he says. “Well, of course, I am. Cause I’m interested in you.” 

Your mouth drops open. “What did you just say?” He looks at you, a serious expression on his face. “I want to go out with you. Truly.” 

Heart beating faster, you internally panic. He just asked you out? He’s interested in you? What is going on? 

“So? What’s your answer?” You snap out of it, glancing back at your boss, nervously shaking his leg. I mean, you enjoyed his presence. But he was your boss, the supposed cold and scary Jeon Wonwoo.. and also the one who still managed to infiltrate your mind.

“Um, yes. I will go out with you.”

❋

You find out and learn more and more sides to him. They all cause your heart to flutter harder and harder. He’s no longer just your boss, he’s someone you can trust, confide in. 

You begged wonwoo not to tell anyone. All the dates happening in secret. Wonwoo was upset, originally. He wanted to tell people, to show you were his, but you firmly insisted on keeping it quiet. If people in the office found out, you would never hear the end of it. 

You walk into wonwoo’s office one morning, carrying the itinerary for the week. Once he sees you, his eyes light up. He walks over to you, grabbing the file and throwing it on the desk somewhere. 

You stare at him with wide eyes as he strides over to you, wrapping his arms around your body. There’s a second of peace and content, but you interrupt him, tensing and saying, “wonwoo- someone might see us.” 

Even as you continue to shift and glance around to check, he sighs and rests his head on top of yours. “Secretary, can’t you just relax for a second? We’ve been working so much, we need a break.” 

Letting out a huff, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace. “Two more minutes,” you mumble. Wonwoo leans down, so his face is inches from yours, a small grin displayed. You smile back, knowing what he wants. 

You lean in, placing your lips on his. His mouth moves hungrily on yours, causing you to make a small sound of surprise. 

Then there’s suddenly a knock, and you hear the door open. “CEO Jeon?” 

You fly under his desk, squeezing your eyes shut and praying whoever it was didn't see you.

You wait there, attempting to muffle your breathing and keep still. You recognize the voice, it’s Mr. Choi Seungcheol. Vice President of the company. Why did he have to come at the worst time? 

You hear the distinct sounds of their conversation for what seems to be forever before Mr. Choi finally bids him goodbye. Your body slumps in relief, waiting to get out from under his desk until you hear seungcheol suddenly speak again. 

“Also, why is secretary y/l/n under your desk? I see their feet sticking out.” You silently curse yourself. Slowly and very ungracefully, you maneuver your way from under the desk. Standing up, you quickly smooth your clothes and hair. “Oh, ha, Mr. Choi. I had no idea you here. Um- well, you see...” 

You quickly look at Wonwoo and back to Mr. Choi. Stammering, you finally say, “Mr. Jeon thought he saw a coach roach and called me in. Must’ve just imagined it.” You nervously laugh as wonwoo sheepishly nods in agreement. 

Finally, he leaves the two of you, and you sit on the couch, biting your lip as you examine wonwoo’s expression. 

“Was the coach roach your best excuse?”

You cringe. “I’m sorry-! I couldn’t think of anything else. Do you think he saw?” 

Wonwoo shrugs, sitting next to you. “Is it so bad for him to see?” he speaks quietly.

You face him, aghast. “No! It’s just, you know how it is... if everyone knew. They’d misunderstand, think I’m using you or something.” 

Your body freezes as you turn to face him. “Wait- you don’t think I’m using you... right?” 

Wonwoo quickly shakes his head. “No, I know you y/n. You would never do that. I’m just afraid. That you’ll leave me because I’m too quiet, or too busy with work or-..” 

You smile at him softly.

“You know I love you?” He stares at you, shocked. You had never said it to each other before, but you truly meant it. 

Reaching for his hand, you intertwine it with yours. “Did you know I thought about quitting my job before? When we were debuting the showcase. It was so stressful that I really was gonna leave.” You feel his hand grip yours tighter, so you continue.

“But you know I'll never leave you, right? I won’t ever leave you alone.” Nudging him, you add playfully, “that means you’re stuck with me forever.” 

Wonwoo laughs- a short deep sound. 

“I’m okay with that, cause I’m in love with you too.” 

 author note: i actually wanted to write more but got lazy...  im conflicted if i should add to the story or leave it as it is :\\\\ 

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 67]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Got many things to do today, though I do have a meeting in a bit over an hours, so there will be a break.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

 Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

 He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

 Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

 “I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

 He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

 “Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

 They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

 “That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

 Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

 He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

 There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

 The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

 After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

 He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

 He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

 He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

 The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

 He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

 Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

  Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

 He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

 He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

…

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

[galaxyofmyown]

Hi!! I'm not sure if you'll take it (and that's 100% okay!!) but as a request can you write hotch x younger, shy reader? I'm just all about that age gap with him (yes, that's my daddy issues speaking up). Have a nice day!! ❤

hi! this was so fun to write. i was aiming for like, idk, 500 words? and then oops! i wrote almost 2000. i accidentally made it specifically for a female reader, so let me know if that doesn’t work for you and i can tweak it. also, sorry if the end feels rushed, but i’m about to fall asleep and i wanted to wrap this one up so i could write the other requests tomorrow. let me know what you think! xx

aaron hotchner x reader - surprise me

“Hey, (Y/N). Drinks? Everyone’s going.” You hear Derek ask. You smile before spinning around in your desk chair.

“God, yes. I was hoping you’d ask, I really need to blow off some steam.” You reply, getting up and grabbing your bag, having already packed up for the night. The team had just gotten back from Middle-of-Nowhere, Kansas, and to say the case was intellectually challenging was an understatement. It felt a lot like piecing together a never-ending puzzle, but you had saved the lives of countless innocent people. There was no better feeling.

Drinking is a close second, however, which is why you were impatiently pacing near the elevator as the rest of your team gathered their things. As soon as everyone arrived, you filed into the elevator.

“You look excited, (Y/N).” Emily said with a smile, knocking her shoulder into yours. You laugh.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Any excuse to spend more time with my favorite group of people!” You say, your voice taking on a teasing tone as you poke a pink-polished finger into Reid’s side. Reid yelps and jumps away, blushing slightly. The rest of the team laughs, Morgan reaching to ruffle his hair. You smile at the sight. They were truly a second family to you. The elevator doors were nearly closed when a large hand reached in and caused the doors to jerk and reopen.

And there he was.

Your boss, Aaron Hotchner. You tensed despite yourself as he slid in right next to you. Rossi clapped him on the shoulder.

“Nice of you to join us.” He said. Hotch nodded, professional as ever. Everyone looked as surprised as you felt.

“You’re coming out with us, sir? You never come.” Garcia said, not unkindly. You all understood his commitment to his son, so you couldn’t really blame him for always being too busy for drinks. Unlike everyone else, your surprise was less pleasant and more panicked. Even though you’d been on the team for well over a year, you still found it extremely difficult to talk to Hotch outside of a case.

It might have something to do with you being head over heels for the older man.

“Jack is with his aunt for the weekend, so JJ convinced me to tag along. I hope that’s alright with everyone.” He said, looking directly at you. You nod and force a tight smile, missing the way your discomfort makes his brows furrow.

There goes your plan to let loose. You can’t help but monitor every word, every movement you make when you’re around Hotch. You found him attractive the moment you met him, the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that you realized you actually had feelings for the man. You loved how caring and loyal he was, and you appreciated every smile and laugh he allowed himself. He was also a natural leader, solid in a way no other man in your life had been. You understood, however, that Hotch would never settle for someone as young and inexperienced as you. Aside from the odd celebrity crush, you had never felt so attracted to an older man. It left you floundered, constantly at a loss for words. He probably thought you were an immature girl who couldn’t control her feelings at 28.

You rode with Emily to the bar, who couldn’t stop laughing at your nerves. She was your best friend, so she knew all about your unfortunate crush. Hopefully she was the only one.

“He’s really a nice guy, (Y/N). Not intimidating at all. Well, not when you actually talk to him. You should try it sometime.” She said, pulling the bar door open for you. You rolled your eyes.

“I do talk to him. That’s the problem. The more I’m around him the more likely it is that I die of a broken heart. Do you want me to die, Prentiss? Is that what you want?” You said. Emily barks out a laugh at your theatrics. Your conversation is cut short as you approach the large round booth your team is occupying for the night. Emily sneaks over to sit next to Rossi, leaving only the seat next to Hotch. She smiles with false sweetness and you slide in across from her, and you kick her lightly under the table. You stay as close to the edge of the seat as you can manage, trying your hardest not to impinge on Hotch’s personal space.

You’re about to ask if anyone wants a drink when Hotch slides your favorite drink, a Moscow Mule, over to you.

“It’s your favorite, right?” Hotch asks, his voice soft over the noise of the bar. You falter. How did he know that? You probably haven’t ordered a drink in front of him in months.

“Um, uh, yeah. Thank you.” You say. He nods curtly. You both turn away from each other, and you sip at your drink, hoping it’ll take the edge off soon enough. 

Despite the pleasant conversation you have with your team, you can’t shake your nerves. Three drinks deep and still feeling like you’ve had the breath knocked out of you every time you see Hotch laugh.

“So, Hotch. Anyone special in your life?” Garcia asks boldly, trying to shake the attention off her and her current love life.

Nope. Not happening. You get up from the table abruptly, shaking the table slightly as you do so. Great, now everyone is looking at you.

“Um. Anybody want another drink?” You ask. JJ requests another vodka soda and Hotch politely asks for a beer. You never drink beer, but you’re too nervous to ask which kind. You rush off to the bar, where a bartender about your age is wiping down the counter.

“Hi! Can I get a vodka soda, a glass of water, and a beer, please?” You ask, feeling your nerves dissolve. The bartender looks up, his blonde hair falling over his eyes.

“What kind of beer?” He asks. You shrug, defeated.

“Honestly, just surprise me.” You say. He smiles, clearly amused, and turns to get your drinks. You don’t even notice someone approaching until you hear a familiar voice clear his throat.

“(Y/N).” He says. You turn, trying not to shy away as Hotch towers over you.

“Yes?” You say, willing your voice to not sound squeaky.

“Can we talk?” He asks, pulling at his tie. 

Fuck.

“Sure. Let me just…” You trail off, motioning at the bartender. Hotch nods in understanding. Just as he does, the bartender slides the drinks over to you. Hotch grabs JJ’s drink and walks it over to her. Emily sends you a suggestive look from across the room. You flip her off and turn to the bartender.

“Please add these to Emily Prentiss’ tab. That’s P-R-E-N-T-I-S-S.” You say, and the bartender laughs.

“No problem, um-” He says. You smile.

“(Y/N).” You say, filling in his blank.

“Well, nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He says before being flagged down by another customer.

You turn around with your water and Hotch’s beer, only to bump right into the older man.

“Jesus fuck!” You exclaim as ice water stings your hand. Hotch laughs, a deep rumbling sound that completely entrances you.

“Sorry.” He says, freeing up one of your hands by taking his beer.

“I hope you like that kind. I’m not much of a beer drinker.” You say, trying for a smooth recovery. Hotch nods appreciatively.

“This is perfect,” He says, and you unclench slightly, “could we talk outside? It’s a bit loud in here.”

You nod, and he guides you out of the bar with his hand on your elbow. The crisp evening air takes some over the edge off. Hotch leans against the brick wall and you do the same. You’re only illuminated by the purple neon “open” sign hanging over you.

“I wanted to apologize.” Hotch blurts out, taking you by surprise. You tilt your head to the side, asking a silent question. Hotch almost dies on the spot.

“I- I’ve acted inappropriately towards you, and for that I apologize. I value your expertise and think you’re an invaluable member of this team. I never intended to make you uncomfortable.” He says in a rush, throwing you completely off guard. It takes you a moment to remember how to talk, but when you do all that comes out is-

“What are you talking about?”

Hotch runs a hand through his hair and smiles, but it looks painful.

“Please, (Y/N), don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” You ask, completely bewildered.

“That I have feelings for you.”

And then you wake up.

Well, this is the part where you should wake up, but you’re still here, outside with Hotch. Hotch. Aaron Hotchner. Who likes you.

“What?” You said, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Hotch smiles again, resigned.

“Please. You must’ve noticed. I haven’t been exactly inconspicuous. And again, I’m sorry. It must make you very uncomfortable for someone more advanced than you in both age and position to be so blatant in their feelings for you.”

“What is happening?” You whisper, mostly to yourself. “You- you like me?” You ask as if he hasn’t made it obvious enough. Hotch actually has the audacity to look ashamed as he nods. After you’ve had a moment to process, you can’t help the world-stopping, blinding smile that graces your face. You tentatively reach for his hand. Hotch looks up at you in disbelief as you entwine your fingers with him.

“(Y/N)?” He asks carefully, not fully trusting the scene unfolding before him.

“I had no idea,” You say, feeling elated, “I always thought I was the one being obvious about my feelings.”

Hotch jerks his hand away, and your face falls.

“But- you shouldn’t have any feelings. Not for me.” He says, his face turning stony before your eyes. 

“Why not?”

“Because, (Y/N)! I’m too old for you. I can’t give you what I want. You deserve to be with someone your age, someone who can give you all of his time.” He says, taking a step away from you. You take another step towards him.

“Hey, no. Is your name Aaron Hotchner?” You ask, pulling him towards you.

“What? Yes.” He says, clearly confused. You slowly and gently take his face in your hands, bringing his forehead down to yours.

“Then you are what I want, Aaron.” You whisper, the name tasting sweet in your mouth. Hotch practically melts, pulling you into a hug by your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck and revel in the warmth of his body and fast beat of his heart. 

“(Y/N), my darling girl,” He says softly, pulling back slightly. “Can I kiss you?” He asks. You nod eagerly, and he pulls you to him. He kisses the way he loves, carefully yet passionately. When you pull away you feel like a new woman, and you wrap your arms around him once again.

“You are amazing.” He says, his words warming you even more than his touch. You kiss him again.

“Let’s go home, Aaron.” You say. And you do.

[ourladylennon]

this is a stress rant and also I absolutely have to get these thoughts out of my head and onto something so that I can understand how I'm feeling. so pardon me.

I have some very mixed feelings about my latest tattoo experience and it has been incredibly, astoundingly stressful. For anyone who was interested in how it went.

and after typing out this whole rant and reading it back my advice is: ALWAYS make sure it is exactly what you want. ALWAYS speak up if you don’t.

I have a specific style, as everyone, but the style of tattoo I have is a bit of a niche that can be hard to find: geometric design with dotwork/pointillism/stippling techniques to create shading rather then standard fill in shading. This shading style is incredibly time consuming and taxing for the artist and I've had a lot of trouble finding people who specialize in this (and within my area).

I started with an artist about 3 years ago, whom was new to me but known to be good. Got my appt set up, he drew me an entire sleeve- it was absolutely gorgeous. Went through two sessions and his work is genuinely amazing. Clean. Precise. Detailed. Unique. I didn't vibe with him too great but it was something I kind of put aside. But without explaining the whole fucking mess that became, just know that our artist-client relationship fell through. This left me with only the beginning of my tattoo. The whole ordeal was really stressful and upsetting so I put down the goal of getting it finished to try and recoup. And I just continually hit roadblocks trying to find artists who are good at dotwork and willing to do it. Often times they live in other cities/states/etc. Obviously this involves meeting a new artist, trying to figure out if it's a good fit, driving out for consultations/redoing all that process- s t r e s s. Now with covid, it's even more difficult because almost every artist I've come across that I've considered has closed books. All of them being out of town which is fine because it would be worth it. It's expected.

But after three years of this go around of trying to find someone, I was getting really put out by the process and just wanting to get this thing going. (Mistake #1- or #2 technically cause fucking up w the first artist is where it all started and I do regret it to this day).

A new shop opened IN my town- a miracle!!! I started following an artist whose work I found to be particularly amazing. Clean lines, clean shading, artistic seeming. Didn't see any pointillism, but I just like kept seeing her work and thinking damn that's good. So I decided to reach out and told her this is what I'm looking for, a dotwork sleeve and here are some examples of the style I like. I specifically mentioned this and asked if they'd be interested in working on it because I know that dotwork is not everyone's thing. The artist replied and said they've been wanting to get into and would like to do that (we'll call this mistake #3. Do not assume the artist, even if very good at other things will be good at all things. Do not go to an artist wanting a specific style without having seen their work for THAT style).

At this point I sent over pictures of my current tattoo that we'd be adding onto for reference. In my mind this is what I thought would mean: "I am looking at what you have to see how to incorporate it into a new sleeve design and see how I can create a collaborative piece and mesh the two together." (Mistake #4: that was not the case. Do not assume. Anything. Ever.)

The appt date was relatively quick despite the fact that I figured she'd be booked out for quite some time (red flag #1: not because she wasn't busy. But because this was not a whole lot of time to come up with a design but I figured "Well she knows her capabilities better than I do and she wouldn't suggest it that soon if she weren't sure). In my previous experiences, the artist will send you a proof or have a separate appt to review the design. I never received an email with said design (red flag #2, in my personal opinion. But I thought I was just being...extra? Also just thought, okay I'll see it at the appt and it will be OK, right? <- mistake #5).

I show up, there is no sleeve design. (RED FLAG #3) There are two single mandala tattoos. Outlines only. No shading. I'd also like to say my style is much more geometric fractals than it is mandala. A lot of people find these interchangeable but...they're really much different. (RED. FLAG. #4). I genuinely did not see that coming. Maybe I'm wrong to say, but this was negligent in my opinion and experience. A sleeve design ensures that your finished piece flows, that it works together, you can see the whole picture, modify, etc. Especially with it being an addition to my existing work. Cannot stress how much of a red flag.

I'm wigging out at this point. I don't love them but I want this tattoo. I'm going back and forth thinking, "maybe it's just because the shading isn't filled in I can't picture it." (MISTAKE #6: trust your gut!!!). I tell her OK well I like this about this one and that about that one. She only nods and listens, where I was expecting feedback; perhaps an "OK well we can draw it on" or "I can rework it" etc. She didn't and I am too paralyzed to speak up. (Red flag #4)

Mistake #7: I accept it at this point. I pick between the two. She has to go resize it. I'm having a literal internal freak out and battle. I am someone who DOES NOT know how to speak up for themselves. In any way. EVER. For any reason. At any time. I am a fear based individual, in fact, I am nearly certain I have APD (avoidant personality disorder) and it effects me severely and deeply. To the point that simply speaking to someone can be hard for me.

But my brain was screaming you cannot do this! You aren't sure! This is for life! It's your body!! You HAVE to say something! (RED fucking alert)

She came back with the one design resized and my heart is thumping, my chest is constricting, the throat feels like it's closing. I make myself say it. I tell her I don't think this is what I'm looking for. I literally almost busted into tears trying to say it because I was so fucking terrified and overwhelmed. I've never been in a position where I genuinely wasn't sure whether I liked what I was looking at. She says you don't need to be sorry you should speak up this is your body. So immediately, I lost a lot of tension because of her kindness. I thought she would be angry or rude or upset, just because I'm fearful. She proceeded to kind of go in and shade in with a pencil on the stencil to give me a better idea and apologized that she should have had that prepared. I continue asking questions to assuage my concerns and feel....better....ish. she offers to redraw and reschedule but I went against my gut, gave into my desperacy to continue my sleeve, dismissed my feelings as being just my typical overexertion of fear and did something I NEVER do: turn my back on my instincts. (Mistake. Mistake #8)

She was pleasant and I genuinely enjoyed her, felt comfortable with her which is not something I can say about previous artists and that's a good chunk of why I decided to continue. I liked her, I liked her other work I've seen, I just thought that once the stippling was in that I'd see it was really nice. However, I am laying there and I'm like I do not feel poking, which is literally how dotwork is done. Dot by dot. I'd feel her do the tiniest bit of dot-dot-dot and I'm like OK OK I'm just not paying full attention and missing it. But then I'd hear and feel her shading- standard shading. I'm like why is she using a shading tip? I'm just confused honestly. I'm like I have no idea what the could be for, just assume it's necessary for something I didn't realize. But I can see because I'm laying and my arms at a weird angle.

I finally get a peek while she's pausing and its....not dotwork. It's not dotwork at all, in fact. It's too late at this point in my eyes. It was only partially done but what am I gonna do? Stop her in the middle and have an unfinished tattoo? And then what? (Try to) go to someone else to have them do dotwork and have a half unmatching tattoo? There was nothing I could do. So I resigned and accepted this as the consequences of my actions and ill choices. And that's honestly been the hardest part to deal with: I let this happen to myself because I could not speak up. The only person who could have stopped this was ME. And I could not do it. That's how deeply my issues of fear run. And that is terrifying, pathetic, sad.

I'm not saying I got the world's ugliest tattoo. It's okay. Just okay. In the words of RuPaul, meh. I don't want meh. I want astounding. And I didn't do what I needed to to make that happen or not happen.

I just have been in awe over the fact that I asked for dotwork and the artist expressed no concern over this, literally had my existing tattoo right above where they were working and continued to not emulate that style of shading at all. Most of this is my fault, 90% of it. But there was negligence on the artists side and I genuinely don't think they meant it to be. I just don't think they had enough experience, but they too should have spoke up if they didn't feel they could carry it out. They gave me no inclination that they could not or would not be doing dotwork. At any point. And I do feel upset that I don't think they put in the effort or care to work off my existing tattoo in their design, and in looking back, their design also does not look nearly anything like the designs I gave for example. It was my job to walk away and request a redesign or to cancel and I didn't. So in the end this is on me. And it has been very taxing on my mental state.

To end this shit show: the tattoo I just got costed half of what my first one did, while only having taking the fraction of time as my first and being less then half the size of my first. It is not nearly as clean, it certainly reflects their level of experience. The shop environment was not fantastic: it felt a bit like as if I had walked into a chain restaurant...but a tattoo shop. There were no private rooms, there were no tattoo chairs. They were literal stools and that's not...not professional or normal. And I chose to continue.

I'm faced with some really tough decisions moving forward. I am at least thankful it is relatively small ish and wraps towards my inner arm which makes it less visible. But I'm at a crossroads of whether I go through the whole mess of trying to find a FOURTH artist to try and finish my sleeve the way it was meant to be finished (dotwork, whole sleeve design etc) and make the best of it at the risk of having a fucking patchwork arm. Or I continue to work with this artist and see the design through myself (literally design it myself which I didn't want to do but it doesn't appear that I should leave this to them), so that at least the remainder of my arm is consistent shading and work.

And because I've made it sound like the tattoo is atrocious, be assured it's not trash by any means. It's just not what I wanted. Big sis learned a big lesson.

(the immediate center is bothering me the most. But I think it can be altered. Nonetheless. The skill/experience level shows, unfortunately. And you can certainly see the difference between the stipple shading on my first tattoo and the regular shading on the new one.)

I am trying to be positive and that's all I can do. I accept the results and I think it can be fixed to a certain extent, and I can only hope as I move forward that I make the right decision and that the end product is something I enjoy.

[espoir-et-reves]

hi maria!!!

i LOVE your work and wanna pick your brain :)) for the writing asks:

1, 2, 4, 5, 8, 10, 11, 13, 20, 32, 35, & 39

hope your day is going well!!!!! <3333

Yooo Nadia what’s up?? No, nope I LOVE YOURS and I’d let you pick my brain but I doubt you’d make much sense of the chaos in there. Even I don’t 😂😂 okay so on with the q&a

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction? 

Hmm I think I started reading fanfiction when I was in middle school? I’m pretty sure the first few fanfics I ever read were Harry Potter and Supernatural fics. I was SO into those fandoms back then (still am tbh)

The first fics I wrote were in high school if I remember correctly. Harry Potter and k-pop, more precisely a few EXO x reader fics lmao

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

It depends on the day I think. On some days I have no motivation to write, so I just lose myself in reading fanfics. Other days I spend hours upon hours of writing and doing research for my fanfics, wips and YA stories. 

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Just three??? Blasphemous but okay...

Daughter of Fire by the amazing @justjstuff -- one of my TOP favorite KakaSaku fics and also Naruto fanfics in general. Always makes my day when I see an update^^

Deep Within the Trees; Under the Boughs & Blossoms by candy_floss_consumer (I’m sorry I don’t know if they’re on tumblr) The entire series of a Different Wave is just so magical and so well written but especially this one. Gave me chills on every single chapter.

Take your pick between The Shadows of Your Heart and Dying Embers by @riseoftheblossom-ff . Just amazing.

Also take a pick from your fics. I love them^^

(I only listed fics from the Naruto fandom, because I’ve been more invested in them for the past couple of years.)

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

I HATE a huge block of just words. Please, people, change paragraphs, use “ ” when someone’s talking and for the love of everything you find holy, do tell us who is thinking what and who is speaking when there are more than two characters in a scene. 

The lack of paragraphs especially drives me mad... like I don’t care if it’s the best story I may ever read, I’m not doing it, sorry.

Thank you, sincerely Maria❤

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like?

Not as often as I should tbh. Especially before I began uploading my fics, I was too shy to leave a review. Still am, but I’m trying to leave comments more often bc I understand how much they can lift the writer’s mood. 

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Favorite fandoms: Naruto, Supernatural, Harry Potter, The Mortal Instruments

Favorite pairings: I’m a MultiSaku hoe so I read EVERYTHING, Dean/Castiel + Meg/Castiel, Draco/Hermione, Magnus/Alec!!

Favorite character: BAMF Sakura, Cas my little angel baby, Hermione bc we love BAMF witches and Magnus Bane the High Warlock of Brooklyn y’all✨

11. How do you come up with your fic titles?

Hahahhahahahha good question. It’s the hardest thing tbh. Sometimes I just google for a title generator, other times I sit down for a couple hours and beg for my brain to come up with something good...

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

*snorts* not just a headache, it’ll be a damn explosion. I do have a rough outline for my fics, I even have the major scenes I want in a chapter written down and an ending and all that. Thing is... my mind hates me and I change everything at least three times, so I decided to just go with the flow. 

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Honestly? just the fact that I’m writing. Especially when my brain wants to work with me and creativity just hits. I also enjoy doing research for my fics, but more often than not, it leads to distractions because I fall too into whatever I’m searching for😂

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

“He didn’t smile back at me,” Sakura pouted and stabbed the rabbit meat on her plate with unnecessary force. --- A running joke in A Tale of Songs and Ashes is that Sakura has vowed to make Madara smile at her and she tries to get a reaction out of him every time they meet. This line started everything. 

Across from him Shikamaru was smoking a cigarette, lazily observing the people around him. The sharp look he received from said boy though had him taken aback. He followed the Nara’s eyes landing on Sakura and Sasuke, before turning back to him. Shikamaru shook his head, resigned and offered Neji a cigarette.

“I don’t smoke,” he replied.

Shikamaru shrugged, “It could help with the homicidal thoughts.” --- This interaction basically is one of my favorites from Nightstrolls because it kinda highlights Neji’s and Shika’s frienship in the fic and the fact that Shikamaru often makes fun of Neji’s crush on Sakura.

Gai’s laughter filled the air around them, “What a youthful child! Shisui-kun I didn’t know Uchiha came out in spring colours as well!” --- From Trials of Change I don’t think it needs an explanation. Gai just being Gai😂

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

Oh so damn much! I think it’s the only thing that kept me from falling apart during quarantine and the COVID-19 crisis. Writing really helped my mental health when it comes to dealing with all the stress and even members of my family falling ill and dying. 

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Uh, I don’t know? My readers usually tell me that I have an interesting way of writing -- whatever that means. So since they like it, I do as well? 

Also, I try to make the characters more realistic, give them backstories and emotions and hobbies etc. I like that😊

Thank you so much for your questions!! Sending you lots of love💕

[kim-bobbae]

12. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

Where you’re a dancer/choreographer cum YouTuber pulling the ‘I want a baby now’ hidden camera prank on him, inspired by some of the Korean couple YouTube channels that I’ve watched where the boyfriend goes ‘wtf’ most of the time hahaha. Hope y’all enjoy it! :-)

“For the first verse, why don’t we have Jay and Ji Eun do a little duet choreography?” Wassup suggested much to everyone else’s agreement.

“That’ll work,” Honey J nodded. “The next verse would look fuller with a group choreography, so the first verse would be the best fit.” 

 You took a quick glance at Jay through the reflection in the mirror who simply shrugged in response, face void of any expression whatsoever and upon seeing that he wasn’t responding, the rest of them turned their attention towards you to which you nervously cleared your throat, “Sure, let’s go with that.” 

You were at the AOMG dance studio with Jay’s dancers from Alter Ego and Holy Bang for a practice session in preparation for the upcoming filming of his ‘All the Way Up’ music video. The excitement of finally collaborating with Jay after years of dating sure as hell got you feeling excited all week…if it weren’t for the little argument that you guys had gotten into this morning due to a hidden camera prank gone wrong which had him leaving the house without you. 

“A baby? All of sudden? Where is this even coming from?” He asked, utterly confused. 

There he was on the couch replying to some emails when you had simply gone up to him and said ‘let’s have a baby’ out of literally nowhere which had him absolutely dumbfounded, to say the least. 

“Well we’ve been dating for a few years, and I’m not getting any younger,” You started. “We’re in our freaking 30s…!” 

“So…?” He asked, furrowing his brows at you as he put his laptop aside and tapped on his lap, signaling for you to come over. 

“I love you enough to want to have a family with you, and I don’t want to get pregnant when I’m 40,” You explained, your acting skills put to the test as you tried your hardest to hold back a laughter watching how serious he had gotten. 

“Babe…didn’t we agree on getting married first before thinking about starting a family?” 

“But that’s what you’ve been saying for the past two years, and…” You said, successfully pulling off a sulk as you raised your left hand in front of his face, pointing to your ring finger. “I ain’t got no ring on it.” 

“Okay hold up,” He said, hands on your lap. “So it’s about marriage now? What on earth are you trying to get at?” 

“I just want to have a baby with you.” 

“…what?” 

He was gawking at you by now, bewildered by your sudden marriage-and-baby talk. Of course, the both of you had spoken about this before where he had made it clear that he had every intention of marrying you – just not now. From his two labels to his several businesses, he just had too much on his plate to think about settling down. He didn’t want to get married nor start a family without being able to fully commit his time to you as he felt that it just wouldn’t be fair to you and you knew that – he had made sure you did. 

While how seriously he was taking this conversation did have you feeling a little flustered, the all too familiar beep that penetrated the momentary silence only made things worse as your entire body tensed up in panic, Jay shooting his head up as his eyes scanned the room. Having helped you with the filming of some of your YouTube content, he knew exactly what that beep meant – it was your camera running out of battery. 

His face hardened as he spotted the red blinking light from your camera that you had hid behind stacks of magazines in the dark corner of a shelf across the room and he shifted in his seat, gesturing for you to get off his lap before he walked over to retrieve it. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking at the camera in his hand and then back at you. He was not amused and you definitely weren’t expecting things to pan out this way. 

“It was a hidden camera prank,” You explained with a sheepish smile. 

“You got to be kidding me.” 

“It was the most highly requested video for the longest time!” You said, trying to defend yourself. 

On top of the choreographies that made up the bulk of your YouTube content, you tended to vlog from time to time, showing little snippets of your daily life varying from simply hanging out with your friends or the creative process for the collaborations that you did with other artists. However, ever since your relationship with Jay had gone public last year, the majority of your new subscribers have been his fans with many leaving comments on your videos requesting for you to include more of Jay in your videos. 

It started off simple with you filming some of your dates and backstage moments with his artists but every now and then, you’d respond to some of their hidden camera prank suggestions to which Jay had reacted to very sportingly. After all, it was entertaining for everyone and more than anything, he was glad that you and his fans were starting to get along despite the initial backlash that you received when news of your relationship first broke out. 

“There is a time and place for everything and the conversation we had really isn’t something meant for anyone else to listen to,” He stated. 

Yes, he was a fairly private person, especially when it came to his relationship with you. He had always made it a point to ensure that his appearances on your videos were never too intrusive, too. 

“What were you expecting to get out of this? If I had gone along with it we’d be filming porn by now,” He said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You really had to interrupt me while I was working for this? C’mon…” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t kno- I mean, I didn’t mean it and- …I’m sorry,” You whispered. 

For a while he simply stared at you, at a loss for words before he let out a sigh of resignation, “I need to cool off. Call Dukhwa if you need a ride to the office later.” 

Without any opportunity to iron things out with Jay prior to the dance practice as he kept himself busy in his office right up to the minute prior (you weren’t going to risk aggravating things by knocking on his door and interrupting his work again after all), you were left without a choice but to attend practice putting on a professional front, the both of you trying your best to put the incident behind as you guys worked on the duet choreography together. 

“What do you think of simplifying the shuffle to a side step? I think it’ll look cleaner,” You said. 

“Yeah okay.” 

“Should we do a wave for this part?”

“Yeah, whatever you want.” 

Despite most of the practice progressing rather smoothly, the awkward air between the two of you did get a little obvious with how stiff you guys were at any physical contact. His chic responses in comparison to how he’d enthusiastically contribute ideas when he was speaking with the rest of the dancers was also a dead giveaway. Nevertheless, you powered through the five-hour practice and you couldn’t be more relieved the moment it ended, although it didn’t last for long as everyone packed up quickly and shot each other knowing glances to leave the studio to give you and Jay some time alone. 

The silence was thick as you packed up your belongings, Jay sitting with his back against the mirror while he watched you in silence.

“About this afternoon,” You finally spoke, picking up your bag before turning around to look at him. “I’m really sorry. I just want you to know that I would’ve made sure you knew about the footage after I was done filming, and that I’d only use it if you were comfortable sharing it with the public.” 

“It’s not that I’ll be uncomfortable with it,” He explained. “It’s just that the internet would have a whole bunch of opinions about our relationship, marriage and family planning.” 

You nodded, your gaze falling to look at his feet instead. 

“As for me, I don’t really care about what they’ll have to say and you know that. I’m just worried that you’ll be affected and the last thing I want is for all the success that you’ve built from your dancing and career to be overshadowed by something as silly as this.” 

He then stood up, taking your bag off your shoulders and setting it on the floor before he murmured a soft ‘come here’, pulling you in for a hug and kissing the side of your face. 

“I’m sorry,” You told him, relaxing into his touches. 

You were just glad to have gotten the tension out of the way after working around it for the whole day. Fights with Jay weren’t common and you were just not used to him being angry or upset despite how long you guys have been together. He was never too proud to apologize nor forgive and if you had to choose one thing you loved most about him, that’d be it. 

“I’ll put a ring on it and have babies with you,” He chuckled. “Just be a bit more patient, I’m working on it I swear.” 

“I know,” You laughed, then buried your face in his chest in embarrassment. 

He pulled back just enough to look at you, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other maintained its hold around your waist, “Heading home?” 

“Yeah, you?” 

“I’m meeting Pumpkin in a bit for a meeting. I’ll see you at home after, and we can think of something else to film for your video this week.” 

You smiled, giving him a peck on his lips before you wriggled out of his grip. “I shouldn’t hold you up any longer then.” 

“Shall I get someone to drive you home?” 

“No it’s fine, don’t worry about me,” You said, picking up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. 

“Well then,” He said, grabbing his jacket from the bench and handing it to you. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” 

“What about you?” 

“I have another one in my office,” He said with a smile, then waved you off.

“Alright,” You giggled. “I’ll see you later then, don’t keep me waiting too long.”

[thepancakedetective]

University Life

Akira is fidgeting with the end of his hoodie string. Akechi looks up from his university level criminal law homework and shoots him an annoyed look.

Akechi: Some of us are trying to get somewhere with our lives, I suggest you do the same. 

Ann rests her head on Shiho’s lap as she poses for a new Instagram post. Shiho is busy watching her latest soccer match and analyzing places for improvement. 

Ann: Speak for yourself Mr. Future Prosecutor. I’ve already established my future —as the next cover girl model for Vogue! 

Akechi sighs and shakes his head.

Akechi: I wasn’t talking to you. 

Futaba glances up from her laptop which displays an incomplete code for a client. 

Futaba: I don’t understand why you’re so hard on your boyfriend for choosing not to go to university. 

Akechi opens his mouth ready to retort before being interrupted by Makoto. Makoto is working on the same homework essay as Akechi.

Makoto: It’s only natural to be concerned. Four months have passed since graduation and Akira hasn’t shown any career interest outside of his numerous part time jobs. 

Ryuji: I think you guys just need to chill. Give a man sometime to figure themselves out! Look after months of searching, I’ve finally landed a job as a personal trainer at that fancy smancy gym down in Shinjuku. The benefits and pay are awesome. Plus, I get to work out for free. 

Akechi: Exactly why I’m concerned. If Ryuji has already landed a good paying job, what does that say?

Ryuji: Hey, what do you mean by that?! 

Yusuke is in deep thought staring at his unfinished painting. 

Yusuke: Maybe the answer lies, in where it does not speak.  

Everyone sends him a quizzical look. Haru puts down her tea cup and gently pets the sleeping cat in her lap.

Haru: I think what he means to say is, why don’t you all give Akira a chance to talk? I’m sure it must be unpleasant to not be included in a conversation which is centered around yourself. 

Everyone turns to look at Akira who has frayed the ends of his hoodie string ties. His eyes are hidden behind the glare of his glasses. 

Akira: I’ve come to a decision. 

Akechi: Well, please don’t keep us waiting. 

Akechi gives Akira one of his forced Detective Prince smiles. Akira pauses before opening his mouth as if to gather his thoughts.

Akira: I want to open a private investigation firm. 

A few eyes widen at this sudden statement, predominantly Akechi’s whose mouth hangs open a few centimeters. 

Akechi: You what? I understand the adrenaline rush of what we all did in highschool to expose that filthy conspiracy ring must have hit you the hardest as our former leader, but I didn’t expect it to go to your head so much. 

Haru shoots Akechi a warning look.

Haru: Give him a chance to explain himself. 

Akechi frowns are resigns himself farther down in his seat. 

Akira smiles at Haru and nods his head.

Akira: I’m not asking to reinstate the Phantom Thieves. I just want to offer that same platform of help again to the people who need us.

Akechi opens his mouth but is cut off by Akira.

Akira: Outside the law. We’ve all seen what happens when the legal system fails. Even with amazing people like your sister Makoto, that corruption still lies there. By the time you and Akechi get into the legal system to clean it up, there may be countless lives which fall through the cracks. That’s why I want to do this. I hope you all can support my decision. 

The room is silent. Ryuji is the first one to talk.

Ryuji: If my man wants to become a private investigator, of course I’ll support him. Maybe I can even assist in catching the perp! 

Futaba smiles and pulls down her headphones.

Futaba: Likewise. If you ever need assistance accessing police records or other resources, I’ve got your back. I still owe you for helping solve my mother’s death. 

Akechi and Makoto exchange looks. 

Makoto: I don’t see why I wouldn’t support your decision. I can see it took you a great deal of courage to come to it. I’ll be here to support you with whatever legal knowledge I know. Of course, my sister would probably be more of a help than me at this point. I can contact her to get the steps of establishing a reputable private investigation firm. 

Ann wraps her arms around Shiho.

Ann: You’ve already got my vote, chief. I can always use my celebrity and industry connections to assist in cases if needed. Also if you need a hot undercover detective, you can count on me!

Yusuke nods his head at the painting.

Yusuke: I can see it now. Truly a wonderful sight. If my artistic expertise and skill can be of use, I would be happy to present them. 

Haru: It looks like we’ve come to a decision. As everyone has already noted, I as well am willing to help in whatever way I can. My...father has left me with many financial resources at hand. If you need an initial investment, I would be happy to provide. 

Akechi looks at all of them in disbelief.

Akechi: You all can’t be serious. Just accepting things so easily like this. Truly naive.  

Akechi gets up from his seat and grabs his things, haphazardly shoving them into his backpack. Ann gets up to follow him as he pushes past to move down the attic stairs. 

Ann: Akechi! Wait—

Makoto stops her and shakes her head.

Makoto: Leave him. He just needs time to process things. 

Akira: I should go. 

Before waiting for the other’s reply. Akira is down the stairs and out of the cafe door scanning for any signs of the upset brunet. He is nowhere in sight. But Akira has a feeling he knows where to find him. He arrives at Inokashira Park finding Akechi shortly, sitting hunched over at a lone bench. His hands cover his face.

Akira: Akechi... 

Akechi just shakes his head silently. Akira takes a seat next to him.

Akira: I’m...sorry. 

Akechi looks up sharply, redness outlining the rims of his eyes. Anger bubbles in his next words. 

Akechi: What could you possibly be sorry about?

Akira: You would have preferred I discussed this with you prior.

Akechi laughs without humor.

Akechi: Akira. I’m just upset that you didn’t ask for my help. It’s petty I know. But this. This is one thing in your life I could have helped you with. You know I’ve been somewhat of a private detective myself. I want to help you so much Akira. But you never give me the chance. That’s why I’m upset.

Akira’s eyes are downcast towards his losely interlocked fingers. 

Akira: All my life I’ve been going with the flow of events and letting others do the talking for me. This time I wanted to choose my own decision independently. I hope you can understand. 

Akechi sighs and leans his head tiredly against Akira’s shoulder.

Akechi: I can understand even though it still makes me upset. But it’s my own ego that’s causing me to feel like that. Honestly, I’m happy that you’ve come to a decision. It’s fitting for you. I just wish I could have been a better support as your boyfriend. 

Akira’s fingers laced together with Akechi’s.

Akira: You already are. 

Akechi turns and raises his eyebrow.

Akechi: How?

Akira watches the ducks mill around in the distance near the lake. The tip of Akira’s ears become red as he mutters,

Akira: I kind of wanted to become a cool boyfriend like you.

Akechi’s eyes widen and a small smile traces his face. His eyes are full of warmth. Akechi wraps his arm around Akira’s back.

Akechi: Does that mean I can still convince you to go into law with me?

Akira: No way in hell. I don’t want to take those crazy entrance exams.

Akechi presses against Akira. 

Akechi: I’m sure with me as your tutor, you’ll get in with flying colors. 

Akira: Mmh, maybe. 

Akechi: Imagine the excitement. Law student by morning, private investigator by night. Fighting the system along side your cool boyfriend. You’d like that sort of life right?

Akira: Now you’re just teasing me. 

Akechi purses his lips.

Akechi: I may be. But I’m also a 100% serious. What do you say? Will you give it a try?

Akira laughs.

Akira: I can’t win with you, can I? Okay, I’ll do it. 

Akechi: Good. I can think of a few ways we can celebrate the occasion. 

He presses his lips against Akira.

Akechi: I love you Akira. I’m proud of you. 

Akira kisses back.

Akira: I love you too Akechi. Can’t wait to start my next chapter with you.

Akechi smiles.

Akechi: Likewise. 

Part 2: [Link]

[causeiwanttoandican]

The Telegraph

How Harry’s very LA relaunch has only just begun

From Prince to campaigner and Silicon valley ‘tech bro’ what wider impact could the Duke of Sussex's new jobs have?

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor28 March 2021 • 6:00am

Jobs appear to be like buses for Prince Harry. Wait a lifetime for an opening and two come along at the same time.

The former Royal’s first foray into the corporate world has seen him take up the role of chief impact officer at Silicon Valley coaching firm BetterUp, while also sitting alongside Rupert Murdoch’s daughter-in-law on a commission aiming to fight “misinformation”.

Neither role appears to have required the 36-year-old former Army captain to submit a CV or go through the usual vetting processes as he adds mental health coach and anti-fake news campaigner to his résumé.

Yet in keeping with a new breed of “celebrity responsibility”, which has increasingly seen the rich and famous flex their corporate muscles for the greater good, the highly prominent positions look set to propel the cash-strapped Prince to ever more lucrative heights, as LA’s most sought-after recruit.

Just as when Jennifer Aniston became the ‘chief creative officer’ of a natural supplement range or when David Beckham backed a cannabinoid skincare company, these mutually beneficial ‘ethical’ tie-ups can be worth their weight in publicity gold. And not just for the company that gets their endorsement.

As showbiz agent Jonathan Shalit puts it: “Like corporate responsibility – this is celebrity responsibility. There’s been a shift in people’s mindsets. Two, three years ago the mindset was: ‘What’s in it for me, how can I get paid a shedload of dosh, how can I maximise my income?’ Now people desire to give back and give back support to the community.”

While pointing out that Harry is “above celebrity,” he adds: “Many celebrities are very responsible in trying to use the strength of their platform to help others.”

The announcement of both roles last week certainly played into the idea that this was more than just a money spinner for the Montecito-based ex pat – although there is no doubt all sides are set to benefit financially.

While BetterUp may be carrying out noble work in its offer of “personalised coaching, content and care designed to transform lives and careers” – it all comes at a price.

Having spoken about his struggles with grief following the death of his mother, Diana, Princess of Wales, Harry said of his appointment to the “unicorn” tech firm: “(I) want us to move away from the idea that you have to feel broken before reaching out for help,” insisting he intends to use the job to “create impact in people’s lives”.

The Duke added: “Being attuned with your mind, and having a support structure around you, are critical to finding your own version of peak performance. What I’ve learned in my own life is the power of transforming pain into purpose.”

He said his goal was to “lift up critical dialogues around mental health, build supportive and compassionate communities, and foster an environment for honest and vulnerable conversations” and he hoped to “help people develop their inner strength, resilience and confidence”.

It might strike the cynical as Californian word salad akin to Aniston’s declaration, upon joining Vital Proteins, that: “Collagen is the glue that holds everything together. I’ve always been an advocate for nourishing your wellness from within.”

Yet as Alexi Robichaux, who co-founded BetterUp in 2013, points out, Harry does bring a unique perspective. “He comes from a very different background,” to other executives, he says, adding: “He’s synonymous with this approach of mental fitness and really investing in yourself. It was not a hard internal sale. He will obviously have the whole organisation sprinting to help him.”

Robichaux confirmed Harry was joining the company’s leadership team as an “officer of the corporation”, which suggests it is a paid role, although public relations expert Mark Borkowski thinks it “highly likely” he has been offered equity in the firm, which values itself at $1.73 billion.

“This previously unknown start-up has now got instant recognition,” he says. “I always said that if Harry and Meghan wanted to generate income, they should look to Silicon Valley. Getting eyeballs onto the company like this, with all the competition, is the hardest job in PR – but now the whole world is talking about it. That’s the effect signing up someone like Harry can have.

“If he’s got points in this firm and it goes gangbusters, he could make some serious money.” Borkowski cites the example of shares in Cellular Goods, the synthetic cannabis firm backed by Beckham, shooting up by 310 per cent after it launched on the London Stock Exchange in February following news of the star footballer’s investment.

“This is all about the ongoing narrative, now,” adds Borkowski, referencing the Oprah Winfrey interview in which the Sussexes raised serious concerns about the Royal family’s handling of racism and mental health issues.

“The impact of generating more connections to his brand is an ongoing struggle for him. But by taking that narrative, which is embedded with that interview along with mental health issues, then he can certainly have a credible corporate platform.”

Yet considering some of the discrepancies that have surfaced since the interview aired in the US on March 7, can Harry really be considered a reliable voice when it comes to combating what he has described as the “avalanche of misinformation”?

Critics have been at pains to point out that his appointment to the Aspen Institute’s new Commission on Information Disorder, a six-month project that will examine the “modern-day crisis of faith in key institutions” appears somewhat at odds with the Sussexes’ repeated insistence that they do not look at newspapers, magazines or social media.

Equally awkward is the fact that the Prince will be sitting alongside Kathryn Murdoch, who is married to James Murdoch, the former chairman of News of the World publisher News International, who resigned from his father Rupert Murdoch’s media empire last year.

As with Harry’s decision to appear on CBS, despite the US network once sparking outrage in 2004 for showing a “distasteful” photo of his mother after her fatal Parisian car crash, the move suggests the exiled Murdochs are now considered reformed characters thanks to their new found work on democracy reform and climate change.

As Harry himself put it, information disorder is an issue that demands “a multi-stakeholder response from advocacy voices” including, apparently, the wife of a man who was found by a Parliamentary report in 2012 to have shown “wilful ignorance of the extent of phone hacking” and being “guilty of an astonishing lack of curiosity” over the illegal practice that Harry, William and Kate were all subjected to along with Prince Charles, the Duchess of Cornwall and a string of palace aides.

It is not thought Harry is being paid for his work with the think tank, founded in 1949, which will look at everything from last year’s US election to vaccine safety and marginalised communities.

It is his listing on the Aspen Institute’s website, however, which perhaps provides the biggest clue to the sixth-in-line to the throne’s direction of travel as he settles into life in the US.

Referenced by his full title, Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, the soon to be father-of-two is described as a “humanitarian, military veteran, mental wellness advocate and environmentalist.”

Despite his blood-born Royal status, Shalit believes this repositioning is actually intended to put him on a par with his high-achieving wife. For unlike her husband, who left school with two A-levels before training at Sandhurst Military Academy, it is Meghan – a Northwestern University graduate with a successful acting career under her belt – who is arguably the more employable of the two, on paper at least. As an American, the pregnant mother-of-one also doesn’t carry the burden of Harry’s complicated visa and tax arrangements, amid confusion over whether he is living and working in the US as a “diplomat” or as a person with so-called “special talents”.

“I’ve met Meghan on a number of occasions and she is a hugely astute woman, very bright, incredibly impressive,” says Shalit

“So for Harry to keep up with his wife, he’s got to find his own name and identity and this is the start. He doesn’t need celebrity. When you’re Royal, you’re the biggest celebrity in the world. But what this does is allow Harry to have relevance.”

When it comes to making an impact, Royal relevance is clearly going to be the jewel in the crown of Harry’s very LA relaunch.

[dustyphantom]

When You’re Gone

Angst warning, but also family fluff and children.

Prompt: Loss

Pairing: Fraxus

Laxus sighed, running his hands through his hair. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. All of it had happened so quickly, he wasn’t sure what to make of the news. After all, Fairy Tail’s worst enemy was dead.

But so was his dad.

He heard footsteps approaching him, steady thumps against the carpeted floor over the gentle patter of the rain outside, “Are you alright?”

Laxus smiled. At least through all of this, he had his husband by his side, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

There was a pause, “May I have a seat?”

The dragon slayer patted the seat beside him on their couch. Freed placed a peck on his cheek as he sat down, swinging one graceful leg over the other. They were both silent for a moment before Freed spoke again, “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

Laxus nodded, “It’s just… so weird. As a member of Fairy Tail, I feel like I’m expected to be happy about this. But… he was also my father. I mean, he was never a great dad, but he was there.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“I… don’t know,” Laxus admitted, “Empty, maybe? I’m not sad, but I’m not happy either. I don’t really feel anything.

Freed hummed, “That’s understandable. You don’t have to feel a certain way about it. Nobody is expecting anything from you about this.”

“It’s just… something that’s been there my entire life is just suddenly gone. I guess I kinda miss him, but not as a father. Just as someone who’s always been out there. Is that weird?”

The rune mage shook his head, “We all process in different ways. Everything about this is complicated,” Freed’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling the dragon slayer closer, “If you need some time off to process, we’d all understand.”

Laxus let out a huff of laughter, “I think that would be the worst thing for me. I just need something to take my mind off of it.”

Freed smiled before resting his chin on Laxus’s shoulder, “If there’s anything you need, I’ll be here.”

Laxus kissed his husband’s forehead, “Thanks. I love you.”

“And I you.”

The dragon slayer sat still as the rune mage slowly fell asleep, still leaning against him. Freed always looked so peaceful when he slept, his features gentle as his chest rhythmically rose and fell. It was always comforting to see him rest, since he hardly ever slept when they had first met. The Thunder Legion had always been like a family, and they had lost their eldest brother as children. Freed had taken it the hardest, hardly ever sleeping in fear that he would have nightmares about all the people he had lost.

“Papa?”

Laxus looked over to the little boy in the doorway, trying his best to not disturb his husband, “Hey Yuri. What’s up?”

The boy made his way over to Laxus, climbing up onto the couch and then onto his father’s lap, “Is something wrong?”

“Huh? No, why do you ask?”

Yuri frowned, “Your eyes look sad.”

Laxus sighed. Even though he was only five years old, Yuri was always very empathetic. He cared so much for every living thing, insisting that they take in injured birds and nurse them back to health. It was adorable, but Laxus had always wondered where he’d gotten that from, “I guess I am a little sad. But it’s not anything you have to worry about.”

“Is it about Robin?”

The dragon slayer froze. It was rare anyone ever mentioned their lost daughter. Robin was Yuri’s twin sister who had suddenly died three years ago. Although it was no longer taboo to mention her in the guild, nobody ever had much of a reason to talk about her. Laxus always hated remembering the months after she had passed away, when everything had been so bleak and he and Freed grieved every night.

But this was nothing like that. All in all, it was a good thing Ivan was dead, “No, it’s not about her. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Oh, okay,” Yuri said, “I’m sorry I talked about her. She makes you upset.”

“It’s alright. It’s just a little hard to talk about her sometimes.”

“Can you tuck me in?”

“Of course. Just give me a minute, I don’t want to wake up your dad.”

Laxus slowly shifted Freed off of him, laying the smaller man down on the couch as carefully as he could before taking Yuri back to his own bedroom. The boy climbed into bed, pulling the covers over himself. The lightning dragon pressed a kiss against his son’s forehead before tugging the covers up just a little further. Yuri yawned, curling up on his side. Laxus waited until the boy was barely conscious before standing up. He brushed a strand of bright blonde hair out of the boy’s face.

“Good night, Yuri.”

“‘Night, Papa,” he mumbled sleepily.

Laxus sighed, slowly closing the door behind him as he left his son’s room. He was lucky to have a kid who was so kind and easygoing. Even he couldn’t remember much of Robin, but he was sure she was more difficult than Yuri was. Still, just thinking about his daughter made his heart ache.

It was an age of peace for Fairy Tail. There hadn’t been any major conflicts in nine years, and the guild was flourishing with new life as the members settled down and started families. Even so, Laxus had suffered so many losses. Makarov had died exactly a year before the twins were born, then Robin, and now Ivan.

When he walked back to the living room, Freed was sitting upright, staring at the lake beyond their window. He stood when he heard Laxus approach, blue eyes almost glowing in the low light.

“Sorry,” Laxus said quietly, “I tried not to wake you up.”

“It’s quite alright,” Freed responded easily, “You had to take care of Yuri. Besides, I’ve always been a light sleeper.”

The dragon slayer looked at his feet, “So did you hear what he asked me about?”

Freed frowned, “I didn’t. Is something wrong?”

Laxus shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. It’s not important.”

The rune mage crossed his arms, “You know you don’t have to try to protect me. Come now, I can handle it.”

The lightning dragon sighed his resignation, “He noticed that I was upset and he… he asked if it was about Robin.”

Freed went quiet.

“Of course, he’s allowed to talk about her, but it still hurts, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

They both stood silently for a long moment, until Laxus heard a quiet sniffle. Freed wiped tears from his eyes as the lightning dragon looked up.

“Oh, Freed,” Laxus murmured, pulling his husband into a hug.

The rune mage shuddered, “It’s been three years since then. I should be over it. It shouldn’t still make me feel like this.”

“No, no. It’s fine to still be upset. What happened was horrible. Nobody expects you to just get over something like that,” Laxus comforted, “It still hurts me when I hear people talk about her.”

“Gods, I miss her so much.”

Laxus pulled his husband closer, “So do I. But when someone dies, there’s nothing we can do about it. We just have to be happy that they lived.”

Freed chuckled softly, “You inherited the master’s way with words, too.”

“Yeah. I guess I did,” the dragon slayer murmured, “I’m sad he’s gone, but I’m lucky to have had him there when I needed him.”

Laxus smiled, thinking of all the ridiculous things his grandfather did to cheer him up when he was little. He truly was grateful to have such a person with him.

“Freed?”

“Hmm?”

“Promise me you’ll always be by my side.”

“Of course, love. I would never leave you,” Freed responded, “But in return, you must promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“If, for whatever reason, something happens to me, take care of Yuri and the Thunder Legion. They need you.”

Laxus chuckled, “Of course. But nothing will happen to you, right?”

“Of course not. I love you all too much to ever dream of leaving.”

“Good, ‘cause we need you too.”

@ft-wwtdp

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 68]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Had an early doctor’s appointment today so I’m tired, and the tests done made things feel worse, so idk how long this is going to go, but I want to get at least a bit of my work done. Also brain is not running at full capacity... so if I just disappear it means I forgot I was doing something, laid down, and fell asleep and/or zoned out.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

 Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

 He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

 Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

 “I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

 He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

 “Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

 They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

 “That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

 Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

 He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

 There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

 The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

 After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

 He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

 He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

 He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

 The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

 He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

 Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

  Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

 He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

 He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

…

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

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She started up a calming purr as she moved to gently kneed his chest. “That sort of hurts,” he noted idly as she dug her little paws into his sternum. She responded by purring more. He moved his arm to scratch behind her ear.

Virgil still was feeling a little bit anxious about the fact that he was out in the open, though he very much did not want to leave the room with the nice fire, and Patton and Logan would be back soon anyway. He should find some way to distract himself, and, well, the best way to distract himself was to investigate his environment, and it had the added benefit of making him feel safer.

 He carefully turned to his side to gently deposit Princess Marisol on the rug. She gave an insulted ‘mew,’ but quickly forgot her ire to sprawl across the ground with her belly to the fireplace. Virgil got to his feet and eyed the room as a whole.

It was fancy, to be sure, but a lot more homely than he’d expect to be in the royal wing. Logan’s bedroom was much more extravagant than this. It was closer to what he’d expect in the home of a financially stable, but not well-off family’s home both in contents and décor.

 There was a nice, but older looking couch that was probably older than Logan, perhaps even older than the king. It was huge though and comfy looking. It had two chairs that weren’t quite matching but were close enough and a table in front of it that had slightly chipped wood. A seemingly random set of pillows was on it, none quite matching the rest, but all sort of earthy browns and greens. There were bookshelves stuffed with books of all different shapes and sizes, and a giant painting of a turkey of all things over the fireplace. The fireplace itself was probably the fanciest thing in the room.

 Most of the fireplace was made out of bricks, though it had a wooden outline a good distance from the fire, and there was an ornate iron grate in front of it with pretty little leaf designs. On top of the mantle were little figurines that grabbed Virgil’s attention. They were small little wooden things carved into animals. Some were painted and some left the wood to be exposed. There were a good number of horses, but there were also things like rabbits and birds. There was even a few creatures Virgil did not recognize himself. They ranged in size from only about as big as his thumb to about as big as his hand.

 He leaned closer to take a better look at them, careful to keep his legs away from the hot iron grate, though he could still feel the intense heat from how close he was. He did not dare touch them. The room may seem like it did not belong in a castle, but it still was in one, and who knows how expensive or important the little figures were.

He settled his chin on the edge of the mantel, getting as close to the decorations as he dared, his eyes locked on a little robin that had been painted orange and grey with a bright yellow beak and eyes that almost looked alive.

 He spent a good minute staring at the wooden creature, before finally drawing back.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” a voice asked, and Virgil just about jumped onto the ceiling, but there weren’t any good footholds, and the ceiling wasn’t very high besides and wouldn’t give much cover. “And that is why I waited until you stepped back,” the same voice said and perhaps it sounded a bit amused, but Virgil was not focusing on that.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, cringing back. Why did he always have to be screwing something up when the king came upon him. Why did the universe hate him?

 “Oh, it’s okay,” the king said. He was still by the door, having only paused outside of the room instead of coming in. “You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

He certainly had been doing something wrong even if he was allowed to get that close to little things that seemed so fragile (which he almost definitely wasn’t) or be in one of the royal rooms without Patton or Logan in sight. Virgil had come here to kill this man even if he didn’t know it. He was an assassin in one of the private royal chambers. If the king had any idea, Virgil would be dead

 He made as though to take a step into the room, but he paused when he saw Virgil take a step back and grimaced. “I’ll, uh, just be going,” he said. “You can stay. You can look at the figurines all you want.”

Virgil looked at the man’s feet and didn’t say anything. He hoped he didn’t take that as an insult.

“Okay,” the king said. “Goodbye.”

He walked off then, likely to his own private room. When the footsteps faded, Virgil bent down to pick up Princess Marisol, who meowed her complaints at being pulled from the fire. He snuck quietly back into Logan’s room.

Logan and Patton found him in the closet 10 minutes later.

  Chapter 38

It was a bad day for Virgil. Now, Virgil had been skittish for the past few days ever since Patton and Logan had left him half asleep on the sitting room rug and came back to him crammed into a closet with Princess Marisol for company. He hadn’t told them what had happened, but obviously something had, and he’d been jumpy ever since. However, today seemed even worse.

The snow outside had only gotten thicker in the last few days since the first snowfall, and it had put Virgil’s anxieties through the roof. Often literally.

This morning, Logan had a meeting with his Dad, and so it was Patton’s job to coax the boy out of his closet. He’d reportedly slept in Logan’s bed but had stalked off to huddle in on himself in the closet as soon as Logan had had to get up.

 Patton entered Logan’s bedroom to a greeting meow from Princess Marisol. She, at least, was still in bed, happily perched on Logan’s pillow. “Oh, sweetie,” Patton said. “You know Logan doesn’t like cat hair on his stuff. She just purred happily, and Patton didn’t bother to push the issue any further. Instead, he turned to the closet.

He tapped twice. “Hey, Virgil, honey. Are you in there?” he asked, though he already was fairly certain of the answer.

There was a pause and then Virgil called back. “Yeah.”

“Can I open the door?”

A longer pause.

“Can I open the door long enough to join you in there?”

[alice1290]

My only ambition is only to be happy, that means being able to work on something I like, enjoying life and being able to live without suffering too much, although I am also very afraid of the future, I am very afraid of what I cannot control or predict, and I am afraid of not being ready to face future situations and of losing myself in the process and letting down myself and others

@luzysabel I really hope you’re okay with me answering this one for everyone to see. 💗

Thank you for sharing and reaching out to me with your ambitions, feelings, thoughts, and fears.

I’ll share a bit about myself in hopes to help ease your worry about the future and failure (and maybe someone else’s too).

I went to college to be an elementary school teacher. I graduated in four years, taking summer courses to help get to done in only four. I graduated with my classmates and applied for positions across our school district and several surrounding ones. Quickly, others got hired. As the school year approached I decided to become a substitute teacher. It would give me experience in the classroom and get my face/name know to the pricipals. Year two of substituting I subbed in one school only for almost the entire year. My parents pushed me to get my Master’s degree as a Reading Specialist. It would mean a higher pay as a teacher and a better degree on a resume. During my two year degree, I was hired in the middle of the year as a full time teacher, coming “highly recommended” from the principal of the school I subbed at the year prior.

I taught for almost two and a half years and struggled to keep my principal satisfied with me. In the middle of my second “full year” teaching, I was given the choice to either resign or finish out the year, but my contract would be terminated, this would put me on a sort of “black list” for the whole district. I chose to resign. It was the hardest decision that I’ve ever had to make. It honestly blindsided me. I had done everything they asked for, and I failed.

I can now look back and call it my quarter life crisis. I was 26. I have a job that I love now that is completely unrelated to my degree. This wasn’t what I planned. This wasn’t my “dream job”, but I have amazing coworkers and I’m happy. So, I think my takeaway is don’t stress about the future, life can be tough and painful and heartbreaking, but it’s what makes you happy that gets you through the years. 💗

[audrey-lim]

Raw Nerves - A Good Doctor Fic

It’s ME returned from the void to throw more good doctor fic at y’all before I retreat beneath my troll bridge once more. This one features Morgan and Audrey because they don’t get enough love so I have to give it to them. And I will. 

Title: Raw Nerves

Summary: Morgan's RA causes her to make a mistake during surgery that rattles her. She goes to Audrey determined to resign, and confesses her newly diagnosed RA. Audrey has other ideas. Canon compliant up to 3x15. 

Excerpt: : '“You did that today. You were ready to give up on all of your ambitions, on the thing that you have worked for, set aside your pride, and all your hopes for your own future in order to do what you felt needed to be done for your patients. I’m proud of you.” 

The shaky smile that lit Morgan’s face at that was both heartening and depressing. Heartening because it was obvious that it meant something coming from her; that she carried enough weight with Morgan for her pride to matter. Depressing because it was obvious they were words she’d rarely heard.'

Link: AO3 

“Doctor Lim?”

Audrey paused, about to enter her office, and turned to find Morgan hovering outside it, hands clenched tightly into fists at her sides, looking tense.

“Doctor Reznick, can I help you?”

She was fairly sure she could. Audrey knew an ambush when she saw one. Reznick had been waiting for her to get back and after the events of the day, she wasn’t all too surprised to find her here.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan said shakily, as though she was having to force out every word, “I would like to remove myself from the residency program. I no longer think that I’m capable of dealing with it.”

Audrey blinked. It took a lot to surprise her. She’d been a trauma surgeon for the better part of twenty years. She’d seen every ugly, gory, messy piece of humanity; both inside and out. This surprised her.

“I wanted to thank you for this opportunity,” Morgan continued. She had now clasped her shaking hands in front of her. It seemed to be taking every bit of composure and grit she’d built up since starting her residency to get through this. “It’s been an honour working with you, Doctor Lim. I learned a lot.”

She only just managed to choke out the last word. Then she stood almost defiantly, head held high, back almost painfully straight, and gave Audrey a slight nod.

A beat of silence followed this emotional pronouncement, both women staring at each other as the moment swelled. Audrey burst it. She’d never been one for dramatics. That was firmly Neil’s department.

“Come in here,” she said, nodding towards her office, stepping inside and then holding the door.

Morgan remained standing stiffly, eyes glassy, a muscle feathering in her jaw as she fought to control herself.

“Please,” she bit out, finally, “Don’t make this any harder than it already is. I don’t want it to be drawn out, I don’t want to be processed, and fill out paperwork. I don’t want you to hold my hand and tell me I’ve done a good job and I should be proud of myself, and that I shouldn’t think I’m weak or whatever other managerial bullshit you’re required to spout now as my chief. I just...I just want to go. Please.”

That last word undercut the strong defiance in the rest of her little speech.

Audrey was unimpressed.

It had been a long fucking day. She was tired, she was sore, she was pissed off. She wanted to go home, open a bottle of beer, and put on one of the gardening shows she taped and would never reveal to anyone outside of her bad-tempered cat that she watched willingly.

“Morgan,” she said, emphasising the word with as much ‘I don’t have the energy for bullshit right now’ tone as she could muster, which was a lot, “I’m not asking you to come in and have a cup of tea with me as your mentor or friend. I’m telling you to get into my office as your chief of surgery. Do you understand?”

“Okay,” Morgan said, finally. 

She stiffly moved into the room and Audrey hurried her on with a wave of the hand before closing the door and tilting the blinds. The hospital was designed in a very open, minimalist style with plenty of glass walls and doors to let in the light. It was great for her plants, but she had never liked the feeling of existing in a fish bowl, with passersby able to ogle her whenever they felt like it.

Audrey moved behind her desk and sat down, gesturing Morgan towards the chair opposite her. She sat slowly, still looking a little thrown. Clearly whatever she’d expected Audrey’s reaction to be, it hadn’t been this.

She leaned down and rummaged in a drawer for a moment before pulling out a box of tissues, which she nudged pointedly across the desk.

Morgan stared at them then, with a touch of her usual arrogance, said, “I haven’t cried in front of another person since I was eight.”

“Maybe you should,” she observed mildly, steepling her fingers in front of her, reminding herself irresistibly of her first chief of surgery.

Morgan blinked incredulously, the context of the situation temporarily lost to the situation, “This? From you?”

Audrey raised her eyebrows.

“I just mean,” Morgan amended, forcibly softening her tone, “That you’re not exactly the most...Emotionally frivolous person I’ve ever met.”

She smiled at that. Emotionally frivolous. She had to remember that. Neil would get a kick out of it, she was pretty sure, and immediately resolved never to let him hear it.

“Fair,” she conceded, “But I’m not devoid of emotion; I just control it. There’s a difference. And I also know when controlling and holding everything back is no longer the best course of action. Sometimes you need to let a wound bleed before you can patch it up. So-” she pushed the tissues closer still to Morgan with the aid of a pen.

Morgan drew the box to the edge of the table in a small sign of acquiescence, but didn’t take one. Well, miracles took a little bit more work than the impossible, she’d take what she could get.

“You have been the most obviously ambitious and driven resident at this hospital from day one,” Audrey said bluntly, leaning forward, hands clasped once more.

She didn’t see the point in beating about the bush. Not this late in the day. And not with Morgan. Straight talking was a trait they both shared and appreciated in each other.

“Tell me why you want to leave now. Without any mention from me or Doctor Melendez. And more importantly, without any kind of fight.”

“I could have killed that boy today,” Morgan whispered shakily.

“You didn’t,” Audrey pointed out.

Confronting your own mortality was hard enough. Confronting the fact that you were fully responsible for another human being’s mortality was something else. Even the hardest, most reserved and arrogant surgeons she’d ever worked with had met that beast and been shaken by it. She sure as hell had.

“I could have,” Morgan said, more forcefully. Her voice broke back down to that of a frightened child realising how small they really were in the face of the world for the first time again as she added, “That scares me.”

“Good,” Audrey said bluntly.

One of her previous mentors had observed that, with her scalpel, she had all the true delicacy that a surgeon needed. With her words, however, she could somehow have all the subtlety of a scalpel. She figured there were times for scalpels, and times for sledgehammers, and that was just how she was.

Morgan looked up from her focused contemplation of her own hands looking shocked. Audrey rather liked being able to produce that effect in her. In any of her residents. It was good to challenge them, push them out of their comfort zones, tease something new from them.

“We’re not superhuman,” she went on, when it became clear Morgan wasn’t going to be able to find a reply to that. For once. “You fucked up. It happens. Surgeons are trained to achieve perfection every single time, with every single thing that they do. That’s because when we don’t people can die.”

“Well I definitely fucked up today,” Morgan whispered, shuddering.

She stared down at her hands again, as though she could still see the mess she had made stained upon them. That might linger for a while. Audrey hoped it did. She still had blood on her hands after years of scrubbing. If she ever lost that she’d leave this profession she loved and never come back.

“You did,” Audrey agreed. No point sugar-coating it. “That’s the fact of the matter. The big secret that everyone knows about surgeons; and no-one wants to admit. That mistakes can happen. We’re flawed. We’re human. Shit’s going to happen.”

Morgan shook her head slightly.

Audrey knew that feeling. She had believed she could be perfect. She had believed she could get through all her surgeries flawlessly and never make a mistake. She’d believed that herself. When it had all come crashing down it had nearly crushed her.

There were a lot of make or break moments on the road to surgery. This was usually one of the first. How did you deal with your first big error. What did you do when you realised how easily you could kill someone? A lot of people couldn’t handle that kind of responsibility.

Med school was all about saving lives. Helping patients. Doing good. Beating the odds. Changing lives.

Residency was when the real world kicked back in. That was when you remembered that the harsh realities hadn’t disappeared while you were buried in books. And that those who had the power to save lives; equally had the power to lose them.

“You fucked up,” Audrey said, drawing Morgan’s eyes back to her, “But you handled it. You put that boy’s life in danger with your mistake. Then you saved it. He’ll go home tomorrow with his parents and his life will change for the better because of what you did today.”

“It could so easily have gone the other way. His parents could be going home right now making funeral arrangements because of me.”

“But they’re not. That’s also because of you. A monkey could nick an artery in the middle of surgery - anyone can do that. Not everyone can handle the situation afterwards. That’s the difference,” Audrey said.

Morgan blinked. Audrey enjoyed the effect of her processing the rollercoaster of that little nugget of advice for a moment.

Then she said, more seriously, “If we kicked out every resident who made a mistake during a surgery the world would very quickly run out of future surgeons.

“I don’t want to leave because I made a mistake,” Morgan said rigidly, her jaw clenched, that same feeling that she was having to force out every syllable back in her tone again, “I want to leave because I should never have been able to make that mistake in the first place.”

The deep breath she sucked in to compose herself shook audibly in the quiet of her office. Morgan hesitated, then reluctantly yanked a tissue from the box in front of her and proceeded to twist it between her hands, fraying it.

“I should never have been in that OR today. I shouldn’t have been in one for a while,” she finally got out, with the same aura of a person relieving the darkest sins of their soul in a confessions box.  

“Why not?” Audrey pushed.

Sometimes you had to apply a little pressure, cause a little pain, to get to the root of a problem before you could yank it out and stitch up the wound.

Morgan stared at the tissue she was now shredding between her fingers without really seeing it. Audrey was impressed with her steel as she managed to swallow, actually look up with her head high, when she spoke next.

“A few weeks ago you noticed that I was...Shaky during the tracheal surgery. I told you that I hit my finger with a hammer while I was hanging a painting at home…”

Morgan closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. The words were barely distinct when they came, but they came. For that Audrey commended her more than anything she had yet seen from the young woman.

“I lied to you.”

The admission hung heavy in the air for a moment, both of them hearing it and processing the implications, the enormity of this moment in the life of Morgan Reznick.

“The truth is,” Morgan said, her whole body shaking along with her words now. “The truth is that I-” She broke off and reached for another tissue, having successfully crumpled the first into a mulch of confetti in her agitation. She used this one to dab at her eyes which had started shedding tears against her concrete will. “The truth is that I...I…”

“You have rheumatoid arthritis,” Audrey said, gently.

She’d heard enough. Morgan had done enough to convince her she was ready to tell her the truth and trust her with this most vulnerable new aspect of her existence. She wasn’t cruel. She was a mentor. She was there to challenge, and push, but also to guide and assist where she was needed.

Morgan stared at her, eyes wide, every other emotion forgotten for a moment in the face of her shock.

“How did you know?”

Audrey gave her a rueful smile. “You told me that you hit your hand with a hammer, Morgan. I’ve never seen more perfectly manicured hands in my life,” Morgan gave a small watery smile, staring down at them. “No cuts, no bruising, no marks whatsoever,” Audrey said, shaking her head. “In future if you’re going to lie to my face, at least put some effort in.”

Morgan huffed a soft laugh at that, dabbing her eyes. “To be fair I was under a lot of pressure.”

“Well I’m glad you stitch better under pressure than you lie,” Audrey observed.

“That’s why I became a surgeon and not a lawyer,” Morgan joked. Then her face crumpled and she had to bite her lip hard to stop herself crying. Audrey was about to reach out to her when she coughed and said, with forced composure, “How did you know it was RA, though? It could have been something else, something other than what I’d said.”

Audrey sighed heavily. “I’m not an idiot, Morgan,” she said flatly. “You have a family history. I have eyes. And you decided to confide in Glassman who, for the record, lies even worse under pressure than you do.”

“He promised me that he’d give me a chance; that he wouldn't’ say anything to anyone,” Morgan mumbled.

“And he didn’t,” Audrey admitted, “Not until I implied that I already knew and then, well…” she trailed off with a shrug.

“So...So how long have you known exactly?” Morgan asked, now frowning slightly.

“A few months or so,” Audrey replied calmly.

“So you’ve just been waiting for this,” Morgan said, gesturing stiffly, “Ever since you figured it out?”

It was obvious she was trying to control the anger and frustration Audrey had known this would provoke in her. She was largely failing.

“Yes, I have,” she said evenly.

Morgan scoffs, shaking her head. Audrey sat up a little straighter and prepared herself with the rebuttals she had worked out for this eventual confrontation. Morgan surprised her however, “Then why didn’t you just fire me on the spot as soon as you found out? Why did you let me keep going on as a resident when you knew I was...Compromised,” she spoke that last word as though it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Audrey leaned back, considering her. She’d expected an angry tirade about why she had let Morgan continue in pain and fear all this time without reaching out to her. She wouldn’t at all have blamed her for asking that; it was a valid question. She’d spent a long time weighing the pros and cons of each option.

She took a moment to adjust to the altered trajectory of the conversation, then said carefully, and honestly, “I wanted to see how you handled the situation. That’s part of being a good attending. If you dive in the second one of your residents makes a mistake, or encounters an issue, and fix it for them, they’ll never learn or grow. Neither will you. You’re always learning in this job and anyone can have an idea you would never have thought of. You miss those opportunities if you’re too quick to assert what you think is right onto a situation.”

Morgan nodded stiffly, and Audrey softened her tone and added more gently, “It’s not easy. And this is not a decision that I took lightly in any way. But...You received a setback. I wanted to see how you recovered. And you did. The same way you did today in surgery. You dealt with it before it became a problem that I had to intervene in because you no longer cope with it yourself.”

“So you just...You used it as a test?” Morgan said, sounding hurt and betrayed, in spite of herself, Audrey knew.

The relationship between an attending and a resident was a lot more intimate than someone who hadn’t experienced it could ever understand. There was a lot of trust, that went both ways. But especially from the residents. Their attending was someone they could look up to, someone they knew would have their back, be in their corner, but who also made all the decisions in their day-to-day lives.

It was a relationship with a big, natural power imbalance, and it was difficult to negotiate from both sides.

Audrey loved it. She loved being able to teach, being able to learn from her residents. She loved being able to guide, and train, and help her surgeons thrive. And she thought she was suited to it.

She’d met attendings who worked the way Morgan assumed she had. She’d had them use those tactics, and play those games, with her. And the betrayal cut deep.

“No,” she said, voice still gentle, “This isn’t a game, Morgan. This is your life, your career, your dream. I get that,” Morgan looked up at her, a kind of desperation in her eyes, seeking that validation, the validation of someone who understood her and her love for this job.

“But you didn’t say anything,” her voice wasn’t as accusatory as it had been a moment ago, but there was still an element of distrust in it.

“No, I didn’t.” She took a deep breath, wondering how exactly to explain herself, “Being a good surgeon is about more than knowledge or skill-”

“You have to care,” Morgan interrupted, with thinly veiled sarcasm.

Audrey smiled, thinly, “We all care, Morgan,” she said wryly. “Maybe not as openly as someone like Claire, or as abstractly as someone like Shaun, but no-one does this job if they don’t care. That’s a given. I don’t care what anyone says, how aloof they appear, how emotionally frivolous,” she caught Morgan’s eye and they shared a small smile, “They care.”

“I do,” Morgan mumbled, a little unnecessarily, but she could be forgiven under the circumstances.

“You can teach surgery,” Audrey said, “You can teach technique, and medicine, and even how to cope under the kind of pressure situations we face. But you will never be a truly great surgeon if you can't be aware of your own flaws and manage to overcome them.”

Morgan swallowed, and Audrey was sure she felt this was going to go in the direction of ‘your RA is a flaw you can’t overcome, so you can never be a great surgeon’. It wasn’t. She was kind of offended Morgan still expected her to go that conventional route. Audrey was many things but she tried, as a rule, to never be conventional.

“ You have to be able to take yourself out of the equation. You have to be able to make decisions beyond yourself - to ignore your own feelings, your own beliefs, and judgements. Your hopes and dreams, and demons, all need to go inside a little box in your head that you throw out of a window every morning before you come to work. You have to be able to do what is right for your patients, no matter what it costs you, or how hard that might be.”

She saw a faint spark of hope rekindle in Morgan’s eyes, and endeavoured to tease it into something stronger, bring back that fire she was known for.

“You did that today. You were ready to give up on all of your ambitions, on the thing that you have worked for, set aside your pride, and all your hopes for your own future in order to do what you felt needed to be done for your patients. I’m proud of you.”

The shaky smile that lit Morgan’s face at that was both heartening and depressing. Heartening because it was obvious that it meant something coming from her; that she carried enough weight with Morgan for her pride to matter. Depressing because it was obvious they were words she’d rarely heard.

“This really wasn’t a test?” she whispered the words as though they were a question, but both of them knew it wasn’t. Not really.

“Life is a test,” Audrey said, frowning slightly at how unfortunately philosophical that had sounded. “This is just something that you had to face during the course of it. It was a choice you had to make. It’s a choice that every resident will have to make before they qualify. Or they won’t. It’ll come from different places, and affect you all in different ways...But it always comes.”

“So if I hadn’t done this...If I hadn’t come to you and told you the truth…”

“If you hadn’t been able to make this decision I would have made it for you,” Audrey relied brutally. “But today you showed me that you could. You have the self-awareness and understanding to put aside your ambitions, and your dreams, and your fears and admit when you can’t do something.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t come to you sooner,” Morgan said, slowly. “Both in the sense that I feel guilty for lying to you by omission for as long as I did...But also because I think it would have made things a lot easier for me.”

“Being a resident is tough. It’s competitive and it can be cutthroat. Showing weakness or vulnerability to your superior is tough, too. Especially as a woman. Especially as a woman with a newly diagnosed disability.” Morgan flinched slightly at the use of the word, but didn’t challenge it. “I get it,” Audrey said, nodding.

“That day you confronted me in the locker room - you figured that I’d made a complaint preemptively to try and protect myself...It just made me so sure that if I came to you about any of this...You’d fire me on the spot,” Morgan admitted quietly, addressing the mess of tissues still clutched in her hand.

Audrey sighed heavily at that. “I know,” she said ruefully, “But I had to impress upon you that certain tactics weren’t going to work with me, and that you’d only cause more harm with them.”

“I understand,” Morgan said, nodding, “But...You knew then, right?” She nodded. “I know what you said about seeing how I coped and having to make decisions but...Why didn’t you just come out and confront me then and there? Force me to deal with it, to make the choice then?”

“I considered it,” Audrey said honestly, “But I decided that forcing this out of you before you were ready wasn’t going to be very productive. I didn’t want you to feel like I was another odd stacked against you in the hand you’ve been dealt. I thought that the likelihood of you responding was low, and that the chances of you turning defensive and lashing out were pretty high.”

“You just...Let me struggle alone,” Morgan said, her face becoming more closed as she said it.

“Yes,” Audrey admitted quietly.

It hurt to say. It hurt to hear. But it needed to be said. She wasn’t going to lie and deny that she caused pain. She just had to lay it bare and hope it had been worth it.

“Why?” Morgan breathed. She knew. They both knew. But Audrey understood why she had to ask. “Why didn’t you help me?” she said, voice breaking. “I- I needed help.”

It took all of Audrey’s self-control not to flinch at that.

“I know,” she said, as gently as she could. She reached across her desk and gently squeezed Morgan’s clasped hands. She waited until she looked at her to add, “BUt you couldn’t ask for that help. You couldn’t admit to needing it. Before today, you wouldn’t have been able to accept it, either, even if I had tried to give it to you.”

“You couldn’t have known that,” Morgan accused, shaking her head and pulling back.

“But I did,” Audrey said quietly. She had to proceed carefully, now. Her scalpel was balanced precariously in the middle of a network of raw nerves. One wrong move would do irreparable damage. “We know our residents a lot better than they think we do. A lot better than you all probably want to think about,” she added musingly. “But I also know,” she went on, before Morgan could interrupt, “Because I’ve been where you are now.”

Morgan looked startled, “You have-” she began, and Audrey swiftly intervened to correct.

“Not exactly where you are,” she said, and Morgan deflated a little. “But you still remind me of myself when I was a resident.” Morgan looked up again, head cocked slightly to one side, looking genuinely curious now.

As a general rule she tried not to reveal too much of herself to her residents. Her personal life was hers. She wasn’t the most fiercely private person at the hospital. But there were lines, and boundaries, and in her experience it was best to be careful when crossing them. This was one of the times she felt it would be a benefit to share her experiences as a person, not just a doctor.

“I was underestimated, too,” she began, “I was smart, driven, ambitious, and talented.” There was no point denying your own worth to anyone; least of all yourself. “I was also the one they waited on to fail every day. I was the one they wanted to see fail. And so I had to be twice as good every step of the way to prove them wrong.”

Morgan nodded, a small, unconscious thing, Audrey’s words resonating with her.

“For me ‘they’ were my superiors in the program - dusty old white men who felt challenged and threatened by very existence in their hospital.”

“With good reason,” Morgan muttered.

She blushed, telling Audrey the words had slipped out accidentally. But she smirked, pleased. “Quite,” she agreed.

Neil had confessed to her over drinks that he was never sure how she’d restrained herself from breaking bones in their chief’s body on more than one occasion. She told him she’d satisfied herself with breaking all of his records in surgery instead. Which she had. Repeatedly.

She took a breath and softened as she returned to the task at hand, “Your ‘they are your family. And, more importantly, yourself.”

Morgan glanced up at her, apparently both wanting, needing her to go on, to understand...And also terrified that she actually might.

Audrey went carefully, slowly, “You need to prove to yourself that you should be here. You need to know that all the bridges you’ve burned, all the opportunities you’ve turned down, all the things you’ve sacrificed, all the fights that you’ve had...You need to know they were worth it.”

Morgan met her eyes then slowly, tremulously, she nodded.

Audrey smiled sadly and continued, “Living every day under that kind of pressure..Eventually it breaks you.”

Morgan shook her head in disbelief, “I find it hard to imagine you ever breaking.”

The smile Audrey gave her this time was rueful. She would have loved that to be true herself, but she knew damn well it wasn’t.

“Oh believe me, I broke,” she said with a humourless laugh. “It wasn’t pleasant. But it forced me to finally ask for help, and to acknowledge something about this job it takes a long time for most residents to realise.”

“That we aren’t invincible?” Morgan said quietly.

Audrey understood that feeling, too. There was a rush to surgery that she had never been able to replicate. Not with her bike, not with sex, not with anything. Knowing that you had saved a person’s life; that they would be dead without you...It could very quickly go to your head, make you believe that you could do anything.

Coping once that bubble burst and the dam it had kept on the real world crumpled and it all came rushing back in was tough.

“Yes,” she agreed, “But it taught me that we don’t exist in a vacuum. No matter how good you are, no matter how many things you can do, no-one can do everything alone. No matter how much they might want to,” she added, correctly interpreting the wry look on Morgan’s face. “And we’re human. Holding yourself to impossible standards every day is only going to truly change one person - yourself.”

Morgan blinked, surprised. “But you did change people’s minds, didn’t you? You proved yourself to your superiors - all the men who thought you couldn’t do this job. You proved them wrong.”

“I did,” Audrey said, “But it didn’t change as much as I thought it would at the time. Everyone else will think what they want to think, regardless of what you do. Their thoughts won’t affect how you do your job. Destroying yourself trying to prove a point to them will.”

“This is all very inspiring and everything, Doctor Lim,” Morgan said shakily, staring down at her hands again, “But there’s a major difference in our stories.” She raised her head and looked Audrey in the eyes when she said, “You didn’t have a chronic incurable condition eroding away your nerves.”

“No,” Audrey agreed gently, “But I had to deal with a lot of prejudice - which, believe me, can be just as chronic, painful, and incurable as rheumatoid arthritis. Not to mention the effect it has on the nerves.”

Morgan managed a weak smile at that, but it quickly faded as she sobered once more, shaking her head, staring down at her hands again with a look of such betrayal in her eyes it hurt to watch.

“It’s not the same,” she whispered, tears forming again, despite her obvious attempts to hold them back.

“No,” Audrey said again, and Morgan looked up at her once more. “BUt they’ll say the same thing to you that they said to me,” she told her. “The same thing that they said to Murphy. They’ll tell you that you can’t.”

“And they’ll be right,” Morgan interrupted with a hysterical note to her words now.

“They don’t get to decide that,” Audrey cut in firmly. “You do. You proved that to me today. If you know what you can’t do, if you understand your limitations, then you know what you can do, and you understand your own capabilities.”

“And that’s enough?” Morgan said, with obvious disbelief.

“It’s enough for me,” Audrey replied.

She’d made her decision on this. One of her friends from med school had specialised in rheumatology and they’d had a lot of late night conversations and dinner meetings about this. The condition was damaging, but it was also variable, and relied a lot on the individual’s understanding of their own well-being and function day to day. She’d decided that if Morgan could prove she could master that, she still had a place at this hospital on her team.

The visible relief that flooded Morgan’s body seemed for a moment to sweep away every bit of pain she was in. Her eyes brightened again, and for the first time in weeks, Audrey felt that fire from her again.

“It will not be unconditional,” she said quickly. She didn’t want to ruin this moment for Morgan, but at the same time she had to establish boundaries. “I will trust you. If you tell me that you can do something, then I will let you do it. But I also need to know when you can’t do something, or if you’re unsure at all.”

Morgan bit her lip, and Audrey thought she could sense the reason for her hesitation, so clarified.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I don’t need you to come in here every morning with a neon sign detailing where you’re at on a pain scale. We can work a system between us - but I do need to know.”

“Of course,” Morgan said. She was nodding eagerly now, sitting up straighter, perching on the edge of her seat, looking alive and intent, ready to do whatever it took to be a good doctor.

“And you’re to keep seeing your rheumatologist regularly,” Audrey went on, “I would like to be kept up to date with your progress, your meds, any new symptoms. If things get worse, if they get better. I’d like to know your options.”

“Alright,” Morgan said, though she looked a little more uncertain.

“This is not something I can force you to give me,” Audrey clarified, “It’s your choice to divulge those things to me, and it’s your right to keep them from me, but it will help me, which will help you, if I understand as much about your condition as I can.”

“I’ll forward you over all of my notes tonight,” Morgan promised, a spark of defiant resolution in her eyes that Audrey decided against challenging.

“I also think,” she went on, tone softening as she knew how this was likely to be received, “That you should tell the team about this.”

Morgan balked visibly at that, which Audrey understood. The competition the program fostered between them all was good, and generally healthy, producing good results, but it made it difficult to confide weaknesses. This was something that frustrated her, as understanding the weaknesses of your coworkers was as important as knowing their strengths.

She raised a placating hand, “Like I said, it’s not something I’m going to force you into. I know that it’s hard, I know that you don’t want to, but I think that it might help.”

“I don’t want them to treat me differently,” Morgan said quietly.

“I know. But you should be,” she started. “You have a disability, Morgan,” Audrey said, as gently as she could while not sugar-coating the facts of the matter. “That’s hard to accept, I know that. But it does change things. And it means that some things will have to be changed in order to manage that. Accommodation is not a bad word, and having team members who understand what you’re going through and can support you will not make you weak, or less talented, or less deserving of a place among them.”

“I know,” Morgan said, “Logically I know all of that. It’s the same advice that I would give to a patient in my position reacting the way that I am but…”

“But emotion is the death of all logic,” Audrey said with a sigh, “Humanity throughout history has struggled with this. I don’t expect you to come up with a solution for it in an afternoon.” Morgan relaxed at those words. “But I do think you should at least consider what I’ve said,” she added firmly.

“I will,” she promised in turn.

“Alright then,” Audrey said, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. She could almost taste the kiss of the fresh air on her skin and she was ready to embrace it on her ride home.

“Morgan remained sitting, looking a little shell shocked by the abrupt end of their meeting. “You’re...You’re really not getting rid of me?” she said, as though she felt stupid asking but couldn’t stop herself.

“No, I’m not,” Audrey said with a small smile. “Not unless you want to tell me right now that you don’t think you can contribute anything to this team anymore. That’s the only reason I would have for letting you go. Are you going to tell me that?”

“No,” Morgan said defiantly, also getting to her feet. “I can. I will.”

Audrey smiled. “Good. Then go. Do.”

Morgan actually smiled. It had been a long time since she’d seen that expression on her face.

Audrey stepped out from behind her desk and moved towards the door. “Then I think we’re done. Good night, Doctor Reznick.”

Morgan smiled and marched briskly to the door, which Audrey was now holding open for her. “Good night, Doctor Lim,” she said formally, giving her a small nod.

She moved to walk out of the office, hesitated, then, in a sudden rush, turned and pulled Audrey into a quick hug.

“Thank you,” Morgan breathed in her ear, squeezing her a little more tightly than was strictly necessary, “I promise I won’t let you down.”

Audrey recovered from the shock of the move and patted Morgan on the back a few times until she released her.

“You’re welcome,” she said warmly, “And I know you won’t.” Morgan nodded again, looking confident and renewed. “See you tomorrow,” Audrey said with a smile.

Morgan smiled back, “See you tomorrow.”