#or like 'I didn't have dinner yet' like I came across this again randomly on txitter and I realise how much that shit fucks you up

[mchiti]

i feel like I can only formulate coherent thoughts at 5am these days but since I've done nothing but working crying and sleeping the past 2 days I was thinking that I'm sure most of my lifelong anxiety is from being left alone with my brother as a kid and waiting for my parents to come back from work. Sometimes they'd come home super late and the whole process of waiting, waiting, just endlessly waiting. I envy so much kids who have parents who work normal hours and don't have to go through that because that sense of terroreì has stayed with me ever since, there's no way to explain it

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Chapter Three - Anguish

Summary: The error of his ways is seen in a new light. Morpheus realizes that perhaps he is the monster he claims he is not.

Notes: ~7.4k words. This chapter flips between Reader and Morpheus a bit since they're not always together so I apologize if the timeline is confusing... Lightly edited, if you see the tenses switching between past and present, no you didn't

Warnings/Tags: more angst, self destruction/mental breakdown. Morpheus learning he's the problem

Tag list is open! Just let me know if you want to be added :)

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Anguish (n.) - extreme pain or suffering, both emotional and physical 

That night, the King doesn't join you at dinner. Your company is that of footmen and maids as they try to not stare at you eating alone at the long table. The next night, he doesn't show again, nor the next, nor the night after that. Matthew and you have begun to fall into a comfortable silence as he follows you around. 

The knight is starting to take his role more seriously and even resists eating another bug in front of you when you go back to your garden and tend to the nursery plants. In turn, you have started to talk to your plants, even if you know they won't respond back. You fear if you never use your voice again, it may as well be lost. 

A common bird in a golden cage, with no one to sing to. 

It is to none of your surprise when you walk into the private dining room and see the empty seat across from your place. Again. The royal chef always cooks enough for two, and he didn’t hold back tonight either. 

It is so unbearably quiet when you eat, you can hear each chew of your food, every scrap of your silverware against the plate, each clink of the glass back onto the table. Looking down at your half-eaten food, you’ve long lost your appetite. 

Perhaps you would’ve had your fill if your mind wasn’t constantly running with thoughts, feeding into your loneliness. These thoughts formed into hideous monsters that follow you no matter where you went in the palace. In every crevice, every nook, in every page you want to read. It was exhausting, to say the least. You could feel them as tingles on the back of your head and through the whispers of palace staff and attendants. 

“I am done for the night,” You announce as you push away your half-finished dinner. 

“Was the food not to your liking, Your Majesty?” A maid came by to take your plate as you stood. 

“It was adequate, I simply am done. Thank you.” You send a small smile to her before you leave. 

Matthew was waiting for you when you exited the room. His armor jostles as he stands up straight, seemingly surprised at how fast you finished your dinner. You don’t wait for him as you already set your sight on your bed, walking with purpose down the long halls. Your head was pounding, again, and sleep seemed like the perfect resolution to the problem. 

“Was the food that good?” He asks behind you. 

“I can’t complain, not any good as any bugs you have eaten?” You ask in a small joke. 

Mathew doesn’t bother with a response. He had in fact eaten bugs again, but this time nowhere near his queen in fear that Jessamy is going to randomly appear in front of him again. A blush creeps onto his cheeks as he thinks of the woman and he’s glad for the cover of his raven helmet. Whether the blush was from embarrassment or admiration, he isn't quite sure of yet.

“You can leave for the night, Matthew. I’m going straight to bed,” You say as soon as the two of you make it to your room. 

“I still can’t do that, as you know. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” Matthew comments and remains in position with no plans of leaving. 

With a sigh of resolution, you enter the room. The maids haven't arrived yet to light any candles, too busy eating their own dinners. So it was up to you to undress yourself. Thankfully, Agnes was kind that night and left the corset untieable by your hands. You pick a random nightgown to wear and head straight to bed. 

Your headache is still prevalent, but with your head against the cooling pillow, the intensity seems to dwindle slowly. Pulling the covers over your chin you close your eyes as you beg for sleep to come to you. 

♔♕

In a different part of the castle, sits Morpheus. He rubs his fingers against his temples as yet another piece of paper is placed down in front of him. Lucienne stands in front of his daunting desk with even more in her hands. His dinner plate has long since been forgotten, cold and with only a few bites taken out of it. The fork stabbed into the meat in a most unprofessional way; if his mother saw this, she would have his hands spanked. 

“Is this the last of it?” Morpheus asks slowly as he picks up the parchment. 

“Do you want me to lie… or…” Lucienne drags out the last syllable as she speaks. She peers at her King over her glasses as she does so. The stacks of papers in her hands were obvious enough. 

“Ha!” A new voice laughs.

“Something funny, Robert?” Morpheus basically spits out his name. 

“Oh, sorry, didn’t know laughing was banned in the castle,” The man holds up his hands in fake surrender. He lays languidly on some grand couch, a hand resting over his eyes and his legs folded over each other. “Also, seriously, we’ve been friends for how long? Just call me Hob.”

“No,” Morpheus mutters and returns his attention back to the paper on hand. Hob throws out his hands in exasperation as he gives a look to Lucienne, who only returns it with a shrug. 

The markings on the large piece of parchment were starting to swirl together, or his eyes were beginning to become crossed. Either way, there was no way he could make out anything. With a groan, he throws the paper back on the table and rests his head on the back of his chair. 

Flashes of his discussions today play in his mind. There was the possibility of a drought this year, and last year’s food rations had already run out. He needs to think of something for the farmers. Desire’s pettiness is still willing to wage some unknown war on his kingdom, but he currently has no information about their plans, only that they managed to wrangle Despair into their plans. Then, his out-of-commissions brother, who decided to leave the country to “find himself.” Whatever that means. 

Then there was his wife who he hadn't seen for several days in hopes of avoiding you. His lover who won’t even speak to him alone. His older sister, whom he has no idea where she is. There was too much on his plate, and he could feel each new task weighing down on his shoulders. 

With another groan, he presses his palms into his eyes, making swirling patterns behind his eyelids. When he opens them again, Lucienne is waiting patiently for him. 

“Shall we stop here for the night, my lord?” She asks. 

“Gods, please, let’s stop now.” Hob comments, voice slowly slurring as he fights sleep. 

“Robert, you did not help at all. How can you be tired?” Morpheus glares at his friend though he knows he can’t see him do so. 

Hob doesn’t bother with a verbal response, instead faking a loud snore with a slight smirk on his lips. 

“Let us continue,” Morpheus sighs and picks up the parchment for the third time.

“Actually, there is something I wanted to bring up,” Lucienne pauses and waits for Morpheus’ attention before she continues. “Just gossip, really… There’s rumors going around that you didn’t consummate your wedding, is it true?”

“The rumors… are quite true,” Morpheus admits, unable to lie to his loyal advisor. 

Surprise takes over Lucienne’s face as she hears the news. She blinks as she tries to think of an appropriate response. Witnessing how the two of you acted a few days ago, she felt as if something was off, but she didn’t think it was because of this. 

“Then you must consummate at once, it’s for the betterment of the kingdom,” She responds calmly, holding his gaze. 

“Is it?” He huffs out a small, fake laugh. The question was not at all genuine, and sarcasm lay heavily within it. “It is none of anyone’s concern except ours. Though, you should find a way to stop the rumors. They are doing more harm than good within my walls.”

Lucienne does little to hide the displeased look on her face. Why was it her responsibility to stop the rumors, didn’t Morpheus just say the concern is none of hers? 

“He’s saying he can’t get laid, is all I’m hearing,” Hob voices his thoughts once more. 

“Stop jesting or I will hang you by your inflated head,” Morpheus growls at him.

“No, you won’t. Or else you lose 50% of your friends. And that, my friend, is some pretty bad math.” Hob scoffs.

The titled royal heaves as he sits up, his outfit having long since wrinkled from his position. The tunic was starting to wrap a bit tighter around his abdomen and he swears he will start exercising the next day. Perhaps get back into the sport of hunting before his body gets wasted away. But that was a thought for the next day, or the day after if tomorrow didn’t suit his taste. 

“Ignoring him,” Lucienne quickly interjects the two men loudly. “I think it wise if you were to do something for your wife. If she doesn’t look so forlorn, perhaps the rumors will stop on their own. They’re obviously feeding off something.��� 

The message was clear for both Lucienne and Hob: “You’re acting like a shit husband and everyone can tell.” Morpheus was willing to brush off the topic, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind agreed with them. He stares at the bracelet that wraps itself on his wrist, following the red string that intertwined with the black. The King doesn’t voice it often, or ever for that matter, but Lucienne and Hob’s company were always appreciated. 

The king taps his finger against the wooden desk in thought.

Fate.

What a horrible thing. 

“I will think of something.” His words were the final verdict of the night. 

♔♕

Your morning starts as it always has. With a sharp tug of the bell, Agnes’ face is the first to greet you. Sleep is still evident on your face, the early retirement last night wanting you back in its grasp. Agnes and her maids dress you in something simple today, the weather is far too hot for anything else. 

“Anything planned for me today?” You gasp as your lady’s maid pulls the last string on the corset. She should become a sailor instead if she can tie ropes this tight. 

“None of your schedule, Your Majesty.” She responds as she backs away from you, a satisfied smile on her face as she gives you one last look over. 

“Great,” You grit through your teeth. Same as always then. 

Agnes gives a curtsy and she and her army of maids leave you once more. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you cross your arms over yourself. The self-hug was all you had going for you. Long since another person touched you and even if you missed the way your mother treated you, you long for her gentle touches on your scalp. 

With a deep breath you open the door, perhaps a little more forceful than necessary. As always, Matthew is waiting for you. This time, however, he’s standing with his hand raised in a fist, ready to knock on the door before you open it. 

“You scared me,” You say with a sharp intake of breath. “And why are you staring at me like that?” If you were wearing pearls today, you might as well be clutching them. 

“G’morning, boss lady!” Matthew greets you as he looms over you in his armor. It was ironic how stoic his armor set made him look, only for his personality to be the complete opposite of it. 

“Is there a special occasion?” You reply with a smile. This was the first time he used the term “boss lady” for you and you remember him asking ever so nicely those days ago. 

“The king handed me this, he said it was for you and that special locked door we found on your first day here.” Matthew opens his palms and a single key is laid within it. 

When you go to pick it up, it’s heavy and rustic and reminds you of something that would lock up the basement. There was a small note attached to it which read “something for you to do” written in excellent penmanship by His Majesty. 

“He touched me…!” Matthew’s voice gushes a mile away in your head as you reread the note. Morpheus remembered that you wanted something to do. That was new, you were sure he had even forgotten you existed ever since that unplanned visit in the gardens. 

“That makes one of us,” You mutter back at him. The snide comment didn’t process all that well in your mind before it launched itself from your mouth. 

“Do you think it means I’m blessed by the Gods now?” Matthew asks, choosing to ignore the statement. 

“More like cursed…” You respond absentmindedly again.

Your fingers go to touch the bracelet the Crone had given you. You did try to take it off your wrist, several times. But each time proved futile as the string just twists tighter around your wrist until your hand turns purple. It only returned to its normal size after you stopped fiddling with it. Blessed by the Fates or cursed? At this point, you’re starting to think these two are the same thing. 

The string bracelet glows with a soft and warm touch as you touch it this time. Perhaps there is hope for the two of you yet; a gesture was a start. At the very least, Morpheus hasn’t forgotten about you. 

Before you know it, you stand before the grand doors once more. Its secrets are no longer hidden from you as you insert the key. With a sharp jiggle, the key turns and the resounding click of the large locking mechanism opens for you. A simple push was enough to open the doors. 

Rows upon rows and aisles upon aisles of books greeted you. Staircases and ladders ascended upwards to even more beautifully bound pages of knowledge, other worlds, and art. Your jaw slackens at the sheer beauty of it. 

Natural light was in abundance as you see dust and dust sprites floating in the air. The dust sprite glowed brightly, the only thing you could make out was their insanely fast-beating wings as one flew past you. Their chatters were nothing but the sound of jingling bells and gibberish as they held conversations with each other. One sneezed, a light sound and new dust exploded into the air. 

They part as you walk into the library, running your fingers across the spines of a few books. The feeling of parchment and bound leather briefly remind you of home and the library it housed as well. Though this was much grander, the sentiment was still felt. 

Muffled human voices catch your attention, and when you round the corner a familiar face greets you.

“Lucienne,” You say excitedly and your smile grows when she acknowledges you. 

“My Lady!” She says in surprise, eyebrows shooting to the high heavens. 

“Oh… the something he thought of…” The other person whispers to himself. 

When he notices that your attention is on him, he clears his throat and introduces himself. 

“Sir Robert, erm, Hob Gadling of Bourneberrel.” He drops an exaggerated bow, flourishing his arms as he does so. An easy smile rests on his lips as he comes back up. 

“Bourneberrel? I haven’t traveled there before,” You respond. 

“Ah, good wine, even better hunting grounds. I would love to host Her Majesty over the summer.” Hob’s arms are spread out as he describes his land to you with a tone of nostalgia. 

“I would be delighted, so long as our King finds privy to the idea.”

“Eh, knowing him, I unfortunately doubt he will.” Hob rubs his earlobe as his plans suddenly fall apart before they can form. 

“How do you know him? The King?” You ask, sudden interest perked.

“Oh, our families are old friends, been with him since we started primary school together. Though, that’s nothing to our Lucienne here. She’s been here since they were both in diapers,” Hob explains with a soft smile. He gestures to Lucienne as he does so, who is more interested in rearranging books at the moment than the conversation. 

“So the two of you must be familiar with royal life,” You say.

“I would say so, I spend more time here than in my own estate. Though, my late wife would not have complained much,” Hob sighs with a distanced look. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, my condolences for your loss.”

Hob nods at your comment, thanking you silently for your condolences. He misses his wife and his son whom he left out of conversation. It would have made it all the more depressing and he didn’t want to make your life any more difficult. Perhaps in a different time and circumstance, with a little bit of alcohol in his system. 

A silent pause fills the room, only accompanied by the squeak of the chair as Hob sits back down and Lucienne files through her books. You turn to leave, no longer wishing to bother the two. However, something stops you and you turn back around.

“Is there something that I can do here?” You chew the inside of your cheek after you ask. Your breath held in anticipation in hopes that there would be something.

“Is there anything Your Majesty pertains to?” Lucienne's question comes soon after. Her glasses fall down her nose a bit and she pushes it back in place with the back of her finger. 

You think for a moment, looking around at the library. You enjoyed reading, but that was something you could do on your own time. If Lucienne was going to offer you something to do, it should be worth thinking about. You dig through your hobbies and when you decide on one, you look her dead in the eyes and speak. 

“Painting, is there anything here for painting?” You take another step forward towards Lucienne at your request. It may be a long shot, but it’s worth asking. 

Lucienne and Hob share a look, exchanging a conversation using only their eyes. After a particular look from Lucienne, Hob stands and beckons you to follow him. Excitement courses through you as you fall in step with him. You fight back a smile as the two of you venture further into the library. 

Hob leads you to another set of doors. He stops and takes a deep breath, then he opens them to a studio. Easels, canvases, unfinished pieces, and paint buckets greet you as he leads you further inside. Dust sprites scurry away in fright at the sudden intrusion, whizzing past your hair. 

In the corner of your eye, you see Matthew flinch at the sudden intrusion and you wonder if he got spooked by the sprites or if he was fighting back the urge to grab one for a taste. Matthew moves to stand by the door, guarding the entrance as Hob continues speaking. 

“This is, was…sorry, my wife’s studio,” He says after a deep breath. His finger glides across an unfinished portrait of him and his wife. 

Hob looked happier in the painting, clean-shaven and fit. His wife hung onto him by his arm, but her face was unfinished, leaving only a blank canvas of her skin tone. Hob thought he was over the death of his sweet Eleanor, but grief never truly leaves you, does it? It waits in the memories of your treasured loved ones and hurts you all the same when you recall them. 

“I can not possibly take this from you…” You say softly as you watch him. His face falls as he finds another canvas, this time of a young man.

“My son,” He cries out as he holds the canvas in his shaking hands. “Forgive me,” He apologizes as he sees you staring at him, his own vision blurring from his tears. 

Hob is quick to leave the studio, the portrait of his son still in his arms. Before he fully leaves the space, he turns to you. 

“I want you to know that I do not regret coming back here.” He pauses to collect himself. “These memories… They are sad but they are all I have of my family. My wife, she would have wanted it if you showed this studio love again.”

Hob leaves by shutting the door and you hear him sigh once more on the other side before his footsteps recede. It takes a few moments longer for you to unstick yourself from your position. You explore the space a bit more, occasionally looking towards the door in case Hob returns and goes back on his words. 

Reluctantly, you set up a blank canvas on the easel and begin to paint. Finally, there was somewhere to put your emotions to. Your thoughts take control of the brush as it swipes across the linen canvas. It dips, swipes, swirls, and blots as an image slowly begins to form. 

You place everything you could into the image, the emotions that you’ve bottled up since you’ve arrived. What were you doing wrong here? Was it enough to really harbor such hate from Morpheus? From the helpers and gossip mongers that will never truly know you for who you are? 

When you set your brush down, you stare at the art you’ve produced. A lone swan in a vast lake has its head hung low. The scenery was beautiful, but the algae and duckweed around the lone animal were slowly dying as it cried out for help. 

♔♕

Another week has passed since you arrived at the library. And like every night, Morpheus doesn’t show up for dinner. Instead, he stays alone in his office, having long since dismissed Lucienne from her duties for the night. He sits pondering, his entire day he wondered if you liked the gift he gave you. He’s heard of your exploration adventures and knows of your attempts to enter the library. 

Lucienne’s library isn’t the only one in the castle, but it certainly is the most special. Not only is it the largest, but only a select few may enter it. Last week, you would’ve joined the concise list of guests permitted within its walls. 

Morpheus tells himself it was so it would be easier to face you when the two of you have to host the Summer Eclipse Gala that’s coming soon. On that day, once every year, the celestial lovers Sun and Moon meet. For that one night, the people of the Dreaming drink, dance, and feast until they can no longer understand the physical world. Then, when the total eclipse locks in place, it sends the kingdom into darkness for the rest of the day. 

It was a wondrous occasion, even he cannot deny it. At the very least, the two could pretend to be amiable during the celebration. They would have to put up a unified front so as not to spread any more rumors about their marriage. However much Morpheus hated the idea of it. 

Time passes as he stays within his thoughts, before he knew it the moon was high in the sky. Its fullness illuminated his path as he took a midnight stroll. It had recently rained, covering the colonnade to his gardens in a thin layer of water. Petichor follows him from the castle to the outdoors as he breathes in the earthy scent. 

He doesn’t really know where he’s going, only that when he is out here, no one can bother him; no responsibilities could chase him. He didn’t have to be king in the dead of night. When it was simply the moon, gentle and caring as She, he could breathe. The moon’s dominion over the night sky casts a blue glow over his figure, illuminating his pale skin as he basks in Her guidance with closed eyes. 

When he opens them again, a small flickering figure stands before him. The figure grows two flame-like limbs and motions Morpheus towards itself. The will-o-the-wisp glows a warm yellow and slowly turns purple when Morpheus walks closer to it. He glances at the moon one last time before the will-o-the-wisp disappears. 

Just as it disappears, another one appears further down the path. Slowly, it turns purple just as the last did when Morpheus walks closer. The will-o-the-wisp lead him further from his original path, taking him deep into the gardens. His pants gather leftover raindrops as he walks across the flowers. 

When he looks in disgust at his foot after stepping in a particularly deep puddle, he notices that the will-o-the-wisps he had been following have gathered around his legs. They dance between his legs and try to untie his shoelaces, though with their astral bodies, they find difficulty in doing so. Morpheus only rolls his eyes as another one gathers with its friends and a new yellow will-o-the-wisp beckons him again. 

A soft humming pulls him out of his small quest and he notices that the will-o-the-wisp no longer appeared. He follows the humming, and in the pale moonlight, he sees you. The will-o-the-wisp that gathered around him trill in excitement as they notice you as well. They fly towards you so fast their flames almost flickered out in the cool night air. 

Morpheus watches in awe, jaw slackening as you move across the pavilion under the moonlight. If the moon was kind to him, then She absolutely dotes on you. Her light hugs your figure like a cloak, passing through the fabric of your clothing, and leaves close to nothing to the imagination. Morpheus finds himself unable to move, simply entranced by your beauty.

He stands as the will-o-the-wisp surrounds you, holding hands as they dance with you. Your humming continues, not noticing the little fire sprites. Your feet were bare and you wore simple clothing, as if you had snuck out of your room not too long ago. Your arms were held up as if dancing with an imaginary partner as you twirled again across the mosaic flooring. 

Morpheus recalls the conversation you two shared on your eventful wedding night, about how you loved to dance. How much has he avoided you to the point of you dancing alone in the middle of the night? The question zips across his mind like an icicle to lava and guilt takes over him. Just as fast as it appeared, he buried it deep and let anger take its place instead. He needed to have a serious conversation with his eldest brother. At his departure, the will-o-the-wisps leave your side and follow Morpheus. His robe billows behind him as he abruptly turns, the sound hidden behind the whispers of the wind, leaving you all the more ignorant to his presence.

♔♕

It was easier said than done to sneak out of your own room. Matthew, ever loyal to his station, was posted outside your door. And no matter how long you waited by it, listening carefully for his unforgettable snoring so you could sneak past him, midnight came sooner. 

Your room was becoming stuffy and even standing out on the balcony felt like you were trapped. You only considered it once, barely fornicating the plan in your head before you threw yourself over the ledge and climbed down the ivy that scaled the side of the castle. The bark was surprisingly soft under your skin as you slowly made your way downwards. 

When your feet touch the cooling grass beneath you, a smile erupts from your face. Goosebumps scatter across your body as the night air easily nips through your sleepwear but you pay it no mind as you begin to wander. Eventually, you find yourself back in the royal gardens. A pavilion with astronomical stars scattered beneath you greets you in the dead of night. 

You peek around you, even though you’re sure no one would be awake so late. Then, carefully, you tiptoe onto the pavilion, the stone proving much colder than the grass. You don’t mind, though, and slowly begin to hum to yourself to fill the silence of the night. Humming turns to dancing as you pretend you aren’t dancing alone, but rather attending a grand ball where you get to wear your favorite dress and gems. When you close your eyes, you hear laughter as you twirl, and the sound of glass clinking against each other. The wind blows and you swear you could hear the draw of strings as the orchestra begins their next piece. 

A twig snaps and echoes across the garden and you stop, your eyes opening quickly. The full moon gave you enough light to see a silhouette hidden within the trees, but not enough to make out who it was. You suddenly feel exposed and slowly back away from the silhouette. Matthew’s name perches on the tip of your tongue at any given notice. 

“Well, hello there,” The silhouette speaks and comes into the moonlight. He joins you in the pavilion, hands placed inside his suit pockets. 

His smile was charismatic, posture perfect, and any question as to whether or not he was a part of the palace would have been thrown out the window. Yet…

“Can you see out of those?” You ask cautiously as you stare at his dark glasses. 

He chuckles at your straightforward question, but it doesn’t pass you when he doesn’t answer it. Instead, he asks his own. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

You don’t answer him and risk turning your head back in the direction you came from. 

“A whooole lotta dangerous people out there y’know. Even within the castle walls.” He continues and takes a step closer to you. His voice carried a slight accent to it

“Who are you?” You reply, taking your own step back to maintain the distance, feeling the edge of the pavilion on your heels as you do so. 

“Our, oh so gracious, King calls me the Corinthian. Sends me out when there’s dirty work to be done…” He looks at your figure slowly with a deep sigh.

“Am I… dirty work?” You ask. The tremor in your voice was hard to hide, at the very least you’d say it’s because of the cold air, but then you’d both know you’re lying. 

The Corinthian chuckles again, this time open-mouth and towards the sky. “Ah, no, I can’t lay a finger on Your Majesty,” He sucks in his breath through his teeth.

His comment held a certain lilt of sarcasm in it, and it didn’t at all help you feel any more at ease in front of him. Saying he can’t doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to or could. He’s simply obligated by something that’s holding him back. 

Something about this man was dangerous even though he desperately tried to hide it behind his aloof manners. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Corinthian,” An obvious lie, a perfect farewell. “But, I’m afraid I must be going now.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty. Sweet dreams.”

You risk another look behind you to make sure to not fall off the pavilion, but when you turn back around, the Corinthian is gone just as fast as he appeared. With one last look around, you begin your way back to your room. Your walk slowly turned into a pace as your eyes darted across the dark garden, any shadow reminding you of him. Soon enough, you’re panting hard as you barrel through the gardens on pounding feet. 

You look behind you as you begin to scale the ivy to your room and close the door with a slam, locking it, and pulling the curtains tight. The room turns pitch black and you light a candle to illuminate the space. That night, you slept with the candle going, something you hadn’t done since you were a child. 

It felt childish, but the fear that followed you from that pavilion was anything but. You swallow your beating heart as you lay in your bed. Staring at the ceiling, you count the swirls once again. Tomorrow morning, you will ask Agnes for more Natterhorn milk to be added to your bath. Matthew will be outside your door should anything happen and he will greet you tomorrow morning just as he always has. When you close your eyes for the night, you dream of teeth. 

♔♕

To others, he was the archbishop of the church, the one who speaks the will of Gods, the Reverend Destiny. But to Morpheus, he was simply Potmos, his eldest brother. Morpheus finds him within the rose maze of his garden, as he often does. Destiny rarely spends time in his church, except for special occasions, as he hears the voices of Gods no matter where he goes. 

In the dead of night, Destiny wanders, the faint clinking of his chained book the only sound he produces. He leaves no footprint, and Morpehus only finds him when the smell of dust and books grows heavy. 

“Potmos,” Morpheus seethes at him. 

Slowly the archbishop turns, his hood covering his pale eyes. He doesn’t speak, waiting patiently for his younger brother to start speaking to him. Morpheus storms closer as the will-o-the-wisp follows close behind. As the sprites slowly come to recognize their master, they leave Morpheus’ side, and with more trills, they fly under Destiny’s cloak to hide. 

“What games are you playing at? Will-o-the-wisps?” Morpheus accuses, adamantly pointing at Destiny’s feet. 

Once again, Destiny stays quiet as he listens to his brother's rant. Anger was evident on his face, but if he was willing to dig deeper, even his blind eyes could see the small boy drowning in guilt. He feels the will-o-the-wisps dancing around under his robes, their fire tickling his exposed ankles. Will-o-the-wisps came to him soon after his powers did as a small gift from the Gods. 

From that day on, he was no longer Potmos, crowned prince of the kingdom, but merely Archbishop Destiny. His job now was to make sure that the Gods’ voices were heard and their plans were placed into action. An idea all too novel to Morpheus, who seeks control over anything he could set his hands on.

“If the will-o-the-wisps led you to your fate, I am not one to deny their claims.”

“She is not my fate. I do not love her.” Morpheus can’t bring himself to even say your name. 

“Perhaps not now, but it is fated. She was created for you, you are created for her. Sun and Moon, Light and Dark, Land and Sea. Balance in duality, my brother.” Comes Destiny’s answer. 

“I do not love her. It is forced love. Fate cannot tell me who to love, I choose to love Calliope, I wish to have her.” Morpheus whispers the last few words, mainly to himself. Destiny, as always, hears them. 

“Does she wish to have you?” Destiny asks instead. 

The question strikes him hard, like a cold, hard slap of reality to the face. Ever since that conversation with her on his wedding night, Calliope had been the one to ignore him; not at all dissimilar to how he had been avoiding you. 

Morpheus was unwilling to come to fruition with the truth and he turned to anger once more. Grabbing at Destiny’s book, he opens it and watches as the pages flip to the page he needs. He faces the book towards his older brother and points at the names written in golden ink. There were plenty of other words written on the page, about unification, about soulmates, but he looks past all of that. 

“This,” He jabs his finger where he signs his name next to yours. “This is why I ‘love’ her. It is not real.”

“It is real. Open your eyes.”

Morpheus shuts the book with force, the slam echoing in the hedge maze. It only floats back gently into Destiny’s after he drops it. Morpheus storms off, arguing with Destiny is like arguing with a brick wall, except the brick wall is always right. He can’t deny it, his brother is the voice for forces even greater than him, but he can hate it.

“It is time you come to recognize her. Find her soon or let disaster run its course.” Destiny’s voice reaches him even after he leaves the maze, his voice carried by the wind and the fragrance of roses. 

When he gets back to the castle, thinking at the very least that he may turn in for the night, the Corinthian is waiting for him. The conversation was brief, both men were tired and wanted to sleep, but Corinthian had important information he must let his king know. 

He tells about one of Desire’s plans, to send a man named Rodrick Burgess after his sister. To manipulate the man into thinking his sister could bring back his dead son; it would be Rodrick’s greatest wish, his greatest desire. 

The solution was easy, and with the promise of increased pay, Morpheus instructed Corinthian to deal with the man before he became a problem. The Corinthian only smiles, pay was not the reason he spied on the other kingdom, nor the reason why he was all too satisfied to end another’s life. He was great at it: the drama of killing another, the power he feels when he hears them beg beneath him. It is what he was made for. 

That night, when Morpheus closes his eyes, he dreams of you. He watches as you’re taken by Rodrick Burgess, just as his sister might soon be. When he woke, the king didn’t dare to go back to sleep again. 

♔♕

Destiny’s vague warning and his dream last night make him seek you out after his daily responsibilities the next day. He finds you after spotting Matthew standing in front of Eleanor’s old studio. Lucienne wasn’t in the library at the time, and Hob was off doing some new exercise cleansing ritual that he didn’t really bother to listen to. 

“Your Majesty,” Matthew greets with a salute, his voice laced with something between panic and bewilderment.

“Is she in there?” 

“Huh?” Matthew caws in confusion. Who?

“Is Y/N in there?” Oh…. Oh!

“Oh, yes. Her Majesty has been here since the morning.” Matthew replies with a smile, though his king couldn’t see it. 

Morpheus motions Matthew to stand aside with a wave of his hand and he does. Jessamy follows Morpheus like a poisonous shadow and goes to stand next to him as well. She doesn’t bother to look at the knight, but still, he shakes with anxiety at her close proximity, or the fart he was suddenly holding in, he can’t tell at the moment. 

Morpheus hesitates to open the door, in fact, he almost leaves, but the bracelet that rests on his left wrist constricts as if unhappy about his decisions. When he places his hand on the handle once more, it releases itself in content. 

Slowly, he turns the handle, hoping to not make a noise and startle you. When he comes into the room, you don’t notice him, too entranced in the process of your painting. Your brush was held mid-stroke and you stayed still in thought. 

From this angle, he could see the slope of your nose and the curve of your lips and eyelashes. In the late afternoon sun, he can see every detail of your face. Morpheus opens his mouth to greet you, but a glint is caught by the sun and he stops. 

He watches with a frown as a tear slowly falls from your eye, it collects itself on the tip of your chin before falling and splattering itself on your painter’s palette, diluting the colors. Another tear forms in your unblinking eyes and joins the other. Your arms begin to shake as you let your tears collect and the sudden rush of emotions makes you lurch in pain. A whine tries to make its way out of your throat, but you clasp a firm hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

Your brush staggers across the canvas at the movement and you stare in shock at your ruined painting. You don’t know why, but you scream at the canvas, the defining streak runs across what would have been a perfectly adequate art piece. Everything seems to mess up in front of you, no matter how hard you try to be perfect. 

“Stop,” Morpheus calls out to you at your outburst, but you’re too deep to hear him. 

Perhaps it was all of the emotions you’ve kept bottled deep within yourself finally bursting. Your hands grip the frames of the painting as you scream again, tears now freely coming out in fat drops. Anger runs through your body and you let it. 

This stupid painting!

You scream again and throw your palette across the room, the paints splattering across the wall like blood. Sobs rack through your body, shaking you to your core as you find your hands toppling over the canvas, watching as the wooden frame cracks after coming in contact with the floor. 

“Y/N, stop!” You hear his voice closer to you this time, but the buzzing thoughts keep you occupied. You see your monsters seeping in through the cracks of the stone walls and they echo out your thoughts.

“Let yourself feel rage, Y/N,” they whisper tauntingly in your ears. They stick to your skin, they drown in your lungs, restricting you in any way they could. 

This stupid marriage!

It’s getting hard to breathe, your hands grabbing your hair's scalp as you look around the studio. All of your past paintings look back at you and you feel their melancholy coming back. 

“Why did you make me like this? Y/N, why am I sad? Y/N, why am I alone? Y/N, why am I scared? Y/N…! Y/N…! Y/N…!” The paitings ask as their forms take on black goo like monsters. You're storming towards them, to hit them, destroy them, anything to allow the anger to stay.  

Anger would be better than feeling lonely anymore. 

Arms wrap around your body from behind and hold you back as you begin to thrash in the hold. It was so constricting, your body heaves gulping breaths and your teeth buzzes at the brink of hyperventilation. Your fingers go numb, your mind blank and you scream again. 

“I hate you!” You cry out in the embrace, squirming as you try to break free.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Morpheus whispers back as he tightens his grip on you. Your trashing doesn’t die down and he grunts as a particularly hard elbow hits him in the ribs. 

“I hate you, I hate you!” You continue screaming. 

“I’m sorry, please, stop. I’m sorry.” He holds on tight. An uncomfortable feeling creeps up his throat and he realizes he’s holding back his own tears. His knees buckle and he brings you with him, falling to the floor with you in his arms. He turns you towards him to hold you closer, to shield you from the outside world. 

“I HATE YOU!” You sob one last time as the pent-up energy is finally spent, leaving you nothing more than a bag of flesh and bones in Morpheus’ arms. You slam a weak fist against his chest, throat screamed raw. “I hate you…” 

Your body is racking with hiccups and remnant sobs as you feel the warmth of his embrace. You grab onto his jacket lapel, knuckles turning white and you realize that this is the first time someone has held you, touched you, embraced you since your wedding night. He still smells like earth and licorice.

The two of you stay like that for a while, and despite all circumstances, Morpheus can’t find the will to let you go. Your eyes and nose were cherry red from crying and the guilt once again starts to eat at him. This was his fault because he was too pretentious in what he thought he could control. He runs a delicate finger across the top of your forehead when your breathing evens, moving the hair away from your face. 

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing Morpheus could think of saying. 

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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Went fishing around in my greifcase for this one I think. Found the angst pretty deep in there

See you next time ( ` ᢍ ´ ) ᵐᵘʰᵃʰᵃ

♡ Yours, Layla

Tags: @dnarez @arunawayheart @acdassenza @ella33 @karma-is-a-god @bluespecs14

[egg-on-the-run]

Massage

The turtle's s/o is exhausted, they help make things better with a massage.

(she/her pronouns used)

Leonardo

She's already asleep in his bed when he comes home from patrol. Usually she waits for him on the couch, even when she was tired, but Splinter had specifically told him she was already asleep, warned him to do his best not to wake her up.

She must be exhausted.

He tiptoes in as quietly as he could after his shower, spots her lying flat on his bed: not tucked in, just lying atop his blankets on her stomach. She had been too tired to lift the sheets.

He can see how tense she is, can see the way how even in her sleep her shoulders still rise to her ears, how her finger twitches with an anxious need to keep moving. Her face scrunched up slightly, adorable, but he would rather it be relaxed and soft.

He's careful and slow moving her onto the bed properly, still not setting her under the covers just yet. He's even more careful when he straddles her legs, keeps his weight off them almost entirely. His hands start at her lower back, kneading into her very softly.

She jolts and eyes snap open, "What are you doing?"

"I uh, I was giving you a massage, you look tense, even in your sleep."

"Oh," She relaxes, "You're an angel, just scared me a little." Her head hits the pillow again, already drifting off.

He tries once more, hands softly pressing into her lower back. She lets out a breath of air, sinking further into the mattress. He continues, travelling further up her spine. Usually he hates the sound of bones cracking (all of his brothers teased him constantly about it), but tonight he was quite happy to hear little pops coming from her spine. He especially didn't mind when she gave a little moan afterwards.

His hands travel further up towards her shoulders, kneading and rolling his wrists into the dozens of knots in her back. Her shoulders were so tense that she whined whenever he was too rough. He had to be gentle, working them out slowly.

By the time he was finished, she was sleepily trying to reach his hand with her eyes closed.

"Cuddle me," She mumbled as she found his hand, "Pretty please? I've got tomorrow off."

"Of course," He replied, moving to help her under the sheets, "That was the plan anyway."

He pulled her tight against his chest, hearing her bones crack once more as she melted like putty in his hands. He kissed her forehead.

"Thank god you've got tomorrow off, I'll let you sleep in as long as you want." He sighed, relaxing himself, "I'll make sure the lair is quiet."

She didn't hear a word of what he said, she was already fast asleep.

Raphael

Raphael was the king of tension. He wasn't like Michelangelo where little bothered him, or like Donatello who had those random self care days, or even like Leonardo who learned to de-stress through meditation. Oh no, Raphael carried tension like a mother with a clingy child: pulling on his shoulders, weighing him down and making him irritated.

It came with the whole anger thing.

So there have been countless times where she has used her knuckles to work the knots out of his shoulders. It was no easy task, especially when she had to use most of her body weight to actually get through each and every knot.

But she'd do it a hundred times more if he needed her to, and Raphael knew that, knew it all to well.

So when he sees her already grumbling to herself at the latest email that just came through to her laptop, when he see her shoulders rising to her ears in frustration and hands balling into fists, he knew he had to do the same thing for her as she had done countless times for him.

She jumps when he first puts his hands on her shoulders, but recognises the warm touch shortly after.

"What are you doing?" She asked, one hand reaching up to rest on top of his, she kept her attention glued to her screen, "I have a lot of work to do, Raphie."

"I know," He said, beginning to knead into her shoulders, "Just a massage, you look stressed."

"Oh with that lovely email, I am more than stressed."

She's always had a sharp tongue, never directed it to him (never intentionally) but he knows her patience is wearing thin and work certainly wasn't helping. He thought about taking his hands away entirely, not wanting to pester her; but she ran her thumb across his hand, typed with only one set of fingers, and Raphael remembered how often she did this for him when his patience was thinner than a piece of paper.

He pressed his hands into her shoulders again, watched as her head leaned back and body moved with his hands. He knew the feeling, when the knots were so tight they just hurt. He continued to work his hands into her shoulders, and slowly it seemed to stop hurting and the tension started to melt away. She closed her eyes, pushed her laptop away from her and just let herself be for a moment.

"Those big ol' hands of yours," She said, voice more like a breath, "So gentle with me."

"Not like you, using your damn elbows to get the knots out."

"But does it work?" She laughed.

He chuckled, "Of course it works, you're the best at this."

"Oh I dunno, you might give me a run for my money, this feels like heaven right now." Her head rolled to the side, turning slightly to kiss his hand, "Take me to bed Raphie, please."

With one final squeeze he let go, moving his arms to wrap around her waist and carry her to bed. Work wasn't important, this was.

Donatello

The lair was far too noisy, Donatello's lab was far too bright. Everything was just too much, all at once. Even as she sat on his desk, the reflection of his computer in his glasses from behind her was glaring into her eyes. He sat between her legs, arms around her waist and rambling about — god, she didn't even know at this point. She'd spaced out long ago, too overwhelmed to even try and catch up.

He moved his head at he spoke, Donatello was always an expressive fellow, and the light bounced off his glasses right into her eyes. She squinted, scrunched her entire face up and groaned.

"You have a migraine," He said plainly, "I have some painkillers in my drawer—"

"I took some earlier, they just haven't kicked in yet." She frowned.

She looked in pain, Donatello hated to see her like this, hated when there wasn't anything he could do.

He reached up and cupped her face, "Have you had enough water today?"

"Yeah," She mumbled, "Been using that new water bottle I got."

"When did you last eat?"

"Went out for dinner with some coworkers."

Donnie hummed, not knowing what else could cause her such a migraine. They usually had a reason behind them, she didn't usually just get them randomly. He wondered if she'd be on her phone too much, not to sound like Splinter, but she's been talking to him for the past hour or so, her eyes should have rested by now.

She pushed her cheek into his hand, letting his hand squish the chub on her face. Donatello squeezed gently, rubbing her cheeks in a circular motion.

"What are you doing?" She asked, voice muffled by his hands.

"Massaging your face," He replied, moving to knead her cheekbones with his thumbs, "Maybe it's tension that's brought this on."

"Maybe..."

He moved his thumbs over the bridge of her nose and followed the shape of her eyebrows, he repeated the action a few times before gently rubbing her temples.

"You're really good at this..." She murmured, eyes closed and jaw slack. Her face was no long scrunched up, but instead so completely relaxed she looked as though she was already asleep. Donatello persisted, using his thumbs to move the tension away from her face. His hands moved to her hair, grasping tightly and then releasing, he tickled his fingers through her locks: slowly so as not to pull on any tangles.

By the time he'd moved back to her jaw, he was pretty sure she'd fallen asleep where she sat. He smiled softly at her, kissed her forehead, and carried her off to bed.

He needed an early night as well.

Michelangelo

She had been on her feet all day, running errands for a coworker who had recently hurt their leg. Said coworker was fine, and would be perfectly capable of putting of such errands until their leg was better (really, Mikey huffed, using his girlfriend like a servant). But she could never just say no, and even after she'd ran around the city collecting bits and bops, dropping off items and buying groceries, her coworker hadn't even offered her so much as a sit down before he not-so-subtly led her out of his apartment.

So she came stumbling to the lair, exhausted and drained beyond compare and ready to collapse but still so eager to see her darling Mikey. He was in the shower when she arrived, she knew because Raphael told her, and because she could hear his singing before she'd even arrived.

She dragged herself to his bed, kicking her shoes off and not even caring where she left them. She collapsed to her knees before she could crawl under the blankets, lying surprisingly comfortably on the floor.

"Hey, hey angel! What are you doing down here?" Mikey's cheerful voice woke her up, along with a little shake of her shoulder. "We snoozing on the floor now?"

"So tired..." She mumbled, eyes fluttering closed, "Carry me to bed."

"No problem, the whole five feet distance it is." Mikey chuckled. He picked her up, sliding her onto his bed, careful not to bump her head on Raphael's top bunk. "All those errands huh? Guy owes you a thanks at least."

"Jackass kicked me out before I could even sit down at his place," She glared at the mattress above her, "So rude."

"Uh, totes rude? My girl did all that for him and he doesn't even let you sit down? Jackass is a very nice way to describe him." Mikey smiled at her, "Your poor little feet must be sore after all that running around."

"I think my ankles are swollen."

"Just a little." He teased, moving to sit between her legs. He took one of her legs and squeezed firmly along her calves. His hands slid down to her ankles and he frowned: they were slightly swollen, he had only been joking but turns out he was right. He rolled her ankle for her, moved her foot so that it pointed and then helped stretch her heel. He squeezed her calf one more time before moving on to her other leg.

"You're so sweet," She babbled, "Thank you for taking care of me."

"No problem babe, somebody has to," He laughed, "And it's not hard work."

She smiled at him, eyes struggling to stay open. He smiled back at her, not that she could see him, and softly told her to go to sleep; he'd take care of her.

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 2 (Rowaelin)

Part 1

~Rowan~

Rowan didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

The only time that even came close was when he lost his first and only court case, but over the years he'd come to live with that.

This though?

This immature, childish, irritatingly clever woman... he had a feeling he'd carry the rage he felt against her until the day he finally died of it.

Although, if he was honest, his returning move had been a little childish, too.

He'd ordered one of the guards to strip her cell of everything except the chess set. Her mattress, the makeshift knife he shuddered to think she'd had in the same room as him, her pillow.

If she wanted to steal his shit, he'd steal hers, too.

He'd also had the guard move one of his pawns forward on the board.

Not the most creative, but he didn't have many options.

What did you take from a woman who had nothing? How did you punish someone who was already serving the longest punishment available?

The bank had seized her assets when she'd been locked up, and the lease on her apartment had long since run out. She didn't have any personal items with her, didn't seem to even care about anything besides making his life hell.

Case in point, when he got home that night, exhausted from dealing with Aelin and spending a long day at the office, he'd discovered her retaliation.

She'd stolen his bed.

The whole goddamn thing, frame and all.

How she'd managed to get it out of a penthouse condo with security not realizing a thing, he had no idea. He knew from experience it wouldn't even fit through the door.

It'd seemed if she was going to be uncomfortable, so was he.

Steaming with anger, he'd showered and flopped on the couch like an idiot, not even able to sleep thanks to the rage she'd worked him into.

She was completely kicking his ass. From the inside of a jail cell.

He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep before giving up on even trying. At six, he'd dressed and driven to Whitehorn and Salvaterre, the law firm he was a partner at.

If he couldn't sleep, he'd at least figure out how the hell she was pulling this shit off.

Looking through her folder, he went through her daily schedule, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Eight am wake-up, breakfast, shower, lunch, yard time, dinner, lights out at nine. Between activities, she worked out in her cell or read a book from the run-down prison library.

In the eight years she'd been in prison, she hadn't had a single visitor. Her cousin Aedion--a playboy Rowan couldn't be paid to associate with--delivered a care package on the first of every month.

Strange, considering nothing of the sort had been in her cell.

She'd been in solitary confinement ever since randomly attacking her cellmate a little over a month ago. She was still allowed yard time and meals with the other prisoners, but she was chained at all times.

Also strange, considering Aelin wasn't the type to do anything randomly.

Rowan watched the security tapes he'd strong armed the guards into giving him, going through the past few days to see how she'd gotten out of her cell to rob him.

He watched as she was escorted to the yard, watched as she ate breakfast and lunch and dinner alone, watched as she put herself through vigorous training in her cell.

Days of footage, and he didn't find anything.

Feeling like a bit of a creep, he watched the nighttime footage of her sleeping, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

She didn't move too much or too little--both of which would indicate it wasn't really her under that thin blanket. There were no attempts to pick the locks in between her wrists and ankles, no digging into the wall behind her toilet.

Nothing.

Which meant someone was helping her.

He could go through the official channels and ask the police for her known connections, but he hadn't reported either of the robberies yet.

Partly because he wanted to deal with her himself, partly because he felt a bit stupid getting robbed from a woman in the most secure prison in the city.

Which means he'd have to go about it a different way.

Grabbing his keys from his desk, he debated how else he could make her miserable, unfortunately finding nothing else he could do to her, no revenge he could get from robbing her tiny little cell.

No, he'd have to try something new.

Maybe he could bribe her into confessing. She didn't have anything right now, but maybe he could give her something to lose.

He'd bring her lunch, force himself to apologize for yelling at her, and just politely ask who her accomplice was.

He thought on it as he rode down the elevator to the garage. It probably wouldn't work, but he didn't know what else to do.

And besides, he knew from experience Aelin didn't respond well to his anger.

Checking his email to make sure he wasn't missing any important meetings, he pressed the button on his car fob, expecting to hear the resounding beep from his designated parking spot.

Except the beep never came.

Slowly looking up, Rowan had to amend his earlier statement.

Now he didn't think he'd ever been so pissed off in his life.

He stormed over to the security booth, hardly refraining from grabbing the man inside and throwing him to the ground.

"Where's my car, Rolland?"

"In your spot, boss," the stout little man replied instantly and surely, snapping his gum and looking at him in confusion. "Haven't seen you drive out yet."

"Yes, exactly. Which is why it's a mystery why it's no longer in it's spot."

Rolland caught up slowly. "You mean... it was stolen? From here? From you?"

Jaw so tight his molars were practically fused together, Rowan growled, "Just let me see the security tapes from this morning."

The guard nodded quickly, eyes nervous as he typed something into the desktop in front of him.

"That's weird," he muttered a moment later, typing faster and sending Rowan a nervous glance.

"What?" he asked, trying to calm himself down with a few of the breathing techniques he'd learned over the years.

"The tapes are gone, but there's... this."

Rolland turned the screen so Rowan could see it, and all the breathing in the world couldn't keep him from slamming a fist into the side of the security shack.

The footage was gone, and on the blank black screen read: Bishop to J7.

He was going to fucking kill her.

~Aelin~

"Enjoy your taxi ride here?" she asked sweetly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs.

Rowan scowled at her as he crossed the small room inmates could use to talk to their lawyers. He yanked the chair across from her out, then threw himself into it. "You are such a pain in my ass."

She just shrugged.

He sat across from her, angry and broody, and for a long time, he just stared at her.

Finally he asked, "Why are you doing this, Aelin?"

"I told you. You locked me up for something I didn't do. I want you to be as miserable as I am. It's simple, petty revenge."

Nothing about it was simple, but that was besides the point.

He was quiet for another moment. "Why now?"

She sighed, but she wasn't upset. Truthfully, she'd been waiting for him to ask that question.

"I want to tell you a story."

He stood up suddenly, face exasperated. "I'm not fucking joking around. And I'm not going to let you waste any more of my time."

He made his way to the door, and his dismissal of her pissed her off enough to say, "Sit down, or your car's going off Whigsby Bridge."

He smiled like he'd won their little game. "So you admit you have it."

"Sure," she said casually, honestly not giving a shit about the car.

His brow furrowed. "You're giving up? Just like that?"

"You're a fucking idiot if you think this is about your car, Rowan. But sure, I admit I know exactly where it, and your bed, and your little dagger are being hidden."

He narrowed his eyes. "This conversation is being recorded, and you just admitted to being an accessory to robbery, so-"

"You aren't going to press charges," she cut him off, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it.

Nasty little prison habit she'd developed, smoking.

Or maybe she just did it because she knew he hated the smell.

"Oh, really?" he asked incredulously, eyeing the cigarette with disdain.

She grinned. "Once you sit and hear my story and realize I'm telling the truth, you're going to feel so guilty you won't even care about the car. Now sit down. I'd hate to see a classic get totaled because you're being stubborn again."

He glared at her, but came back to the table and sat down again.

Then reached over and snatched the cigarette from her lips, putting it out against the steel table top.

She just pulled out another, lighting it with one of her last matches. The irritation on his face made it worth the loss.

He waved a hand as if to say Get on with it.

She'd debated how to tell him this story for a long time. It was long, and messy and not particularly pleasant for her. But she wanted him to know the full thing, so she'd decided to start at the very beginning.

"My parents died when I was four," she began, ignoring his dramatic sigh. "I went into foster care, and as you can imagine, I was a particularly unruly child."

She smiled at the few memories she had. "I stole from the nuns, snuck out of my room at night and ran through the house, set all the clocks back an hour so we could sleep in. Small stuff. But it irritated them, because they couldn't prove it was me."

"Sounds familiar," he grouched, making her grin.

"I was adopted by Arobynn Hamel a year later."

As she'd predicted, his mouth fell open at that.

Arobynn was the known king of the underworld in Rifthold. He had a hand in every aspect of crime, yet no one could do anything about it because he never committed the crime himself.

His name was revered, so much so no one ever dared to cross him.

"But your record says-"

"That I stayed in foster care until I turned eighteen, I know."

Arobynn hated public records and had a deal with someone in the system that he'd take some of the kids off their hands if they kept quiet about it. Illegal as hell, but he wasn't someone you refused without suffering serious consequences.

It was the perfect crime. No one would miss unwanted kids, and it gave the system one less mouth to feed.

"I didn't know it, but he'd been watching me for a while. He... I don't know, saw something in me. Natural, innocent talent he could work with and turn into something different. He adopted me on my fifth birthday. And then he started training me."

"To do what?" Rowan asked, shoulders tensing.

"Everything," she answered with a shaky laugh, taking a long drag from her cigarette. "Stuff I wanted to learn, like how to pick a lock or walk without making sound. But as I got older, he taught me other stuff. Stuff I didn't want to know."

"How to kill," he finished, picking up on her tone.

She nodded, finishing her cigarette and flicking the butt on the floor.

"I was good," she told him quietly, looking down at the table. "By the time I was fifteen, he said I was the best he'd ever had. None of his other... children could beat me in a fight, not even the older ones who had a hundred pounds on me. And I could steal anything and not leave a trace."

His eyes didn't show an ounce of doubt, and she didn't know how to feel about it. But she kept going anyway.

"I was his favorite. I was his best asset, and I didn't care about anything that would compromise me. I lost my parents, and despite how much he wanted me to, I never loved him. I had no weaknesses. Except Sam."

"Another of his students?" Rowan asked, and it wasn't lost on her he said students instead of children.

She nodded. "We were adopted around the same time, grew up together. He was a year older, and whenever I had a problem, he was the one I'd turn to. He was good to me, and by the time I was seventeen, not a small part of me loved him."

Aelin broke off and took a deep breath, wishing she had another cigarette and trying to figure out how to put into words how much he'd meant to her.

"Was?" Rowan asked, so softly and quietly and understandingly that she was reminded of the man he'd once been, the one she'd loved.

Shaking her head to clear it, she said, "He made a mistake. He went on a job; he was supposed to break into one of the underground casino's owned by Arobynn's competitor and memorize the ledger, but he got caught. It was messy and horrible and stupid, and the owner wanted blood. Arobynn promised he'd kill Sam as retribution."

Rowan's eyes widened, almost like he hadn't realized how brutally she'd been raised until that moment.

"I begged him not to. Sam had saved me and helped me so many times that I couldn't not do the same for him. I told him I'd do anything."

She studied her hands, regret and guilt thick on her skin. "Arobynn said if I took ten of the jobs Sam was supposed to do, he wouldn't kill him. I thought they'd be similar to the one he'd messed up on, small break-ins or robberies. So I accepted."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she batted it away as she continued, "The second I shook his hand, Tern--another of Arobynn's--shot Sam in the head."

Rowan's face blanched so quickly, she thought he might pass out.

He started to say something, but she spoke faster. "I... snapped. I killed Tern, tried to kill Arobynn. You called me a murderer, and that's true. I am, and I don't regret it. Tern was a sadistic bastard, and I'm glad he's dead. And one day, I'll kill Arobynn for what he did."

Rowan shook his head, confusion and shock and something similar to pity in his eyes. "Why didn't you leave, run away?"

She leveled a look at him. "I didn't exactly have a choice, Rowan. My punishment for Tern lasted for over a year."

There was a long pause.

"Punishment?" he asked in a breathless voice that made something in her chest hurt.

She looked at the table again, skin pebbling at the memory of that year. "He locked me in a cell in the basement, in the dark. Once a month he'd come in to ask if I knew someone named Sam. It took me ten months to get confused, another three to say no."

Still not meeting his eyes, she looked at his hands, noticing they were clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. And a part of her, buried under all the rage and resentment and sadness, warmed at the thought that he was... he was angry for her.

"It took me a long time after to figure out what was real and what wasn't. But Arobynn never let me forget our deal. And right before I met you, he told me the first job."

"What were the jobs?"

Aelin looked back up at that, the air thick between them as she said, "You already know."

"The murders."

She nodded, somehow managing to keep her spine straight despite the feeling of a hundred pound weight being lifted from her shoulders.

He at least knows why now, she thought to herself.

It was one of the things that had bothered her over the years. That he didn't know why she'd done what he thought she'd done. That he thought she'd.. wanted to do it.

He was silent for a long time, just watching her with a carefully emotionless face. "Thank you for telling me that," he said eventually. "I never could understand why."

Then he stood and walked to the door again, and it was only when his hand was on the handle she spoke again. "You asked why I'm doing this, and why I'm doing it now."

He opened the door but paused. Waited.

"It's because I tried to tell you this all those years ago, and you didn't care. You just assumed I was guilty because the evidence looked like it."

She spoke around the lump in her throat. "I told you I didn't kill those people, Rowan, and you didn't even care."

He spun around, slamming the door so hard it rattled, and in a split second, he was in front of her. A hand on the table, the other on her chair, he leaned down and got in her face.

He was so angry, so unbelievably enraged she couldn't believe it. He was angry?

"I didn't care? I didn't fucking care, that's what you think? Watching you get dragged away in cuffs was the worst moment of my life, and you think I didn't fucking care?"

Shock hit her like a bucket of ice water.

That moment was crystal clear in her mind, and she couldn't put what he was saying with what she knew.

He'd watched her with that same expressionless face, with cold eyes that had haunted her ever since.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he wasn't done.

"I fucked loved you! I thought you were the love of my life, Aelin. I begged you to tell me something that would help, tell me anything. But you didn't! You just kept saying you were innocent; you didn't give me anything to actually work with."

"I-"

"I found that stupid fucking list five days before I reported it, did you know that?"

She shook her head, because she hadn't.

"Exactly. You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he growled, eyes flashing. "I spent five days investigating it myself, trying to make sense of why you'd know those names. After your arrest, I spent two weeks trying to find anything, a single piece of evidence, that said it wasn't you. And after the trial, I spent another two months trying to poke holes in my own goddamn case."

He slammed a hand into the table. "I did everything I fucking could! I was desperate for it not to be you. I argued my case so your lawyer could plead circumstantial evidence. I put you on the stand so you could say anything you wanted. I went for life sentences instead of the death penalty to give you time to actually tell me what the hell was going on!"

She was breathing heavily, heart breaking and reforming over and over again at what he was saying, what he was implying.

"I didn't assume shit," he said in a low voice, so close they shared air. "You didn't tell me anything."

Aelin's voice trembled as she croaked, "I tried."

He shook his head, letting out a breath of amusement. "No, you didn't. If this past week has proven anything, it's that you don't try to do anything, you do it. You didn't tell me anything, Aelin. You're still not telling me anything."

"I'm telling you to look again! I'm telling you you didn't look hard enough, because I left breadcrumbs only you could find, breadcrumbs that explain everything."

"Stop playing games with me!" he shouted, eyes flashing with a fresh wave of anger. "It's been eight years! Stop holding onto whatever secret you're holding onto and just tell me!"

Gods, she wanted to.

He was the one person she couldn't trust with this secret, this stupid, most important secret, and yet he was the also the one person she wanted to tell it to.

She opened her mouth to tell him, but what came out was, "I didn't kill them, Rowan. I promise I didn't kill them. I can't... I can't tell you anything else."

"Jesus, Aelin," he spat, pushing off the table and turning to leave.

"Just look into it," she called after him, fingers digging into the table to resist the urge to try and follow him. "I promise you can figure everything out, and you'll understand everything. Please."

She knew why, after all this time, it was so important for him to know the truth when that hadn't been her original plan.

It was because she'd spent eight years believing he hadn't tried, believing she hadn't been a good enough person for him to even look into the possibility it wasn't her.

And maybe it was because he was once again leaving her, or maybe it was because she felt like she was in that courtroom again, begging him to believe her, or maybe it was because of something she didn't even understand yet.

Regardless of the reason, she found herself saying, "I loved you, too, you know."

He looked at her with sad eyes that she was sure mirrored her own and shook his head. "Not enough, apparently."

"You don't believe that," she argued, shaking her head and trying to keep the building emotions down.

"If you'd loved me, you would've told me. You would've given me the proof, whatever breadcrumbs you're talking about. You wouldn't have let me watch them take you away."

"Rowan-"

"You wouldn't have thought, for a second, that I didn't try to fight for you. And you sure as hell wouldn't have waited eight years to do whatever it is you're trying to do."

"I had to," she whispered, even as she knew it wouldn't be enough.

She shook with the effort to not tell him everything, but even after all he'd told her and how everything had changed, she just couldn't. Not yet.

He stood at the door, watching her with those eyes she'd once thought looked like the most beautiful emeralds. "Sometimes I think about it, you know. What life would be like if I hadn't tried to fix your sink in the middle of the night."

She smiled sadly. "Me too."

Rowan shook his head, gaze taking in her face like he thought he'd never see her again.

He thought it was over now, she realized. He thought that now she knew he hadn't given up on her immediately, now that she'd told him the story she'd wanted to tell him, that it was over and she'd give up.

"Look again," she whispered. "You know I didn't do it. It's why you're here, why you kept looking after the trial ended. You know I wouldn't."

"Goodbye, Aelin," he said instead, not telling her any of the things she really wanted to hear.

It wasn't until the door shut behind him she finally let herself cry.

She'd told herself that it didn't matter; that in a month the truth would come out and everything would be normal again.

She'd told herself she was only messing with Rowan for revenge, not because she wanted to see him again or test that he'd find the clues she'd left for him.

She'd told herself this was just a game.

She'd told herself all sorts of things that turned out to be lies.

~~~

Part 3

@audreycressworth @whimsicallyreading @onceupona-chaos @lil-unoriginal-weirdo-273sole @surielandiareendgame @captain-swan-is-endgame @poisonous00 @vasudharaghavan @sailorsassley @endlessdaydream @swankii-art-teacher @beanco8 @stokingthemidnightflame @mis-lil-red @ladyfireheart-and-buzzard @sheharahu @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[nissakii]

Wedding Deal - Chapter 09 [IwaizumixReader]

Tip: If you are using Chrome there is a little add-on called InteractiveFics with that the story is much more vivid since Y/N will be replaced with the name you type in. Give it a try you won’t regret it~

Chapter 09:

"You are still a rookie aren't you Iwa-chan? The more you connect to people the more Intel and allies you have in different areas", I was surprised by the conversation they were having yet enjoyed it.

But did he call him iwa-chan?

"...", Prince Hajime's face seemed like his half-brother had a valid point yet he clicked his tongue, "don't call me iwa-chan on such occasions."

The other one laughed slightly and I saw him stealing a glance over to the others from time to time.

"So if everything will go clean today, I suppose in two weeks we'll have a newbie in our palace, right?", with a meaningful look Prince Tooru supported his arms on the table and leaned his head on his hands as he looked between me and Prince Hajime.

P-Palace?! I mean we have a big mansion but a palace?!

"Hm", the one next to me made a half-affirming noise and pointed at his brother's arms, "that's rude stop that. Nobody asked you to come yet you behave like that every time we go somewhere."

"And still I get all the attention, don't I? But you won't understand how it feels to turn people down because I can barely make time for a few important matters", Prince Tooru shrugged.

"Prick, you were wandering around the whole week playing around", I heard barely a whisper saying that my eyes were widening in surprise before he cleared his throat and the one in front of me laughed again.

"That's so rude! I had errands in this city. Also, who is the one who makes all the arrangements because people are scared to ask you twice, huh?", as Prince Tooru finished those words he received a slap on the back of his head by none other than the mother of future husband.

That sounds so weird, but... but two weeks?!

"Wait a second", I whispered and tugged inconspicuously on Prince Hajime's sleeve as he gave me a side-glance and tilted his head a bit to the side signing me that he was listening, as Prince Tooru apologized and discussed with the one who slapped his hands grabbing all the attention.

"D-Did you say two weeks? Isn't that too fast?", I almost stumbled across my words and I saw how he slightly shifted and turned his head leaning in to respond.

H-His breath... is too close... I-

It was tickling my sensitive ears and I could barely make out what he said due to the thoughts rumbling inside my head.

"Two weeks may sound a bit quick, but I really can't wait much longer than that I hope you don't resent me for that. Also it is not... you know. Not a-", before he could finish his sentence I heard my mother clear her throat which caused me to flinch and accidentally headbutt Prince Hajime.

That's it. I will die a virgin

"I am so sorry", I stuttered and he just heaved his hand, covering the little red spot on his forehead and nodded in order to sign me an okay.

"That's a hilarious future sister-in-law. I can't wait to see what you will do in the palace once you arrive", his brother was munching on something while giving me the smile of a curious child unlike all his behaviour before.

It is eerie how he enjoys it when Prince Hajime is suffering so genuinely.

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

After dinner and a lot of talk I wasn't involved with I started thinking about all kinds of things:

One of them was Hiyori who just seemed to contact me shortly but nothing else.

I wondered if Prince Ushijima ever let her go that evening...

Then again Chiaki came into my mind. She always finds ways to contact me or randomly see me somewhere but I didn't hear a thing, not even a notice where she is. The moment she fled was also the moment I didn't hear from her and with all the organisation stuff that was going on I couldn't even think of getting to her mother's bakery or even close with my mother, her ears and eyes aka the guards.

Also two weeks were too short. It seems like even though my mother was firstly shocked and taken aback by that statement she wasn't completely against it.

Do you want to get rid of me that badly?

And then it all started to go too fast, they already discussed a new appointment, when we would meet, how I and Prince Hajime would organize things and walk through both his and my province, how we would have dinner with my father which was the most dreadful event that I kept cursing in my head and also the wedding itself.

Before I realized it Prince Hajime's mother gave me a tight hug as a goodbye and the man himself patted my shoulder before his mother scolded him and I was crushed into a muscular torso, feeling every single movement of his from breath to the voice in his chest as he told me we would see each other in two days.

Still gooey from that man's massive force and warmth I saw my mother and everyone else leave through the door beside one person who waited for them to leave. Leaving only me and him in the big and scary dinner room that was filled with the dim light of the halls and the last rays of the sun that was about so set.

"Finally I can get to talk to you alone", Prince Tooru loosened his tie and stepped closer with a smile, "about the deal-"

"I am sorry, I don't know a bit what you are talking about", I stuttered and his face looked surprised as he raised his eyebrows.

"I think you quite know, that's why you are so flustered aren't you?", the smile went a tad darker as he pointed at the chair, "let's take a seat shall we? Shortly before I had to depart I didn't want to make my visit for naught even though it was very entertaining in itself", his voice had a gentle yet strong tone that made me already step ahead to take a seat in my own mansion.

Unlike his brother this kind of authoritarian behaviour is scary. Nobody would probably know what is going on

He also took a seat right next to me, shoving the chair with no sound so that I would face him while he placed one arm on his knee and supported his head on it, eyeing me with a knowing smile.

"About your friend-", he started and immediately I reacted with an answer.

"Sorry to disappoint you but I do not have any friends."

His expression turned concerned and a bit of a sad undernote as he furrowed his eyes, "Wow I need to say that this is kind of saddening to hear", he sighed, "if it wasn't a complete lie. I may be easy-going but not and idiot".

Previous

[mofieroll]

You Too (Jotaro Kujo x Fem!Reader)

Inspired from my in-character interaction with @mistaeq! Dedicated to them for motivating me to write! 💛

A Post!SDC Jotaro x Reader one shot where you bond with Holly, who you call Seiko, and pamper your man Jotaro.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Trauma

Word Count: 3k

Two years have passed since the events of the Crusaders' trip to Egypt to save the life of Holly Kujo from being taken by her own Stand. To say that the trip was memorable is an understatement. It was too memorable. The memories of built friendships and increased attachments in just a span of fifty days were unbearable, for fate made the surviving comrades of the group pay for all the joyous moments with the pain of death and eternal separation.

It was hard. Painful. Frightening. Heartbreaking.

It was excruciatingly traumatizing, that even the boy who appeared to be unbothered and distant, the boy who put an end to the cold-blooded century old vampire's curse, couldn't deny it.

Jotaro Kujo couldn't get away from the memories of his dying friends, and so, the supposed flashbacks became inescapable nightmares.

But fortunately, that was until you came.

You met Jotaro a month after he came back from his trip. The meeting was a mere coincidence as you were a year lower than him, you personally did not and had no intentions of getting to know him. It just so happened that Holly or Seiko, his mother, came across your small shop that sold self-designed accessories made from recycled materials. You had told her you search and pick the materials —mostly trash— yourself, which certainly piqued the woman's interest and told you, “Is that right? I have a son, and don't tell him I told you this, but he loves marine animals! It seems you are both fond of nature so I'm sure you'll get along— Oh! I'm sorry dear, we haven't introduced ourselves! I'm Holly Kujo, but you can call me Seiko~”. She was a sweetheart, so you saw no harm in accepting her offer that led you to become a close acquaintance of the Kujo Family.

Much to the matchmaker's Seiko's dismay, it took a year for you and Jotaro to confess that your platonic feelings are in need of a level up. She is Jotaro's mother and your first Kujo friend, of course she'd notice if something was up between you and Jotaro that you both refused to talk about! When you finally re-introduced yourself as Jotaro's.. cough.. girlfriend, Seiko was delighted and decided to treat her second favorite couple (next to her parents Joseph and Suzie) to a nice romantic dinner! The unplanned date embarrassed Jotaro, but he endured it as it gave a good start for the new level of your relationship with him.

Until then, Jotaro became more and more protective. You found it sweet knowing that your boyfriend, former acquaintance, cares about you and shows affection in ways you quite expected for a forbearing man like him. He's not a man of words nor materialistic gifts but a man of straightforward actions— yet he remained mysterious.

Jotaro has been avoiding you since the week has started. He distanced himself yet guarded you as you walked home after class everyday. Everytime you tried to catch him, he's nowhere to be seen. You started to get frustrated, and you know you wouldn't get any explanation even if you corner him and face him alone.

Seiko called you today and asked if you could have dinner wih them, which you excitedly agreed to because you were actually on the way to the Kujo household, a paper bag —which contained your newly designed rings and necklace— in hand.

With Seiko greeting you outside their gates, you entered their traditional mansion and told her about the happenings from the previous days. Even with the mention of Jotaro's sudden actions, Seiko chatted with you nonchalantly.

“Dear, you know my boy would do things that can be a little too unexpected even for me,” Seiko stated, “But if there's one thing or two that I can assure of, is that he means no harm..” You stopped in your tracks as she faced you and tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling, “And he cares for you, [Y/N]. I think, that may be his way of showing it!” Seiko spoke with softness, hopeful that her words would reach you and get rid of any confusion that would spark a misunderstanding on her stoic son's intentions.

You smiled back at Seiko with teary eyes, touched by her comfort. You pulled out the necklace from your paper bag and showed it to her, quietly telling her that it's your gift, only to receive an enthusiastic squeal and hug before you locked the accessory around her neck.

“It looks perfect on you Seiko! I wonder if I'd be as beautiful as you when I reach your age..” You sighed and pouted at Seiko, holding the paper bag on your middle.

“Oh, you!” Seiko playfully hit you as you both giggled, “You shouldn't say such things to a middle aged woman, [Y/N]! I might believe you!” Seiko joked while you insisted that you're sincere about your compliment.

Your chat continued on until she told you to run along and check on her boy, not forgetting to tease that Jotaro misses you. You face warmed in pink, which Seiko found so cute that she had to pinch your cheeks. With her positive and welcoming presence, your determination to face Jotaro fueled.

Seiko informed you that she'll be preparing dinner. You replied, “Mhm! I'll drag Jotaro and we'll meet you here at the dining room! Is that okay?”

“Okay~!”

—

Meanwhile Jotaro, who hasn't come out of his room the whole day, heard you and Seiko pass by. He was sitting in the far corner of his room but the combined voices of yours and his mother's particularly blasted through his ears. He's.. happy.. that you're both safe and sound.. but— why are you here? You should be at home! Did something happen? Did someone bother you? Wait.. did you come here alone? Didn't he tell you even before that you shouldn't go out at night? What if.. what if something happened to you? What if someone showed up and.. and took you away? Took you somewhere.. he can't reach.. What if his dreams were to happen? What if—

Knock! Knock!

Jotaro's sweating face turned to look at his door as his breathing became more unsteady. His eyes widened, brows clashed, and his mouth was agape, gasping for more air. His fists were clenched and he was trembling, who's knocking? Who's trying to get him again?

“Kujo?”

Jotaro stopped breathing for a second while his body still trembled. The voice that called him held sweetness and concern in it but he was still in a dark trance. What if someone's trying to deceive him?

“Seiko called me, may I come in?”

His widened eyes calmed, turning his tormented expression into one of those longingness. His shuddering arm reached out as he subconsciously stood and walked towards his shut door. His cold hand gripped the handle.. but he didn't have the slightest strength to pull it himself. What is he doing? He can't face anyone like this, especially..

On the other side of Jotaro's door was you, with a hand that also gripped the cold handle, waiting for the right timing to enter. Your heartbeat has increased its pace, indicating your uptight feeling of facing him after not seeing him for over a week. You were nervous and a short flashback of your first meeting with Jotaro popped up in your mind. Has it really been two years?

Jotaro never directly told you of his.. episodes. But, there were times where you just happened to observe that whenever you were late on your meeting, he immediately scoops you in a hug while he trembles; or whenever you randomly visit him on weekends and you enter his room only with a knock, he abruptly charges at you with his folded fist stopping inches from your worried face. He didn't tell you about what's haunting him, not even once. Yes, you were undeniably frustrated by him avoiding you, but you love him well enough to have the willingness to act up whilst having patience.

You waited for more minutes before speaking again, “I'm gonna enter now, alright?” You assured, carefully sliding the door behind you and turning on the light switch after you entered.

Your eyes wandered after it adjusted to the lit room, locking on the form of a slouched man in the corner, sitting with a knee up that had his arm and head resting on it while his other knee was folded. You quietly sighed and walked close to him, hiding the impatience to throw yourself at him and pepper him with kisses, mumbling i missed yous. You would have done it, but that kind of affection.. goes for later.

You sat beside Jotaro and placed the paper bag on your side. You weren't too close nor too far from him, just enough to have your hand caress his messy dark hair. You loved seeing him without his hat, seeing his flawless face be shadowless. But if he took it off, the reason is either he's agitated or.. sleep. There was a time when you told him that he should take off his hat indoors and a time you tried to take it off yourself, but he completely ignored you at both and kept the hat on.

“How are you?” You asked without expecting a reply. It was to make him acknowledge your presence, and that is because you didn't know that he's been waiting for you to come in since the moment he heard your voice.

Jotaro wanted to answer. He wanted to lock you in his arms and.. say sorry. He wanted to apologize for neglecting you but— how is he going to do that without telling you too much?

“Why the f*ck did my mother call you? I don't need any help. That b*tch.”

There it is, his method of putting up a tough facade, the swearing that would prompt anybody to think that he needs no help. It worked on you once, but you're not just anybody to him now.

“Mhm. Seiko checked up on me while I was heading home from.. somewhere. She invited me for dinner,” You informed. You didn't want to tell him that you were on your way here even before Seiko called you, knowing full well that he's against you ‘roaming’ at night alone.

You continued to comb through his hair as he answered, “For real [Y/N], I'm fine. Leave. I don't need you to stay here— or.. or something.”

Your hand lowered to his upper back and started to rub circles, “Would you look at me and say that again, Kujo?” you asked in a slightly teasing tone, trying to light up the mood.

You started humming a soft melody, a melody that somehow always soothed Jotaro. The first time you hummed it was when you were cooking dinner for him and Seiko wasn't home. He got into a fight that day and he was abnormally quiet, not the usual, resulting to a tension between the two of you. You hummed the melody to ease the atmosphere, and when you were placing his plate on the table, he suddenly grabbed your wrist and muttered an apology before he told you to ‘keep doing’ what you were doing. The melody was just random, so you did your best to remember its tone and hum it whenever you both need comfort.

And this time, he was soothed again, but he isn't going to be swayed so easily even if he wants to.

“F*cking go away.” He huffs, “You're just like the annoying b*tch. Leave me alone.”

No, stay. He stated in his mind the complete opposite of what came out of his mouth. Of course you didn't leave and continued to hum and rub circles on his back. He may be one of the harshest men you've met, but you have a counter for that. Well.. you're stubborn.

He remembered what you said about heading home from.. somewhere. Where was that? “Where were you coming from?” He asked in a demanding tone.

“Doesn't matter where I was, Kujo. You're still not looking at me.” You retreated your hand from his back and crawled to sit in front of him in crossed legs before placing your hands on his large ones, “I wouldn't mind being like Seiko, although..” You squeezed the top of his hands, bowed your body and peeked at his face where your warm [E/C] eyes met his tired yet enchanting aquamarines. Your lips quirked into a small smile, “You wouldn't want your partner to be your second mother, would you?”

Partner?

Jotaro looked at you blankly, not realizing how close your faces were, “You're still worrying about me too much, I'm fine. I'm.. I'm just remembering..” You straightened and held his cheeks, gently pulling up his face before standing on your knees. You shifted your hand and cupped his face, delicately looking at him to encourage him to speak.

In that moment where he's putting his toughness down, you've completely set aside the issue from the past week. The thoughts that Jotaro might've had enough of you because he thinks you're oblivious to his personal issues— all gone. Holly's words echoed through your mind. Mother truly knows best.

“Egypt.. friends dyi—” Jotaro cut his words and sighed deeply, “..all of it is hitting hard. You won't understand.”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. He's right, you would not be able to understand, but that's temporary. It'll take more time for him but you're willing to wait, “I.. dream of you..” He swallows the lump in his throat while you wipe the sweat forming on his temple, “I dream of you dying too.”

With that, you were able to catch on more of what happened before you came in his life. People close to him died. People who he probably traveled with.. might have died right before him.. or not. And now he's being haunted, probably by the guilt or by the experience itself. You're still skeptical, but it's considerably clear now.

Your eyes that looked at your hand which wiped his bead of sweat shifted to his eyes, and you saw fear. He was frightened, not only by the past, but also by the possibility that he might lose you too.

You retreated your hands and sat on your legs as you and Jotaro continued to communicate through your eyes. Your heart was thumping fast against your chest, now of sympathy.

“Jotaro, I..”

This time, you threw yourself at him. Arms snaking around his neck, your face buried on his shoulder. You wrapped him in a tight hug as it took him time to return the affection, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you even closer as he closed his eyes and basked his head on yours. You and Jotaro savored the hug for a while, not thinking about anything else aside being in each other's arms.

“I'm here.. and I'm telling you that I'll be here to love you longer than that delinquent head of yours expected.”

You broke the hug gently, a hand shifting to cup his cheek while you also reached for the paper bag. Jotaro opened his eyes as he felt you fix his sitting position so you could sit —with crossed legs— on his thighs, laying your back on his chest.

“See this?” You lifted the paper bag with both hands, giving Jotaro the chance to once again wrap his arms around your waist. He doesn't mind giving in to your touch as of now.

Jotaro grunted, “Inside this lovely recycled and eco-friendly paper bag are things that.. uhm.. how do I introduce it..” You slowly placed your head on his shoulder, putting the bag down between your legs. You contemplated as you stared on the wooden ceiling, “I know! The things.. consider it as our promise to each other, Kujo. Am I clear? Yep, I'm clear!”

Jotaro clicked his tounge in annoyance as you lifted your head from his shoulder when he was about to rest his head against yours. Why can't he just cuddle you without you moving too much? Can't you and him just cuddle in peace?

You shifted again, now face to face with him. You acted surprise when you saw his furrowed brow, “Oh? Kujo is annoyed with the mighty [L/N]?”

“Just get it over with, woman.” Jotaro supported your back with an arm, watching you as you struggled to hold his free hand with one of yours. You had set aside the paper bag, the things in it now hidden in your other hand.

When you finally settled with wrapping your small hand around his palm so his fingers were loose, you smiled up at him and swiftly leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose. Jotaro turned away, snorting to at least lessen his flustered state. Where is his hat now that he practically needs it?

Jotaro felt a cold thing graze his skin, along with what seems to be two fingers pushing the thing on his. He glanced and saw you inserting a ring on his pinky with a serious face. You were glaring at his hand, your smile only returning when you successfully inserted the ring.

You let go of his hand and was about to wear the other ring yourself when he grabbed your wrist, snatched the ring and easily inserted the accessory on your pinky, all of it with only one hand as his other arm was still supporting you.

You were taken aback, ready to question him when he pulled you into a bridal position and locked your upper body with his arms within a second. You chuckled instead of saying a thing, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Keen for a cuddle, huh, Kujo?”

“Good grief. You're one brave woman to challenge me.”

As you and Jotaro became ignorant to your surroundings, a flash of a camera resided from the slightly opened door, the sound being followed by a muffled kyaaah! which, with no doubt, came from the adorably giddy mother of the impatient man in your arms.

[End!]

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

A Helping Hand

a/n: It’s been a while since I’ve posted a fic. Ive been working on my health considering how much stress I was under at my old job, but I’m doing much better now. Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this.

This fic is set before Zeta 7 and the reader were dating, and when they were still friends. Set during and before the beginning of The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick series.

In this fic the reader only wants to help.

————-

It was almost time for you to eat again. At times it almost seemed to be more of a chore than a necessity to have a meal or to follow the routine of it, but hunger had led you here. And although there were many other things you might've preferred to do, this was what had to be done at the moment. Anticipatory feelings were lacking as you opened up the fridge; had it been conveniently full of delicious food which didn't need to be put together, and could simply be warmed up, that would have been great, but that was wishful thinking. Of course, you hadn't gone food shopping yet, so your old fridge was bare; eating out was an option, but you already did that for lunch and it didn't feel worth getting properly dressed for.

It had been while you were thinking of a creative way to use elbow pasta and ketchup when a song played through the tiny speakers of your phone; it was a phone call and you didn't have to hesitate to answer; it was from your favorite person; from Rick. You tried not to get too excited whenever he would call, but you couldn't help yourself; hearing his voice alone could make you happy. Pressing the green answer button on your touch screen, you smiled despite his inability to see it. “Hello Rick. How are you?”

“He-hello? I'm um - I'm fine. I hope this - is this a-a good time?”

His usual soft, cheerful voice seemed reluctant, almost shy tonight. You always thought he sounded sweeter over the phone, and it just made you want to tease him a little. Leaning against your kitchen counter, you could not help but laugh. “A good time? It is now. So, what’s up? Other than the ceiling. ”

He chuckled at that and you were relieved he couldn't see you at this moment, for the warmth in your cheeks would take a couple of minutes to recover from. “Gosh," he started, "I-I-I-I-I was just wondering if y-you would like to come over. It’s almost time for dinner and I um - I finished cooking, but…”

“You cooked too much again?”

“Y-yeah.”

"You're going to go through all your groceries that way."

"I-I couldn't help it." he confessed. "This recipe called f-for a certain amount of ingredients, but then a-again I guess it's f-for multiple servings."

You heard him sigh, and the thought of his frowning face came to mind. So, this was simply to invite you to dinner: it didn't matter what he might've called you for; the answer was almost always yes. As of late, Rick had been cooking more than one person could eat at a time; you always did think it was odd that he'd cook in abundance, especially since he lived alone, but he'd blame it on old habits. However, it made you wonder if he was looking for reasons not to eat alone; not that you minded. Interrupting the silence, you commented. “Well, I guess I'll have to help you make it disappear then."

"Huh?" he brightened, "Is that a-a yes?"

"What do you think it means? Yes, that's a yes. Goodness," you giggled. "I'll see you soon.”

You hung up and rushed back upstairs to change. What a silly man you thought. Such a silly…but adorable man, who had so much room for kindness and doubt.

——————

It was lovely to see him, and to listen to what he'd call gossip but was only the latest development of the pigeons which had made a nest in one of his fruit trees. "Y-you gotta see how they've made their nest. Boy, it's - it's fascinating how they used s-some old magazine clippings and hair ties."

Touching his hand lightly, you wondered. "Do you have any pics of them that you can show me?"

With raised brow, he started. “Sh-sh-show you?"

"Yeah," You leaned forward a little, and smiled. "I want to see what you've been telling me about."

Without hesitation, he searched his labcoat pockets and retrieved his phone; scrolling through his gallery until he came across said pictures. "I-I-I-I took these a couple of - of days ago."

Your fingers lightly brushed his palm as you grabbed his phone to glance through the pictures; he had a good eye for angles and lighting, and from the looks of it, the pigeons seemed to be relaxed so he might've fed them first; how nice. "They're so cute. I can’t get over how fluffy they look."

Replacing the phone into his palm, he visibly tensed; your fingers had brushed his palm again. Now, the urge to allow your hand to linger there was strong and the thought of lacing your fingers with his had been tempting, but you did neither. You quickly withdrew, with a new sense of embarrassment over such thoughts. He wouldn't understand how you felt, because he didn't see you that way.

“How do y-y-you like them?”

Hiding behind your water glass, you answered. “Way more than I thought I would.”

_________

Rick was still eating, but not with the same vigor from earlier. You wondered if you had insulted him or something; he had been avoiding direct eye contact for a while. You were no reader of minds, so there was no telling of the feelings inside; of those senses which couldn't be touched. "Rick, is something wrong? Have I….. have I overstayed my welcome and you don't know how to tell me? Is...is that why you won't look at me?"

"N-no, that's not it."

"Then, did I hurt your feelings? I hope not."

He sagged a little in his seat, and he didn't answer, but he shook his head no. You thought back to earlier, and how you had looked at the pictures he took and called them cute, but other than that, you didn't say anything problematic. Was it because you asked? Maybe it wasn't.

It was easy to hurt his feelings being as sensitive as he was, and although it might've been against your better judgment, you reached out and touched the back of his hand. "Please talk to me. I don't know what I did, but I'm so sorry. I don't want you to be upset at me."

With widened eyes, he's gazed at your hand, then back towards you. "No, that’s not th-the problem."

"Then why are you so quiet all of a sudden? It isn't like you."

"It's because I…I'm s-s-sorry I talk so much."

"What do you mean? Where is this coming from?"

"It appeared as though y-you were getting tired of all my talking.” He started in an almost accusatory manner but must've realized how it sounded and continued with more calmness. “Gee, I-I didn't want to sour the evening, s-s-so I thought I should just sh-shut up."

"But I don't want you to do that. I love all your talking."

"R-really?"

His surprise at this pained you. How could he think that you'd tire of it and him? Maybe when you were thinking, he mistook it as disinterest. How could you show him you cared? You did what only seemed natural and squeezed his hand but he stiffened.

You realized that when he didn't answer right away, that the napkin he had been using had been dropped and was now on the floor; a faint blush dusting his cheeks and the tops of his ears. You didn't think that it'd be such a big deal to randomly touch him, but you thought it was sweet that he'd get flustered like that; if he wasn't so shy at times, you'd think there was more to it; if only there was. "It's fun hearing you talk.” You confessed. “I feel as though I have so much I can learn from you. So feel free to talk to me."

The relief that washed over him was palpable and he smiled warmly at this. It made your heart swell, and you withdrew your hand although it appeared that he wouldn't have minded. Still, you didn't want to upset him again with misunderstandings. "Y-you're a really nice person. It's - I'm glad t-to know someone like you."

You were glad too.

____________

"Anyway, it's interesting how they can take one man's trash and turn it into a home, but what could they do if given better materials?"

Taking a drink of water, he managed to recover a little. "I-I bet they could make a-a work of art if given the right materials. Wh-why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know what you were thinking in that brain of yours. Must be interesting, especially with all the things you can come up with."

Yes, you did find the topic of pigeons fascinating but not as much as you found that toothy grin of his inviting. Having finished eating, you listened happily to his delightful little tales and knowings; watching as he'd start eating but then forget his food when he was at the peak of his explanation. He always did seem more cheerful when you were over and had so much to tell you when you were here, but you attributed that to the fact that he didn't have many friends. Though, you didn't mind his need for conversation; rather you enjoyed how random and easy it was to talk with him; his sweetness enriched your soul whenever he was especially happy and attentive in conversation. Handing him a new napkin, you teased. "I'm surprised you haven't made a mini-mansion type birdhouse for them out of whatever spare wood you have in the garage. Unless you already have. I bet it'd be all tricked out with a little warm birdbath and a small mirror so they can check themselves out, fluff their feathers and such."

"Gosh," he sighed, waving his fork a little as he ruminated on his thoughts before the beginnings of a boyish smile appeared on his lips. "did I already tell y-you about that?"

"No," you giggled; happy that your assumptions weren't farfetched. "but I took a wild guess."

He was that kind of guy after all; soft-hearted and fond of the living things around him; it was one of the many qualities that endeared him to you. You wished you could've taken part in its construction. "If you had told me sooner," you mentioned. "I would have helped. I could've helped painting it or something."

"Gosh, I thought y-you had other things to do so I…it wasn't a-a big deal. It was simply an um - an old man's hobby."

"It's just….it sounded like fun. I know it might not mean much saying this, but I would've enjoyed spending that time with you. Working side by side and discussing little details about it. I would…. You see, I love spending time with you."

It was only after you had said all that, in which you realized how easy it would've been to misconstrued. Sitting there, you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands; wondering what was with you these days. Since when was it okay to get bold and be frank like that? Every so often, when you did say such things, you saw, for fractions of moments, confusion and more….as though he ought to say something; there were no tears and there never was, but you thought he seemed hurt; glassy-eyed and lost. Studying you, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it again; preferring to examine his napkin and tableware then to continue that thought.

He did this often, especially when you surprised him; for better or worse. Perhaps he didn't want to appear foolish, but whatever he could've said was interrupted by your sudden movement. You reached over for his empty dish and went over to the sink to begin on the dishes. However, he jumped up and insisted that you needn't help to clean, snapping out of whatever mood which might've overcome him a moment ago. You thought it was the least you could do; if you had been a decent cook you would've offered a meal in return, but it wasn't likely that it was going to happen. "Rick, you cooked so I might as well help you clean."

"Gosh, y-you don't have to do that. I was the one that invited you over. As th-the host, it's my responsibility."

"That may be true," you reasoned, feeling responsible for him in some way. "but you're always doing stuff for me, so I thought I'd stay and help for a bit."

"Huh? Wh-what?"

"Yeah. I mean what good are friends if you can't put them to work every so often? Besides," you quieted a bit as you scrubbed away at the baking pan. "I want to help you."

It's not like you were using this as an excuse to stay a little longer now. Right? Well, just a little. It was still early and you didn't want to go home yet. Grabbing a kitchen towel, he chuckled lightly. "Well, I-I guess I'll help y-you dry."

Standing beside you, his warmth radiated off him, and from this close, you could smell spices, a hint of vanilla, and motor oil? Perhaps it was the scent of his house, but it was comforting. Good thing you had the excuse of concentrating on scrubbing because otherwise, it would've been obvious on how affected you were by him.

_______

After you finished wiping down the counters, you checked the time and thought you'd be better off heading on home. Grabbing your keys you were ready to say goodbye, but he followed you to the door. "Are y-y-you going?"

Without facing him, you nodded. "I am."

"Then I'll walk y-you home."

"Okay."

In the past, you had told him that it wasn't necessary since you lived so close, but you came to enjoy those small moments of kindness; of his sincere care for your well-being that made the world a slightly easier place to live. The walk didn't take long since you only lived a few doors down, but it was lovely nonetheless. "Thank you for the food. It was really good."

Scratching the back of his neck, he answered. "I-I hoped you would. I um - I enjoyed y-your company."

"Me too."

You played with your keys a little, wondering why you should be so nervous. It's not like you two were dating; it's not like he'd even consider the possibility, but it was moments like this that made you hope and contemplate if you should just tell him. It was always on tip of your tongue; the words which begged to be said, but you weren't feeling brave yet. You needed more time; just enough to be ready for a change. There was no rush, but logic and feelings didn't coincide. "Rick," you started, unsure of what you were doing. "can I um….can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes! Of c-course. What's on y-your mind?"

Think of something you thought. "You'd tell me if you needed help, wouldn't you? I'm not talking about what we did this evening, but stuff that….like if you need help with your chores or something. I know you get busy sometimes and I'd hate it if you weren't all caught up on the latest news about your pigeons or if there were dishes that needed washing."

"Gosh, I-I thought I was doing f-fine with all that," he confessed. "but it - I'll be sure t-to let you know."

"Good, that's...that's good because I'm always happy to help you."

Gathering whatever foolishness which laid at the pit of your stomach and daydreams, you rested a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. "Rick, I'd do almost about anything for you….that is…if that's….. that is what friends are for, right? At least that's what I think."

Though, was that what you thought? Wasn't this just a roundabout way of saying you wanted to be around him more? Oh, if only he could understand. You knew it wasn't right to mislead him, but he never reacted the way you thought he should.

Glancing down at where your hand still laid, a wistful, almost sad quality passed across his stormy eyes before continuing. "Boy, th-that's thoughtful," he began, though as easily as a summer sky could change so did his words. "but I-I wouldn't want t-to bother you or take up your time with anything like that."

"That's the thing, it wouldn't be a bother at all."

This is where you thought you'd messed up, but you couldn't seem to keep quiet when he was involved. It felt as though you were trying to monopolize your way into spending more time with him; as though you were desperate to get him to be around you. "I mean, as a writer, I can just do my job whenever. So, you don't have to hesitate."

That familiar flit of sadness passed over his eyes again and you thought that maybe he pitied you because all you had in the world was yourself and a house you simply inherited. You didn't want to tell him you were lonely, because if you did, you didn't want him to think that it was the only reason you spent time with him; it'd break your heart if you hurt this sensitive creature, but you couldn't help yourself; it was your selfishness talking. True, you were making this more complicated than it had to be, but you didn't know how to fix that yet. "I just…I don't mind being around you more and hanging out. That's all."

Although, it might've not been as complicated after all for it didn't take much for him to lift up your moods. All he had to do was smile, and to pull you into his arms for a big hug. Did he know?

"Rick?"

Squeezing you a fraction tighter, he confessed. "Gee, it's - I-I appreciate your worrying a-about me," he started, his soft, warm voice brushing past your ear and giving you goosebumps. "but I can't - can't help but wonder why y-you look as though you could use a friend right now. Are you al-alright? Did y-you want t-t-to talk about it?"

Your fingers dug into the worn fabric of his sweater and you wanted to cry because he was so devastatingly kind, and you knew in that one moment it didn't matter how long you held on to him; he'd let you hold him for as long as you needed because he was great at empathizing. Little did he know it unraveled your heart every time. "You're right Rick, I do need a friend. I…I need...."

You; the word which refused to leave your mouth. His assumption filled in the blank. "You probably miss your dad on nights like this huh? It's hard t-to go home to an empty house."

That was partly true. "Mhm."

Rubbing your back, he sighed. "Th-there there. Everything is going t-t-to be alright."

Is it? Would it be alright? No, he didn't know or if he did, he ignored it. Though, like this, you could almost believe there was more to this relationship than… then being good friends.

With your face hidden in the softness of his sweater, held so sure and firm, with such strength that seemed unnatural for one his age, he was as you thought of him; as a man you held in the highest regard, beyond reason or doubt that you could love if…if it was appropriate. Why couldn't he stay that friend that you needed and why did you wish for more than this? Was this to be your punishment? To adore someone who made you happy but couldn't be more than society should allow?

"Will I be alright?" you confessed more to yourself than to him.

Squeezing you a fraction tighter, you felt him nod. "Y-you're young, so y-you will be."

That's right, you were young; too young for him. While you had been ready to beat yourself up for it, he continued in a voice that was above a whisper. "I'd like t-t-to help you if I can but only if y-you want me to. Is that o-okay? Do you want me t-to?"

You wanted so much, but more than anything you wanted what he was willing to give. Rubbing his back in a similar, soothing motion, you softened. "Please do."

Another sigh escaped him, but he continued to rub your back; the warmth of his hands and sounds of his breathing making you a little sleepy. You hadn't been checking the time, but you were sure that it had been a while. What you hadn't been sure of was what the neighbors were going to think if they saw you two in such a warm embrace at this time of the evening or anytime for that matter; you didn't care because this felt right. It was as though you could melt into him with how comforting it was. Who knows how long you must've held onto him, but eventually you heard him say softly, albeit oddly disappointed. "It's getting late and I-I should let you go. It's…and you…but y-you can always call me if you - if you can't sleep."

Glancing up at him, you wondered why it ever had to end. However, with reluctance, you pulled away, but only enough so that you could hold him a little longer. "You're right. I…I should go to bed. Thank you for the lovely evening, my wonderful… my friend."

And with that, you released your hold on him. However, if you hadn't known any better, the look he gave you was softer than his usual ones. Was…no…it must've been nothing. A trick of the dim porch light. Half hidden by the dark, he confessed. "Thank you f-for being my - for being my friend. It makes me happy t-to have you around. I'll um - I'll be sure t-to make myself more available to you if you need me."

Your heart ached with half affection, half guilt. You really were asking for so much you didn't deserve. "Oh Rick, I'd appreciate that."

For a quick second, you saw him stretch out his hand but just as quickly let it fall back to his side. Then, he stepped back and reminded you. "Don't forget t-to lock the door."

"I won't."

You opened your front door, and smiled up at him from your doorway, trying to channel all that you felt in a single word; knowing that was all you could do for now. "Goodnight."

Softening, he turned away quickly, mostly hidden in the darkness, and waved. "D-don't let th-the bed bugs bite."

Closing the door behind you, you barely made it to the couch before you began to cry. What were you thinking? Playing around with a lonely man's feelings and possibly confusing him. Could you ever get over him? Would your heart let you?

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you thought back to only minutes ago when you were secure in his arms, and you felt as though you belonged to him. And how your blouse smelled like him now or that his care for you was almost enough. Though, were his actions like that of a parent? You could only wonder. Though, if you couldn't get over him, couldn't you help change his mind?

When you had calmed a little and had time to change and get a drink of water, you found that you still weren't sleepy. It was late but before you could give it much forethought, you dialed his number and he picked up right away. "C-can't sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Me either. I um - I was thinking a-about what you said about th-the birdhouse. While it is built, and I'd painted it, I would be happy t-t-to have you over when you're available and help me make it pretty. Gosh, it's - it's only if you want to."

"That would be lovely. Too bad it's late because I would've come over now if you'd asked."

"Y-you see, that wouldn't um - tomorrow would be better."

"What's the matter? A little sleepover never hurt anybody." You teased.

Right away you heard a clatter and then a crack. Did he drop his phone?

"Rick? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I-I-I-I just - my phone had fallen."

"I see. Sorry for the bad joke."

“It's o-okay. Just surprised me is -is all.”

A chair scraped the floor, and you heard the click of either a pen or a small appliance. "I-I don't think I'll be able to sleep t-tonight but I won't keep you up with m-my thoughts. It'd get kind of boring for you."

"I mean, I am tired, but I don't mind listening to you for a while. Could you just talk? It can be about anything."

He sighed into the phone, and you heard paper. Perhaps he was flipping through a book. “I-I was thinking of reading, but my eyes are a-a bit tired.”

“When you do read, do you only read nonfiction?”

“I-I like to read a little bit of everything.”

“You do? Well, how convenient. I happen to have a bunch of books and if you'd ever like to borrow any of them, you're free to do so.”

“Boy, I'll have to take a-a look the next time I’m over. Hey, um - I do have a-a story you might enjoy. It has t-t-to do with how I came to have jasmine in my backyard. Would you like t-to hear it?”

Grabbing a pillow, you nodded. “Yes, I really would. Though, tell it slowly so that I don't miss a thing.”

With a chuckle, he began to explain, and you placed the phone beside you; careful as to not drop it as his sing-song voice twisted and curled about you in your lonely room.

Fin

[billyhargrove-imagines]

Kindred Outsiders: Pt. 1

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x OC

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2374

A/N: Hello! This story was originally posted on my fanfiction.com account but I decided to bring it to tumblr as well :) Anyhow, this story is going to take place in the beginning of summer & will later lead up to the events starting in the beginning of season 3. Gif used isn’t mine. Enjoy!

-

Indiana is…different.

I moved out here merely two weeks ago from Los Angeles, California. My father died from a plane crash over a month ago. He was on his way home from a business trip. My mother, on the other hand, isn't in the picture because she passed away from cancer 5 years ago. I was 15 years old at the time.

I couldn't stand being alone in my father's mansion any longer. It just wasn't the same without him. It caused me nothing but pain having to enter a home where I am not greeted a simple 'hello' from my father. Dinners were always lonely so I ended up resorting to going out with friends almost every night for dinner, followed by drinking at home from my father's in-home bar.

When it came around to bedtime, I felt a pit in my stomach whenever I passed my father's office and didn't see the light shining under the crack of the door. He always worked in his office late.

One day I made a bold move by giving my aunt Joyce a call and moved in with her in Indiana a month after the incident. Aunt Joyce is my father's sister.

Her small house is nothing compared to mine and lacked the useless amenities I was used to. But I didn't care. Living here so far with her, Will and Jonathan was much better than living back in California all alone. Sure, I had friends but it doesn't compare to family.

Since I am an only child of my parents, I inherited all of their money. I also made a selfless decision and paid off my aunt's mortgage. When I told her the news, I was thanked with a slap across the face followed by a tight hug. She never wanted any handouts from my parents in the past and still doesn't til this day.

It is 1pm and I just clocked out for my short shift at this clothing store in the starcourt mall. Yes, I have a great amount of money in my bank account, but I still wanted to keep myself occupied by working a part time job. I didn't want to just sit on my ass all day. Especially since I still don't know what I want to do for my career. I am 20 years old and time is ticking, but I don't want to waste my time and money on schooling when I don't know what the hell I want to do yet.

After every shift I've been stopping by the ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy and I always see the same duo, Steve and Robin. I've become quite acquainted with them and I learned so far that they're fresh out of high school.

"Let me guess, rocky road?" Steve said with a grin.

"You know me too well, Steve." I replied with a smile, stretching my arm out to hand him cash.

"God Steve. Just ask her out already." Robin added, rolling her eyes playfully and crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the back counter.

"Can you not?" Steve snapped his head at Robin, cheeks flushed red.

"Very funny, Robin." I let out a chuckle and waved goodbye to the duo as I licked my delicious ice cream on my way out.

As usual, I took my time walking through the mall. I wanted to make sure I finished my ice cream before I arrived to my car and headed home. A variety of families, couples and friends seemed to be enjoying their shopping trips. Though word on the news is that many local business owners are enraged about the mall being built due to losing business.

A familiar female voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Hi Victoria!" Aria, my eccentric coworker greeted me, her shoulder-length blonde hair bouncing as she kept up to my steps.

"Hey Aria, I thought you're off today?" I asked, still enjoying my ice cream.

"Yeah I was just shopping around for a gift for my mom's birthday next week." She briefly lifted the shopping bag in her hand. "Did you just get off or are you on lunch?"

"Um, I just got off."

"Yay! I'm going to the pool after this. Join me so I'm not alone!" She suggested. "There's also this hot hot hot lifeguard they hired last week. I went to school with him!"

"Okay sure. But I'm not really into that."

"Come on, Victoria." Aria groaned. "I know you don't have any plans today."

"No I meant the hot lifeguard or whatever. Not into that." I gave a dismissive wave of my hand before taking a generous lick of my ice cream.

"Oh. You're into girls? So sorry. I didn't know."

I snorted in amusement, but internally I was rolling my eyes at her. She's always been quick to make assumptions.

"No no no. I like boys." I made known. "I just don't care to drool over a piece of meat. But I'm down to take a dip in the pool."

"Oh! Okay. Sorry. Sorry again."

"It's fine Aria," I dragged. "I'm gonna go home and change out of this and I'll meet you there."

"Yay! Okay bye!" Aria shouted with glee before going our separate ways. She sure can be annoyingly hyper sometimes, but she's the only real girlfriend I've made here so far. Robin is always working and when she is off, she's always busy doing god knows what.

Like clockwork, my ice cream was finished off before I made it outside to my car. Or should I say my late father's black 1984 Porsche 911. It's quite showy for someone who now lives in Indiana, but this car was my father's baby. I'm never letting go of this.

The Rubberband Man by The Spinners blasted on my stereo as I drove to Aunt Joyce's house. Music from the 70s has always stuck with me. On my face are my favorite pair of black aviator sunglasses.

After a moment of driving down the familiar roads, I pull into the front of my aunt's house. I take the keys out of the ignition, remove my aviators, hop out of my car and enter the non vacant home. "Hey Jonathan." I greeted my cousin who is watching television on the couch with a full plate and fork in his hands.

"Hey there, Vic. You're home early." He said with a full mouth. I hummed in response before scurrying to my bedroom.

I searched through my dresser drawers until I found the perfect bikini for my mood, which is a two piece. I paired my black cheeky bottoms with a neon green strapless top. After quickly peeling off my work attire and slipping into my bikini, I made sure to at least cover up my ass cheeks with denim shorts before throwing on a pair of sandals.

Now I am out the door, tossing my bag of pool essentials in the passenger seat and making sure not to forget my aviators. The sun is at its peak and I am ready to cool off.

Minutes later I pull into the parking lot of the community pool for the first time since moving down here. I've driven past it plenty of times but never had the need to go yet until Aria randomly invited me.

Exiting my car with my bag under my arm and my aviators on, I hear various sounds at a short distance of people enjoying themselves in the water.

The sun is beaming down at me as I'm making my way through the gate, glancing around until I find Aria. "Victoria! Hey!" She shouted with glee, waving her hand. I found her lying on the pool lounger.

"Hey Aria." I greeted, placing my bag on the ground.

"Go on in the pool if you want. I'm waiting for him to show up for his shift. It should be any moment now!"

"Really?" Sitting down at the foot of the empty pool lounger, I shook my head at Aria in disapproval.

She scoffed. "Oh don't give me that look, Victoria." I shook my head at her, dropping my shorts and tossing it in my bag.

Aria let out a gasp out of the blue, sitting up straight. "Speaking of Billy. There he is!"

"Where?" I asked, casually pulling a flask out of my bag. I'm not an alcoholic and I don't plan to get plastered, but a little buzz is well deserved.

Aria doesn't respond. Instead, I scan my surroundings until I spotted the only male lifeguard walking the grounds to my left. He is tastefully shirtless, wearing red swim shorts, a whistle necklace and brown aviator shades. His dirty blonde hair is styled into a mullet, which surprisingly fits his face perfectly.

Billy's head snapped my direction as I'm taking a swig out of my whiskey filled flask. I couldn't tell if he was directly looking at me due to the shades masking his eyes, but all of the women's eyes were on him. And by the swagger of his steps, I can tell he's reveling in it.

"Eh." I shrugged my shoulders, once Billy passed me and sat comfortably in the lifeguard chair. "He's alright." I lied.

From his perfectly tanned skin to his flawlessly sculpted muscles, it's as if his body was made by angels. Even from a distance, I could see that his plump lips could lose any woman in his kiss. But no, I had to feign being unimpressed because a man that looks like that is bad news for me.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" She briskly pulled her sunglasses off, shooting me a look of disgust.

"Are your sunglasses blinding you?"

I snorted. "Nope. I can see perfectly clear."

"Ugh! If you think that Billy Hargrove is just alright, then I don't even want to know what kind of men you consider perfect." Aria mentioned seriously to me as she laid back and placed her sunglasses back on.

"Don't care. I'm going for a dip." I threw my flask back inside my bag before rising to my feet towards the pool to swim a few laps.

Stroking through the water, there is no one alive who can stop me. It's a moment like this that makes me miss the beaches in California. But I close my eyes and lose myself, pretending that's exactly where I am.

Unaware how long I've been swimming to and fro, I do one more lap before I take a break and reward myself with another sip of whiskey.

As I am motioning out of the water and my feet are planted onto the cement, a deep, male voice captures my attention. "Here."

I look and it is the stud himself, Billy Hargrove handing me a towel. "Oh thanks." I accepted with a soft smile, almost hesitant because I have a towel in my bag but I didn't want to seem rude.

I begin pat drying my long, black hair with the towel and begin sauntering towards my designated pool lounger, but Billy halts me, "Hey sweetheart." I spun around to face him with furrowed brows. "What's your name?" He asked, removing his glasses to reveal his annoyingly beautiful, blue eyes.

"Victoria. And you?" I asked even though I already know.

"The name's Billy." He said, randomly placing a piece of gum in his mouth which caused me to catch a glance at his lips, then to his abs and back to his eyes. I swear I saw the corner of his lip quirk up when he caught me. "Nice to meet ya Victoria."

"You too Billy." The sun was so hot that I didn't even need to dry off my body anymore. Instead, I threw the towel over my shoulder.

"Am I mistaken or is this your first time here?" He asked, smacking his gum as he's indiscreetly giving me an elevator look.

"No you're right." Before Billy had the chance to speak any further, I pointed behind him towards the pool. "Hey, I think there's a kid drowning over there."

Just as I predicted, he cautiously looked over his shoulder and that's when I made a beeline towards my pool lounger next to Aria.

"You. Dumb. Bitch." Aria remarked with obvious displeasure as I'm searching for my flask. "I can't be friends with you anymore."

"What now, Aria?"

"Billy the hottie was obviously into you and you blew it! Ugh, the things I'd do to be in your shoes right now."

"Oh please. He's just another pretty boy that wants one thing." I implied before taking a sip. "Go over there and talk to him yourself then." Flickering my eyes, I am now seeing that Billy's back on his lifeguard chair.

"Um no. If Billy wants somebody, Billy always makes the first move. Do I look like I want to embarrass myself right now?"

"If you say so." I said, readjusting the pool lounger so that it was flat and I lied on my stomach, using my arms as a makeshift pillow. "Can you rub sunscreen on me and wake me up in 30. I'm taking a nap."

Being the good friend that she is, Aria stole the sunscreen from my bag and did as I asked. She knows I'd do the same for her.

"I know you can't see right now," she started after a minute of no words exchanged, "but he's looking over here. Probably at your ass." She paused. "I wouldn't blame him though."

She's right. I do have a nice ass.

"Billy can stare all he wants. What do I care?" I uttered lazily, eyes closed and ready to sleep.

"You're insane! If I can't have him, then can you have him for me? And tell me if it is big!" She whisper shouted, rubbing the last bit of sunscreen needed on me.

"Im not having sex with anyone, Aria. Especially not him. I'm taking my nap now."

Billy is just another handsome face with a Calvin Klein body which doesn't impress me because it seems like he's used to getting any woman he wants. But I'm not any other woman, so he can use that charm on the next one for all I care.

[wonkasmissstarshine]

The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Ch. 2

GIF not mine. Credit goes to owner.

Summary: Grandpa Joe shares his stories of when he used to work for Willy Wonka, an Indian prince and a chocolate palace, and deceit.

A/N: Yes, I am following the movie but some dialogue and scenes may be changed or not there entirely. I’ll add Wonka gifs once we get to that part of the story. And yes, Rose is singing that song to Charlie.

Tagging: @holdmeicant​ @willymywonkers​

Rose and Charlie had a couple of stops to make on their way home. Rose needed to pop into the market to buy a loaf of bread, using the money that Mrs. Mason gave her. After that, the two siblings walked by the chocolate factory. They stopped in front of it and stared for a few minutes.

"What do you think it's like inside?" Charlie asked his older sister.

Rose, who was staring at the smoke coming out of the factory responded with, "I don't know, but if I ever had the chance to see inside, I would take it. Mr. Wonka's chocolate has always been the best"

If there was one thing Rose loved almost as much as her family, it was chocolate. More specifically, Mr. Wonka's chocolate. Unfortunately, she didn't get the chance to eat a bar that often. Her and Charlie both got one for their birthdays. And they always shared with everyone else.

Rose tried to save up enough money to buy Charlie a chocolate bar, but other necessities came up. Like the loaf of bread for example.

Charlie and Rose made it home, announcing their arrival to the other Buckets in the house. The other Buckets greeted them in return.

"Hello, darling" Mrs Bucket greeted her daughter as she came into the kitchen area. "How was work today?"

"Like any other day" Rose said with a shrug. "But Mrs. Mason did send me home with a cherry pie!" She handed the pie over to her mother.

Mrs Bucket's eyes lit up. "That's wonderful. That Mrs. Mason is such a kind woman"

"And she also gave me some money to buy this" Rose presented the loaf of bread.

"Nothing goes with cabbage soup like bread, and cherry pie for dessert. Thank you, dear" Mrs. Bucket kissed Rose on the cheek. She then went back to cutting up the cabbage.

At that moment, Mr Bucket came through the door. He took had a long day of work, just as Rose did. He greeted everyone the same way Rose and Charlie announced their arrival. "Evening, Buckets!"

Everyone greeted him back. Mr Bucket went over and kissed Mrs Bucket. That's when he noticed the pie and the bread. He turned to smile at Rose. "Let me guess? Mrs Mason?"

Rose smiled with a nod. "She says hello, by the way" She then wrapped her arms around her father, giving him a tight hug.

"Was that boy giving you trouble again today?" Mr Bucket whispered so that only Rose could hear. Rose didn't say anything. Instead, she gave a small twitch of her lips. He knew she didn't want to talk about it now, so he let it go for now. The two of them let go. Mr Bucket took a seat at the table, reaching into his pocket. "Charlie, I've found something I think you'll like" He placed a few caps belonging to toothpaste tubes on the table.

Charlie and Rose's father worked at the local toothpaste factory. The hours were long, and the pay was terrible, yet occasionally, there were unexpected surprises.

Charlie grabbed the two caps that were molded together. A big smile grew on his face. "It's exactly what I need!"

Rose had already grabbed Charlie's special project when their Grandpa Joe had asked, "What is it Charlie?"

Rose placed Charlie's toothpaste tube cap replica of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory onto a table. Charlie then placed the double molded cap on his mini Willy Wonka, giving him a head and a top hat. "Dad found it. Just the piece I needed" Charlie said.

"What piece was it?" Grandpa Joe asked.

"A head for Willy Wonka"

"How wonderful!" Grandma Josephine said.

"It looks perfect, Charlie" Rose told him, wrapping her arms around him from behind and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "And I must say, Willy Wonka looks quite handsome!" She joked with a smile.

"It's quite a likeness" Grandpa Joe added.

"You think so?" Charlie wondered.

"Think so? I know so! I saw Willy Wonka with my own two eyes" Charlie and Rose stared at Grandpa Joe in disbelief. "I used to work for him, you know"

"You did?" Charlie gasped.

"I did!"

"He did!" Grandma Josephine said.

"He did" Grandpa George repeated.

"I love grapes!" Grandma Georgina chirped randomly. Rose smiled at her. She always loved the random things she would say.

"Of course, I was a much younger man in those days" Grandpa Joe began to reminisce about Willy Wonka's first shop. Everyone settled in for Grandpa Joe's story. Mrs. Bucket handed out dinner to everyone. "Willy Wonka began with a single store on Cherry Street, but the whole world wanted his candy. The man was a genius. Did you know, he invented a new way of making chocolate ice cream so that it stays cold for hours without a freezer? You could leave it lying in the sun on a hot day and it won't go runny"

"That's impossible" Charlie said.

"But Willy Wonka did it. Before long, he decided to build a proper chocolate factory. The largest chocolate factory in history. Fifty times as big as any other" Grandpa Joe added a detail about him and Josephine sharing a kiss at the opening.

Rose giggled in amusement, while Charlie said, "Grandpa, don't make it gross!"

"Tell them about the Indian prince" Grandma Josephine suggested. "They'd like to hear about that"

"You mean Prince Pondicherry?" Grandpa Joe continued on with the story. "Well, Prince Pondicherry wrote a letter to Mr. Wonka and asked him to come all the way out to India and build him a colossal palace entirely out of chocolate"

"Oh, I would love to live in a chocolate palace!" Rose chimed in dreamily. "Too bad I would end up eating it all"

"True to his word, the bricks were chocolate and the cement holding them together was chocolate. All the walls and ceilings were made of chocolate as well. So were the carpets and the pictures, and the furniture. The prince was told to eat it all before it melted, but he wouldn't listen. But Mr. Wonka was right, of course. Soon after this, there came a very hot day with a boiling sun. The prince sent an urgent telegram requesting a new palace, but Willy Wonka was facing problems of his own

"All the other chocolate makers had grown jealous of Mr. Wonka. They began sending in spies to steal his secret recipes. Fickelgruber started making an ice cream that would never melt. Prodnose came out with a chewing gum that never lost its flavour. Then Slugworth began making candy balloons that you could blow up to incredible sizes. The thievery got so bad, that one day without warning, Mr. Wonka told every single one of his workers to go home. He announced that he was closing his chocolate factory forever"

Rose suddenly remembered the smoke coming from the factory when she and Charlie were walking home. "But the factory is open right now" She said.

"Ah, yes" Mrs Bucket piped in. "Well, sometimes when grown ups say forever, they mean a very long time"

"Such as I feel like I've eaten nothing but cabbage soup for ever" Grandpa George grumbled.

"Now, pops" Mr. Bucket warned.

"The factory did close, Rose and Charlie" Grandma Josephine said.

"And it seemed like it was going to be closed forever" Grandpa Joe added on. "Then one day we saw smoke rising from the chimneys. The factory was back in business"

"Did anyone get their jobs back?" Charlie wondered.

The smile on Joe's face faded away. "No, no one did"

"But there must be people working there"

"Think about it, you two" Grandma Josephine spoke up yet again. "Have you ever seen a single person going into that factory, or coming out of it?"

Charlie and Rose shared glances as they both thought about the answer. Charlie was the one to speak. "No, the gates are always closed"

"Exactly, Charlie" Grandpa Joe said.

Another thought came across Rose's mind. "But then, who's running the machines?"

"No one knows, Rose" Mrs Bucket shrugged.

"It certainly is a mystery" Mr Bucket added.

"Hasn't someone asked Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked yet another question.

"Nobody sees him anymore. He never comes out" Grandpa Joe answered. "The only thing that comes out of that place is the candy that's already packed and addressed" A smile then grew on his face. "I'd love to see the factory one more time to see what became of it"

"Well, you won't because you can't" Grandpa George said, being the usual party pooper he was. "It's a mystery and it will always be a mystery. That little factory of yours, Charlie, is as close as any of us is going to get"

"Come on you two" Mrs Bucket told her two children. "I think it's time we let your grandparents get some sleep"

The two Bucket children wished everyone good night, giving everyone a goodnight kiss and then climbed up to their shared bedroom. Charlie's bed was against one wall while Rose's was against the other.

Charlie climbed into bed first. Rose tucked him in, making sure the blanket was pulled right up to his chin. "Goodnight Charlie. I hope you have sweet dreams" She kissed his forehead, before climbing into her own bed.

"Rosie?" Charlie spoke his sister's name ever so quietly.

"Yes, Charlie?"

"Can you sing the song you usually song?" Charlie loved hearing his sister sing. He thought that she had the voice of an angel.

"Anything for you, Charlie" Rose said sweetly. She then began to sing.

A dream is a wish your heart makes

When you're fast asleep

In dreams you will lose your heartaches

Whatever you wish for, you keep

Have faith in your dreams and someday

Your rainbow will come smiling through

No matter how your heart is grieving

If you keep on believing

The dream that you wish will come true

A dream is a wish your heart makes

When you're fast asleep

In dreams you will lose your heartaches

Whatever you wish for, you keep

Have faith in your dreams and someday

Your rainbow will come smiling through

No matter how your heart is grieving

If you keep on believing

The dream that you wish will come true

[bisexualnerd]

Melancholy Kaleidoscope

Chapter 5/5

~You can read on AO3 here ⤵️⤵️~

Dinner had been peaceful so far. There hadn't been any sign of attempt murder just yet. No flying dishes nor forks being used as weapons.

Bruce was looking at them with suspicion in his eyes.

Well, the man had every right to keep a close watch on them.

Cass stole a piece from his plate again and Tim whined quietly at his sister. The said sister just giggled and booped his nose. He sighed as he could hear Jason sniggering from the other side of the dining table.

"Cass..." He complained again as another piece got stolen. "You have your own food already..."

"Messing with you is fun, little brother." She grinned.

"But..." He got interrupted by a shout.

"You take that back Todd!"

"What?! It's true. That potato piece does look a lot like you."

"I am not a potato you imbecile zombie!" Damian had jumped on his chair with a spoon raised high, pointing at Jason.

The older boy just snickered, leaning back a bit to avoid the Spoon of Doom.

"Damian, don't attack your brother. Jason, stop provoking him." Bruce interfered.

Tim picked out a bean and threw it at them randomly.

"No, go on. This's getting good."

"Tim please..."

Jason had raised a chicken leg to block out Damian's attack and now the Spoon of Doom had flown all the way to Cass's plate, hitting one of her vegetables. 

And then one of Damian's elbows knocked at Dick's plate and now there was sauce on the everywhere. Dick looked quite heartbreaking at that. 

Tim grinned at Bruce before throwing another bean at Jason and Damian, then took joy in seeing the horrified look on his adoptive father's face.

Damian had now resorted to trying to hit Jason with a knife. Not exactly sharp but still enough to make someone bleed. Jason, on the other hand, had dumped all the food from one plate onto Dick's and used that plate as a shield to protect himself. His other hand held the chicken leg from earlier so he could occasionally bit into it.

You know, you couldn't just waste Alfred's cooking.

He heard Cass laughing from next to him and found himself grinning even wider. His sister then threw small pieces of vegetable at their brothers and encouraged them even further.

"Cass, sweetheart..."

"Fun, Dad." She pouted.

"Please don't encourage them..."

"Fun." She emphasized.

Bruce looked like he was asking for strength from above now. From the other side, Jason jumped out of his seat to avoid getting stabbed and Dick had lunged forward to wrestle the knife out of Damian's hand. Apparently, knives were off limit. Forks weren't.

Damian grabbed a fork from the table and with a loud battlecry, he went for Jason.

Tim had managed to pick up a handful of beans to throw at them. Cass was cheering from her seat. And Dick was trying to look unamused but the small upward quirk on his lips told a different story.

Jason ducked under the fork and they chased each other around the table with the older laughing and the younger shouting. Bruce had tried to grab either of them several times and failed.

Jason was now using Cass to hide from Damian. The younger boy stopped before them, glaring hard.

"Step aside Cassandra, so I can put this zombie back to his place."

Cass's eyes widened at how Damian had called her and smiled at him. She glanced back at Jason with a mischievous glint in her eyes before speaking.

"No killing."

"Sis, you traitor!" Jason gasped dramatically while the younger boy huffed.

"Fine. I will not slay him, but there is no guarantee I will spare him from my wrath."

Cass nodded and stepped aside, leaving Jason without any protection. Damian jumped, the fork high in the air...

...just to be caught by Bruce, who had leaped from behind him. Tim startled, crashed into the table and sent one of the plates flying to Dick.

"Alright time out! Time out!" Bruce took the fork away and dragged Damian away from Jason. 

Tim looked down at the sauce stain on his shirt and grimaced. Alfred would not be please. Speaking of...

"Where's Alfred?"

Silence fell upon them and Tim stepped away from the mess on the table.

"Right...I'm just gonna..." Dick dashed down the hallway, probably went looking for Alfred.

He came back with the old butler in tow, who took a quick look at the mess before shaking his head disapprovingly.

"I went out to check on the garden for five minutes, and come back to this. Anyone care to explain?"

"It was Jason and Damian." Tim quickly provided.

"Yes. Jay and Dami." Cass confirmed.

Alfred's "I'm-not-mad-just-disappointed" gaze fell upon the two said boys, one of them grinned sheepishly and the other glared at the ground. 

Please, take a wild guess which was which.

"You know that's not completely true." It was now Bruce's turn to smile evilly at them.

"Of course it was Jason and Damian to create this whole mess. But...you both have encouraged them to continue to do so." The man turned to his oldest. "Thanks for being the only child I'm proud of."

"Dad!" Cass frowned.

"B, come on!" He groaned.

"So it's settled. Master Jason and Master Damian will clean the dining room up while Master Tim and Miss Cass will be in the kitchen to help me."

"Sorry guys." Dick waved his hands around. "But I can help too. Providing emotional support and encouragement is very important too."

"Big brother!" Cass poked Dick on his side. 

"Really?!" Jason narrowed his eyes.

"Thank you Master Dick. Now off you go. All of you."

They ended up cleaning for a good hour. By the time they had finished, he was exhausted. As the four of them dragging themselves upstairs, he could see Dick chuckling to himself from a few feet behind.

The dick.

They all eventually bunched up in Cass's room because this was usually considered neutral ground. Dick had gone to find several more blankets and pillows so they could make themself comfortable.

When Tim finally cuddled up between Jason and Cass, he remembered.

"Hey Jay, what about the prank?" He whispered.

"Hmm..."

"Jay...it's your idea."

"Right...sorry. So tired. Can we do it tomorrow night or some other time?" Jason mumbled, half asleep.

This is pathetic.

"Fine."

He snuggled against his brother's side and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. Not even ten seconds later, he heard Dick whisper-calling for him. Tim fluttered his eyes open to see Dick petting Cass's hair and hugging Damian close to his chest.

"Timmy, hey...the prank?"

"Jay said tomorrow night. He's tired."

"Okay fine. But we're doing it."

"Never say we're not. Go to sleep Big Bird."

"G'night Baby Bird."

He shut his eyes again and tried to sink into the blanket. Jason mumbled something unintelligible and draped an arm over his torso. From his other side, Cass buried her face into his hair and curled up into herself.

Tim yawned, eyes watered. He so needed sleep. He breathed in the scent of Alfred's detergent on the blankets and their clothes as it lulled him into his dreamland.

Everything was good.

 

----------------------------- 

The next night, Jason had stored all the cheese and leftover meat in his mini freezer. Dick had somehow managed to find an oversized piece of bread and hid it away very carefully. Tim had made sure they got enough vegetables and tomatoes. And he had installed a camera in a dark corner of Bruce's room.

They were so gonna get yelled at.

But it'd be worth it.

Besides, the prank made Jason happy and less broody so he was not gonna deny his brother of this.

The clock struck three in the morning and the operation "Bruce the Sandwich" began.

After many discussions, they had argeed that getting past Damian, Cass and Alfred was the hardest. Making their dad into a sandwich (that sounded like murder, Jason loved it so much) was child play. But not like the movie. Nuh uh.

Almost ten minutes later and they had successfully completed their first task. The three carried the food to Bruce's bedroom and while Dick and Jason waited outside the door, Tim went to the kitchen to get the peanut butter jar. Just a small reminder of the the prank's precedence.

He came back not even three minutes later and they all crept into the man's room.

They started with filling the bed with meat and cheese, making sure nothing touched the man himself but as soon as he moved, all the squishy leftovers would startle the man out of his skin.

Tim got some peanut butter on the veggies and stuck them to Bruce's face and neck. He hoped it'd stick until morning. He then got some more using his thump and swiped it across his dad's forehead while whispering.

"Simba..."

Dick snorted from the foot of the bed and lost his balance, which resulted in him almost fell off the bed. Jason, who was next to him, put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Tim could still hear a low chuckle coming from his brother's throat.

"If Bruce is Simba, then you are Rafiki." Jason said.

"Hey," Dick whispered. "The Bat King. Coming to theatres this 30th February."

"There's no 30th February."

"Yea no shit Sherlock. That's why I say it."

Bruce twitched slightly and Tim almost jumped on Jason. But the man soon returned to being still. Tim turned around, face scrunched up as if to tell his brothers to finish their prank.

"The bread."

"Oh right. Fuck! Where do I put it?"

"You're half sitting on it Dickhead. That goes on B's head dumbass."

"I didn't sit on it Little Wing."

"Uh huh. Sure..."

Tim placed the bread on Bruce's forehead. It did look a bit squashed. Oh well...

He booped Bruce's nose lightly with one finger which still had peanut butter on it. The man now sure looked like a lion with his coloured nose.

They discarded the tomato slices around and the final piece ended up on Bruce's nose. They tried to balance it but it always tipped over. So they out it on the bridge of the man's nose, right between his eyes.

Dick left behind a piece of paper saying:

"Here's your breakfast in bed. Bon appétit!"

Then they ran off into the night...

 

...and to the bathroom to wash their hands 'cause going to bed with dirty hands didn't seem so fun.

They were so doomed by the way.

3:54 in the morning now and they all but passed out on Jason's bed. Tim got sandwiched by his two older brothers. He didn't think he minded sleeping like this.

"Can't wait 'til morning." Dick murmured.

"This is morning ya dipshit." He heard Jason's low grumble and snuggled even further against his brother's chest.

"Can we sleep?"

"Fine. Listen to the little shit and sleep already Dickhead."

"Goodnight." Tim didn't even have the strength to tell Dick that it should have been "good morning".

 

They woke up to the sound of yelling.

Tim rubbed at his eyes and looked around in confusion for a few seconds before the memories came back to him.

"Holy shit! B's up!" Dick shouted excitedly and dragged him up, hitting Jason by accident, which made his second oldest brother growl at them.

"The prank, Jay. Get your ass up now!"

"Fucking hell Dick! Slow down."

"That's your prank dude! Do you want to see the result or not?!"

"Right, let's go."

They scrambled to their feet and dashed down the hall. Standing by the doorway of his room was Bruce, with veggies still sticking to his face, though one or two pieces had fallen already. The peanut butter on his forehead stayed intact.

Tim fished out his phone to take a bunch of pictures while Jason was still busy laughing at their dad's face. The man still looked confused and scared (which was unusual to others, not to his kids) with pieces of food randomly falling from his body to the floor.

Upon seeing them, Bruce bellowed.

"BOYS!"

"Shit, let's go before he gets food on us." Jason pushed him down the hallway and then they were running away.

"RICHARD JOHN, JASON PETER, TIMOTHY JACKSON, COME BACK HERE! YOU ARE ALL GROUNDED!"

"Dickie and I are adults!" Jason called back.

"Did you just..." Tim spluttered. "But I am not, Jay!"

"Yeah, your problem, kid."

"Oh fuck you. He's gonna ground you anyway."

"Hm sure..."

They hid in Tim's room and the older two barricaded the door and windows with his furniture, singing "Do You Hear The People Sing" while doing so.

"What we're gonna do with the pictures?" He heard Jason asked. Tim grinned.

"Just so you know, Twitter is going to have a field day."

End.

[roxxythebirbrps]

Charlie's Birthday Part 2

Charlie: *she laughs a bit at his comment* yes cause on my birthday we have to eat in proper order. *she chuckles and smiles ordering the same thing as him to make things easier sipping her butterbeer*

Damien: Well, when you say it like that I should be denying you anything for you birthday shouldn't I? *laughs pushing the box over to her*

Charlie: *laughing she lightly hugs the cake box* it's miiine all miiine *she laughs again and sets it off to the side smiling enjoying Damien’s company*

Damien: *holds up his hands in surrender* It's all yours! Your precious- I wouldn't dare take it from you now! *laughs*

Charlie: *laughs* Nooooo cake is better shared, besides you made it, i think.., so you should have some too. *smiles* So How have you been since I last saw you? Any major disasters or shenanigans?

Damien:*smiles* Nothing really out of the ordinary, students getting caught in duels, messing up potions, the usual. *sighs almost boredly.... but at the same time very content with the nothings changed category* How about you? How's muggle life?

Charlie: Stressful to say the least, I have to do everything by hand and I do, do something with magic i have to constantly worry about a muggle seeing it, even at home. I mean I may as well be a muggle. *plays with her cup a bit before picking it up and sipping it*

Damien: *raises his eyebrows* Even at home? *sighs leaning back in his chair* I can't imagine ki- Charlie... I even have my parents visit me if they can... but it can't be all that stressful, can it?

Charlie: I live in a highly populated muggle area, what if someone sees me doing magic around the house? I have to put the entire house on lockdown, i mean what happens if my sister brings her friends over unannounced or a neighbor looks into the window it's just bothersome to constantly worry some muggle will see me doing magic.

Damien: *frowns, truly sorry he asked, not because he didn't want to hear about it- but because Charlie was having such a rough time, he patted her hand lightly* I'm sorry kiddo... need another vacation? I'll be happy to help you out.

Charlie: *smiles a little as he pets her hand holding it lightly* Thanks Damien Maybe in the summer when your done with work I could spend a week or so in that wizarding community you were telling me about, that would be really nice *smiles at the idea*

Damien: *smiles a little* Yes you could... but it's not all the grand, but you could relax a bit there I believe. I worry about you Charlie, you can't be so stressed, so young! That's my job. *laughs a little*

Charlie: *laughs a bit unintentionally squeezing his hand lightly as she does* Yes that's right how silly of me, taking your job I should be stoned for even being this way *chuckles a bit she was feeling so much better than earlier today, so grateful that he called her out here to spend time with him*

Damien: *had forgotten that she was holding his hand until she squeezed it lightly and he looked down quickly, then looked back to her squeezing back gently* Yes kiddo, stoned and stupefied. *he laughs* Just survive the springtime, I know you can do that, chin up and all.

Charlie: I need to start writing you, *smiles at him tilting her head slightly* It'd make surviving so much easier *chuckles she really missed her talks with Damien even if they were about nothing half the times they talked*

Damien: *shifts his eyes, rubbing the back of his head* I dunno Charlie, you know I'm no good at conversations and writing is just one big hassle.... you saw the letter I send you this evening... *chuckles softly*

Charlie: I'd call you the good old fashion muggle way but telephones don't work at Hogwarts *chuckles a little* That's okay, I won't write I'll just show up at Hogsmeade and use one of the secret passages to get into Hogwarts and randomly show up at your office *laughs*

Damien: *smiles* I thought you'd you'd want to stay away from those muggle devices, hmmm? *laughs along with her*In the dead of night, you know I'll be awake or close to it anyway. *still laughing, but not really sure if that was a joke... because he really wouldn't put it past her to do something like that.*

Charlie: Damien that's terrible! You should be sleeping more *frowns a bit knowing that he was just like that back while she was attending Hogwarts it worried her how badly he took care of himself* you know for a healer you take really poor care of yourself.

Damien: Charlie, please don't give me that look.... I'm doing the best I can, and I've survived so far haven't I? Anyway, I have more on my plate than my own health here.... *smiles at her reassuringly, glad when the bar maid came back with their food he nods a thanks you to her and she walks away*

Charlie: I know but it's really not good for you, I hope you sleep like 12 hours a night when your on vacation to make up for your painful lack of sleep.....What you really need is someone in the hospital wing with you to help you out *smiles*

Damien: I sleep more than enough during my vacation, don't worry. *pats her hand again, before letting go finally and turning to his food*As for the person to help me.... I don't need help. I'm fine on my own. *still as prideful as ever*

Charlie: Yeah and I'm a graceful dancer *smirks picking up her silverware and looking down at her food starting to eat* It's always good to have help especially with a bunch of new first years learning magic for the first time *chuckles*

Damien: *frowns a little* I've lasted for over ten years. I can handle a few first years messing up. *laughs* You know I'd love to see you actually pull that off. The dancing I mean. *deflecting the conversation from himself? Hell yeah.*

Charlie: *frowns again, she knows he says this but at the same time it's because he has been doing this for ten years that she wants him to have help. She sighs at his obvious attempt to deflect the topic and just smiles* Sure I'll dance for you, only if you promise to heal me up when I end up spraining my ankle and breaking my wrist when I fall

Damien: *smiles, she took the bait and now he could eat in peace, and so he did* I'm pretty sure you can dance without spraining and ankle, Charlie... and even so, I couldn't leave you with a sprain because of my request.

Charlie: Oh come on Damien I hurt myself walking normally what makes you think I wouldn't hurt myself dance? *chuckles lightly munching happily on her birthday dinner humming softly as she eats*

Damien: *raises his eyebrow questioningly* You really haven't gotten much better at that "walking" thing, have you? *smiles, there's the Charlie he knows, he clinging so hard to keep her a child in his eyes... and he's happy to have her back to that if only for a short while*

Charlie: I've gotten much better actually, I made it here without an incident didn't I? *chuckles chewing on her fork lightly* but that doesn't mean I still don't trip on hair *laughs and sips her butterbeer*

Damien: Didn't you apparate here? *laughs a little* Is there a reason you haven't cut your hair, by the way? I've been wondering since, well, it grew so much!

Charlie: I dunno *she pulls her ponytail over her shoulder and runs her fingers her hair looking at it carefully* You know I don't know....I've been toying with the idea of cutting it... *her gaze soften slightly tangling her fingers into her hair a little* I haven't decided yet. *smiling slightly*

Damien: *his heart skips a beat as her gaze softens when she plays with her hair, though he doesn't know why, so he just ignored it, his own smile softening with hers* I'm sure no matter what you choose you'll look lovely Charlie.

Charlie: *she looks up her gaze still soft smiling at him* Thanks Damien *she carefully flips her hair back over her shoulder and goes back to her food happily eating*

Damien: *there it goes again... his heart and he held her gaze until she looked away, wondering why it felt as though the heat turned up until her realized he was blushing and he quickly turned back to his food with a clearing of his throat* Y-you're welcome kiddo.... *he frown a little at his own actions, wondering why it was happening, then decided to shake it off, it was just nerves.... Nerves? Why would it be nerves? Because he hasn't seen her in a while? That must be it...* Hey Charlie, forget what I said before... I think I could start.... writing to you...

Charlie: *looks up and smiles brightly* Really? You mean it? *She was so excited to be talking to him again she just knows that even the simplest of letters from him will brighten her dull and boring muggle life. She wanted to jump across the table and hug him she was so happy that he would write with her, it was really silly how this little gesture made her happy.*

Damien: *smiles at her glee, it was hard not to, though he was trying so hard to keep his head down to let the blush leave his cheeks before addressing her, but hey, she sounded so happy he couldn't help but look up* Of course I mean it.... I've missed you, there's no denying that. And even though I'm not the best at conversations, I held one with you at least one a week while you were in Hogwarts so I would guess a small letter from here to there wouldn't be too hard to pull off

[nylaaaaa]

Little Secret

Chapter 3. Introducing Mathias

Cabbage for sale! Get your cabbage for sale here! Wouldn't want to spend the harvest eating a bland dinner now would we?" 

"Tomatoes for sale! Ripe and fresh! Perfect for all occasions!"

I ducked and weaved past all the stalls that scatter the outskirts of the castle. An abundance of people live just outside the castle walls but only a few of the "outside people" live inside the walls. Considering the majority of people live outside you would think the stalls would be set up there. I gave a forced smile to every merchant I ignored while moving around everyone as though I'd done it a thousand times. Truthfully this was my first time alone. But even with Isaieth I never had to deal with the stalls that blocked even the tiniest bit of gravel that blended into the path. He was a known friend of the king so he was allowed to go through the shortcuts, even though I'm known to be his adoptive daughter I don't get the same treatment as him. My mother and father ruined my reputation with their childish ways and so now people tend to ignore me or simply forget who I am.

Every rough step I took matched the beat of swords clanging against each other. This can only mean the knight's and soldier's were sparring again. They do this almost everyday. You can hear the swords hit against each other even from Isaieth's plot of land. The faint but strong cry of a horse froze me in place. I've always been more empathetic to animals than humans. Isaieth always told me it was weird and I should stop trying to befriend animals but for some reason I just understand them more. The cry continued, louder this time. I don't know where but somewhere a horse was scared. I hugged my basket of produce closer to me and without thinking headed to where the noise was located. 

The grunts and cries of maybe 50 men overpowered the sounds of icy wind. The horse was scared of the sparring and I'm not surprised. I would be too. I didn't notice I had just stood in the same place looking dumbfounded untill a huge man crashed into me forcing us both to land on the chalky and tough ground. I heard the sound of laughter before the rough and powerful voice of a man broke through the air.

"Alright that's enough!" Both the grounded soldier and I looked stunned towards to direction of the noise. A tall man with a prideful and powerful aura danced through to gaps of the men who stood in the way. He had to be royalty. The only men that tall in this land was either Isaieth or someone from the royal bloodline. He looked far too young to be the king so that left one of the two prince's.

"Rowan... You're meant to sleep with the whores after a fight, not before." Whore!  Excuse me! I am far from a whore. The sounds of 50 men laughing ticked me off even more. Who the hell does he think he is?

"I am not a whore." I said with venom in my voice. I'm not a scary person, far from it actually, and being female makes me even less scary. So I was expecting more laughter. Which I got. The burning sun hit his eyes giving them an intense green, one that would blind you from the glow it gave off. The eye colour fitted his skin perfectly and gave off an auburn blend. The sweat that dripped from skin to armour showed he'd either been out here longer or worked harder than all his men put together. It probably didn't help that his armour weighed 5 of me, probably more. His soaked deep brown curls stroked his smokey skin with even the tiniest bit of movement. If I wasn't so angry at his comment I probably would've spent this time admiring him. He could, for all I know, be a massive ass, but it doesn't change the fact that he looks like a God. He mockingly laughed away my response and rolled his eyes so they hit the sun even more making them pierce more than before. 

"A body like yours is only useful in a whore house. If it's not there it's no use and you are worthless." Ugh! UGHUGHUGH! God, what an ASS! Why does he have to insult me so much. Or compliment me in a twisted way? I don't even know. 

"That was a bit uncalled for don't you think, dear brother." Another tall, but only just smaller than green eyed asshole, man appeared out of the crowd. He wore a similar armour but his had more style than protection. This had to be the other prince. From looks alone I could tell green eyed asshole had to be the younger one, meaning he was the infamous Mathias. If that was true the stylish saviour had to be Kennedy. The man I presume to be Kennedy stepped forward a bit more blocking the sun and showing me the burnt skin that caressed his features. Kennedy is the oldest son of the prince, he turned 27 about 5 months ago. Mathias however has been 24 for merely a few weeks. Kennedy gave me a teethy grin that made me want to smile with him. His honey brown eyes melted into his tanned olive skin, the mixture gave you a warm autumn vibe that immediately calmed you. His hair stood tall, like him, and gave you a marble effect of blonde and brown. His hair colour looked like both colours were fighting for the spotlight. 

"Are you trying to deny the lady of her title, dear brother." He said 'dear' with a hint of venom and a lot of disgust. They obviously didn't get along very well and probably quarrel often.

"The lady's title is not a whore. Even if she graced us with her body in the brothel it doesn't make her a whore. It makes her a worker, just like everyone else." His attempt at saving me was sweet but still insulting. I'd rather not have 2 royals speak about my body as though I were a prostitute.

"Don't over play what a whore is brother. You'll make them think they are worth something more than the price you pay." Uuuuggghh! I hate him, I seriously hate him. I looked down realising my produce is all over the floor and my dress was torn showing the blood that trickled out of my grazed thigh. The man who had kept me on the ground had gotten up and, presumably, ran away. While the brothers argued about the importance of whores I gathered my belongings back into my basket and walked by them slowly so I didn't give away that I had moved. I hate royalty. 

Stopping outside a, what looked like, 10 story castle I released a hot breathe to calm my nerves. I was finally going to meet the king. The king joins the hall every month to oversee the rent. Today he was going to meet me properly for the first time. One step two step three step four... okay, I haven't actually moved yet. But I want to. With every inch I move I end up moving 2 inches back. Okay Natalie just go.

"State your name and business." I came face to face with a brunette woman holding a scroll of paper. Her emerald eyes shone a low and hollow silver. Her bright glow didn't give life to her eyes. She didn't have a dress on like every other female you would come across. Her clothes would be that of a whores but her attitude told you she wasn't. She had a soft looking fabric that covered her chest just enough to hide the shape. It clipped onto itself on the side under her left armpit and the rest of the material was wrapped around her left arm, it wrapped itself all the way down. On the bottom part she had underwear on that went up to her belly button and a sheer fabric that was wrapped randomly around her waist and thighs. It covered just enough to hide the colour of her underwear but not enough to hide the shape. Her lips were a deep pink colour that showed she had been eating a staining food. Her stance was professional but her clothes weren't, it made you wonder what her business was.

"Natalie Estelle, adopted daughter of Isaieth Scofield. Im here to sell the produce of our farm." She gave me a blank and slow nod. I felt nervous like she was asking something else.

"It's the usual right?" Uh. Maybe.

"Yes?" I didn't entirely give her a questioning yes, but it sounded unsure. I don't know if she ignored my slight confusion or just didn't catch it but she continued on anyway.

"Okay, leave the basket of produce in the 3rd door on the left and the king will be with you shortly." Before I could even blink she started leaving. 

When I opened the door she mentioned I was immediately blown away. This room was not only massive, it was so elegant and beautiful. Candles were hanging on the ceiling giving it a warm glow. Red blankets and animal pelts scattered every chair and table that stood proudly in the room. In the very middle stood a massive, strong looking table that was filled to the brim with paper work and books. On the very corner of the table a quil and ink balanced on top of each other fighting to stay on the table. A simple breath would knock it with how close to the edge it is. A loud creak of floor boards told me someone was entering the room. I quickly threw the basket onto the table that sat next to the door and backed away ready for whoever was going to enter. 

"Father, I didn't know you bought me a whore." Mathias. Of all people he just HAD to be here.

"Mathias, watch your language infront of me boy." This had to be the king. He stood a good few inches lower than Mathias but he was still tall and proud. His aura was so strong it made you want to bow just from him being in the same house. The king's white beard complimented his greying blonde locks. His hair bounced with volume and health but the tips liked to cling to his pale skin. The king apparently doesn't stay out in the sun as often as his sons so his skin was a lot lighter. His blonde hair made his yellow tinted pale skin even paler. Everything about him screamed light. Even his ocean blue eyes. The blues crashed waves together and made a watery dance that complimented the whole light vibe. His greying hair gave you a false impression of his age, you'd think he was in his 60's, but really he's younger than Isaieth. Isaieth is a wise age of 50 whereas the king was 48.

"It's not my fault. You told me you wanted me to meet someone, how was I to know it'd be a whore." He gave me a glare. What does he have to glare at me for? I didn't do anything.

"She isn't a.... whore. She's Isaieth's daughter. It's her 18th naming day. Now that she's an adult I thought she should meet the family." The king gave Mathias a stern look, a warning of sorts. 

"I do not care for the backstory of whores father. Kennedy is the one you should go to for that." He makes me want to scream. Like physically, all in your face, scream.

"MATHIAS! That is enough!" Mathias gave the king a bored glance. How disrespectful. I know when someone is your family you treat them differently, but no one should treat a king like this. I watched as Mathias rolled his shiny green eyes, the reflection of candle light hitting every spot trying to dance with the movement. Even with hatred towards this asshole, his features seem to always hypnotized me.

"Kennedy has important business right now, he will meet her later. As for you, Mathias. You will be nice to her or all you eat today will be the air that surrounds the barn outside." I breathed an accidental laugh and it caused Mathias to give me an unimpressed side glare. The king turned towards me once more and gave me a teethy smile. He smiled so big and bright it cause his eyes to slam shut and wrinkles formed all over his face. It was so genuine and a little beautiful that it made me return a smile to him. When he opened his eyes to see I was smiling back, his teethy smile turned into that of a proud father.

"Your smile is very cute dear, Isaieth is lucky to have you as his daughter." My smile grew bigger before falling completely. I've always thought of Isaieth as a father but whenever the conversation comes up it saddens me to the core. I have no idea who my actual dad is so when someone speaks about dads I always remember something that doesn't exist. It gives me an empty feeling of confusion. I could tell they both noticed the emotion change because theirs did too. The king let out cough as if to distract from the awkward tension that started to build.

"Well, Natalie. You've grown into your mother's looks. You look just like her." I know he was trying to be nice with that comment but it only made me more sad. My mother left me to get drunk everyday. Looking like her was not an accomplishment to me.

"Thank you." I forced a genuine looking smile to him. If I want to avoid more awkward tension I should play happy untill the conversation ends.

"My assistant, who I believe you met, has your pay for the produce. Rent pay isn't for another few hours so I was hoping you would come with me for a tour of our castle." A tour. Do I want to go on a tour? No, not really. But how bad can a tour be? I'll just be waiting around for a couple hours anyway.

"A tour would be wonderful, your highnesses." The look on Mathias's face said, 'what are you doing?' I don't know if he was questioning my wording to the king or the fact that I bowed after speaking. Maybe both. The king beamed with happiness and even let out a low and raw chuckle. It sounded like Christmas. 

"To start I would like you to meet Kennedy, he's busy, as I said before, outside with the new trainees. So that will be where we start." The king gave Mathias a hard pat on the shoulder before turning away from us. I guess I get to see the training grounds again.